He’d stay where he was for a couple more minutes. He was doubtless in shock. Give himself a chance to get his breath back.

  But then he closed his eyes for a second and all his concerns disappeared.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Faulkner sat outside the operating room where they were treating Joanna Silva.

  He had been insistent that he would stay until after the surgeons had completed their work but the charge nurse had been equally insistent that he would have to leave. The treatment rooms were full to overflowing with casualties and the doctors were run off their feet. He didn’t know exactly what was going on in the rest of the station but, in the aftermath of the bombings, it was clear that the hospital was operating at or close to emergency status. Faulkner had lost count of the number of seriously injured cases he’d seen brought in.

  Of the six people seated in the flier’s main hold when the missile had exploded, only four had survived. The sergeant who had welcomed them aboard had been killed instantly and they were yet to recover her body. Second Lieutenant Carl Zimmer, the young man Faulkner had spoken to an hour earlier had been hit in the back by a piece of shrapnel and had subsequently died from his wounds. The two surviving members of his diplomatic team were currently being assessed for suspected head and neck injuries.

  Silva’s leg had been broken in the crash but what they hadn’t realised initially was that she had also damaged her femoral artery. The doctors had rushed her into surgery, eager to isolate the source of bleeding. She had been in there for over an hour now though one of the surgeons had stopped by to let Faulkner know that they had managed to stabilise her. But he wouldn’t be drawn on Silva’s chances long term.

  For his part, Faulkner was unharmed apart from some minor burns on his chest and forearms. He had been lucky, largely down to the fact that the missile had targeted the aft engine. That and the fact that his co-pilot seat restraints were of a much higher specification than those in the main cabin. Ardent’s cocoon had protected her from a lot of the impact but there were concerns that she might have damaged her spine and she had been met by a large team of medical staff upon her arrival. Faulkner couldn’t blame them for their reaction, though. With Blackthorn in the state it was in, it would only take the loss of their governor to tip the whole place over into chaos.

  Parnashikan had been to visit, though he hadn’t stayed long. He was as poised as ever, though seemed physically shocked to discover that Ardent was conscious and able to hold a conversation. If he’d been entertaining any thoughts that this incident might have elevated him to the governor’s role he was quickly disabused of that idea. Faulkner pressed him for information regarding who it might have been who had fired on them but either Parnashikan didn’t know or he was working incredibly hard to ensure that Faulkner stayed in the dark. The idea that Parnashikan might somehow be behind all of this had already occurred to Faulkner but his brain was just too muddled at present for him to start piecing everything together.

  He was working on the wording of the letter he would have to write to Zimmer’s parents when one of the nurses came in and asked if he’d care to see the governor.

  As the nurse showed him into the suite, the pair of them found their route blocked by security personnel.

  “It’s alright,” Ardent called from the bed. “You can let him in. I’ll be quite safe.”

  Her security staff appeared to have reservations about this.

  “Come on,” she said. “If Captain Faulkner had meant me any harm I’m sure I wouldn’t be here now.”

  One of the men stepped forward and indicated for Faulkner to raise his arms so that he could be searched.

  Instead, Faulkner placed a warning hand on the man’s chest.

  “Didn’t you hear what the governor just said? Now step aside.”

  The man looked at Faulkner’s arm as if considering his next move but then caught sight of the tattoos peaking from beneath the other man’s sleeve. That seemed to decide things. The man stepped aside and after a brief discussion with his team, they withdrew into the corridor.

  Faulkner approached the bed. Ardent looked pale and drawn.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “They’ve given me some painkillers. They’re worried I might have damaged my back.”

  “Then you should rest.”

  “And let this place tear itself apart? I don’t think so,” she tried to sit up but soon abandoned the idea. “Any news about Lieutenant Silva?”

  “Her leg’s broken but they can fix that. She had a femoral bleed and that’s what they’re most concerned about.”

  Ardent nodded. “And what about you?”

  Faulkner laughed, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’ve been trying to get in touch with the ship. Let them know what’s happened. So far, I’ve been unable to get through.”

  A silence developed between them.

  Ardent said, “I meant to talk to you about that. About your offer.”

  “You mean Commander Webster, or the Marines?”

  “Both.”

  Faulkner found himself rubbing his hands together. “You serious?”

  “Don’t see that I have much choice. Things are getting bad and I’ve an idea they’ll get worse before they get better.”

  “You sure about this? It’s a big step.”

  “Haven’t you heard? No, I suppose not, not with you losing your comms link in the crash.”

  It had been lost amidst the wreckage of the flier.

  “Those aliens of yours,” she said. “The Da’al or whatever they’re called - seems they’re back.”

  Faulkner couldn’t shift through the mental gears fast enough to come up with a suitable response. “You sure?”

  “I’ve only just heard myself. The Mantis contacted us to say they’ve picked up something emerging from the Felicity Gate. They’re still waiting for verification but everything suggests it’s them.”

  Faulkner felt his cheeks glow red.

  “How many? How many ships? Do we know?”

