The Aftermath

ORE SHIP SYRACUSE: BACKUP COMMAND POD

The pod was more of a home to Theo than his own quarters. He spent most of his free time in it, watching over Syracuse’s slowly failing systems, nursing the old bucket along day by excruciating day.

He was well past eighteen now, taller than his mother. His body had filled out some; he was growing into manhood.

Less than six months remaining, he said to himself as he checked the navigation display. We’re on our way back to Ceres. Will we make it?

He remembered seeing an old novel about a man who tries to go around the world—Earth, of course—in ninety days. Or was it eighty? The story was set a couple of centuries ago, and at one point the character is sailing across the Atlantic Ocean in a steam-powered ship. But they run out of coal for the steam boiler. So he has the crew cannibalize the ship’s wooden structure, tearing the planks apart until there’s nothing left above water but the ship’s steel skeleton, its boiler, engine and paddle wheel.

That’s what we’re doing, Theo told himself. Cannibalizing old Syracuse as we limp back to port. It’s a race to see if we can get to Ceres before the old bucket falls apart.

One hundred and sixty-seven days, he read off the ship’s navigation computer screen. If my calculations are right. If I haven’t messed up somewhere. One hundred and sixty-seven days to go.

Theo had taught himself a fair amount of astronomy over the past three-plus years. With all the ship’s antennas out, he could not receive guidance signals from Ceres or anywhere else. Nor could he probe ahead with radar. It was impossible to determine where the ship was, or even its heading, through the ordinary electronic systems. So Theo learned the stars from the ship’s library and learned to navigate by them. Using the stars, he kept Syracuse on its course back to Ceres.

He hoped.

At the moment, his attention was focused on their dwindling water supply. He had strictly rationed the water he, his sister and mother used. Angela had accused him of being a tyrant more than once. But Mother had merely smiled and accepted his estimates of how much water they could afford to use for drinking, for cooking, for bathing.

The recyclers aren’t perfect, he told his sister time and again. We’re losing water every day.

And without water for the fusion reactor their electrical power would fail. No electricity meant death: no power for the air recycler, no lights, no heat. They would freeze in the dark. Or suffocate.

So Theo shut down the sections of the ship they weren’t using. Only this backup command pod and their living quarters received electrical power and breathable air. And the tube-tunnels connecting them. The rest of the ship was dark and airless.

The water recycler. It was Theo’s daily burden. Every day he climbed clown the tunnel to the equipment bay where the fusion reactor sat side by side with the recyclers and the now dormant main propulsion engine. Every day he nursed the cranky collection of pipes and filters, cleaning its grids tenderly, patching leaks in the connection seals, stealing sections of pipe from other parts of the ship and cannibalizing parts for the recycler’s electrical motors.

He dreamed at night that he was trapped in the maze of piping, sloshing in water that was spurting from the recycler, going to waste, gushing across the deck and out into empty space. Once he dreamt that the water’s inexorable current carried him outside the ship, too. He woke in a cold sweat, shivering. And berated himself for wasting the water of his perspiration.

Angela stepped through the hatch of the command pod.

“Reporting for duty,” she said, with a crisp salute and a challenging grin.

Theo glanced at the digital clock. “You’re three and a half minutes early, Angie.”

“Early bird gets the worm,” she said.

“But who wants worms?”

They both laughed. Theo got up from the command chair and Angela slid into it lightly. They had all lost weight on their enforced diet, but Angie had slimmed down best of all. She looked fine to Theo, a real beauty now.

“Any problems?” she asked, her eyes scanning the control board. Most of the telltale lights were dark now; only the systems they absolutely needed for survival were still functioning.

“Everything’s percolating along,” Theo replied.

“Mom’s got a problem with the microwave again,” Angie said. “She thinks she can fix it, but you ought to give her a hand.”

“Gotcha,” said Theo. “After I check the beast.”

Angie looked up at him. “Trouble again?”

“No, but if I don’t look in on that glorified clanker every spitting day it springs leaks just to devil me.”

“Maybe it misses you. Maybe the recycler loves your company.”

“Sure. And maybe water falls out of the sky. But not here.”

Aboard Vogeltod Valker was facing a grumbling crew.

“You never shoulda let them go in the first place,” said Nicco. He was a short, swarthy man with a thick mop of curly black hair and the faint trace of a scar running from the corner of his mouth across his cheek.

Valker’s usual smile faded. If Nicco’s pissed at me, he thought, the rest of ’em must be ready for mutiny.

Behind him, the others of the crew—all eight of them— nodded and muttered agreement. They had all jammed into the galley for this showdown, leaving Vogeltod cruising on automatic. The compartment felt steamy from the press of their bodies. Valker smelled sweat—and anger.

“It’s been six goddamn months,” Kirk said, his voice almost breaking with pent-up resentment. “Six months with nothing in our pocket. Nothing!”

Valker put on his brightest smile for them. “Come on, guys, we’ve had dry spells before—”

“We had them and their ship in our hands,” Kirk insisted, pounding the palm of one hand with his other fist. “The captain of the Viking, too.”

“And you let them go!”

Sitting at the head of the galley’s narrow table, Valker leaned back, seemingly completely at ease.

“Now look,” he said. “That Viking was an attack ship. Do we want to tangle with a ship that can blow us away like that?” He snapped his fingers.

Nicco and several of the others shook their heads.

“Besides,” Valker went on, “it was a Humphries Space Systems ship. Even if we could’ve knocked it off we’d have HSS after us. You want that?”

“No…” Nicco said hesitantly.

“But what about the other one?” Kirk demanded. “Hunter? It wasn’t armed. Nobody aboard her but that old woman and the cyborg.”

“A whole ship, intact.”

“And you let them go.”

“That’s what we’re after,” Valker said. “That’s the one we’re looking for.”

“For six goddamn months.”

Spreading his arms, Valker said, “It’s been a lean six months, I know. If we’d run across something else we would’ve taken it. You know that. But this region’s been pretty damned empty.”

“Then we oughtta move to an area where there’s better pickin’s.”

“You’re right,” Valker said smoothly. “That’s just what I intend to do. I hate to give up on Hunter, though. She could have fetched a pretty penny for us at Ceres.”

“Six months is long enough.”

“Too long.”

“Okay. I hear you,” Valker said to them. “Just give me another few days. If we don’t find Hunter by then, we’ll move to another sector.”

“Not in a few days,” Kirk said, baring his teeth. “Now.”

Valker broadened his smile. “You’re not giving the orders on this ship, Kirk. I am.”

“Well maybe we oughtta change that.”

Slowly Valker got to his feet. He stood a good six centimeters taller than Kirk. “If you want to—”

“CONTACT,” boomed the computer’s synthesized voice over the intercom speakers in the galley’s overhead, “CONTACT WITH AN UNIDENTIFIED SHIP.”

Valker held up a clenched first. “There you are, guys! We’ve found her!”

CARGO SHIP PLEIADES: SOLAR STORM

Although Victor Zacharias cruised through the Asteroid Belt in silence, emitting no signals that another ship could detect except an occasional microsecond pulse of search radar, he still listened to whatever chatter Pleiades’s antennas could pick up. Sometimes he thought the only thing that kept him from outright madness as he sailed alone through the empty months was the inane entertainment broadcasts from Earth and the Moon.

He was leaner now, harder. His years of enforced labor on Chrysalis II had toughened not only his outlook but his body as well. His arms were hard ropes of muscle, his midsection flat and firm. The midnight black beard he had grown made him look satisfyingly menacing, he thought. I’ll shave it off when I find Pauline and the kids, he told himself.

He sat alone in the galley, his soffbooted feet propped up on one of the swivel chairs, and watched an educational vid from Selene. An earnest young scientist was walking the viewer through the new liquid mercury optical telescope at the Farside Observatory. With a pang of memory, Victor saw the original Farside facility that he had helped to design: the ten-kilometer-square spread of dipole antennas that made up the main radio telescope, the old twenty-meter reflector spun from lunar glass, the labs and workshops and dormitory facility for the Farside staff.

But the scientist-narrator was pretty much of a bore, Victor thought, droning on about details of the new telescope. He switched to an entertainment channel from Earth.

“And what did these Godless scientists bring us?” thundered a florid-faced man in a white suit. “Floods! Drought! Storms that drowned whole cities! Those were the fruits of the secularists who brought on the greenhouse warming and the biowars and all the other horrors of our age! They brought down the wrath of God upon us!”

