22

Contra-terrene device (abbr. CTD) is one of those euphemistic labels Earth Security comes up with every now and again, normally to stick on something associated with terms like 'megadeath', 'gigadeath' and 'Oh, shit!' A forty-megaton CTD could easily be mistaken for a simple thermos flask, and there are parallels. Only, if you open one, you will not find hot coffee inside; you will find antimatter, briefly.

The antimatter is held in an's-con magnetic coil, which is also powered by a bleed-off from it. Theoretically a CTD will not explode without a complex code being keyed into its detonator. The canisters have reputedly been shock tested to a 10,000-kilometres-per-hour flat collision with case-hardened ceramal, and heat-tested to the melting point of the same. One has to wonder what the meaning of 'test' is here, because no one seems to know if the canisters survived said 'tests'. Other questions that occur are: was there anything in the canisters when they were tested - and where are the people who tested them?

From How It Is by Gordon

In the morning Cormac counted the cost of his single-mindedness: three men dead, one man minus his feet and one man blinded, though new feet and new eyes were no problem, Cento scrapped for the second time, and Thorn now lying on the ground beside Mika's AGC with the woman removing a lump of shrapnel from his guts. Should he let some other agent take over? He thought not.

Pelter was dead, and Cormac did not know how to feel about that. The man had obviously slipped off the far side of weird some time ago, so perhaps death was an easier place for him. Just as the Separatist had once tried to share his sister's looks, he now shared her executioner; an apposite ending, but one Cormac found uncomfortable to speculate on. He turned his thoughts away and towards the future. Now he had a mission to complete: a mission to which he was ideally suited. He must not let the death of one madman distract him. It was like being a runner in a marathon: he had just passed the pain barrier and now he must continue. With core of cold hardness, he banished what had already been done from his thoughts, and considered what must be done now.

There were things he had learnt that another agent might have missed. Another agent might not have possessed his basic distrust of Dragon, might have been more credulous, taken the easier options. Pressing his hand to the dressing on his left biceps, he walked over to Aiden.

The Golem, though not quite so damaged as Cento, had still taken a pounding. He had lost skin from the side of his face and all down one side of his body. His eye on that side was missing, his exposed metal arm-bones were bent, and his metal ribs staved in, one of them broken. Aiden moved slowly as he turned the handle on a mechanical winch. He glanced over at Cormac, and perhaps noted how he was being assessed. Small plates shifted on the exposed side of his face, while the other side grinned.

'You should see the other fella,' said the Golem with an unexpected flash of humour.

Cormac could not find it in himself to react. He looked along the winch cables to where they were attached to the carrier. 'Will it work?' he asked.

Aiden's grin switched off. 'It will have about fifty per cent AG, and one turbine is still functional,' he said, and then continued winding the winch. After a moment the carrier crashed down on its side. As Aiden went off to reattach the cables, the sergeant approached. Cormac registered his stiff expression; he was well aware that the sergeant blamed him for the deaths of his men, and was in complete agreement with that assessment. Had the men been policemen, he might have had some sympathy, but they were soldiers, and death was just part of their job.

'Any sign of Stanton?' Cormac asked.

'No sign, sir. We found the shuttle, though. Whoever brought it in must have been a lunatic. It looks like it only just made it to the surface in one piece.'

'Can't be coincidence that it landed here,' said Cormac.

'Probably zeroed in on the proton gunfire, sir. I would think that most of the planet knows something happened out here by now.'

'Yes, quite probably.'

There was a short, tense silence.

'What now?' the sergeant finally asked.

Cormac saw that Aiden had finished reattaching the cables and was coming back. He nodded towards the carrier. 'Now… now you take your own men, and Thorn, Cento and Mika, back to civilization in the carrier. Aiden and I continue on.'

The sergeant could not hide his relief.

'Not a chance,' came a voice from behind.

Cormac turned to see Thorn walking unsteadily towards him. Mika came out behind him.

'Should he be walking?' Cormac asked her.

'I wouldn't recommend vigorous movement, but he's all right to walk. The other two won't be walking, though. One for obvious reasons, the other because his optic nerves are burnt out. That said, they're easily enough replaced.'

Thorn was staring hard at Cormac. 'You promised me,' he said.

Cormac shook his head. 'You asked - but I promised nothing. I remember it precisely. Carn found that hole in the artefact before I could give you a reply'

'Please,' said Thorn levelly, too proud to beg.

'You can come if you wish. But if we have to run, I won't wait for you.' Cormac turned away. Mika watched this exchange, then suddenly spoke up.

'I'm coming as well,' she said.

'If you like,' said Cormac, then turned at the sound of Aiden winding the cable in at high speed. The cable drew taut and Aiden's winding slowed. The winch, Cormac knew, had been attached to an electric motor on the front of the carrier. Strapped to the tree there was no motor to run it, and there was not a man here capable of turning the hastily fabricated handle. They all watched in silence as Aiden got the carrier up and teetering on its corner. When it crashed down level, Cormac immediately headed over to it. Shortly he returned, carrying a bulky rucksack.

