“How would that help anything?”

  Nash put up his hand. “I’m not done. I don’t want to do that, I just want you to admit that it would be within my rights, based on the agreement we both signed.”

  Tyson was stuck. He hadn’t given the idea much thought, but it was true. “Yes, I admit it.”

  Nash’s smile reminded Tyson of a car salesman. “I appreciate that. So, it seems to me that if we had an agreement, and you reneged on it, then restitution is in play. Don’t you agree, Sheriff?”

  “Yes, Governor,” Drew said. “I believe that’s fair, given the circumstances.”

  “There you have it,” Nash said.

  Tyson exhaled sharply. “What do you want, Nash?”

  “You know what I want, Captain.”

  “You won’t let that go?”

  Nash laughed. “Not a chance. Not now that you’re up my creek without a paddle.”

  “I can’t agree to what you want.”

  “Then you can forget about leaving for a few days. You don’t have anything better to do, right? Sheriff, did you bring your cuffs?”

  “I’ve got them right here, Governor.” He rattled them on his belt.

  Tyson eyed the handcuffs. Then he glared at Nash. He couldn’t believe this son of a bitch. How was this man going to run Metro for the foreseeable future? It was a disaster in the making.

  “I’ll tell you what, Captain,” Nash said. “I don’t need to do anything for you, but as a gesture of goodwill I’ll take Levi off your hands. I’ll have him treated and reunited with his family.”

  Tyson glanced back to where the medics went. They would figure out soon enough that Levi wasn’t actually sick, just a little woozy from the sedative. And then they would wonder why he was sedated, and then they would start asking questions.

  Had he made a mistake by not jettisoning Levi from the airlock? Maybe he was too soft for this job.

  “I’ll give you twenty years,” Tyson said.

  Nash laughed. “Come on, Grant. Twenty won’t get me there.”

  Tyson sighed again. He didn’t have any options, and Nash knew it. Stalling wasn’t going to help.

  “Okay, Nash. I’ll give you—”

  He went silent when his comm beeped and Siraj’s voice came in. “Captain, wherever you are, we need you on the bridge. We have a situation. Captain, do you copy?”

  Tyson didn’t tap on the badge to respond. He looked at Nash. “It seems I’m saved by the bell. Now the choice is yours. Detain me here—keep me from taking care of my ship and doing my job—and risk this emergency ending with your death and the death of everyone on board.”

  It was Nash’s turn to glare.

  “Captain Grant, do you copy?” Siraj said. “Captain?”

  “You’re a lucky bastard, Grant, you know that?” Nash said. “Sheriff, escort Captain Grant to the southern entrance, closer to the bridge.” He looked over as the medics appeared with Levi. “You’re lucky I’m not cold enough to throw Levi back out with you, seeing he has children here. Now get the hell out.”

  Tyson smiled, forcing himself not to look too arrogant in his victory. He tapped the comm badge. “I’m on my way, Commander.” Then he tapped it again to disconnect.

  “This way, Captain,” Sheriff Drew said. “It’ll be faster to drive across.” Tyson followed the Sheriff toward his vehicle.

  “And Captain,” Nash said.

  Sighing heavily, Tyson stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Yes, Governor.”

  The Governor had a sly, vindictive sneer on his face. “This isn’t over.”

  Tyson matched eyes with Nash for a moment, and then continued walking toward the vehicle with the Sheriff.

  Yes, it was.

  For now.

  20

  Grant

  Pioneer. Metro. 11.11.2052. 1730 hours.

  Sheriff Drew guided the small electric cart down the nearly vacant main street of Metro, bringing the vehicle to its thirty kilometer-per-hour top speed. It felt slow as molasses to Tyson, who was not only eager to get out of the city, but also to find out what was happening that had led Siraj to contact him.

  The main street was as empty as the northern side of the city, the residents not yet acclimated to their new life on a starship hurtling through space. The storefronts lining the street were all closed, and lights were going on inside the buildings, the false sun descending as evening approached. Tyson caught whiffs of cooking food as they made the short drive.

  The city had a hydroponics building for growing vegetables and a factory for growing meat. It even had restaurants where civilians could spend their chits on slightly higher-end and better prepared food. They had also brought along massive stores of nutrient dense food bars that were intended to be the main staple of the residents’ diets.

  They made a left at the hospital in the center of Metro, going around it and turning south again. While all the buildings looked nearly identical from the outside, Tyson began to notice small differences as they drew closer to the southern edge of the city. These buildings had glass fronts and fancier lobbies. The stores seemed a touch nicer, the restaurant names more haughty. The think tank that designed Metro insisted that a class system and form of capitalism were essential to keeping the peace on the American generation ships. Losing Earth to the trife was already a massive blow. Changing the systems by which these people had lived might be catastrophic. It was one of the reasons Nash had won the job of Governor.

  The more important a person’s role in Metro, the more chits they received, along with better accommodations. The engineers, doctors, scientists, teachers, government officials and other VIPs were clustered around the front of the city, while the janitors, artists, factory workers and such were relegated to the rear. The government had done their best to collect people from every type of industry to keep the collective knowledge base and skillset as fluid as possible.