The preacher marched back and forth across his stage as he went on, “It was only when the Faithful returned to their God, only when the people of this great nation accepted the Lord as their salvation, that some measure of peace and stability returned to the land.”

Victor flicked through a dozen more channels before stopping at an erotic film. Two women, three men, clad in nothing but glistening perspiration. I wonder where this is broadcast from? Victor asked himself. Certainly nowhere in the United States, not with the New Morality in control of the media.

The scene shifted to a dimly lit Asian temple. Four, no five naked women were making love together. Victor leaned back in his galley chair and thought about moving to the bunk in his compartment. But then I might miss something, he rationalized. Suddenly a squad of barbarian warriors burst into the temple. The women squealed daintily as the men cast off their furs and weapons and delved into them.

“WARNING,” the ship’s intercom blared emotionlessly. “THIS IS A WARNING FROM THE INTERNATIONAL ASTRONAUTICAL AUTHORITY’S SOLAR WATCH. A FORCE-FIVE SOLAR FLARE HAS ERUPTED IN THE LOWER LEFT QUADRANT OF THE CHROMOSPHERE. RADIATION FROM THIS EVENT WILL REACH LETHAL LEVELS FOR ALL UNPROTECTED PERSONS AND EQUIPMENT. FURTHER BULLETINS WILL BE BROADCAST AS THE SOLAR STORM DEVELOPS. TAKE ALL NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS AND STAY TUNED FOR NEW INFORMATION AS IT DEVELOPS.”

Switching to the IAA’s dedicated information channel, Victor saw that the deadly radiation cloud from the flare would miss Mercury, but envelop Venus and Earth within a few hours.

No word yet on how intense it’ll be when it reaches the Belt, he saw. The cloud of hard radiation belched out by a solar flare was guided through the solar system by the twists and kinks of the interplanetary magnetic field. A cloud that wreaks havoc on Earth’s telecommunications might not come within a hundred million klicks of Mars even when the two planets were at their closest.

Plenty of time to get into the storm cellar, Victor thought as he switched back to the pornography. I just hope the storm doesn’t foul up the signal from Earth.

Without any working antennas Syracuse was cut off from the storm warning. But the ship’s radiation sensors pinged while the family was eating its meager breakfast. They were down to two meals per day: a breakfast of juices and protein bars, and a dinner that Pauline tried to make attractive and nourishing.

“Radiation alarm,” Theo said, his mouth half filled with the last of his morning’s protein bar.

“Solar storm?” Angela asked.

Theo nodded. “Prob’ly. Might be the precursor wave of high-energy protons and heavier stuff.”

Pauline said, “We’d better get to the storm cellar, then.”

“Right,” said Theo. “I’ll go up to the control pod, see what the instruments show, and check out everything. We might have to fly-on remote for a few days.”

Looking at Angela, Pauline said, “You help Theo into his suit.”

“I won’t need a suit,” Theo protested.

“It’s extra protection and you’d be foolish not to take advantage of it,” Pauline said firmly. “I’ll check the food stores in the storm cellar. If I recall from the last one we were almost out of juices there.”

“I restocked the juices,” Angela said, getting up from the galley table.

“Good.”

Theo got to his feet and followed Angela out to the airlock area, where the space suits were stored.

“I really don’t need this,” he grumbled to his sister once they were out of Pauline’s hearing. “Mom’s being a tight-ass.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“Tight-butt. Okay?”

Angela grinned as Theo sat on the bench in front of the lockers and began tugging on his suit’s leggings.

“The suit gives you an extra layer of protection against radiation,” Angela recited from memory. “It could be the difference between life and death.”

“If we get so much radiation that the spittin’ suit saves my life, half the equipment still running on this bucket will barf out,” Theo said sharply.

“You’re always such an optimist, Thee.”

It’ll be two days before the storm hits, Victor saw on the wall screen’s display. He was exercising on the treadmill in Pleiades’s gym, a small, almost claustrophobic metal-walled chamber jammed with equipment that Victor thought of as implements of torture. Necessary torture, though. It would be all too easy to bloat into a boneless slug aboard ship. Exercise was necessary, vitally so.

Two days before the cloud of high-energy protons and electrons smothers this region of space. There’s lots of heavier ions in the cloud, too, he saw as he studied the latest IAA bulletin. The ship’s magnetic field will deflect most of the crud, but rad levels will still go up in here. I’ll have to spend a couple of days in the storm cellar.

Communications from Earth had fizzled out once the storm cloud reached the Earth/Moon region. For entertainment, Theo had to fall back on the chips that Cheena Madagascar had stocked in the captain’s compartment. The woman had interesting tastes, Victor discovered. He knew from his own experience that Cheena was a vigorous heterosexual, but her assortment of entertainment vids was much, much broader.

I’d better bring some of the better ones to the storm cellar with me, he told himself. Not much else to do in there while I’m riding out the storm.

Then he remembered that Pauline and the kids would probably be hit by the same cloud of deadly radiation. Syracuse has a storm cellar, he thought. Pauline will make sure they’re safe.

But how many storms has battered old Syracuse gone through? How many more can the ship take before its vital systems break down?

Like most deep-space ships, Syracuse’s storm cellar was a tight little compartment lined with thick metal walls that held a heavy liquid mixture that absorbed incoming subatomic particles. After a, storm, once it was safe to leave the cellar, the liquid was flushed into the propellant tank for the fusion torch engine; eventually the absorbed particles were fired out the engine’s thruster.

Theo stared worriedly at the wall screen as he sat on the padded bench that ran along the cellar’s oval interior. The screen showed the level of absorbent remaining in the supply tank.

“How does it look?” his mother asked. She was sitting beside him. Angela sat across the minicompartment, where the food locker stood.

Theo thought for a moment before answering, “Depends on how intense the storm is, Mom, and how long it lasts.” He didn’t voice the rest of it: we might get through this storm, but we’ll be out of luck if another one hits us.

Angela looked concerned, almost frightened. “We’ll be all right, won’t we, Thee?”

He made himself smile at her. “Sure, Angie. We’ll be okay.” He wished he actually felt that way.

Valker worked hard to keep smiling. Cooped up with the rest of the crew in Vogeltod’s minuscule storm cellar was a strain, by any measure.

And just before the storm’s radiation blanked out the ship’s communications there had been that tantalizing blip on the radar screen. A ship, Valker was convinced. It had to be a ship, not a rock. No asteroid gives a profile like that.

It wasn’t Hunter, the ship they’d been seeking all these past months. But it was a ship. Valker was certain of it. It was running silent for some reason. No tracking beacon, no telemetry coming out of her. All the better. A derelict, most likely. But she was intact, as far as the radar profile could show. All in one piece, not busted up. It’s a ship that we can take and sell back at Ceres for a pretty dollar.

Valker couldn’t wait for the storm to subside. The smell of the other men crowded into the cellar gave him even more incentive to get out and take that ship, no matter who it belonged to or who might be aboard her.

SELENE: HUMPHRIES SPACE SYSTEMS HEADQUARTERS

As the flunky in the conservatively dark suit led them through the warren of cubicles filled with quietly busy HSS employees, Yuan thought that Tamara seemed strangely cool, confident. She looked quite calm, almost serene, as if she were looking forward to this meeting with Martin Humphries. Yuan tried to picture how Humphries would react when he admitted that he had let Dorik Harbin and the old woman go free. Humphries doesn’t like to be disobeyed. This isn’t going to be easy, he told himself.

Yet Tamara seemed unconcerned, almost at ease. He wondered if she really was that relaxed or whether it was all an act, a front of bravura that she really didn’t feel.

There’s nothing for me to worry about, Yuan told himself. He thought back to the vision that the artifact had shown him. You’re going to live a long and fruitful life, he repeated in his mind over and again. Yeah, he replied silently. Maybe. But the instant they had presented themselves at the corporate headquarters’ reception desk, the bountiful young redheaded receptionist’s smile had evaporated.

“Mr. Humphries wants to see you both,” she’d said ominously. “Himself.”

Himself. Martin Humphries himself wants to see us, Yuan thought as the flunky in the dark tunic and slacks led them through the maze of cubicles. Report to him personally. Tell the most powerful man in the solar system that you not only failed to carry out his orders, you turned his intended victims loose, sent them on their way to wander through the Belt, free and unharmed. He’s not going to like that.