'We're going now,' he said, and nodded towards Mika's AGC. The three fell in with him as he strode towards it.

In a moment they were airborne and gone.

'Goodbye,' said the sergeant, with a complete lack of sincerity. A few days before he had been eager for the chance of action. Now he just wanted to reach a safe retirement.

Cormac checked his watch after he had set the cruise-control on the AGC. 'Should be there in under an hour. Aiden, what are the precise co-ordinates of where the Maker went to ground?' Aiden told him, and Cormac nipped a map-screen from the console and checked them. 'Seems there is a cave mouth there. I'll be going in to set the CTDs. I am going alone. You, Thorn, are not capable at present, and I do not see why Mika should be exposed to the danger.'

Aiden said, 'But I see no reason why I should not accompany you.'

'You would not - and that is because you're not in possession of all the facts. You'll stay with the AGC. That's a direct order.'

There was no answer to that, so none was given.

Fifty minutes of flying brought them to a position directly above the given co-ordinates. Cormac brought the car down to twenty metres above ground level, then looked down at the cave mouth. It was a ragged rent in the side of a mountain, but easily accessible. He landed the vehicle a short distance away.

Before he left the car, Cormac reached back and said, 'Give me your thermal scanner, Aiden.'

The Golem handed it over: a grey box the shape of a soap bar, with a single screen and ball control. Cormac turned it on the three of them, and saw how little of a reading he got from Aiden. There were separate heat sources at his chest and groin, but the rest of his body was almost invisible. Mika and Thorn were statues of molten glass on the screen. Cormac moved the ball control and the area covered by the screen expanded. Positions relative to the sensors on the end of the scanner were given in metres, in three dimensions. He tilted the scanner and saw that these measurements did not change. The device was keyed to a ground level, then. He nodded with satisfaction and put the scanner in his pocket. When Aiden moved to hand over Thorn's proton gun, which lay on the back seat, Cormac held up his hand.

'I won't be needing that,' he said, and got out of the car. In silence they watched him go. He walked away with the rucksack slung over one shoulder: a tourist out for a brisk hike.

As he reached the cave mouth, Cormac ran a quick diagnostic on shuriken. It might have been damaged by the android, or by the seeker bullets. The miniscreen pointed out a slight aberration in the programming sequences, and some minimal damage to the chainglass blades. Both defects were acceptable. The blades were still more than serviceable, and he reckoned the source of the slight aberration was Tenkian himself. No way had he programmed shuriken to intercept seeker bullets, then hang in the air like a bristling terrier.

Cormac entered the cave.

A rush of creatures that he at first took to be bats fled past him. A close inspection of them showed him that they indeed had batlike wings - but seemingly no body or head. There was also something insectile about them. The cockroaches and burrowing beetles on the floor of the cave were terran, but the blue-metal centipedal creatures that seemed to be preying on them were from somewhere else entirely. Cormac trudged on through fallen bodies like dry leaves and turned on Aiden's scanner.

It indicated that there was something large about fifty metres ahead, and twenty metres further down. He advanced cautiously, wondering if he had been foolish to refuse the proton gun. He had not wanted it because shuriken seemed capable of dealing with anything the Maker might put in his way, and a proton weapon might well have brought the roof down on him. He paused for a moment and opened his rucksack. The box he took out was from Thorn's kit - he suspected it had belonged to Gant. He opened the box and took out one drone light, initiated it, then tossed it into the air. It ignited and shot off ahead of him.

The drone light bobbed down into darkness, and Cormac caught a glimpse of mirrored reflection. He halted and punched a particular attack program into his shuriken's holster, then took it out and tossed it into the air in front of him. It spun up and hung there, revolving like a metal-saw, but with its blades moving in and out as they had after it had destroyed the seeker bullet that had Cormac's name on it. Cormac viewed it with suspicion: it was not supposed to do mat. Tenkian, again. No one really knew what the weapon-smith did with his microminds, but it was often said that some of his weapons developed minds of their own, so to speak. Just so long as shuriken did its job, Cormac would be happy.

Twenty metres more and Cormac saw a flailing of chrome legs - as the drone light shot to the side of the tunnel and went out. He halted and listened at the dark. There was no alternative. He reached down to the holster and felt his way to the enable button. He pressed it and listened to shuriken whir away from him.

Only a few seconds after shuriken had gone there was a crashing from the darkness, and a familiar sound as of an air-compressor starting. He heard a scrabbling, the crash of a heavy body going down, then the metal-saw whine of shuriken striking. Sparks flared in the tunnel ahead and in their light Cormac caught a glimpse of a nightmarish shape. The sparks went out, flared again with a second strike, then a third, a fourth. When the only sound he could hear was the sound of those strikes, Cormac advanced, sending another drone light ahead of him.