  “Just the one so far, your people have been pretty sketchy on the details but they’re saying it’s a viable threat.”

  She seemed oddly excited by this turn of events and watched Faulkner for his reaction. He was suddenly struck with a sense of foreboding and an image of Silva lying on a bed draped in bandages. His first impulse was that he needed to gather his crew around him. He was going to need every last one of them to help him face down this threat. But at the same time he couldn’t ignore the people of Blackthorn. If this news got out it was liable to throw the whole place into a panic.

  He struggled to think how best to proceed. It had been a trying day.

  “I need to return to the Mantis immediately but I’m concerned about leaving Lieutenant Silva behind.”

  “Well, you can put your mind at rest on that front. I’ll see to it that she gets the best care possible. Then she can return to you as soon as she’s able.”

  “Thanks you for that,” Faulkner felt a strange sense of relief on hearing that.

  “And what about the other thing?”

  “If you’re serious about going ahead, I’ll arrange for Commander Webster to transfer down with a platoon of Marines asap. Webster’s a good man but you have to remember, no matter how capable he might be, his effectiveness will be limited by the level of co-operation he receives from your security forces.”

  “I understand,” she pushed herself up out of the bed, wincing as she did so. “And in the meantime, what should I do?”

  A thousand and one different details suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. What had he been thinking coming down here when his ship was in such a dolorous state of repair? No, he decided. He’d acted in good faith. The ship needed those engines and if he had to do the same thing again in order to secure them, then that’s what he would have to do.

  “Okay,” he said. “The first thing I need you to do is to stop anyone coming up from Iscaria. I don’t care who they are, businessmen, miners, no exceptions. You have to commandeer those elevators and start getting people off this station as soon as you can. Do you think you can manage that?”

  “Erm, yes,” for the first time since they’d met, Ardent seemed unsure of herself. “This thing that’s coming - this ship - it’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

  He moved so that he was standing over her. “We have to prepare for the worst. But if we can pull together we can still save a lot of lives.”

  But even as he was saying it, the words felt hollow.

  CHAPTER TEN

  An honour guard met Faulkner’s shuttle as it arrived back at the Mantis.

  He had sat opposite the two women from his diplomatic team on the way up, all the while missing Silva’s moderating presence. Apart from a few pleasantries, the three of them had hardly spoken. It wouldn’t have been appropriate to do so considering that they were travelling with Second Lieutenant Zimmer’s body locked in the hold.

  What made the trip seem even stranger was the fact that they were travelling in a standard commercial shuttle which Faulkner had chartered privately. With the ban on space flights still in place the company had been glad of the work. The shuttle was far too big for their needs but Faulkner hadn’t been thinking about them when he’d made the booking. He’d been looking for a way of bringing Webster and his team back down to Blackthorn without drawing too much attention and this seemed like a good solution.

  There had been a certain amount of scrutiny when they’d left because it looked like they were getting special treatment but no one would think there was anything odd about the shuttle returning to its berth. And that way Faulkner could get his boots on the ground without anyone noticing.

  Webster was waiting for them with an honour guard when they’d disembarked: six crewmen and women all in dress whites. He’d also brought the Chaplain to offer support to the surviving members of the team.

  Faulkner had been adamant about bringing the body back with him. The next few days were going to prove incredibly challenging and he didn’t want to get things off to a bad start by failing to honour the fallen. He’d lined up with the others and come to stiff attention as the coffin had been unloaded. The corridor was narrow and they had to press back against the bulkheads in order to give the casket room to pass. The two women had displayed a remarkable amount of composure so far, considering what they’d been through, but all that started to crumble when the lead guard draped the Confederation flag over the coffin.

  Faulkner felt the young man’s death keenly in that moment. Carl Zimmer wasn’t the first person to die under Faulkner’s command and he surely wouldn’t be the last but it struck him as particularly poignant that he had come through their previous engagement unscathed only to die on a diplomatic mission. It didn’t seem right. Blackthorn security still had no idea who had shot down their flier and it was unlikely now that they would find out. It seemed a particularly sorry way for such a vital young officer to go. As the cortege passed, he couldn’t help feeling that it had all been a terrible waste.

  He hung back with Webster, while the honour guard moved ahead, the Chaplain leading the way.

  The shuttle pilot, a man in his fifties with a hang-dog expression, had watched all of this from a distance. He gave Faulkner a meaningful nod before returning to his ship. He’d no doubt be keen to get under way but Faulkner had a couple of things he had to attend to first.

  “No sign of Silva, then?” Webster asked.

  Faulkner half turned back as though he’d left her on the shuttle. “Er, no. I was hoping we could bring her up with us this trip but, in the end, we had to leave her behind.”

  “But she’s well, though? Lieutenant Silva.”

  “Clean break,” Faulkner indicated his own leg. “So, yes, she’ll be fine.”

  With that out of the way, Webster got back to business. “I’ve organised a cart to take you back to your quarters, sir.”

  Faulkner bridled at that. Webster was only one of two people on board who knew about Faulkner’s long term health issues and he didn’t appreciate the implications.

