“It’s just a ship,” Klar said, “and it’s a littleship.”
Garrett watched them go then turned back to Halak. “Good-looking boy. He’s got her eyes.”
“And Baatin’s face.”
“Yours too. Do you think your sister-in-law knew what Talma was up to?”
“That Talma would kill Burke?” Halak frowned. “Absolutely not. The way she told it, Talma argued that she had more information to give Starfleet than Arava. Talma had worked for the Orion Syndicate and Baatin, and Arava trusted her. So I guess Arava convinced Burke that Talma would be a better witness. Plus, Arava had Klar to worry about. Anyway, the next thing Arava knew, Burke never returned and she didn’t hear from Talma. I don’t know why Qadir let Arava live. Maybe he was playing both sides against the middle—funneling useless information to the Syndicate, and vice versa.” Halak blew out, scrubbed his hands on his thighs. “I don’t think she has anything useful for Starfleet.”
“We’ll let SI decide that. Now, what about you? Ryn III? I want to know.”
Halak licked his lips, blew out again. He stared out of the main shuttle window, but Garrett could tell from the look in his eyes that he was staring at a memory.
“Everything happened the way I said,” Halak began. “Those scouts fired on us. We had to abandon ship. A desperate thing to do, but it was better than nothing…”
“Ten hours,” said Strong, his face glistening with sweat. His breathing was labored, although he had more air than Halak and his supply wasn’t dwindling as quickly. But fear also ate oxygen. “It’s been ten hours.”
“Stop…talking,” Halak panted. “Using up…your…air.” He gulped, his lungs trying to wring more oxygen from air that didn’t have it. The air inside his suit was thick, and he had a roaring headache. Carbon dioxide poisoning, he thought. Headaches, diaphoresis, dyspnea. But not unconsciousness, not the nice quiet exit one would get from carbon monoxide poisoning. They’d pass out eventually, but only after they’d had convulsions, vomiting. So maybe he’d choke on his vomit and suffocate that way. He wasn’t sure which was better.
Strong gave a weak laugh. “Doesn’t matter. Both of us going to end up like Thex.”
Halak didn’t have to strength to glance over at the lifeless body of the Andorian. Thex had died within an hour of their beam-out. They’d bled the Andorian’s air, Halak giving Strong most of it because of the damage to Strong’s suit.
“Still got time,” said Halak. He checked his automatic distress beacon, but the readout was blurry and he had to shake his head to clear it. “Maybe the Barker…”
“They’ll never hear it.” Strong spoke in a hopeless monotone. “Too far away.”
They hung in space, neither one of them speaking. Then Halak stirred. “Have to,” he worked at forming the words, “have to ask you something.”
Strong’s eyes had been closed, but now he pulled them open. “Chest hurts.”
“Carbon dioxide, and…and you’re scared. But, listen,”said Halak. He moved, too abruptly, and had to fight back a wave of nausea. No, no, please, God.When the urge to vomit passed, he said, “Thex said there was a signal. Said it was coming from us. ’Member?”
Strong grunted. Halak took that as assent. “Why did you fire?”
“Told you. I thought they were pow…powering up…”
“No, no, the two readings, they’re not even close.” Halak had to stop a moment and gulp air. “You can’t mistake them.”
Then he said, without knowing that this is what he thought until the words were out of his mouth, “You’re with the Syndicate.”
“ ’S crazy,” Strong moved his head back and forth. “ ’S crazy.”
“No, no.” Halak was so dizzy that Strong’s face swam in his vision. “Those were Syndicate ships, not…not Ryn scouts. You led them to us with a homing beacon…that signal, that signal Thex saw.”
“S’crazy…”
“Stop.” Halak grabbed at Strong’s shoulders. Strong’s hands scrabbled at Halak’s, but Halak hung on and gave him a weak shake. “Stop, we’re going to die out here…”
“Get away.” Strong batted at Halak’s helmet, tried pushing him away, although the irony of it was, they were tethered together. “Get away.”
“No, no. I have to know…I have to know wh… why.”Then Halak ran out of breath, and he felt himself sinking under a wave of dizziness. “Coward,” he gasped, releasing Strong, “you…you’re a coward.You’ve killed us, and you don’t have the guts…the guts to own up…up to what you’ve done.”
He heard Strong’s rasping breaths over his comchannel but nothing else. Halak felt a surge of anger and revulsion. He could accept death when it finally came, but to die like this, not knowing what he was dying for…Maybe it was good Strong had more air. Then Halak could die first, and then Strong could hang here and rot, for all Halak cared.
He fumbled at his comchannel and was about to switch off when Strong said, “Yes.”
Halak stopped, his fingers frozen above his comcontrols. “What?”
“I said yes. Yes, what you said. I…did that. I did it.”
“Why?” Halak was too astonished now to feel anger. “Why, in God’s name?”
“Wasn’t the plan to… killanybody. Plan was to capture the shuttle.”
“Capture the shuttle?” Halak said. “That…that was all?”
“Embarrass Starfleet.” Strong licked his lips, took a deep gulp of air. “But then…they started firing and, see, I knew…I knew they were going to kill us.”
“Because the results,” Halak panted, “they’d be the…the same.”
“Same questions, if we’re dead as if we’re alive. Only killing us, no witnesses.”
“No you.”Halak dragged in air. “You were the…dangerous one. Loose…loose cannon. So you killed them first.”
“Backfired, huh?” Strong doubled over in a coughing fit.
Halak made no move to help. When Strong had caught his breath, Halak said, “Why?”
“Do it?” Strong rasped. “I don’t know. Stupid reasons. I wanted to be in charge…charge of something. Turned down on promotion last month, so I knew it was a matter of time before I’d get the boot, probably leave Starfleet…” Then, in a pitiful whine: “I…I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
At that moment, Halak felt the dam of his self-control break. Not get hurt, not gethurt! A hundred awful scenarios crowded his vision: cracking Strong’s helmet, venting the man’s air, ripping open his suit…
“Didn’t meanit?” Halak rasped, choked with rage and lack of air. “Thex is dead!You killed the men…the men in those ships! And us, you’ve…you’ve killed…you’ve killed…”
Shaking with fury and dizziness, Halak spun away, not trusting himself any longer. Since they were weightless, the movement propelled him out in a whirling pirouette until his tether ran out and the line went taut. They hung there, twirling through space—Halak, Strong, and the lifeless Thex—each at the end of a tether, the grotesque points of a fractured star.
There was a sound then. At first, Halak thought that Strong was starting to cry; he heard the wheeze of air, a hitch in Strong’s breathing. Then the tether around Halak’s waist went limp and he turned in time to see Strong’s body hurtling toward him. For an instant, Halak was frozen in place. Then he threw up his hands to ward off the blow he thought inevitable, when he realized that Strong was coming at him much too fast, faster than he could possibly have managed by pulling on the tether and letting momentum do the rest.
That hissing sound. Halak’s eyes widened. Strong was purging his air.
“No,” Halak said. “Strong, stop!”
Too late, he saw the white jet of Strong’s air shooting out to hang in a fog of frozen water and gas, like a veil. Strong plowed into him, and then Halak saw Strong fumbling with the seals on his helmet.