The creature that lay dismembered on the tunnel floor resembled the one in the shaft on Samarkand only in that it was silvered and had insectile legs. Cormac realized immediately that the Maker had taken as its template the same centipedal things he had previously observed. Sure now that the creature was not going to be getting up again, he hit the recall on shuriken. It poised over the body with its blades going in and out, as if wondering whether to disobey and hit it again, but then it returned to its holster. Cormac plucked the drone light from the air, punched a different setting on it, and sent it out at a constant twenty metres ahead of him. A glance at the scanner showed some anomalous readings not so far ahead and a bit below: the Maker. He advanced.

Thorn stared up at the cave mouth and swore creatively, then pushed his hand against his stomach and winced. Mika had done an excellent job of knitting his intestines together, but no way was he in any condition yet to go potholing. He turned to her.

'We shouldn't have let him go alone,' he said.

'He gave orders and instructions, which amount to the same. Let me pose a question to you: would you disobey him?'

It did not sound like a question from Mika's lips, more like some sort of didactic exercise.

'I know what you mean,' said Thorn. 'He's all perfectly logical and reasonable mostly, but you know that he could quite logically and reasonably cut your throat, then wander off to find himself a cup of tea.' He turned to his other companion. 'Aiden, couldn't you follow him in at a distance.'

'He specifically ordered me to stay here. He is an agent of Earth Central Security, and we were told to put full trust in him and obey him. This was at the request of people we respect, as we otherwise have always been taught to question all orders. Cento and I did some checking and found he was gridlinked for ten years more than is normally acceptable, simply because he had become almost indispensable to Earth Central. The runcible AIs rank him not far below Horace Blegg.'

Thorn nodded. 'Blegg… we always used to hear about him. He's something of a legend. There's those that don't believe he exists. I wasn't so sure myself…'

Aiden looked at him and said, 'Perhaps I cannot impress on you enough just what it means to have that kind of approval from the runcible AIs. The records on Blegg go back beyond the first runcible AIs. It is rumoured he is over four hundred years old, which is somewhat strange, but it is certain he has now been working for Earth Central for two hundred years. Ian Cormac has only been an agent for seventy-three years, yet he too is ranked so high.'

'I guess we should stay here then,' admitted Thorn.

Mika said, 'In the life-coven we are taught to read people. I will wait here. I will wait on Ian Cormac.'

Cormac programmed the CTD and shoved it down amongst the decaying bat-things, then he turned and watched the light retreating into the depths of the cave. He nodded his head contemplatively, then looked down at the sprawled dracoman. It was Nonscar, lying prone as if in slumber, but with its eyes open. Cormac studied it for a while, then spoke into his comunit.

'Viridian, did you get all that?'

'There was some interference. I am having trouble holding your signal through that rock.'

'Very well, I'll repeat: we go through to the stage-one runcible, and I want all information access to the containment spheres closed off. The Maker will follow us in, and there'll be a detonation at the other end. The next transmission will be to the stage-two runcible -when it's set up - but only on my signal.'

'Affirmed.'

'I'm leaving the cave now. The blast will occur in twenty-five minutes. We didn't have this conversation, so don't let it out on the grid.'

'Affirmed.'

Cormac looked down at the dracoman and clapped his hands.

Its slotted pupils flickered and it let out a hissing breath. After a moment it stood up and looked around. Cormac clapped again, then turned away. The dracoman followed him from the cave.

As soon as they were out into the light, Cormac broke into a run. The dracoman lengthened its stride to keep up, its motion bearing a strong resemblance to a running ostrich. As they came to the AGC, Cormac waved the others inside. They obeyed in silence, Mika and Thorn shuffling over to make room for the dracoman.

'Take us up immediately. We've got about twenty minutes before they blow. I want to be well away by then. Maximum speed, and step on it.'

Aiden took the car up into the sky in a steep climb. They were all thrust back into their seats as he used full AG and the boosters.

'What happened? I would have thought it would have killed them… the dracomen,' said Thorn in a strained voice.

'Found him unconscious, a little way inside. Scar's dead though. Maker killed him. Don't know why this one was left unconscious.'

'Levelling… Three hundred kilometres per hour. Four hundred,' said Aiden.

'What speed will this thing do?' asked Cormac.

'It's restricted to five hundred on manual, a thousand on AI guidance. They don't like people breaking the sound barrier here.'

'A thousand is quite enough. You're an AI, so take us up there.'

'City ordinances restrict the—'

Cormac took his chip card from his pocket and waved it in Aiden's face. He then pushed it into a slot in the onboard computer. A sexy voice spoke from the speakers.

