Sunderam wasn’t to be dissuaded. “Captain Mahbarat is quite insistent. You will have all our facilities at your disposal.”

  “Look, commander, I’m very flattered by your confidence in my abilities but you must understand this is a much more complicated process than you could imagine. It could take days, or even weeks to restore them to their normal temperature and I doubt that you would have the appropriate equipment on-board. I’m sorry, but if you insist on going ahead with this, all you’d succeed in doing would be to kill them.”

  Sunderam adjusted the screens so that they showed the figure of Faulkner from a variety of angles.

  “As I said earlier, doctor, our captain is quite insistent. If you decide not to cooperate we have a team of surgeons standing by who won’t hesitate.”

  “No, commander. I’m sorry. This is a terrible idea and I don’t want any part of it. Without access to a modern cryogenic lab there’s no point us having this conversation – it just can’t be done.”

  “That is disappointing. But, if I can’t persuade you to change your mind, we will be forced to consider other options.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Webster was standing with Meyer in front of the main viewing screen when Silva and Farnese returned.

  Without waiting to be invited, Silva came over and stood next to him, the subtle hint of her perfume impossible to ignore.

  Farnese hung back from the screen as if, by not seeing it, he could delay the inevitable.

  “How many of them are there?” Silva asked.

  “So far, there’s been three of them,” Webster said.

  “How far apart?”

  Webster had to check. “Approximately one every ten to twelve minutes.”

  “How long ‘til the next one?”

  “Anytime now.”

  Farnese moved over to join them.

  The view kept switching from one ship to the other as they accelerated. While there were similarities with the Da’al ship they’ve encountered earlier, each one was markedly different from the rest.

  “How big are these things?” Farnese asked, his usually scrupulous regard for rank suddenly forgotten.

  “It’s not clear,” Meyer was making calculations on his tablet. “We can make all the estimations about tonnage we want but there’s no telling how accurate they are. They appear to be made from some kind of organic material for one thing.”

  “Average size, though?” Webster pressed.

  Meyer froze the screen on an angular looking ship. “My crew puts this as something approaching a heavy cruiser.”

  He switched to the next one. It had a very peculiar shape.

  “Looks like an old fishing hook,” Webster noted, following the curve of the ship with his finger. “It’s even got a sort of barb on one end.”

  Meyer was unimpressed. “Light cruiser at best.”

  The next one was a teardrop shape, formed from a lattice-like structure. “Lots of disagreement about this one, for obvious reasons. It’s bigger than the others but I’d hesitate to call that a battlecruiser.”

  “So, we’re seeing this now,” Silva observed. “But how long ago did this occur in real time: four hours? Five?”

  They were going to have to take into consideration the speed of light.

  “Just over four and a half,” Meyer said.

  “I hope that’s all of them,” Farnese said. “For all our sakes.”

  “Me too,” Webster said. “We’re not even sure what it is they want.”

  “Revenge,” said Meyer. “Pure and simple. You destroyed their ship. Wiped out their crew. I’d be surprised if they didn’t respond.”

  Webster rankled at that. Meyer was obliquely criticising Faulkner. Meyer, the man who had run at the first sight of the enemy.

  “The Mantis was well within her rights,” Silva pointed out. “That first ship had already destroyed both the Meridian and the Nantucket.”

  “Yes,” Meyer said, “And now it looks like this lot has arrived to finish what they started.”

  This exchange was followed by a bad-tempered silence. Webster didn’t want to say any more on the matter for fear of offending the already prickly Meyer but there were limits to his powers of self-control. He could endure all kinds of personal slights from Meyer but he couldn’t stand to hear Faulkner’s name being disparaged.

  It was Farnese who broke the deadlock.

  “Well, I guess these changes things.”

  “How so?” Meyer said.

  Farnese indicated their guests. “Are you happy to talk about this in front of our guests?”

  Webster had to suppress a smile at this blatant use of reverse psychology. Seemed that Farnese was pulling for their side now. Clearly, Lieutenant Silva had managed to work her charms on him as well.

  Meyer massaged his forehead with a single finger. “Under the circumstances, I feel that it would be appropriate for us to share details of our current mission. We are on the same side after all.”

  “Tigris?” Webster said.

  Meyer let out a sigh. “Was it so obvious?”

  “It might only be a research facility but it’s the Confederation’s only other concern in the area after Blackthorn and Laxx.”

  Meyer stared impassively at Webster and Silva before looking back at Farnese.

  “Would it be appropriate to share some of our mission objectives?” he asked.

  “No. I think that’s enough to be getting on with. Reaching Tigris remains our key objective and we’ve already lost too much time. The question is whether we can get there to complete our mission before the enemy arrives. Commander Farnese, what’s our current estimated arrival time?”

  “If we sail immediately: seventeen hundred hours tomorrow evening should see us make orbit.”

  “It would be useful to know what sort of speeds these other ships are capable of.”

  Webster said, “Captain Faulkner fired off a drone just before he rammed Blackthorn. All our findings will be on there. Lieutenant Silva, you did some work on calculating the speed of that first Da’al ship. Do you still have that information?”