Humphries Space Systems headquarters occupied one entire tower of the two that supported Selene’s Main Plaza. Fifteen stories of offices and god knows what else. Yuan had heard that Martin Humphries once lived in a grandiose mansion built at the lowermost level of Selene, as deep as he could get, safe from the radiation and meteoroids that peppered the Moon’s airless surface. But that mansion had been burned to ashes by Lars Fuchs, and Humphries nearly killed. Now the man lived over in Hell Crater, surrounded by the casinos and shopping arcades, the hotels and brothels of that resort facility.

But he’s here in his office today, Yuan thought. To see us. And deal with us.

Yuan told himself there was nothing to fear. He tried to concentrate on the vision he’d seen at the artifact. I’m going to live to be an old, old man. I’m going to enjoy my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. A distant voice in his mind tried to warn him that he could experience much pain and sorrow during such a long life, but Yuan tried to dismiss that from his thoughts. Nothing Humphries can do will prevent the outcome the artifact showed me, he insisted to himself.

Down a long corridor flanked with closed doors on either side. Discreet little brass nameplates on each door. Yuan could see a trickle of perspiration sliding down the side of Tamara’s face. She’s not as cool as she’s pretending to be, he realized. She was wearing a sleek pearl-gray jumpsuit that clung to her coltish figure like plastic wrap. Trying to look her best for Martin Humphries. I wonder if that will help her?

“In here, please,” said the flunky as he opened an unmarked door at the end of the corridor.

They stepped through and the flunky closed the door behind them. The room was the size of a spaceport departure gate, thickly carpeted, its walls covered with smart screens that displayed art treasures. Yuan recognized the Mona Lisa, a painting of royal children by Velazquez, some others. His eye was caught by a painting of a fallen banyan tree, its magnificently intertwined trunk ripped out of the ground by some overpowering force.

“Captain Yuan and Ms. Vishinsky,” said the young woman sitting behind the desk at the far end of the anteroom, her voice flat, toneless. “Mr. Humphries will see you immediately.”

She pressed a key of her desk pad and another unmarked door swung open.

Yuan found himself smiling. He bowed slightly to Tamara and whispered, “After you.”

She gave him a swift glance, fiddled nervously with the buttons on the bodice of her coveralls, and strode to the open doorway. Yuan followed closely behind her, thinking, She’s scared now. Her confidence is melting away.

The office was smaller than the anteroom, but still big enough to land a shuttlecraft. A man got up from behind a broad, immaculately clear desk and stonily gestured toward the two low-slung sculptured chairs in front of his desk.

Tamara said, “You’re not Martin Humphries.”

“No,” the young man replied curtly. “I’m his son, Alex.”

Alex Humphries resembled the holos of his father so closely that Yuan wondered if he was a clone. His hair was dark, his face firm, slightly round, but with a strong jaw. He was taller than Yuan had expected, and wearing a casual open-necked royal blue shirt over tan denim jeans. His eyes were hard and gray as lunar rock.

“I thought we were to see Martin Humphries,” Yuan said as he lowered himself into the slingback chair.

“My father seldom leaves his home over in Hell Crater,” said Alex Humphries.

Tamara asked, “Then you’re running the corporation?”

Alex smiled coldly. “That depends on who you ask. My father thinks he still runs it, but I have the day-to-day responsibility. I do his dirty work and he stays over at Hell Crater and amuses himself.”

“It never even occurred to me that Mr. Humphries had a son,” Yuan said.

“He has two of them. My baby brother Van lives on Earth.”

“I see.” Yuan nodded.

“I also thought we’d been summoned here by your father,” said Tamara.

Alex leaned back in his swivel chair. “My father is very disappointed in you. Angry, you know. So furious that he almost came over here today to deal with you personally.”

“But you’re going to deal with us, instead,” Tamara replied.

“He expected you to carry out his orders.”

“He expected us,” Yuan said, “to murder an old woman and a cyborg who fancies himself a priest on some sort of a holy mission.”

“But you didn’t do it.”

“No, we didn’t,” Yuan said. Then, glancing at Tamara, he added, “To be specific, I didn’t do it. I was in command, it was my responsibility, my decision, not hers.”

“What happened?” Alex Humphries asked, his voice suddenly cold, his eyes hard, demanding.

Tamara was staring at Alex, Yuan saw. Trying to figure him out, he thought; trying to gauge what lay behind those steel gray eyes.

Yuan began to explain, “The cyborg and the old woman are no threat to your father—”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“They’ll never return to the Earth/Moon sector. They’ll die out there in the Belt, searching for the bodies of the dead.”

Alex’s brows rose. “Is that really what they’re doing?”

“Yes.”

“Searching for bodies?”

“Mercenaries killed in the wars and left to drift in space.”

“But why?”

“The cyborg was a mercenary. He’s the one who wiped out the Chrysalis habitat.”

“Dorik Harbin.”

“He calls himself Dorn now,” Tamara interjected. “He claims that the alien artifact changed him, turned him into a priest.”

“The artifact,” Alex said, edging forward in his chair. “That’s what I want to ask you about. My father had a bad experience with it.”

Tamara relaxed visibly. She even smiled at Alex Humphries.

Looking at Yuan, though, Alex asked, “Harbin claims the artifact changed him?”

Yuan nodded.

“And the woman? Elverda Apacheta? It changed her, too?”

With a slight shrug, Yuan answered, “It must have. She’s willing to spend what’s left of her life roaming through the Belt with Harbin to find the corpses from the war.”

Alex appeared to relax slightly. “You’ve both seen the artifact?”

“Yes,” said Tamara.

“My father’s forbidden me to go to it. He doesn’t want anyone to see it.

“But you want to see it, don’t you?” Tamara asked.

“Of course! An alien artifact. Who wouldn’t want to see it? Why do you think my father had that asteroid moved out of its original orbit? Why do you think he’s placed guards around it?”

“It’s a powerful experience,” Yuan said. “Truly life-changing.”

“What did you see?” Alex asked eagerly. “How did the artifact affect you?”

Yuan hesitated. How to talk about it without sounding foolish? he wondered.

Misunderstanding their silence, Alex explained, “You see, I want to understand that artifact. It couldn’t have been made by human beings; it’s got to be an alien creation. Intelligent extraterrestrials left it there for us to find. Why? When? How does it work?”

“I don’t know if human minds will ever be able to understand it,” Yuan admitted.

“I can’t believe that,” Alex Humphries said, with some heat. “I won’t believe that.”

“You haven’t seen it,” said Yuan.

“How did it affect you?” Humphries asked again. “How did it change you?”

Haltingly, almost embarrassed by his experience, Yuan described his encounter with the artifact as accurately as he could remember it. Alex listened and nodded, his hands resting on the desktop, fingertips to fingertips.

When Yuan was finished, Alex turned to Tamara. “And you?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” she lied. “I sort of relived my childhood, that’s all.”

“You don’t feel different? Changed?”

“Not really.”

“Strange,” Alex muttered.

For long moments he was silent, while Yuan wondered what was going on in his head. Whatever it is, Yuan told himself, remember that you’re dealing with one of the most powerful men in the solar system here. He could snuff you out like clicking off a light switch. He wants to run Humphries Space Systems and keep his father off the throne.

“Here’s what I think,” Alex said at last. “That artifact somehow influences the pattern of your thoughts. You know, we have brain scanning devices that can show the neurons in your brain flashing on and off. Our own neuroscientists can map out a person’s patterns of thinking. Right?”

Yuan bobbed his head up and down. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tamara leaning forward temptingly. She had undone several buttons of her bodice.

“Well, this artifact goes a step or two farther,” Humphries continued. “It allows your deep unconscious thoughts to come up to the surface, where you can see them clearly. It allows you to see who you really are, who you really want to be.”

“Like a mirror,” Tamara breathed.

“Right! Like a mirror of your own soul.”

Yuan considered for a moment, then said, “Then it’s not showing you what will be. It’s showing what could be.”

“Like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come,” said Alex.

Yuan felt disappointed. Nothing is certain, he realized. That beautiful vision… Then he realized the truth of it. That beautiful vision is something to aim for, a goal to guide my life, a star to steer by.

“It can be a tremendously powerful force, that artifact. I’ve got to find out how to control it, how to use it.” Humphries’s hands clenched into fists.

He turned to Tamara. She seemed completely relaxed now, in charge of herself.

“It could be enormously powerful, couldn’t it?” she suggested.