'Manual governors are offline. All city controls are denied. It would be inadvisable to proceed.'

The gende ting of a bell sounded after the voice, then the voice repeated itself, only faster this time. By the third repetition that same voice had become the shriek of a hag, and the ting a discordant clank. The computer moaned and something death-rattled inside it.

'That's illegal,' said Thorn.

'So's detonating a CTD on an inhabited planet,' said Cormac.

Aiden shoved the control stick forward. In less than a minute the AGC was travelling at 1000 kilometres per hour. A quarter of an hour later they reached the run-cible complex.

Aiden brought the car down in the empty AGC park, as close to the installation as he could. As they climbed from the car, Cormac glanced at the clock on the dash and then looked to the east.

'Come on, we've got to find a screen.' He ran into the complex surrounding the runcible installation. The others hurried along behind, Thorn with a little help from Aiden.

The embarkation lounge was eerily empty for a place so often busy. The people who had been here previously were well away now, and no doubt swearing about antimatter-containment fields and incompetent AIs. Cormac ran over to a bank of screens, speaking into his comunit all the while.

'Viridian, can you get it up on there? I want to see this.'

'I have surveillance drones two kilometres above the area.'

The screen flicked to a view down onto the Thuriot mountains.

'The explosions will be well contained. There may be very little evidence of them. Two minutes and counting.'

And with that a voice, softer than that of the AI, began to read off the seconds.

'One-nineteen, one-eighteen, one-seventeen…'

'When this hits,' said Cormac, 'we run for runcible B5, which is open right now to the stage-one runcible on Samarkand.'

Thorn asked, 'Will the detonations be enough to get it running? I mean… can we be sure it will run for the runcibles?'

'We can't be sure. If it doesn't run this time, we come back with greater force and do the same again.'

'I still don't see how we—'

'Hadn't you better get to the runcible now, Thorn? I don't want you dragging behind,' said Cormac, and turned and eyed the soldier coldly. Thorn returned that hard gaze for a moment, then bowed his head and moved away. Aiden went with him.

Cormac turned his attention to the dracoman. 'Nonscar, go with them.'

The dracoman moved away also.

'—eighty… seventy-nine… seventy-eight.'

While Cormac watched the screen, Mika studied him surreptitiously. The questions Thorn had been asking were pertinent in the extreme. She sensed the reason that Cormac had not answered them properly was, not because he could not, but simply because he did not want to. He knew what he was doing; that, she felt, was enough.

'Bringing the drone in lower,' said Viridian.

The view rapidly changed to one where trees and mountainsides became distinguishable. Mika was sure she was now seeing the same area they had recently quit, one mountainside appeared to be the one with the cave mouth in it.

'—twenty-one… twenty… nineteen… eighteen…'

Mika could see the tension building in Cormac's muscles. What was he seeing? What was it he wanted to see?

The seconds counted themselves out. The probe appeared to bob, but it was the mountains that shook. Dust and debris hazed everything for a moment, and then white fire jetted from the flank of one mountain, pinpointing the position of the cave mouth. Cormac glanced at the time display in one corner of the screen.

'Come on…'

More seconds dragged past. Then suddenly part of the mountain blew away and the incandescent Maker surfaced, jetting fire in every direction. Trees exploded into burning flinders and boulders were blown to dust. The screen whited out.

'Probe destroyed,' explained Viridian. 'I am withdrawing all other probes.'

Mika saw a fleeting quirk of a smile cross Cormac's face.

'Dramatic,' he remarked. Then said, 'Let's get the hell out of here.'

Fantastic light cut in a slow arc across the sky, and grounded at the distant runcible installation. There the finned cooling towers were haloed in St Elmo's fire. Jarvellis leant forward on the controls of the private AGC Pelter had stolen and shook her head in wonderment. After a moment the light winked out, and by contrast the day seemed unreasonably dark.

'Now, that you can explain in a minute,' she began. 'But first tell me about that shit Pelter.'

Stanton smiled at her. He couldn't stop smiling at her. When he'd come upon the grounded shuttle and seen her climbing out, he thought he'd finally nipped. But now, every minute, he was realizing it was true. And whether that applied to him having nipped or her actually being here he did not know, or care.

'He's dead. I think they're all dead,' he said.

'Did you see them die?'

'I saw Pelter - and I checked afterwards. He had that agent cold from about four metres back with a pulse-gun. Shit, I've never seen someone move so fast. I think Pelter winged him, before he freaked. He blasted away at the tree the agent ducked behind, then he seemed to lose it, and started backing off. The agent stepped out after that, calm as you like, and shot him. When he was gone I took a look. Hole right through the centre of Pelter's forehead and out the back.'

'Good. What about the others?'

'I think Mennecken and Corlackis got hit by an APW. I found some bits of Dusache stuck to the launcher, and Svent got hit in the crossfire between the agent and Pelter.'