  Only time would tell if the quickly hashed out plan would be a success.

  It wouldn’t if Pioneer didn’t make it to Avalon. And Siraj’s tone of voice had suggested to Tyson that failure was suddenly a possibility. “Can’t this thing go any faster?” he asked.

  They had nearly reached the end of the buildings, a large park coming into view ahead. It was an impressive piece of work, a nearly twenty-acre plot of grass and trees, flowers and paths, even a stream with fish taking a ride across the galaxy. Tyson couldn’t see the forward bulkhead through the foliage. Not yet. But he could see the false sky just above the treeline, stars beginning to fade into view.

  “No offense intended, Captain,” Drew said. “Because I have no ill will toward you. But if you were closer to the bridge where you belong instead of trespassing in Metro, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

  Tyson didn’t respond. What was he going to say? The Sheriff was right.

  They reached the park, racing along one of the paths. There were only a couple of residents here, and they watched the vehicle scoot by with curious interest, their eyes following it along the street and past the trees.

  The bulkhead came into view a moment later. It wasn’t the back of Metro, only the back of the hold containing the city. The internal engineering department lay behind the large doors ahead, close to the equipment that would keep the city alive for the next two centuries. Their job was the most important of anyone’s, and it made sense for them to be in the first few rows of buildings, able to react to potential problems within minutes.

  Like Tyson should have been able to do. He clenched his teeth and shook his head at his own recklessness however well intended it was. He wanted to keep everything on an even keel. He needed the Guardians happy and focused on their job. But now the cost was turning out to be much greater than he had anticipated. Greater than Levi’s life? He hated that he wasn’t sure.

  Sheriff Drew brought the vehicle to a stop at the door, jumping out and running over to the security panel. He swiped his wrist across it and ran back to the car, jumping in and taking off toward the opening hatch. Tyson flinched as it approached, unsure it would open far enough in time. Drew was unconcerned, and he squeezed them through with only centimeters to spare.

  The passageway on the other side curved and ascended, bringing them up a few decks as they moved away from the city. There were other vehicles—simple scooters and one larger truck with a bed full of parts—parked along the corridors near access panels and doors. The sight left Tyson feeling a little nervous. The engineering department could print new parts, but they had a limited supply of raw materials.

  “Problems?” he asked the Sheriff.

  “Not to worry, Captain. It’s nothing the engineers can’t handle. Mostly minor glitches to fix or workarounds to come up with.”

  They finally reached the outer seal, a larger door like the one at the other end of the corridor, this one marked by the red and yellow hazard paint. Tyson jumped out of the car when it came to a stop, hurrying over to the security panel and swiping his wrist across it.

  It flashed red. What? He tried again. Same result. Son of a bitch. Nash must have contacted engineering and had his access to the seals rescinded. Tyson wasn’t immediately sure if that was acceptable under the terms of their agreement, and he didn’t have time to argue about it.

  “Here you go, Captain,” Drew said, swiping his ID. The panel flashed green and the doors began to part.

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Tyson replied. “A word of advice before I leave. Keep an eye on Governor Nash. He’s got a bit of a selfish streak.”

  Drew smiled. “Your people put him in charge, Captain. I’m just doing my job. I’m grateful to be alive and away from Earth, and looking forward to having some babies so their babies can make it to Avalon one day. Good luck with the emergency. Don’t get us all killed.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Tyson said, slipping through the still-opening doors. He didn’t look back as he sprinted along the passageway, trying to remember how to get to the bridge. He was on Deck Sixteen. The bridge was on Eight. The forward elevator wasn’t too far.

  He ran the entire way, huffing by the time he reached the elevator and tapped the controls. Nearly five minutes had already passed since Siraj contacted him. He was surprised she hadn’t checked in again.

  Then he remembered his comm badge was trackable. Inside Metro? Joseph might have seen where he was—he had told him, after all, that he could locate him in the event of an emergency, which this was—but he didn’t think the Guardian would spy on him again.

  The elevator arrived, carrying him quickly to Deck Eight. He ran again, through the passageways to the doors leading onto the bridge. He went toward them expecting them to open automatically, nearly slamming into them when they didn’t.

  The security on the bridge was deactivated before. It wasn’t now. Had Joseph turned it on? He swiped his wrist, the panel flashing green and the door opening. He hurried inside.

  “Attention,” Rollins said, still standing watch. “Captain on deck.”

  “Nevermind that,” Tyson said as he rounded the command station. “Commander, what’s the emergen—” He cut off when the station came into view. Siraj was sitting in the seat, and Joseph was standing behind her, dressed in full combat armor, his helmet cradled under his arm.

  Whatever was wrong, it was serious.

  21

  Grant

  Pioneer. Bridge. 11.11.2052. 1745 hours.

  “Captain Grant, sir,” Joseph said, standing at attention. “Guardian Prime reporting as ordered.”

  Tyson nodded, realizing that Commander Siraj had called an emergency and sent for him.

  “As you were, all of you.”. He looked at Siraj. “I didn’t expect we would have action so soon. I have the con,” he told her and she immediately surrendered the command station to him. “What’s the situation?”

