“I should have thought about this before,” he said. “These cruise ships have always had top-of-the-range comms set-ups, and three of those working together…”

  “Like I said, sir. They’ve done a great job.”

  Faulkner folded the paper neatly in half.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t feel that you’re being completely honest with me here.”

  Schwartz put her drink down on the coffee table.

  “Sir, I knew what I was doing when I accepted the role of First Officer and, God-willing, I will give it my all, baby or no baby. I would just say that the crew have had a particularly hard time of it lately but we can’t pick and choose our assignments, can we? It’s not ideal but we’re just going to have to make the best of it.”

  “Good. I’m glad that’s sorted. I wish there was another ship that could pitch in and help here but there isn’t. Someone has to stop this thing and it looks like we’ve just drawn the short straw. Having said that, what state are we in?”

  “Pretty poor, if I’m honest, sir. Aside from the damage to our long-range scanners, we have seven compartments which are currently exposed to space.”

  “Seven?”

  “That’s right, sir. Some of which we can patch up, some of which we can’t. But my main concern is the forward engine.”

  Faulkner gave her a guilty look.

  “I know, I’ve been concerned about that too.”

  “Technically, we should shut it down. You do realise that sir?”

  “I do but if that goes offline we may as well turn around and go home. Can’t we find some way of lagging it, to keep the radiation in check.”

  “Not without shutting it down first. Even then, whoever we sent in there to do the work, we’d be giving them a death sentence. It’s just too far gone. Luckily, because of where it is in the ship, it is fairly isolated.”

  Faulkner’s head dropped to his chest. There was a lot more that could be said about the matter but neither of them wanted to go there.

  “Alright,” he said. “Now we’ve got that out the way, what about our armaments? Have you spoken to Whaites?”

  “He’s currently surveying the damage done to our laser arrays.”

  “How’s he doing that? He’s not gone outside has he?”

  “’Fraid so, sir. Out of the eight batteries we had against the Loki, only three are currently operational.”

  “Okay,” Faulkner was trying to make sense of all this. “And what about the others? Are they repairable?”

  “That’s what Whaites is looking at. Seems that a lot of the circuitry’s been burnt out so he’s trying to see if some of it can be replaced, though I’m not holding out much hope, if I’m honest.”

  “I know, but we have to do something. There’s no way we can go up against something like Thor with only three batteries operational.”

  “And, what about our other armaments,” she said. “We can’t be far off needing a complete re-supply.”

  “I know,” he conceded. “I’ve been talking to Lieutenant Kirby and it’s not looking good. Eighty-seven missiles of various types and descriptions. Granted that some of them carry multiple war heads but some of the others are very uninspiring, to say the least.”

  She blew out her cheeks and drummed on her knees.

  “Not exactly what you want to hear when you’re going up against a battle cruiser.”

  “I’d have to agree but, go up against her, we must.”

  Schwartz felt her spirits drop. Could he not see that their position was hopeless? Even if the Renheim was in perfect working order and fully resourced they’d struggle to make headway against Thor. It was enormous, bigger even than Loki and markedly faster to boot. She could only guess what her armaments would look like. How could they press ahead with this when they had no chance of stopping her?

  It didn’t make sense.

  She said, “Any thoughts about how you might approach this?”

  She doubted very much that he’d want to get involved in another pursuit, though looking at him, she couldn’t rule it out. He seemed to have been buoyed up by this new intelligence from The Sundowner and that worried her.

  When would this all end? When would they be able to sit back and say that it was over?

  When would Faulkner draw the line and say enough is enough?

  Despite what their orders were, she couldn’t believe that Faulkner would seriously consider sanctioning Priority Balthasar. She didn’t think that he had it in him, despite what others might think.

  Simply because it would seem like the ultimate betrayal of the crew.

  But might that be it? The only way that Faulkner could find peace with himself?

  A glorious death in battle.

  She certainly hoped that that wouldn’t be the case.

  “We haven’t got the means for a head-on attack,” he said. “For one thing we lack the necessary firepower and, for another, it would all be over far too quickly. We wouldn’t be able to inflict the necessary damage to slow her down, let alone stop her.”

  Schwartz had come to much the same conclusion herself. Even if conditions had been ideal, such a strategy would be extremely difficult to pull off. And then there was the issue that once they’d passed one another, Renheim would be traveling much too fast to be able to slow down quickly enough to be able to attempt a second pass.

  “So, what have you decided to go with?” she asked, though she thought she already knew the answer.

  “Currently, we have them at a disadvantage. We might have located them but there’s very little chance that they know we even exist.”

  “True, but surely they must be expecting some opposition.”

  “Yes, but they’ll be looking in the direction of Blackthorn for that. They certainly won’t be expecting someone to come at them from out of nowhere.”

  Using his left hand, he moved her soda along the table’s mid-line. With his right, he moved his whiskey glass up from the bottom of the table sweeping it around in the shape of a reverse C before bringing it in alongside Schwartz’s drink.