'That's it, then,' said Jarvellis and sat back. She appeared as wasted as Stanton felt. With what she'd been through, he wasn't the least bit surprised. He looked at the flat material over her left breast.

'Now I think we get off this planet and find somewhere safe. Somewhere… peaceful and sunny. We'll get you that reconstructive surgery as well.'

Jarvellis looked at him tiredly. 'There'll be people hunting for us here,' she said, 'and we haven't got a ship anymore. How exactly do you think we'll get away from here?'

Stanton reached into the back of the AGC, brought a briefcase forward and laid it on his lap. The briefcase was battered, its framework showing through at the corners, and there were suspicious-looking spatters spread across it. Even so, the Norver Bank logo was still visible on it.

'I reckon we'll find a way,' he said.

At last Jarvellis managed to respond to Stanton's smile. She decided she'd give him the other news once they were somewhere safe - and when Stanton had lost any inclination to run.

Of course, criminals are people who have not received the correct moral education. They are people who have not enjoyed the opportunities of the rest of us. We should pity them, and as a society we should look after them. Punishment is not the answer. It only worsens an already bad situation. If we execute people, this apparently makes us just as bad as them… Bollocks… In the earlier years of the millennium this was always considered to be the case. The insanities of 'political correctness' blinded many to plain realities: if you execute a criminal, he won't do it again. Punishment of the criminal is good for the victims, if they are still alive. Why should we, as a society, look after and re-educate them when we hardly have the resources to do this for law-abiding citizens? Nowadays we have grasped these realities, so murderers and many recidivists are mind-wiped. We have not ceased to execute people because we are more 'civilized', but because that would be a waste of a perfecuy useful body. And there are many personalities waiting in cyberspace (A I and uploaded human) for another crack at living in the real world.

From How It Is by Gordon

As Cormac stepped from the stage-one runcible on Samarkand the cold hit him like a hammer of ice. There were hastily rigged heaters in the containment sphere, but the temperature was not much above the lower limit necessary to sustain human life. Ahead of him, Aiden was half-carrying Thorn towards the exit and the covered walkway beyond. He surveyed the sphere as Mika ran past him. The proton weapon he had requested was resting on one of the heaters. He eyed it, then glanced over as his three companions hesitated at the exit.

'Get in the car. I'll be there in a minute.'

He went over to the weapon and touched it with his fingertip. It was cold, but, with conduction from the heater, not so cold as to take his skin off. He raised it, pointed it at the floor to the left of the runcible and, with the beam narrowed to pencil thickness, fired. The beam struck, diffracted through, and lit up everything underneath so that the black floor became transparent. As he traversed the beam, molten glass drained away behind it. With the hidden machinery revealed, Cormac found a duct and burnt through it. After the beam went out, fires still burnt under the glass. He looked at the resultant mess thoughtfully for a moment, then followed the others to the exit.

The AGC stood only four metres from the sphere, and the others were inside waiting for him. He reached the door of the car and ducked halfway inside. Then, estimating relative positions, he pointed the weapon at the wall of the covered walkway.

'What the hell…?' said Thorn.

'I've got to hit at least one of the buffers from the outside. All I did in there was burn out some of the safety automatics.'

Cormac fired wide-beam. A section of wall, two metres long by a metre wide, disappeared in a purple flash. He could now see the edge of the buffer, and redirected the beam. Metal flashed away in seconds, exposing coils of doped superconductors and paralectric crystals. A hidden canister blew its contents and leapt into the sky on a tail of gas and flame. As Cormac shut down the beam, a fog of C0₂ vapour obscured all, then C0₂ snow began to fall. Cormac ducked into the car and slammed shut the insulated door, just before his eyes froze over.

'Out of here… now…' he managed to gasp, and began to shiver violently. He was not the only one, for the inside of the car was as cold as the inside of the containment sphere.

Aiden slammed the AGC up into Samarkand midnight, not bothering to disconnect from the walkway. The walkway held for a moment, then broke and fell away like a snake that has just missed its prey. From the windows of the AGC they could see one of the runcible buffers glowing with the colours of magma.

'OK… Aiden, no airspeed restrictions here. What's it capable of?'

'Fourteen hundred kilometres per hour, in safety; any faster than that and I might lose it.'

'Fast enough,' said Cormac. 'Fast enough.'

He leant back in his seat next to Mika and looked across at the dracoman, then he glared out through the window. Poised in the sky, like a watching moon: Dragon.

Gridlinked

'I knew it wouldn't miss this. Gloating bastard.'

Mika turned to him questioningly, but he offered up no further comment, for just then Aiden applied full acceleration. They were all thrust back in their seats so hard they had not the breath to speak anyway. Only when the AGC was streaking along at its maximum speed did the pressure relax. Cormac looked at the clock set into the dash. It was on solstan time, permanently updated by a signal from Samarkand II.