  “I do, sir,” she went back to where she’d been sitting and retrieved her tablet. “Based on our current intel, would you like an estimate of how long it would take that ship to reach Tigris, captain?”

  She took his silence for assent and accessed her tablet.

  “Nineteen hours approximately.”

  “Meaning they’d arrive at roughly fifteen hundred hours,” Webster said, watching Meyer and Farnese’s reaction. “Do me a favour, lieutenant. How long would it take the Dardelion to reach Tigris? Same parameters.”

  They had to wait for her to enter the data.

  “Sixteen hours.”

  “That’s a lot better,” Webster said, but he wasn’t the one they had to convince.

  “That’s still cutting it very fine, though,” Farnese pointed out.

  Meyer broke away from them and went to stand at the head of the table.

  “Why is it?” he said. “That I feel like I’m being backed into a corner over this? Commander Webster?”

  Webster moved to stand on the opposite side of the table. “Honestly, sir, I think we’re all in the same boat here. Those members of my crew still to be rescued, the people stuck on Blackthorn, the scientists on Tigris. They’re all running out of time. The Da’al, it would seem from the arrival of these new ships, are keen to assert their dominance over this system and, even with the Yakutian’s help, this doesn’t seem to be a situation we can currently defend against. All we can do is work together to save as many of our people as possible. That way, at least, we might get a chance to re-group.”

  “My orders are very specific. It is imperative that I carry them out with all due haste.”

  But Meyer’s tough words didn’t match his general bearing. It was obvious to everyone. The man looked as if he were already beaten.

  “The figures speak for themselves,” Webster said. “If you insist on pursuing this course of action with the Renheim odds are that you’re going to fail. You will appear in orbit three hours after the Da’al have already established themselves and you will have lost the initiative.”

  “I can do the math, commander. You’re saying what? That I should hand my orders over to you? Trust that you’ll be able to carry them out before the Da’al arrive?”

  “As I don’t have access to your mission brief, only you can answer that question, sir.”

  “And in return, I’m left to mop up your mess?”

  Webster could barely contain himself. The urge to lash out was almost overwhelming.

  “Sir, the men and women of the Mantis were following orders when they climbed into those escape pods. Now, whatever you might think of Captain Faulkner and the decisions he made, you cannot allow that to influence the way you deal with those survivors.”

  Meyer rested his fingertips on the highly lacquered table.

  Time passed.

  Meyer lifted his head, his eyes locking onto Webster’s.

  “If we are to go down this path I must have your assurance that I will in no way be held responsible for the success or failure of your mission.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “Nonetheless, I must insist that you make a declaration to that effect before you leave.”

  In case we don’t come back.

  “Very well, captain. You have my word.”

  “You will of course carry out all aspects of your orders precisely as given.”

  “Once I’ve been fully briefed, I’ll be happy to agree to that.”

  “I’m sorry, commander, you don’t seem to understand this is a one-off deal. You must agree to all my terms before receiving any details.”

  He shot a look in Silva’s direction. She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.

  “That is the agreement I am offering. Take it or leave it.”

  No one in his right mind would agree to such a thing.

  “This is all highly irregular,” Farnese pointed out.

  “The whole situation is highly irregular,” Webster said. “But I suppose I have no other choice.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sigrid Ardent couldn’t wait to get out of the shuttle.

  It had been a comparatively short journey from the Dardelion to the Renheim but she’d hated every minute of it. She felt suffocated by the cramped interior and, while she had tried to clear her mind and do a little meditating on the way over as a way of distracting herself, she found that she couldn’t.

  The pain in her hip was too distracting. She’d been fortunate that her gunshot wound hadn’t been more serious – an inch to the left and it would have shattered her hip completely – and she’d only needed a few sutures. But ever since then she’d had shooting pains from her hip being transmitted through her whole left leg. She could ignore the pain if she was busy but whenever she tried to sit or lie down, the pain seemed to intensify.

  Still, she was glad to be away from the Dardelion.

  Grimes’ death had affected everyone on-board. There’d been a lot of resentment over what had happened to Grimes. A lot of the Marines felt that Webster had been largely responsible for his death, for sending him outside without a proper suit. Markham’s attempts at defending Webster seemed to have only made matters worse. The funeral had helped matters somewhat but there was no denying that there was a near toxic atmosphere on-board so that it came as a relief to everyone when he and Silva had gone to visit the Renheim. It still didn’t help Ardent’s sense of being trapped aboard her own ship. She wasn’t used to having lots of people around so the fact that she was having to share all the amenities with a group of Marines she found very trying indeed. Having to share the same bathroom with them was, for her, almost unbearable. She knew that it was stupid but she couldn’t find a way of getting around it.