  “Captain, as you know our long-range sensors were damaged during launch.” “We’re picking up an anomaly on short-range sensors.”

  “Anomaly? What do you mean? Another ship?”

  “Unknown, sir. There’s a mass out there that shouldn’t be out there. It’s approximately one hundred meters long, twenty meters wide and deep. It’s current velocity is point zero one cee, on a heading that will bring it within a thousand kilometers of Pioneer in four minutes, thirty-four seconds.”

  “So it’s moving?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can we get it on visual?”

  “Negative. It’s too small, too fast and too far away.”

  “That sounds like everything in space to me,” Tyson replied.

  “Yes, sir. Systems are interpolating its position based on last known velocity and course, but our readings are fifteen seconds behind reality.”

  “Meaning those thousand klicks could become zero before we know what’s hit us.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s why I considered this an emergency.”

  “Simple enough. Kill the acceleration. We’ll coast for a few minutes and let the object skate right past. It’s probably an asteroid or something we didn’t register before Aricebo went down.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Siraj said, adjusting the conn to gently cool down the thrusters. Tyson felt the slight change in force as the counter-inertial systems and coils worked to keep the interior of the ship at close to one gravity.

  Tyson rose from his command station and walked over to the holotable and activating it. He flipped through the menus until he found the short-range sensor visualization, pushing it into the air ahead of him. The hologram showed space around them in three dimensions, Pioneer as a green chevron and the unidentified object as red, with the known objects in space surrounding them. The trajectories of both Pioneer and the object were marked by curved lines in the appropriate color.

  Thanks to the change in acceleration, the object was projected to overshoot Pioneer by nearly ten thousand kilometers and growing.

  “Looks good to me, Commander,” Tyson said, watching the projection update.

  Siraj could see it from her raised position, as could Joseph. “Yes, sir.”

  Tyson looked back at her. “We could have handled this over the comm. There was no need for—” He stopped talking when he saw Siraj’s expression flatten, her eyes shifting to the projection. He turned back, mouth falling slack when he saw the trajectory of the object slowly changing, the curved red line moving to intersect their green one.

  “Shit,” Tyson cursed. “It’s artificial. It has to be an alien ship.” He stared at the changing path. It was still on a course to close within a thousand kilometers, though the diminishing distance between the two craft was also reducing the lag time of the sensors.

  Even so, once it got close enough to be nearly real time, it would be too late.

  “Sir, what are your orders?” Siraj asked.

  Tyson rubbed his chin, feeling the lightest bit of freshly growing stubble. The trife had come to Earth embedded in meteors. They had no technology. No real intelligence beyond killing. Up until this moment, there was no indication of a more advanced alien race within the solar system. But if the object chasing them wasn’t alien, what in the universe could explain it?

  “Maybe it isn’t hostile,” Joseph offered. “It could be trying to get close enough to communicate.”

  That it was out there at all was mind boggling. It shouldn’t be real. And it definitely shouldn’t be so close to Earth. They were only a couple of hours out. They hadn’t even reached Mars. Was this thing, whatever it was, responsible for the trife?

  Or was it trying to help?

  “Commander, open comms, as many channels as we can manage.”

  “Comms are still down, sir,” Siraj replied.

  Tyson growled in frustration. They couldn’t even try to talk to this thing? “Get me Oslo.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” A short pause followed.

  “This is Chief Oslo,” the engineer said over the comm. “What do you need, Captain?”

  “There’s an unidentified object approaching Pioneer. It adjusted course to match our change in acceleration, which indicates it may be another starship, probably alien. I’d like to try to communicate with it before we learn it’s hostile the hard way.”

  “Long range comms are down, Captain,” Oslo said. “You didn’t want to slow to fix them.”

  “Yes, I know. I wasn’t expecting to run into an extraterrestrial life form three hours out from Earth. What can you do to make it happen?”

  Oslo took a few seconds before answering. “We can try to boost the short-range. If they’re alien, they might have better tech than us and could pick up our signal.”

  “That would make the communication one-way.”

  “Yes, sir. But it’s better than nothing.”

  Tyson could hear the nerves in Oslo’s voice. The man was scared. Maybe he was right to be. “Make it happen, Chief.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Give me two minutes.”

  “You have one.”

  Oslo didn’t answer. Tyson turned his attention back to the projection. The object would reach them in about three minutes.

  “Captain,” Joseph said. “Command saw fit to equip us with a squadron of Bayonets. Maybe we can intercept whatever’s out there.”

  “There’s no time,” Tyson replied. “And as far as I know there’s nobody on this ship qualified to fly one.”

  “There are in Metro, sir,” Commander Siraj said. “Four former pilots were transferred into the city last week.”

  “How do you know that?” Tyson asked.

  “I’ve kept abreast of the personnel transfers since the beginning. I like to know who’s on our ship.”

  Tyson smiled. He should have been doing the same. “There still isn’t enough time to pull them out of Metro, suited up and out to the forward hangar. I appreciate the thought, Prime.”

  “Yes, sir,” Joseph replied.

  “Captain,” Oslo said, breaking back in over the comm. “We’ve boosted the signal output, and adjusted for a full frequency broadcast. If they’re listening at all, they should be able to hear you.”