'I wonder when it will come through,' said Thorn carefully.

'Any time now, I should imagine,' said Cormac flatly. 'Could be right this… second.'

At that moment Samarkand experienced a premature day. The light was hard and white: an ungentle light that lasted for twenty seconds and seemed to find and burn away every shadow. When it went out, they looked back at a growing sphere of yellow fire, cut through with sheetlike flashes of lightning.

'One unmade Maker,' commented Cormac.

Thorn looked at him in exasperation, about to say something. Cormac gave a fractional shake of his head, and flicked his eyes at the dracoman.

'How long till we reach the complex?' he asked Aiden.

'Not long: quarter of an hour.'

Thorn turned to face forwards. He asked no more questions.

'I think you can slow up now,' said Cormac, and closed his watering eyes.

It was difficult getting their coldsuits on in the confinement of the AGC, so they had only managed to get fully clothed by the time Aiden was bringing them in to land. With his body temperature rising, Cormac began to feel the coldburn on his face and the backs of his hands. When the temperature reached its optimum, he felt in some pain, and did not relish the prospect of pulling off his gloves.

Aiden set them down at the edge of the complex and, as they left the car, three suited figures came out to meet them. The dracoman began shivering, but this was the only effect the extreme cold had on it. It otherwise walked along as if taking a stroll on a mildly wintry day. Aiden walked likewise.

'Y' made it then,' came Blegg's voice over the com.

'Yes, and the Maker has paid for its crimes,' replied Cormac.

'And a perfectly good stage-one runcible obliterated,' muttered Chaline.

Cormac did not reply to that. 'Let's get inside,' he said, 'I want to see how much skin I've lost.'

The building they entered was a recent addition to the complex. They passed dirough a cold lock to get inside, and had to wait for a few minutes while their suits and the air around them was heated. Beyond this was an unsuiting room, with its lockers for the suits, showers and blow dryers, a machine for dispensing hot drinks, and lockers containing fresh clothing. Mika and Thorn were quickly out of their suits and soon drinking cups of hot soup. The other three - Blegg, Chaline and surprisingly, Cam - got unsuited just as quickly. Cormac took his time, leaving his gloves for last.

'Ow! Shit!'

Patches of skin lifted off the backs of his hands and his fingers. His face was not a lot better. Chaline reached into a nearby locker, took out an aerosol and approached him.

'Synthskin - it will seal the burns and kill the pain. It's good that it hurts. If mere had been no pain, you'd then have had cause to worry.'

He held out his hands, and as she sprayed them they went gloriously numb. She did the same for his face, holding her finger over each of his eyelids in turn to prevent them becoming sealed shut.

'Thorn? Mika?' She turned to them next.

Bodi of them had a redness to face and hands, but neither had caught the brunt of it like Cormac.

'I'm fine, just a litde coldburn,' said Thorn.

Mika held up her hand when Chaline turned to her queryingly, and continued sipping at her soup.

During all this, Blegg had stood silently to one side.

Cormac eventually addressed him: 'I want to get back to Hubris.'

'More?' wondered Blegg.

'More,' Cormac confirmed.

Chaline looked from one of them to the other. 'What's—'

Cormac interrupted. 'You can stay here and get on with setting up the stage-two runcible. Ten hours, didn't you say?'

'Less now, we've already been working on it,' she said.

'Good… Good.' He turned back to Blegg. 'Any communication from Dragon while we were on Viridian?'

'Nothing of any consequence…'

Cormac shot a question at Chaline. 'What condition is Hubris in now?'

'Pretty good,' said Chaline, eyeing him warily.

'Is there a shuttle ready to leave now}'

Blegg said, 'One hour. You can wait that long.'

Cormac looked about to argue, then said, 'Yes, I'll take a shower, I think.'

It was the heavy-lifter they boarded after that tense one hour. Cormac had been unable to relax. He toyed with his food and drank lots of coffee. He even wished he had picked up the smoking habit from Gant. Now would have been a good time to use it. Halfway through that same hour, Mika came with some instruments to run tests on the dracoman.

'I would like to find out what—'

'No,' said Cormac.

Mika looked at him in surprise.

'No tests, none at all.'

He stared at her levelly. She met his gaze, then packed away her instruments. They continued waiting.

The lifter was empty of cargo, and on its last trip before being re-stored. It had been used to bring down the old engine casings for transmission to Minostra; even damaged, they were too valuable to scrap. This had now been done, and the lifter was ready to return.

As Cormac settled in his seat, he said, 'When we board I want all communication channels to Dragon closed down. Should it try to contact us, we ignore it.'

'Why?' asked Thorn. 'Surely you can—'

'I'm giving orders, not making suggestions. Just listen - and shut up,' said Cormac.