“Enormously,” said Alex Humphries. “Whoever understands how to use it has a tremendous edge over everyone else.”

Yuan saw vast dreams glittering in those steel gray eyes.

“In the meantime, what do you intend to do with us?” Tamara asked, her voice low, smoky. Yuan had heard that tone from her before.

Alex blinked, the spell of his fascination with the artifact’s power broken. Sitting up straight in the desk chair again he said, “Well, my father wants you both skinned alive, you know.”

“Is that what you want?” Tamara purred.

His face went utterly serious. “That depends.”

Yuan started to speak, but Tamara leaned even closer to the desk and said meltingly, “I’d be glad to do whatever is necessary to help you understand the artifact.”

“What do you want us to do?” Yuan asked.

“You two go build new lives for yourselves. As far as HSS is concerned, you’re both fired. I’ll provide you with a healthy separation payment, then you’re on your own.”

Tamara looked disappointed. “On my own? With your father wanting me dead? He’ll hunt us down—”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” Alex said. “I’ll see to it that he doesn’t bother you.”

“How can you do that?” Yuan asked.

Alex took in a breath before answering. “Fair enough question.” He hesitated a moment. Then, “Yes, my father wants to prevent anyone from learning that he collapsed when he saw the artifact. He was perfectly willing to order murders.”

Tamara shrank back from him a little.

“But I’ve had a university-full of medics and psychologists trying to put his ego back together. I’ve convinced him that the best thing to do is allow you two to go your own ways—providing you never mention you ever heard of the artifact.” Alex’s voice grew iron hard. “Not to anyone. Ever.”

Yuan agreed. “That’s fine with me.”

“It’ll bring down the wrath of god on you if you speak a word about it,” Alex warned. “It would be your death warrant.”

Tamara nodded reluctantly, then asked, “What about Harbin and the old woman? They actually saw him at the artifact.”

“I’ll protect them,” said Alex. “I won’t let my father harm them.”

“You can do that?” Yuan asked.

Alex smiled grimly. “I can try.”

And Yuan realized what was going on. He’s playing a power game against his father. And we’re pawns in his game. As long as his father knows there are people alive who can tell about his collapse, Alex has the upper hand.

Yuan turned toward Tamara, but her eyes were still fastened on Alex Humphries.

If he noticed her focus on him, Alex gave no outward sign of it. He asked, “All right, then. You’ll come with me.”

“With you?” Tamara asked. “To where?”

“The artifact, of course. We’re going to study it. I want to find out how it works, who put it there, why they put it there.”

Somehow, Yuan wasn’t surprised. But he heard himself ask, “We’re going back to it?”

“Of course. Right away.”

ORE SHIP SYRACUSE: BACKUP CONTROL POD

The jolt nearly knocked Theo out of his command chair. Angela, standing behind him, was thrown to the floor.

“COLLISION,” blared the ship’s computer, “PROPELLANT TANK SIX RUPTURED.”

Theo got out of his chair, helped Angela to her feet.

“Propellant tank six?” she muttered, slightly dazed.

“It’s been empty for years,” Theo said. “No loss.”

With both of them on their feet, Theo said, “Check with Mom, see if she’s okay.”

As his sister bent over the intercom panel, Theo scanned his working controls. Cripes! he thought. First a solar storm and now a collision. How much more can we take? Spin rate’s increased, he saw. A whole section of the rim’s been ripped open. Must’ve been a sizable rock that hit us, maybe a meter across or more.

He pecked at the control keyboard. Got to fire the spin jets, slow us back to normal. Otherwise the increased angular momentum will start to shake us apart.

But when he called up the spin jet display, half the lights were in the red.

“Damn!” he spat.

“What’s the matter?” asked Angela, looking frightened.

Tracing the schematic display with a forefinger, Theo answered, “The collision cut the circuitry to the spin jets on that side of the hull. The system won’t fire with one set of the jets out.”

“Can you override?”

“No, dammit. I’ll have to go outside and repair the circuit manually.

Immediately Angela said, “I’ll back you up.”

“Okay,” said Theo. “We’ll both get into suits but you come back here and take the command chair while I’m outside. If I get into trouble, you’ll be ready to come out and help.”

“Right,” Angela said. No argument.

As they clambered up the tube tunnel toward the living quarters and the main airlock, Theo felt the ship vibrating, a slight tremor that would only get worse, he knew, unless he could get the cold-gas jets to slow their spin back to normal.

“How’s Mom?” he shouted to Angela, a few rungs of the ladder above him.

“She sounded okay. She said she was working on the air filters when the collision hit.”

“She wasn’t hurt, was she?”

“You know Mom. She’d have to lose an arm or a leg before she’d admit she got hurt.”

Pauline was waiting for them at the hatch to the airlock. “I’ve pulled out your suits and checked their air tanks. Both suits are ready for use.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Theo said.

Pauline helped them into their suits, checked the seals, then sent Angela back toward the control pod. Once she reported on the intercom that she was safely at her post, Pauline started to pull her own suit out of its locker.

“What’re you doing, Mom?” Theo asked.

“I’ll be your backup. Help me into my suit, please.”

“But Angie—”

“Angie’s in the pod. If you get into trouble, I can be outside with you in three minutes, the time it takes to cycle the airlock. Angie’s fifteen minutes away.”

Theo recognized the tone of his mother’s voice. All that arguing would do was delay the repairs he needed to make. It would never change his mother’s mind, or blunt her determination.

“Okay,” he said, with a defeated sigh. Yet inwardly he knew his mother was right, and he appreciated her wisdom.

Once outside, Theo used his suit’s maneuvering jets to skim halfway around the ship’s rim.

“How does it look?” Pauline’s voice sounded calm enough, but he thought he detected just a trace of anxiety in it.

Shaking his head inside the suit’s glassteel helmet, Theo replied, “Like some giant robot ripped the whole section apart.”

“That bad?”

“Could’ve been a lot worse. The rock must’ve come in at a flat angle. It grazed the hull, just plowed along this one section and then went on its way.”

Angela’s voice cut in. “Can you fix the circuitry?”

“Yeah, sure. But it’s going to take time.”

And air. Theo knew his mother had filled his suit’s tanks, but every breath he took sucked up precious oxygen. Then there’s the maneuvering jet propellant. Cold nitrogen, same as the ship’s rim jets use. How much more do we have in store? We can take nitrogen out of the air we breathe, but that ups the oxy percentage, which can start its own cascade of problems.

He shook his head again, this time to clear away all the disturbing thoughts. No time for that, he told himself. Fix the problem at hand.

He didn’t realize how long he’d been at his task until Angela called. “You’ve got one hour of air left, Thee.”

Looking up from the welding job he’d been doing, he floated out to the limit of his safety tether with the welding laser in his gloved hand.

“Almost finished,” he said. He wished he could reach inside the helmet and scratch his nose. The headband he wore kept the sweat out of his eyes, but he could feel it trickling uncomfortably down his cheeks and soaking the collar of his shirt. No time for complaining, he told himself sternly. Get the job done.

At last he called to Angela, “Check the circuit schematic, Angie. It should be all green now.”

“It’s amb… no, it’s gone to green!” Her voice sounded jubilant.

“Okay. Fire the jets. One-second burst. Just see if they actually work.”

“Firing.”

Theo saw a puff glitter from the nearest jet: cold nitrogen gas immediately dissipating into the vacuum of space.

“Works fine!” Angela sang out.

“Okay,” said Theo. “Check the spin program and slave the jet controls to it. I’m heading in.”

Two years ago, even one year ago, he wouldn’t have trusted Angela to get it right. But she’s grown a lot, Theo thought. Then he grinned to himself. So have I, I guess.

He got as far as the open outer hatch of the airlock. Then his earphones crackled:

“Unidentified vessel, this is Vogeltod. Do you need assistance?”

At first Valker was disappointed that the ship on his main screen wasn’t his quarry, Hunter. But it was a ship, running silent, no signals coming out of it, either before the solar storm or now, after it.

“Is she a derelict?” Valker wondered aloud.

Nicco, sitting at the communications console, said, “I can hail her.”

Valker thought it over for about a second, then replied, “Do that. Politely. According to the rules.”

Nicco grinned as he pressed his transmission key. “Unidentified vessel,” he called, his voice light and sweet. “This is Vogeltod. Do you need assistance?”