  She turned her head to consider this from a variety of angles.

  “You’re sure we’ll be able to match her for speed?”

  “Khan seems to think so. At least in the short term and, really, that’s all we can hope for.”

  Schwartz couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to close her eyes in the hope that this whole nightmare would just go away. But she didn’t. She was too busy recalling her naval history.

  In Nelson’s day, such a maneuver would have been known as a simple broadsides. Two equally matched ships pounding each other with canon fire until one of them was destroyed. But with the Renheim in her weakened state, there was no question what the outcome of this engagement would be.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I’m not sure what we’d be hoping to achieve here.”

  “It’s very simple. We have to use the element of surprise to try and get in a significant attack. I’m not suggesting that we’ll be able to stop them in their tracks but the least we can do is slow them down.”

  Schwartz had to ignore the fact that this would inevitably lead to their own destruction.

  “And then what?”

  Faulkner threw up his hands. “That’s not for us to decide. Admiral Winterson assures me that fresh reinforcements are currently on their way.”

  Schwartz stared at him with barely disguised disbelief. “But, surely, that’s not true?”

  “Now, you wouldn’t be questioning the admiral’s motives, would you?”

  “No, sir. But I just find that very hard to believe.”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion,” Faulkner said. “Best not put that in your report though.”

  *

  While Bayas set about re-building the cryo-pod, Morton did her best to keep a low profile. When Tanziat returned to collect her dresses, the pair chatted amiably with the Yakutian woman probing her about their dinner date. Morton was quite happy to share some of the details though she was careful to make no mention of the ‘surprise’ Bayas had shown her. Tanziat was glad for her and even a little jealous when Morton mentioned the name of the restaurant they’d dined at.

  Morton had toyed with the idea that the woman might be spying on her but if that were indeed the case why did she never ask about Bayas’ work? She never mentioned it, in much the same way she never mentioned what her husband did even though, as commander, he had a much higher status than Bayas.

  Before she left, Tanziat lifted the lime and gold dress to her nose and sniffed it.

  “Oh, so you decided to go with the other one?”

  Morton nodded but said nothing, keen for her guest to be gone.

  Tanziat held the dress up against herself. She had an enviably trim figure.

  “Then, I guess I might wear it myself, tomorrow night.”

  She looked at Morton, as if to cue her in.

  Morton sighed and said, “What’s happening tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, I don’t know whether I’m meant to say.”

  “That’s okay,” Morton said. “I know it must be difficult, being married to such an important figure. Lots of things you can’t talk about. I get it.”

  Tanziat slipped her arm around the waist of the dress and pulled it tight against her.

  “Only, they’re having some big shindig, that’s all. All the top people are invited. The captain’s organised it all. A very exclusive event.”

  At the mention of Sunderam, Morton’s ears perked up.

  “What? Is he going to make some kind of announcement?”

  “That was my first thought, but no. Seems he’s eager to show something off. And, whatever it is, it’s big.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  Tanziat leaned forward and lowered her voice. “No one else is supposed to know, but I think it’s something to do with the ship’s engines. They’ve been working day and night to overhaul them. That’s what my husband says, anyway.”

  She gave Morton a conspiratorial wink and slipped out the front door.

  Once she was sure that Tanziat was gone, Morton put on her coat and headed out to the market. She just needed to get out of the house. She was browsing at one of the food stalls when she looked up to see Hermendal. He was wearing a long brocade coat in three shades of green matched with a bright orange scarf. His penchant for color was a far cry from the dull uniforms worn by the majority of the crew. Not that anyone seemed to hold it against him, in the few minutes they stood together, he must have been stopped by at least three people all of whom he seemed to know intimately. Morton’s Coptic skills were improving by the day and she was taken aback when one of the men, a young lieutenant asked Hermendal who his ‘ghost faced’ friend was. She tried to tell herself that she must have been mistaken, that something had been lost in translation, but the jibe still hurt.

  Hermendal, similarly, seemed concerned about her welfare and even asked if she was getting enough to eat. When she said that she was getting plenty to eat, he challenged her to meet up with him for lunch just to prove it. She agreed though was careful to leave the arrangements suitably vague.

  It wasn’t that she distrusted Hermendal, but she was acutely aware that she and Bayas were being closely monitored. That was one of the reasons Bayas had waited until they were out on the boating lake before revealing his plans for the cryo-pod. He was concerned that their apartment might be under surveillance. With that in mind, the only time they were able to discuss his progress with the pod was if they were both in the bathroom with the shower running, though there were times when even they broke their own rules. Usually, at bedtime.

  Morton was keen to get things up and running because she was cognizant of the fact that Bertran and Yamada, the two surviving members of the Mantis’s bridge crew, had been held in stasis in now for quite some time. Her concern was that the longer this went on the more likely it was that something untoward might happen to one, or both, of them. Previously, where she had been reticent about getting the whole re-animation process started, now she felt that they had no other choice. They had to risk resuscitating or be prepared to watch them slowly fade away.