Thorn went suddenly still, icy. Blegg leant across and caught hold of his arm. Thorn turned in cold irritation to look straight into those flecked eyes. No words were spoken out loud, but Thorn jerked away as if he had been snarled at. He stared at Blegg in amazement, then relaxed back in his seat with a nod. Blegg released his arm.

Mika stared at Blegg in perplexity for a moment, then turned her attention to Cormac. 'There's something else as well,' she said.

'Yes, the dracoman goes straight into Isolation. Total isolation. That means no probes, no testing, no scanning.'

Mika nodded.

Cormac checked the viewing screens nervously. One of them revealed the distant mote of Dragon on a far horizon. When he spotted it, Cormac's face hardened and he then watched it constantly.

Hubris opened for the lifter and accepted it back into its bright-lit guts. Before they stepped out into the bay, there was a delay as clamps took hold of the vehicle and pulled it into place against banks of shock absorbers. They exited across a long ramp that crossed the chasm in which the lifter nestled. As they stepped from this ramp, huge floors and walls began to turn and shift like the wheels in some giant clock as Hubris locked the huge vehicle away.

'Hubris,' said Cormac, as he stepped from the drop-shaft that had wafted him up to the living quarters, 'I want you to secure for impact, and clear the area around Isolation once Mika has delivered the dracoman. All communication channels with Dragon are to be closed.

The dracoman is to be sealed in; weld the unit shut if you have to.'

'Proceeding as directed.' Lights began to flash in the corridors as Cormac headed for Downlink Com.

Hubris announced, 'Proton guns charging.'

Cormac came to an abrupt halt, his hands clenched into fists. He looked at Blegg and then Thorn. After a moment he said, 'There will be no need for those. Charge them down.'

'Ship's safety is my first priority. Dragon is trying all channels. The indications are that there will be another attack. I cannot charge down proton guns without a direct order from agent Prime.'

Cormac looked at Blegg. 'You have the authority now. I want you to order Hubris to charge down the proton guns. They were damaged in the previous attack so are unsafe to use,' he said carefully.

'Y'heard that. Close 'em down,' said Blegg.

'Proton guns charging down.'

Cormac continued walking. 'I also want all information systems closed off. All access is to be denied. If it looks like unauthorized access can get through at any time, I want those information banks dumped or destroyed.'

'I cannot initiate this without a direct order from agent Prime,' said Hubris stubbornly.

'Y'got my order,' said Blegg.

'Initiated.'

'You want Dragon to—' began Thorn.

'Yes, yes,' said Cormac irritably. 'But everything we say or do is recorded somewhere, and therefore possible to access. So keep it to yourself.'

This time there was no one in Downlink Com. Cormac dropped in a chair before the communications console, and called up a view of Dragon.

'At least this time we won't be shutting down Chal-ine's operation. Samarkand II will be operating everything down there. I think she's had about as much as she can take of my interference.'

'Nothing is more important than runcibles to her,' Thorn observed, as he pulled up a chair.

'Very shortsighted of her,' replied Cormac. Then he said, 'Hubris, prepare for a major breach. Get everyone out of the areas on the route of Dragon's previous attack, then close all blast and security doors. Stand by with seals and foam.'

'Initiated.'

Cormac looked at Blegg and Thorn. 'Patience,' he said.

'Oh, I've always had that,' said Blegg. Thorn just appeared uncomfortable.

'Attempts to open a communication channel have ceased,' said Hubris. 'Dragon accelerating.'

'Pull away in close orbit. That should slow it,' said Cormac.

'Secure for impact. Secure for impact. All personnel to emergency modules.'

Cormac closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply and evenly, his brow beaded with sweat. The three of them could feel the vibration through Hubris as it accelerated away, and the slight pull to one side as the ship's gravity did not quite compensate for the vector of its course.

'Impact in three minutes twenty seconds. Mark… Impact in three minutes ten seconds. Mark.'

At that moment Mika entered Downlink Com. Cormac watched her frantically trying to read the situation, and lick her lips as she prepared herself for a question. He glanced past her to the door which had a flashing yellow-and-black-striped light above it.

'I see you got through just before the main doors closed,' he observed.

She nodded, staring at him.

'We'd best get ready then,' he said.

They locked down all the chairs in Com and any instruments that were loose. Then they went through to the emergency module; a circular room with twenty acceleration couches secured all round. This module, like many others scattered throughout the ship, contained its own separate life-support, and theoretically could withstand the break-up of the entire ship. The four of them lay down on couches and strapped themselves in.

'Impact in one minute ten seconds. Mark… Impact in one minute. Mark.'

It was not particularly reassuring to see the piped-in image of Dragon's all-too-rapid approach. It grew on the screen until they could see the pseudopods breaking from its surface.

'Impact imminent! Impact imminent!'