No answer. Only the crackle of interference from the natural background emissions of the Sun and stars. Then:

“This is ore ship Syracuse!” a young voice shouted eagerly. “Yes! We’ve been damaged and we urgently need help!”

“Put them on screen,” Valker commanded.

Nicco made an elaborate shrug. “No visual. Only voice. And it’s kinda weak, like it’s a suit radio, not the ship’s comm system.”

Valker leaned on the comm key built into his command chair’s armrest. “Syracuse, we hear you. You’re damaged, you say?”

“Yessir. We’ve been on a powerless trajectory for almost four years now, ever since we were attacked.”

“Attacked? By who?”

“We don’t know. The attacker slagged our antennas so we couldn’t call for help. I’m talking to you through a suit radio.”

Nicco half stood at his console and took a little bow. The other crewmen razzed him.

“We’ll rendezvous with you,” said Valker, waving to the crew to be quiet. “How many aboard your vessel?”

“Rendezvous will be tricky, sir. Our radar’s out. We’re blind as well as deaf and dumb.”

“That’s all right. We’ll match vectors and board you. How many in your crew?”

“There’s just my mother, my sister and me.”

Valker’s smile showed almost all his teeth.

“Hold tight. I’ll come aboard myself.”

“That’s great! That’s wonderful!”

Valker cut the connection and his crew whooped with glee.

“Two women!”

“And only one man to protect them!”

“He sounds like a kid.”

“Keep your pants on, you apes,” Valker said, raising one hand to silence them. “Nicco, check the IAA registration for Syracuse. Kirk, match our vector with theirs, get us close enough for me to jump across in a suit.”

“You? By yourself?”

“That’s right. I don’t want you baboons scaring the ladies.” Before they could complain he added, “Or making the lad suspicious. Easy does it. They’re not going anywhere without us.”

Theo was so excited it took him three tries to punch out the code on the wall pad that controlled the airlock. He stood fidgeting inside his space suit as the ’lock cycled from vacuum to normal air pressure, all fatigue forgotten, all the worries and fears that he had carried inside him like a gnawing tumor for more than three years, gone, disappeared.

We’re saved, he kept telling himself. We’re saved. We’re saved.

In his helmet earphones he heard his mother and sister bubbling.

“It’s a miracle!” Angie said, her voice brimming with joy.

“I never thought it could happen,” Pauline said, just as elated. “In all this emptiness, to run into another ship…”

Theo heard his mother’s voice catch, sensed her struggling to hold back tears.

When he finally clomped out of the airlock, Angela and Pauline were both half out of their space suits, down to nothing but their leggings. As soon as he pulled the helmet off his head they both wrapped their arms around his neck and broke into wet, blubbering sobs. Theo wanted to dance a jig, but they were pressing too close to him and he was afraid of tramping on their feet.

“We’re saved, Theo, we’re saved,” his mother said. “You’ve brought us through it.”

“We did it together, Mom. You, Angie and me.”

Angie said, “Let’s get these leggings off and put on some clean clothes. I want to look presentable. You too, Mom.”

Pauline laughed through her tears. “Yes, yes, of course. We want to look our best.”

ORE SHIP SYRACUSE: LIVING QUARTERS

Valker beamed a brilliant smile as he sat in the cushioned armchair that Theo had avoided using since his father had left them. It had been his father’s chair, but now Valker sat in it, perfectly at ease, a big-shouldered, handsome smiling stranger in a hodgepodge of a uniform that seemed to be made up of odd bits and pieces from half a dozen other outfits.

“Very comfortable quarters you have here,” said Valker smoothly.

Pauline had put on a clean set of pale blue coveralls that complemented her sandy hair nicely. Angela was wearing an actual dress, something she hadn’t done since they’d left Ceres. Theo was shocked to see how really good-looking his sister was, and how Valker stared admiringly at her. Angie had pinned up her hair and put on lip gloss. She had also left the top three buttons of her dress open; Valker seemed especially impressed with her breathing.

Pauline sat on the sofa, her daughter beside her. “I’m afraid we don’t have much food left,” she said. “We’ve been rationing it out all these months, to make it last long enough for us to get back to Ceres.”

“I understand,” Valker said, his eyes never leaving Angie.

Sitting nervously on the edge of the smaller armchair, on the other end of the coffee table from Valker, Theo said, “It’s a good thing we were in our suits when you hailed us. Otherwise we wouldn’t have known you were nearby.”

“Oh, we would’ve boarded you anyway,” said Valker. “We’re in the salvage business. At first we thought your vessel had been abandoned, like so many others in the Belt.”

“Salvage business?” Pauline asked.

“It’s not much, but it’s a living for me and my poor excuse of a crew.”

“How many in your crew?” Theo asked.

“There’s nine of us, plus me. I’m the skipper.”

“How many women?” asked Pauline.

Valker shook his head. “None. Women cause trouble on long missions. They don’t mean to, but men just naturally start to compete over them.”

Theo understood. “I guess that’s normal, unless you’re family.”

“You bet it is.”

Angela spoke up. “Are your men homosexuals?”

Pauline glared at her daughter.

Valker threw his head back and hooted laughter. “My crew? No. Not at all. Quite the opposite.” Still chuckling, he added, “Although, after they’ve been out on a mission long enough, they’ll take whatever they can get.”

Angela flushed, but said, “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“I haven’t had to … so far.”

Theo wanted to make Angie disappear. She’s giving this stranger all the wrong impression, he thought.

Pauline changed the subject. “If you could give us some propellant for our fusion drive we could get back to Ceres within a few weeks or less.”

“Certainly,” said Valker. “No problem. We’ll repair your antennas, too, so you can communicate again.”

“No need for that,” Theo said.

“You’re wrong, lad. You can’t go barreling into the Ceres sector deaf, dumb and blind. There’s too much traffic in the region. It’d be dangerous for you and all the others.”

Theo glanced at his mother and saw that she didn’t want Valker’s men coming aboard Syracuse either.

“We appreciate your willingness to help,” Pauline began. Theo interrupted. “I can go back to your ship with you. If you’ll give me a spare antenna from your stores I can bring it back here and set it up, no sweat.”

But Valker shook his head once more. “It’s not that easy, son. We don’t have spare antennas. Our antennas are built into the ship’s hull, just like yours. But we have the materials to lay down a new set of antennas for you. Materials and men to do the job.”

“I can do the job myself if you just give me the materials,” Theo said.

Valker looked at him, smiling toothily. “I understand? You’re scared to let my men aboard your vessel. Two beautiful women and nine hungry men. Right?”

“Ten men,” Theo corrected. “Including you.”

“Including me, that’s right,” Valker acknowledged, laughing. “But you don’t have anything to worry about, son. I guarantee that my men won’t bother your mother or sister. That’s a promise.”

And he held out his right hand. Theo glanced at his mother, thinking, I’ve got no choice. Reluctantly, he took Valker’s hand in his own.

The three of them went with Valker to the airlock. Theo couldn’t help but be envious as he watched the man pull on his nanofabric space suit.

“I’ll be back with two men to help you install a new set of antennas,” Valker promised as he pulled the suit’s cowling over his head and inflated it into a clear bubble. “Once that’s done we’ll transfer enough hydrogen to get you back to Ceres.”

“That will be wonderful,” Pauline said.

Valker grinned at her. “Always happy to help a lovely lady in distress.”

He waved and stepped into the airlock. Theo punched out the code that sealed the hatch and started the airlock cycling.

Once the hatch shut and the panel lights indicated the ’lock was pumping down to vacuum, Pauline swung around and slapped her daughter on the face, hard.

Angela was too stunned to cry. Theo saw the stinging marks of his mother’s fingers on Angie’s face, white against her reddened cheek.

“Talking about sex!” Pauline hissed. “Are you crazy? Ten sex-starved men and you make them think…” Her voice faltered.

“I didn’t mean…” Angela said, her voice quavering.

Theo tried to get his mother’s attention. “I couldn’t refuse his help. They’d just come aboard anyway.”

Pauline said, “Thee, get your sister out of sight. Find a place to hide her. I don’t want those men to get a glimpse of her while they’re on board our ship.”

“What about you, Mom?”

“I can take care of myself,” Pauline said. “It’s Angie I’m worried about.”

Theo started to object. Before he could, though, Pauline said in a softer tone, “I’m an old lady, Thee. You saw the way that man was staring at Angie. He had no interest in me.”

“I’m not so sure, Mom. He—”

“Thee, we don’t have time to debate the issue. Get Angie to a safe hideaway, quickly. Before they all come aboard.”

