He shoved off, dragging the man with him, grabbed the console rim and stopped their random motion as green seconds bled time away from him in the faceplate display. The man he’d rescued had hold next to him—crew had reached them, trying to pull both of them away; but the man shoved them off, shoved a card into the console they both clung to.
C. BOWE showed grey through the paste of white dust on the opposing helmet. He could see Christian’s face, intent on the card, not on him.
Other voices on Universal sputtered with static. Somebody was yelling, “Close the doors. Kick the cans clear! Shut the cargo doors! Fire window is forty-eight seconds—”
Christian jammed the card down, firm contact, groped for the input slate and the electronic stylus scissor-jointed over it.
Wrote an H. A.
Hand shook, dithered in a fit of shock. V.
“O,” Tom said, furious with his own spasm of shaking. Christian’s hand wasn’t making it. He grabbed the hand, forced a shaky circle. Shakier C. Son of a bitch, it wasn’t just himself and Austin knew Capella’s code.
Lights flashed. Display above the input said, in red letters:
ENEMY IDENTIFIED. TARGETING. POSITIVE.
He flashed on Sprite’s corridors. Marie at her console. But he believed Patrick was real, and Patrick was first on the old hulk’s list. His voice in the dark said so.
While Sprite was out there. Coming toward them. TARGET LOCKED, he saw on display, through a white haze.
FIRE INITIATED.
The hulk’s frame shook. He felt it through the hand-grip. Stared at his brother’s face, Christian staring at him.
Felt something pull at him, trying to pull them away. He held onto the console. But he saw suit lights then, coming around behind Christian, to take him away.
Christian went. But he wasn’t leaving. Wasn’t moving. No. Information was here. On this readout. It was all the truth he had.
“Tom, “ Saby said. Hands tugged at him, failed to move him. “Come on, Tom, dammit, it’s fired, it’s all we can do. “
“Tom. “ Tink’s voice. A new hand pulled and he couldn’t hold on any longer. His gloved hands lost their handhold, and they carried him back toward the doors, through the drifting white.
“Tom. “ Capella’s voice, then. “Tom, Sprite is not, so far, a target, repeat, not, so far, a target. “
“Who’s in command down here?” he heard somebody ask, and Christian answer:
“I guess I am. “
“Not yet. “ Another voice came faintly, scratchy with static. “Not yet, you don’t, kid.—Where’s the damn hostile, can somebody find the hostile?”
“Fireball, “ came from the bridge, smugly. “Any minute now. “
Still couldn’t get enough air. Tom let Saby and Tink pull him ahead, along the railing. He just breathed, his visor dusted over so the lights fuzzed.
“There it goes, “ a female voice said. “Austin. You copy? Got the bastard. “
“I copy, “ Austin said. “Thank you, Beatrice. “
He tried clumsily to adjust the air-flow. People talked to Medical, then, talked about broken arms and a suit puncture, one man dead. They said the cargo doors were shutting. But motion imminent had just gone off his faceplate display.
Nothing seemed real to him. Crew movement was all drifting now, leisurely. He heard Beatrice Perrault say,
“Evidently the robot respects a freighter ID. Or its direction, as nav believes. Sprite is, at any rate, sacrosanct. That gives us a new problem. “
“Screw that,” Tom said. New panic closed on him. Indignation. He shoved to get clear. “They’re not attacking my ship. “ He couldn’t break Tink’s grip. He shoved the channel selector with his chin. “Austin, damn you, that’s my ship, dammit, that’s my mother’s ship—”
“Put Hawkins in contact, “ Austin said faintly. “Beatrice. Dan. Do it.—Tom. “
“Sir. “
“That’s a word I like to hear. We still have them outgunned, Thomas Bowe-Hawkins. Remember that. Tell mama hello. “
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“Stand by. “ Voice he didn’t know. But after that:
“Go ahead, Hawkins. Talk them out of shooting. Or going away. The old hulk doesn’t like either one. “
Chapter Twelve
“TOM, “ SAJA SAID, A FACE ON THE vid. “Tom. Tell me again. Tell me why it’s your choice. “
“Yeah, well… “ Breath still felt as tight as it had in the suit. “Dammit, tell Marie I want to talk. I’ll tell her. All right?”
“She says,…”
“Yeah, screw what she says until she says it to me. Tell her get the hell on the com and talk to me. Now.”
Silence, then. He sat there, on Corinthian’s bridge, with Saby and Christian standing over him, and Austin sitting—a broken leg, four broken ribs and a broken arm, was Austin’s tally, give or take. One man hadn’t been lucky. Came of fools interfering with operations. Came of a mistake he’d never in his life forget.
But they’d delivered the last of the cargo. Austin insisted. Said he’d never failed a contract and he wasn’t starting now. Flour and blood every damn where, iron rods floating all over the hold. Couldn’t get that out of his memory.
Hadn’t even realized his ankle was broken. He’d been that scared. That numb.
New image came on. Marie stared at him. He stared back, a light-second removed.
“So?” Marie said. “You staying with Corinthian?”
“Yes, “ he said. “—Met a girl, Marie. “
“A girl. “ Marie snorted. “You damn fool. “
“Yeah. I know. But you’d like her, Marie.”
“Austin there?”
That surprised him. That really surprised him. He looked at Austin. Austin turned his chair, reached across the board and put the aux com live.
“Hello, Marie. What can I do for you?”
While, across the bridge, missiles were armed and the scan was locked warily on Sprite.
“Hello, Austin. You want him?”
Austin shrugged. “Not my choice.”
“What do you want?”
“To get clear. That’s all. You speaking for Sprite, now, Marie? I hear so.”
“Damn right. “
“Well, captain Hawkins, you’re clear, you’re free. My navigator says you could even cut a deal. I’ll give you a password, in fact. Tell Miller Transship you want the deal I had. Whisper the word Tripoint. Somebody’ll be in contact, if you’re polite. Just sit at Viking and wait.”
“You’re out of your mind. “