It was not as bad as the first time. The ship boomed, but did not seem to be breaking. Cormac still wondered how many people he might have killed. As the shuddering stilled, he unstrapped himself and exited the emergency module.

'Unauthorised information access at external port. I am isolating all systems… Shuttle-bay doors opening.'

'It knows the ship better this time,' said Mika.

Cormac glanced at her, then turned back to watch the pseudopods flooding into the shuttle bay, and squirming across the floor to the drop-shaft.

'Intruder-defence systems online.'

'Take them offline until my order,' said Cormac.

'Unauthorized access… all consoles and ports closed down in shutde-bay area. Stress readings at drop-shaft doors.'

They watched, as for the second time, the safety doors buckled and crashed into the drop-shaft, and the pseudopods flooded down it.

'Vocal communication from Dragon.'

'No reply, but let's hear it,' said Cormac.

'Cormac! Cormac!' screamed the speaker. Only then did Cormac see the pterosaur head amongst the pseudopods. It rose out of them and came up against the camera.

'Cormac!' it screamed again, spraying the lens with milky saliva.

'Sounds pissed off,' said Thorn.

'Yes, and scared,' said Cormac.

Mika looked at him sharply, then returned her attention to the screen.

'Give me what is mine!' shrieked Dragon.

'Wants the dracoman,' said Mika.

'Do you wish Isolation unsealed?' asked Hubris.

'No, keep it sealed. If it wants its dracoman, then it'll have to take the whole chamber.'

'There will be extreme damage to the interior of the ship.'

The Dragon head appeared next in Isolation. 'Open! Open!' it shrieked.

Cormac began to rattle his fingers on the console. He was humming a tune and chewing his lip at the same time. After a moment he said, 'Then prepare for extreme damage to the interior of the ship… Tell me, what could the intruder-defence systems do now?'

'Specific nerve gases, low-intensity lasers, EM pulse-guns, evacuation of sealed areas—'

'Use low-intensity lasers and the EM guns.'

'Beton-twelve nerve gas—'

'Just!… as I said.'

Over the intercom they heard the high-speed crackling of the pulse-guns. Pseudopods began to fly apart and become charcoaled with black lines; but where one pseudopod was destroyed, another took its place. The ship convulsed.

'Charge up proton guns.'

'Charging. Stress readings all round Isolation Chamber One. Stress reading along all corridors to drop-shaft. Stress readings in drop-shaft.'

The screen showed walls and struts being torn away in Isolation, wads of insulation falling, pipes bursting and snaking through the air on jets of vapour, then it showed walls buckling and being pushed back into the corridors. One scene flickered out as a camera was destroyed. The screen then showed the whole of Isolation Chamber One peeled down to its armour, and being shifted by the pseudopods.

'Cormac! Cormac!' screamed the Dragon head.

'Target that head.'

The head was suddenly latticed with black lines, and then EM pulses began to blow pieces of it away. It shrieked and drew back out of Isolation. The chamber was dragged along after it, tearing walls, folding out ceilings. Sparks rained down, and cameras went out one after another.

'Isolation chamber in drop-shaft. Stress readings at drop-shaft doors. Ventilation seals breached, closing secondary seals.'

Just then there came into the room a smell of burning flesh and metal, and another smell - so strong it was almost a taste - of cloves.

'How long until proton guns enable?'

'Forty seconds. Mark.'

Suddenly the scene revealed was of the shuttle bay. The mutilated Dragon came on-camera. Its jaws opened and slammed forwards. The camera went out.

'Not too happy, I would say,' said Thorn.

'General idea,' muttered Blegg.

'Dragon has isolation chamber. Detaching. Flooding drop-shaft with crash-foam. Massive air loss. Crash-foam not holding. Closing shuttle-bay doors.'

The screen showed the shuttle bay from another angle. The bay doors were labouring to close against a hailstorm of crash-foam and wreckage. The debris was hurtling out into the vacuum.

'Pull away, maximum acceleration. Fire proton guns when ready.'

Dragon receded from the doors. A purple flash ignited space and a charred hole fifty metres across appeared in its scaled hide. Cormac watched for a moment, then removed a black cylinder-section from his pocket, with a miniconsole on it. He poised his finger over a flashing touch-plate.

'That's a—' began Thorn.

'Remote detonator, yes,' said Cormac impatiently, then asked, 'Distance, Hubris}'

'One kilometre. Mark. One and one half kilometres…'

The proton guns fired again, but this time the purple flare was not on Dragon's surface. It ignited over an invisible membrane and did no damage.

'Dragon preparing to return fire.'

They could all see the ripples crossing its surface.

'Distance?'

'Three kilometres. Mark. Four and a half. Mark. Six kilo—Fire imminent! Fire imminent!'

Cormac pressed his finger down. Everything under that membrane turned to light. The membrane broke and the screens whited out. Hubris bucked and they were flung to the floor.