Back in Vogeltod, Valker’s crew crowded around him as soon as he stepped through the airlock hatch.

“What’s the word, skipper?”

“What’s goin’ on over there?”

“How big a crew?”

“What about the women?”

Valker silenced them with a gesture, then broke into his widest grin. “Just like he said over the radio. One crewman, a teenaged kid. And two women, a mother and her daughter. Both good-looking. The daughter’s hot to trot, too.”

They all laughed.

Nicco asked, “What about the mother?”

“Good-looking, like I said. Elegant. Tries to be cool, but it’ll be fun melting her down.”

SELENE: HOTEL LUNA

Alex Humphries personally escorted Yuan and Tamara Vishinsky to the Hotel Luna. Although the hotel’s formal entrance was up in the Main Plaza, a wide powered stairway led down to the lobby, past sheets of genuine liquid water that slid glistening down tilted slabs of granite quarried from the lunar highlands.

“The water’s recycled, of course,” Alex said as they glided down the stairway. “It looks pretty impressive, though, here on the Moon.”

Yuan nodded appreciatively and noticed that Tamara was standing as close to Humphries as she could without climbing into his clothes.

There were pools of limpidly clear water on either side at the bottom of the stairway, with fish swimming in them.

“Aquaculture,” Humphries commented. “Selene gets more protein per unit of energy input from fish than from meat animals.”

“You mean people eat those fish?” Tamara asked, her eyes wide and fixed on Humphries.

He nodded. “You can pick one out for your dinner.”

She laughed appreciatively.

The hotel lobby was bigger than any Yuan had ever seen, lavishly carpeted and decorated with oriental tables and comfortable leather-covered easy chairs. Ornate displays of artificial flowers sprouted from imitation Ming vases.

Humphries walked them to the reception desk, where a bowing assistant manager led them to adjoining rooms two levels below the lobby.

“This is our bottom floor,” the slightly pudgy man said in a self-effacing whisper. “Our very best.”

He opened a door and motioned Yuan inside. Impressive, Yuan thought. Roomy without being too big. Nice decorations. One entire wall was a smart screen that showed, at the moment, a satellite view of the Grand Canyon on Mars.

“Thanks,” he said to Humphries.

“You’re comped for everything,” Alex told him. “For three days. Then we leave for the Belt.”

“May I add,” murmured the assistant manager, “that our shops up on the lobby level offer the very latest designer fashions and a complete line of accessories.”

Yuan realized the man was telling him that he needed some new clothes. He nodded wordlessly and closed his door.

“And your room is here,” the assistant manager said, opening the next door.

Tamara looked inside. “Very luxurious,” she said to Humphries.

The assistant manager handed her the key chip, glanced at Humphries, then bowed and scurried down the corridor.

“I think you’ll be comfortable,” Humphries said.

Tamara realized he was several centimeters taller than his father, clone or no clone. Looking up at him, she asked, “Would you like to come in?”

He smiled. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Really?” she breathed.

“Look,” he said, “I’ve pulled you out of a cesspool full of trouble. My father isn’t happy with you—”

“It wasn’t me who let Harbin and the old woman go,” Tamara said. “Yuan did that.”

“But you killed Commander Bolestos, didn’t you? He didn’t just conveniently drop dead. You stuck a knife in his ribs.”

Humphries could see sudden anger flare in her eyes. But she controlled it immediately.

“It was wrong, I know,” she said contritely. “But he wouldn’t have allowed us to see the artifact.”

“That’s no reason to kill a man.”

“You’re right,” she murmured, her head drooping. She looked up at him through lowered lashes and added, “I realize that now… since the artifact.”

“There’s been enough killing,” Alex Humphries said. “Too much. Now we’re going out to the artifact and try to understand it, learn from it.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want,” he said fervently. “My father doesn’t want the IAA or the universities near it, and I think he’s right about that. But he can’t stop me.”

“Of course he can’t.”

“I’ll need your help. Yours and Yuan’s.”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” Tamara said, her head still lowered.

Alex tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “You will?”

“Anything,” she whispered.

He stepped into the hotel room with her and pushed the door shut. She realized that this man was his father’s clone, after all.

CARGO SHIP PLEIADES: BRIDGE

“You’re talking to yourself,” Victor Zacharias muttered. “That’s not a good sign.”

So who else do I have to talk to? he asked silently. I’m a wanted thief in Ceres, I can’t chat with anyone there.

He got up from the command chair and strode the four paces it took to go from one end of the bridge to the other. Then back again. Maybe I should go to the gym, work up a sweat. Instead he returned to the command chair and turned on the comm console.

He scanned the news channels constantly, desperately hoping for some word about Syracuse. For months he had plotted possible trajectories for his ship, paths through the Belt that were based on little more than guesswork. I don’t have a firm fix on what her position was when I left the ship, and I have no idea of what Pauline might have done with the propulsion fuel we had left in the tanks. Or how much fuel was left. Or how she might try to swing into a trajectory that’ll bring them back toward Ceres.

It was madness to attempt to calculate where Syracuse might be, but it was a madness that kept Victor sane. Otherwise he would be cruising blindly through the Belt, a single ship trying to find another speck of a ship in the enormous vast emptiness.

His dreams were racked with nightmares. He saw one disaster after another: The ship struck by an asteroid that ripped her apart, Pauline and the kids flung into the vacuum, their eyes bursting from their heads, their screams piercing his skull. Or drifting out to Jupiter, the ship’s systems failing one by one, dying of hunger, of thirst, suffocating as the air recyclers failed and they all choked to death, emaciated and helpless.

The broadcasts from Ceres were strictly utilitarian, traffic reports for the most part. No word of a lost ship found, no word of his wife and children saved.

Still he listened. And watched the broadcasts from Earth and the Moon. And checked the frequency that Syracuse would use to beam out its beacon and telemetry data.

“Maybe Theo’s fixed the antennas,” he hoped aloud. “Maybe they’re signaling for help.”

Nothing. Only the crackle of interference from the depths of space. No word from his lost family.

“I’m going to have to stay in the storm cellar?” Angela complained.

She had changed into strictly utilitarian coveralls, but still Theo noticed how well his sister’s body filled the gray jumpsuit. As he pulled the heavy hatch open, Theo said, “Seal this hatch once you’re inside. Don’t open it for anybody, understand?”

“Just because Mom’s afraid—”

“Stuff it!” Theo snapped. “Mom’s got a right to be afraid and if you had any sense you’d be scared out of your skull.”

Angela fell silent.

“Ten men who haven’t seen a woman in who knows how long,” Theo went on. “You want to be gang-raped?”

“Theo!”

“That’s what they’ll do, Angie.”

“That nice Captain Valker wouldn’t let them hurt me.” But she stepped inside the cramped radiation shelter.

“Valker would be first in line.”

“That’s crazy, Thee.”

“Listen to me,” he said. “There’s food and water in here. You can stay here for a week if you have to. Seal the hatch and don’t open it for anybody. Not until I knock on it like this.” And he rapped his knuckles on the hatch’s metal face three times in rapid succession, then a second’s pause, then three more quick raps.

“Got it? One-two-three, wait, one-two-three.”

“Like a waltz,” Angela said.

“A waltz? Yeah, I guess maybe it is.” Theo ducked down a bit to survey the interior of the metal-walled shelter. Cabinets stocked with supplies, food freezer and microwave, water tank half full.

“That’s it, then,” he said at last. “You’ll be okay in here until we get rid of Valker and his crew.” Silently he added, I hope.

Pauline was in the command pod, fretting about the irony of the situation. We’re found by a gang of scavengers, she said to herself. I suppose that’s only to be expected. Who else would find a damaged ship drifting through the Belt?

But the way that man stared at Angela. And she enjoyed his attention! She’s letting her hormones do her thinking for her. I’ve got to protect her. And Theo too. They’ll murder Thee if they think he’s getting in their way.

How can I pull us through this? How can I get them to repair the ship without hurting us? Without killing us? Valker said they’re salvage operators; that means they want our ship. But to get it…

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the vision that she foresaw. They’ll kill us all. But only after they’ve had their fun with Angie and me. Maybe even with Thee. Then they’ll take Syracuse back to Ceres and sell her for salvage. Or scrap, more likely.

One teenaged boy and two women against ten scavengers. Angie’s out of their sight but they can find her easily enough if they want to. And poor Thee, they’ll kill him right off if he tries to fight them.