  “That’s very good of you but I think I’d rather walk. You can fill me in on the way. I’m keen to know what’s happening with these new engines.”

  Faulkner started off at a good pace but Webster found himself still having to hang back.

  “Chief Davitz would have liked to have been here, sir, but he sends his apologies.”

  “That sounds rather ominous. Is there a problem?”

  “Several, sir. The biggest issue is the engines themselves - they’ve only just arrived.”

  Faulkner nodded thoughtfully. “I’m afraid most of that delay is largely down to me.”

  Faulkner went on to explain about the issues surrounding Vice Consul Syashami’s visit.

  Webster said, “Sounds like the governor may have been hedging her bets.”

  “Which is understandable considering the situation she finds herself in.”

  “So, what was it that convinced her to let us have the engines?”

  Faulkner considered this for a moment. “I imagine that your message about a Da’al ship entering the system might have had something to do with it. I take it that’s true?”

  Webster held up a hand. “Sir, we’re not even sure it is a ship. It’s big enough, and it is heading our way but we have yet to ascertain whether it’s actually a Da’al ship.”

  Faulkner favoured him with a rare smile.

  “Well, whatever it is, it did the trick,” he started off walking again. “It gave Governor Ardent the kick up the rear she needed to release those engines. And that can only be a good thing. What about the Yakutians? Are they aware of this new development?”

  “The alert we sent to Blackthorn was sent on an open channel so I’d be very surprised if they didn’t know.”

  “Understood,” Faulkner couldn’t tell if that had been a wise decision or not. Only time would tell. “Any idea when these engines might be operational?”

  “Chief Davitz assures me that they’ll be up and running within the next seventy-two hours.”

  Faulkner surveyed the ground. “Mr Webster, that is not acceptable, and you know it.”

  Webster wanted to say something but couldn’t. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

  “I apologise, sir. I’ll get onto it right away.”

  Faulkner hesitated mid-step. “You’re not going to have time for that, Alex. The situation on Blackthorn is deteriorating as we speak. They need our help.”

  “I’d assumed things were bad when they started taking pot-shots at visiting dignitaries.”

  “It’s getting out of hand. There are lots of frightened people milling about and they’re all looking for a way off that station. With the appearance of this new threat, Ardent’s going to have to persuade her executives to make that travel ban stick. But they’re not the only ones she has to convince. If she doesn’t get a handle on this soon, we’re looking at civil unrest on a massive scale. She needs to clear her decks.”

  “You’re talking about a large-scale evacuation? Getting everyone down to the planet.”

  “That’s the only option we have at the moment – they’re like sitting ducks up there.”

  Webster nodded absently, taking it all in. “I see.”

  “It’s not going to be easy, persuading everyone to leave but they do have those two space elevators at their disposal.”

  “And you want someone to oversee this?”

  Webster caught on quickly.

  “That’s right. You’ll be backed up by the Marines, of course. I’ve asked that you be put in charge of one area. That way you’ll be able to maintain your independence whilst keeping clear of their in-house security.”

  “A peace keeping mission, then?”

  The phrase was anathema to all fighting men. They would be offering assistance to a populace who would be deeply resentful of their presence there. That kind of operation called for a unique skill set balancing the immediate needs of the population against the Marines’ innate tendency to come down hard on anyone who opposed them.

  It wouldn’t be easy, and he’d have to work closely with whichever Marine commander was assigned to him. But it could be done.

  Faulkner remembered an instructor at the Academy likening a peace keeping mission to trying to win a game of poker with the worst hand imaginable. It was going to take a lot of tough negotiating for Webster to turn this situation around.

  But then, if he really wanted to be the captain of a starship, those were exactly the kind of skills he was going to need.

  “What are we talking about?” Webster said. “A platoon, or something smaller?”

  “I think a platoon should do it. They’ll no doubt appreciate the chance of getting out of the hold, anyway.”

  But there was no disguising that this had the potential to be a very difficult deployment.

  “Alright,” Webster was trying to stay positive. “Have you had any thoughts as to who the platoon leader might be?”

  “No. I thought I’d leave that up to you.”

  “I appreciate that, sir. When do we leave?”

  “As soon as possible,” he patted Webster on the shoulder. “I’ve arranged with the shuttle captain to ferry you back down so you’re going to have move fast, I’m afraid. If you come with me now I can brief you on how things were left with the Governor. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already contacted Major Birro and asked him to hand pick a group with the relevant skills. They should be kitted out and raring to go by now.”

  Webster pulled a face at that. He clearly wasn’t happy that he wouldn’t be assembling his own team but at least he’d get to pick his own platoon leader. And he had just the man in mind.

  “There are lots of families down there, Alex. We’ll try and delay that ship for as long as possible but in the end it’s going to be up to you. Do whatever you can to get as many people as possible off that station.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Faulkner went straight to the engine room after briefing Webster. He’d felt like a caged animal on the journey back to the Mantis and was anxious to assess his ship’s battle readiness. But he hadn’t banked on the reception he would receive.