  This was, in part, why she was so desperate to be involved in repairing the pod. Even though she couldn’t be in attendance at the lab, she still felt that she had something to offer. So, while the shower ran she used the opportunity to question Bayas at length about what was happening. In order to placate her he had printed out one of the cryo-pods technical manuals for her to pore over.

  And, if he thought that was enough to keep her quiet, he was wrong. She’d quickly absorbed the whole document and was now keen for Bayas to run a series of diagnostic tests which she wanted him to film so that she could help with any possible trouble shooting that might be required.

  The whole process was starting to take its toll on Bayas’ health. It had manifested itself initially in an inability to sleep. He was lucky if he could get a couple of hours a night, but the stress of feeling that he was constantly under surveillance was proving too much for him. He’d lost weight and there were dark patches under his eyes which added a good ten years to his appearance.

  It didn’t help that he was starting to feel side-lined at work. And it wasn’t just him. His whole department seemed to have suffered since Sunderam had taken over, pouring all his resources into the engineering side. Twice in the past week, the department had been shut down to make ‘energy savings.’ It would make anyone feel uneasy.

  So, while her husband was adamant that he still wanted to press ahead with the project, she still wasn’t convinced. Morton strongly suspected that the reason he’d agreed to go along with this was because he felt indebted to her. And while it was true that if she hadn’t agreed to marry him, he would have surely been executed, Morton didn’t want him to embark on something that he wasn’t wholeheartedly committed to.

  Which was why she was concerned that she might be pushing him too hard. He was a scientist after all, his rank more a reflection of his high status within the Empire than any indication of military prowess. He wasn’t used to dealing with this kind of pressure. She had to accept that, while she liked him a lot, admired him even, he wasn’t a very robust individual.

  So when he suggested that she accompany him to the temple to mark the end of the Resilience festival, she had agreed without a second thought. She was surprised how relieved Bayas appeared to be as a result of her acquiescence. Bayas, like a lot of Yakutians, held deep religious beliefs so it clearly meant a lot to him to have his wife accompany him to the temple. She thought back to what Hermendal had said about how difficult it would be for him to prosper in his career if he was seen to have a disobedient wife. In order to ensure that everything went well for the festival she had asked Tanziat to take her shopping for a new outfit and she’d come back with an ash grey dress complete with a dark red wrap-around cape. When she’d shown it to Bayas he had been overwhelmed, taking her hands in his and kissing them repeatedly, though she wasn’t sure whether this was motivated more by relief than genuine affection.

  The temple lay at the ship’s epicentre and could be approached from any one of four separate walkways. They had arrived early in order to get a decent spot in the queues but even so they had to wait nearly three hours just to get through the main gate. As they had waited in line, they had been approached by tradesmen peddling a variety of wares. One of these was a garland salesman selling garlands of orange, blood red or a mixture of the two. It was only then that Morton realised that her cape matched the blood red petals almost exactly. Bayas bought a red garland for himself and an orange one for her and then had held her hand tightly as they prepared to go inside.

  The temple’s interior appeared to be constructed of marble and, though she knew this to be impossible, the effect was no less impressive. The temple was full of thousands of people, many of whom were engaged in prayer while others were lighting candles to the various effigies or simply burning incense.

  In fact, there was so much incense being burned that a permanent cloud of it hung in the air, filling her nostrils with its bittersweet perfume. Added to this, the sheer number of people crushed into such a comparatively small space was driving up the temperature, making it insufferably hot.

  After a while, the combination of factors started to have an effect on Morton who began to feel light-headed. Recognising her discomfort, Bayas found a spot for her tucked away behind one of the columns. He left her there while he went off to find her a chair.

  While he was gone, she pressed her face against the cool stone. It might not have been as refreshing as real marble but it helped to give her some relief. When Bayas returned a few minutes later with a stool, she was already starting to feel better but sat down at his insistence.

  “Perhaps we should go,” he suggested, pointing back the way they’d come though from his expression it was clear that he felt conflicted.

  “I thought you wanted to see the shrine?” she said. He’d been keen to spread some petals at the feet of the goddess. His mother had died two years earlier and he’d very much wanted to make an offering in her memory.

  “They look to be packed in over there. I think we’ll leave it. Come back another time.”

  Only, after today’s festivities were over, the statue of the goddess would be locked away for another year.

  She took his hand and pulled him to her. “No, its fine. You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

  “Really?” his eyes shone with excitement. “But are you sure?”

  “Absolutely!” it was not as though she could go with him. Women weren’t permitted inside the octagonal gate and she would have to wait outside anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

  He was about to protest when a young boy appeared carrying a tray into which were inserted cups of refreshment. Bayas stopped the boy and handed him some credits. He took a cup for himself and two more for Morton. She drained the first one without even thinking.