  When Silva had contacted her over the comms to outline this new plan to take the ship to Tigris she’d very nearly lost her composure. But she suspected that Silva had intended that response. As much as she hated being on the Dardelion, she suspected that they didn’t much like having to accommodate her either. And by telling her about the privations they would face on this new mission it would only make her more acquiescent to any alternative they might choose to offer her. The idea of abandoning everything and transferring across to the much larger Renheim sounded too good to be true. The fact that she would have her own quarters was a huge incentive but she was also had a keen hankering to stay close to Blackthorn. Despite what had happened, she still had an enormous affinity with the place and the idea of returning there in some kind of leadership position still appealed to her. Ridiculous, she knew, but that was how she felt.

  Immediately she had come off from speaking with Silva she’d gone to gather her things, only to realise just how little she had to collect. She hadn’t been allowed to take a bag with her when she’d been arrested so that, effectively, everything she owned she was standing up in. Even her underwear wasn’t her own. She’d had to print that off herself. A month ago she would have rather died than put on synthetic underwear but a lot had changed since then.

  Before she’d left, she’d gone down to the rear of the ship to see if she could speak to LaCruz Jackson. Ardent felt a strong affinity with the young woman and wanted to thank her for all that she’d done but her route was blocked by Marines unloading a series of heavy crates which the Renheim shuttle had brought over. One of the troopers went off to go and see if she could find Jackson but then didn’t come back.

  She’d bumped into Markham as she was on the point of leaving. She wanted to have a quiet moment with him alone, to thank him and his men for getting her safely off Blackthorn but he was too distracted to fully grasp what it was she was trying to say and, in the end, the moment passed.

  That upset her. Not because of anything Markham had done but more as a reflection of how she perceived herself now. As governor of Blackthorn she had been used to people going to great efforts to grab some time with her but now, ever since Parnashikan’s coup, she’d found herself being marginalised. Not only was her opinion not sought after, it often wasn’t valued at all. Markham was a good marine whose work she greatly admired but he genuinely didn’t seem to care what she thought of him. All he wanted to do was get on with his job which, in her eyes, made his actions all the more commendable.

  She envied him his sense of purpose and only wished that she had something like that herself. All she seemed to be able to think about was her own personal comforts. She realised that she’d spent so long tied up in her role as governor with all its perks and privileges that she’d lost sight of what it was that had initially motivated her to get involved in politics.

  Ardent got a good look at the Renheim as they prepared to come alongside. She’d been expecting something along the lines of the Mantis but this ship was considerably bigger and quite a good deal more up to date. Despite herself, she couldn’t help getting excited at the thought of having her own private cabin.

  The one thing she did feel a sense of relief about was breaking her long association with the Dardelion. As the governor’s official transport it had always seemed to her like a huge over-indulgence but she had been encouraged to retain it by her advisors as a mark of her status. In truth, she’d only had cause to use it half a dozen times and she dreaded the moment every fiscal year when she had to sign off on its exorbitant running costs.

  At least now, someone was going to get some use out of it and, for some reason, she found that reassuring. At least now, whatever happened to her in the next stage of her life, she’d be able to do whatever she wanted without having to feel beholden to anyone.

  She might even go back into business - perhaps that would fill the gulf. She enjoyed making money, she was good at it. One thing was for certain: she’d never starve.

  That thought brought a smile to her lips and she was still smiling when the airlock cycled open and she saw Joanne Silva standing there.

  Silva looked just as surprised to see her.

  The two women embraced, oblivious to the maintenance teams busying themselves to secure the shuttle.

  Silva held her at arm’s length.

  “I’m so sorry about this, Sigrid. I feel like a landlord kicking out one of her favourite tenants.”

  Ardent held up a hand. “It’s fine. I hadn’t planned to live out the rest of my days on that ship anyway.”

  “I know, but it’s all been so sudden. So rushed. It’s like we can’t wait to get rid of you.”

  “No, I understand. What with five new Da’al ships to contend with…”

  Silva gripped her forearm. “Five, you say!”

  “Yes. Oh, sorry, haven’t you heard? Another one popped up just as I was boarding.”

  Silva was struggling to take the information in. It might even jeopardise this new mission of theirs – whatever that might consist of.

  Silva’s smile when it came was strained. “Looks like you’ve made the right decision: get out while the going’s good.”

  “Yes, that’s the plan. I’ve had enough adventure to last me a lifetime.”

  Alex Webster appeared at the far end of the corridor, talking earnestly to an attractive blonde-haired officer. They walked the length of the corridor, coming to a halt next to Silva. The woman was positively glowing, her whole dynamic changing as soon as Webster appeared. Her normal reserve vanished and she appeared suddenly animated. To Ardent, the attraction between them was obvious but no one else seemed to notice.

  Ardent stood there waiting to be introduced to the young officer but he was suddenly interrupted by something. He made the classic move of holding a finger to his ear and then he was off, waving his goodbyes to Webster and Silva.

  Too rude to even think about condoning such actions.

  Just another sign of her dwindling prestige.

  “I’ll let you get on,” Ardent said to Webster. “I’m sure you’ve got enough to be thinking about.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s been an honour,” with that he took her hand. “Oh, by the way, I’m sending one of Markham’s troopers over to help you settle in. A Corporal Acosta.”