What can I do? Pauline asked herself again and again. How can I stop them?

Valker, she thought. He’s their captain, their leader. He can control them, maybe. If I can control him.

SALVAGE SHIP VOGELTOD: AIRLOCK

“I don’t get it,” said Kirk, almost in a snarl. “Why don’t we just go over there and take that ship? Push the kid out an airlock and screw the two women until our cocks fall off.”

Nicco, standing beside Kirk, laughed and agreed. “Yeah, why not?”

Valker smiled benignly at his two crewmen. “Because I say we’re not going to do it that way, that’s why.”

“If we put it to a vote the crew would go my way,” Kirk retorted.

“Now listen,” said Valker, planting his fists on his hips. “I don’t pull rank often, but I am the captain of this woebegone crew and you’ll follow my orders.”

“Why should we?”

“Because I say so. That ore bucket will fetch us a decent price back at Ceres, but once we show up with her in tow what’s the first thing the rock rats’ inspectors will ask?”

Before either Kirk or Nicco could reply, Valker answered his own question. “What happened to the owners?”

Kirk shrugged. “How should we know? We found the vessel abandoned and adrift.” Turning to Nicco, “Right?”

“Right!”

“It’s not that simple,” Valker insisted. “It never is.”

Scratching intently at the scar along his cheek, Nicco said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with just taking their ship and the two women, bang! Like that.”

“We’re going to do it my way, share and share alike.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Kirk argued, with a smirk.

“Just like in the army,” said Valker. “The officers and the enlisted men share everything fifty-fifty.”

“Only there’s a hundred enlisted men for every officer,” Nicco grumbled.

“That’s right. And there’s nine of you apes and only one of me. But we’ll share everything fifty-fifty.”

“Yeah?” Kirk asked, suspicious.

“Two women. The nine of you mugs in the crew get one and the captain gets one. Fair enough, eh?”

“The hell it is!”

“All right,” Valker said, laughing. “Suppose I appoint you two to be officers? My first and second mates.”

“Then the other seven—”

“They get one of the women and the three of us get the other one.”

“And the kid?”

“We push him out an airlock—after he rebuilds the ship’s antennas. I’m not towing a vessel into the Ceres sector that’s deaf, dumb and blind.”

Kirk looked at Nicco, who made an affirmative shrug.

“Fair enough?” Valker asked them.

“Fair enough,” said Kirk, grudgingly. Then he added, “Uh, which of the women do we get? Or do we take turns with the two of ’em?”

With Valker directing them, Kirk and Nicco set up a flexible access tube that connected Vogeltod’s main airlock with the zero-g hub of the wheel-shaped Syracuse. Now they didn’t need space suits to transfer from one ship to the other. Valker was the first to glide through the spongy tube and enter Syracuse, with his two crewmen close behind him.

Without much enthusiasm Theo greeted them as they floated through the inner hatch of Syracuse’s airlock. Speaking hardly a word he led them along the tube tunnel to the lockers that fronted the main airlock, where Pauline was waiting for them.

“Welcome aboard, gentlemen,” she said, forcing a minimal smile.

“Where’s your lovely daughter?” Valker asked, his teeth showing.

“She’s been taken ill,” said Pauline. “Some sort of a fever. I’ve confined her to her quarters.”

Valker’s grin didn’t diminish by a millimeter. “That’s too bad. Awful sudden, wasn’t it?”

Looking more serious than ever, Pauline said, “I don’t know what it could be. I’m hoping it’s not contagious. Once you get an antenna working I can query the medical people at Ceres about her.”

Valker nodded understandingly. Turning to his two crewmen, he ordered, “All right, you heard what the lady said. Let’s get the materials aboard and start building a new set of antennas.”

Neither man moved.

Then he said to Theo, “You’d better get into your suit, son. We have a lot of work ahead of us, outside.”

“Right,” said Theo. He turned to the row of lockers and began pulling out his own hard-shell space suit.

“Still using those?” Valker asked.

Pauline replied, “We’re not rich enough to afford the nanosuits, I’m afraid.”

“Too bad. If I had an extra one I’d loan it to the lad.”

Theo sat on the bench and began tugging on his leggings.

“Nicco, give the boy a hand. Kirk, you get back to our ship and start transferring the antenna materials.”

Kirk started to say something, but a glance at Valker made him shut up and head back to Vogeltod.

Theo obviously did not appreciate being called a “boy” or a “lad,” but he said nothing as he reached for his thick-soled boots.

“I useta work in a suit like this,” Nicco said, tapping his knuckles on the torso of Theo’s suit, still hanging in the locker. “The nanosuits are a lot better.”

“I suppose they are,” Theo said guardedly.

Valker said to Pauline, “I can get a diagnostic handset from our infirmary, maybe find out what’s ailing your daughter.”

“I think not,” said Pauline. “If she has something contagious I don’t want you and your crew coming down with it.”

“I understand,” Valker said, thinking, You don’t want me to see the girl in bed, eh?

Nicco held the space suit torso high enough for Theo, crouching, to get his head and arms into it.

“You take care of him,” Valker told his crewman, “then go back to Vogeltod and help Kirk bring up those supplies.”

With a sly grin, Nicco touched one finger to his brow and said crisply, “Aye, skipper.”

To Pauline, Valker said, “I’ll have to see your communications setup if we’re going to rebuild your antennas.”

“That’s up in the command pod,” she replied.

“You’d better lead me there.”

Pauline shot a glance at Theo, who was pulling his glassteel bubble helmet over his head.

“I’ll be all right, Mom,” Theo said.

“Nicco will take good care of him, don’t worry,” Valker assured Pauline.

Without another word, Pauline went through the hatch that led into the family’s living quarters and, beyond that, to the tube tunnel that connected with the command pod. Valker followed behind her, close enough for her to feel his breath on the back of her neck.

SMELTER SHIP HUNTER: GALLEY

Elverda held both her gaunt, bony hands around the mug of hot tea, feeling the warmth seep into her palms. She stared at her hands: all bones and tendons, like a bird’s claws, their skin mottled with age spots. Once, these hands carved monumental sculptures, she said to herself. Now they can barely lift a cup of tea.

Rejuvenation therapies have their limits, she thought. So do old women who’ve outlived their usefulness. Then she recalled the vision the artifact had revealed to her. One last sculpture, she told herself. A final tribute to him. Can I hang on long enough to do it? How much longer can I go on? And once I’m dead, what will happen to Dorn?

As if on cue, the cyborg stepped through the hatch and sat heavily in the chair at the head of the table. He stretched out his prosthetic leg and flexed it several times, slowly.

“Are you all right?” Elverda asked.

“The leg feels stiff. The bearings need lubrication.”

She started to get up from her chair. “I’ll find—”

“No need,” Dorn said, stopping her with one upraised hand. His hand of flesh. “I can handle it later.”

Elverda settled back in the galley chair. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. Thank you anyway.”

“De nada,” she said. She picked up the mug of tea again, then asked, “Did your radar sweep turn up anything?”

“Nothing.”

“No bodies?”

“Not even any debris.”

“Are you sure we’re at the right location?”

He nodded ponderously. “I checked with Ceres. The battle took place here. I wasn’t in it, but I was given to understand that at least a dozen mercenaries were killed.”

“Which corporation did they serve? Astro or Humphries?”

The human half of Dorn’s face frowned slightly. “What difference does it make?”

“We could check their corporate headquarters. Perhaps they’ve already picked up the bodies.”

“No,” he said, flexing the leg again. “The corporations never picked up their dead. They simply wrote them off their accounting ledgers.”

“Inhuman,” Elverda murmured.

“Humans often perform inhuman acts. I myself am the foremost example of that sorry fact.”

“That wasn’t you,” Elverda said quickly. “That was someone else. Another person. Not you, not who you are now.”

“Still…” He bowed his head briefly, as if uttering a swift prayer. Then, “The fact remains that there are no bodies to be found at this location.”

“Which means?”

“Which means that they have drifted much farther than I anticipated.”

“Or they were destroyed in the battle.”

Dorn seemed to consider that for a moment. “We’ll do a spiral search pattern.”

“For how long?”

“A few days, at least. If we don’t find anything we’ll move on to the next battle site.”

“That would be the last one, wouldn’t it?”

“The last one that I know of. I’m certain there are others.”

Elverda hesitated, then plunged ahead. “What if there aren’t any others? What if we’ve found all the bodies that there are to find? What then?”

He stared at her, one eye an unblinking red camera lens, the other all too human.

“Then my mission is finished,” he said.

“And what do you do then?”

He didn’t answer. He can’t, Elverda said to herself. He’s built his life around this mission and once it’s over his life will have no purpose, no meaning.

Then she realized, Nor will mine, once I finish his sculpture.

With Nicco beside him in his nanosuit, Theo hung at the end of his safety tether and surveyed the gashed length of hull where Syracuse’s antennas used to be. He could see the ship’s innards through the long rip, the torn and empty fuel tanks that had once held hydrogen propellant for the fusion drive.

“Hafta patch that up,” Nicco said over the suit-to-suit radio link, “before we transfer any fuel to ya.”

“We have other fuel tanks,” said Theo. “Undamaged. On the other side of the wheel.”

“Oh. Okay, good. But the antennas come first,” Nicco said. “Skipper wants them antennas workin’ before we do anything else.”

Nodding inside his bubble helmet, Theo said, “Fine with me. But we can’t put them here, the skin’s too torn up.”

“Where, then?”

Pointing with an extended arm, Theo said, “Over on that section, by the command pod. That way gives us the shortest path for the circuitry.”

“Show me,” said Nicco.

Theo felt distinctly nervous about disconnecting his safety tether. The suit’s propulsion pack can jet you around the ship for hours, he told himself. You can always jet back to an airlock, the tethers are just an extra safety precaution. He knew it, but he still felt edgy about being outside the ship with this scavenger.

And Mom’s in the pod with their skipper, he realized.

“I’m coming out,” said Kirk’s voice in Theo’s helmet earphones.

“Wait,” he replied. “We’re moving to the next section of the hull. Bring the supplies there.”

“What the hell am I supposed to be, a donkey or something?” Kirk complained. “How come I have to carry all this junk?”

“Too heavy for you?” Nicco jeered.

“Just ’cause it’s weightless don’t mean it’s easy to handle, wiseass,” Kirk shot back. “Come on down here and give me a hand.”

“Okay, okay,” said Nicco. Theo could see his teeth grinning.

“I’ll be over at the next section, by the pod,” Theo said, pointing. “I’ll see you both there.”

“Yeah.” Nicco pulled himself hand over hand along his tether, heading for the open airlock hatch where Kirk waited with the materials to paint a new antenna set onto the undamaged section of the hull.

Theo unclipped his tether and squeezed the control stud at his waist. The jet pack surged against his back and he lunged across the slashed section of hull, heading toward the backup control pod.

Once there he clipped the tether to a cleat and looked inside the pod. His mother and Valker seemed to be in earnest conversation. Wish I could hear what they’re saying, Theo thought. If he tries anything with Mom I’ll…

You’ll what? he asked himself. What can you do? Bitterly, he thought that it would have been better if they’d never seen Valker and his crew of scavengers. If I hadn’t been in this suit when they hailed us…

Suddenly an idea popped into his head. The suit radios don’t have much range, but we’re closer to Ceres now. If these scavengers found us there might be other ships close enough to hear me!

But so would Valker’s crew. So what? Theo asked himself. We can’t be in more trouble than we are now.

Realizing that he had to act fast or not at all, Theo raised his gloved hands before his face so he could see the keypad built into his suit’s left wrist. He punched up a different frequency from the suit-to-suit freak he’d been using with Nicco and Kirk.

He licked his lips, then said, “This is ore ship Syracuse. We are damaged and need assistance. Three people aboard. Propulsion system down. We are adrift and need assistance urgently.”

He saw Nicco and Kirk sailing toward him, towing a mesh net bulging with cans and tubes: the materials to spray new antennas onto the hull.

Kirk came up close enough almost to touch helmets with him. “That wasn’t smart, kid,” he snarled.

Back on Hunter’s bridge, Dorn sat heavily in the command chair. Elverda took the smaller seat beside him.

“I’ve been thinking about your question,” he said slowly. “About what to do once we’ve recovered the last of the bodies.”

Elverda looked at him questioningly. “What will you do?” she asked.

The human side of his face almost smiled. “I suppose what I will do is try to find a way to die.”

“No!” she snapped. “You mustn’t!”

“What point—”

The comm computer’s message light began blinking. Elverda touched the receive key.

“This is ore ship Syracuse,” came a weak voice, barely audible over the crackling hiss of interference. “We are damaged and need assistance. Three people aboard. Propulsion system down. We are adrift and need assistance urgently.”

“Syracuse?” Dorn gasped.

“You know the ship?” asked Elverda.

It was several moments before he replied, “Dorik Harbin tried to destroy it.”

ORE SHIP SYRACUSE: FAMILY QUARTERS

“He was using the alternate frequency on his suit radio to call for help,” Kirk said, his face set in an angry grimace.

Theo stood between Kirk and Nicco like a prisoner under guard. Valker lounged, completely at ease, in the big armchair that had been his father’s. Pauline was on the sofa, sitting tensely, her fists on her knees, her eyes on her son.

“I do that whenever I’m in the suit,” Theo improvised. “It’s my normal routine.”

“Is it now?” Valker asked, one eyebrow cocked dubiously. “We didn’t hear any distress call from you when we found you,” Nicco said.

“I was just about to send out a call when I heard your message,” Theo said.

“Why call for help when we’re already here?” Kirk demanded.

Valker answered before Theo could reply. “Because he’s scared of us, that’s why. Isn’t it, son? You see a gang of roughneck scavengers and you’re worried about your mother and sister. Right?”

Theo hesitated, then admitted, “That’s part of it, I suppose.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” said Valker. “Mighty courageous of you, really, trying to protect your mother and sister.”

Nicco piped up, “Whatsamatter, kid, don’t you trust us?”

Getting to his feet, Valker said, “I wouldn’t trust us, Nicco. Not if I was a young lad facing a shipload of desperados like us.”

He placed a strong hand on Theo’s shoulder. “But you see, son, there’s a matter of salvage rights here. We found you, and it would complicate the situation if somebody else showed up.”

“We’re not salvage,” Theo snapped. “We’re not abandoned or adrift. This ship is occupied by its rightful owners and we’re on a course that’ll take us back to Ceres in a few months.”

“Are you now?”

“Yes,” said Pauline. “We are.”

“We’d only be salvage,” Theo said, “if the ship was abandoned.”

“That can be arranged,” Kirk said, with a smirk.

“None of that, now,” said Valker. “The boy’s right. This isn’t a salvage operation. We’re here to help these people.”

Kirk started to reply, but caught the look in Valker’s eye and snapped his mouth shut.

To Theo, Valker said, “You don’t have to be afraid of us, son.”

“I’m not your son.”

“Now listen,” Valker said, a little more iron in his voice, “I’m not your enemy. We can help you, but you’ve got to trust us, at least a little. We’re fixing your antenna problem, aren’t we? We’re going to transfer some of our fuel to you. What more do you want?”

Theo had no answer for him. He simply glowered at Valker, sullenly.

Pauline got to her feet. “Theo, you’re tired. Why don’t you go to the galley, make yourself some dinner, and then go to sleep.”

He looked into his mother’s eyes and saw that her suggestion was really a command.

Nodding, Theo said, “Okay, Mom.”

“And take these gentlemen with you,” Pauline said, gesturing to Kirk and Nicco. “They must be hungry, too.”

Tight-lipped, Theo repeated, “Okay, Mom.”

He left the family room, Nicco and Kirk marching behind him like a pair of guards.

Valker turned back to Pauline. “Alone at last,” he said, grinning.

“I don’t want them to hurt my son,” Pauline said.

“Now why would they do that?”

“You know perfectly well. If you kill the three of us you can bring this ship back to Ceres and sell it as salvage.”

Valker nodded. “True enough. Or we could put you into the command pod and send you off. No blood spilled that way.”

“But you’d be murdering us just the same.”

“That’s what they want to do.” Valker jerked a thumb toward the hatch that Kirk and Nicco had just gone through.

Pauline’s chin rose a notch. “And what do you want to do?”

“Me?” Valker’s grin faded a little. “I’m not a killer. I’m more of a lover.”

Pauline said to herself, So there it is. Out in the open. He’s offering me our lives. But for how long?

“Can you keep your crew under control?” she asked.

He nodded wordlessly.

“I don’t want any of them touching my daughter.”

Valker puffed out a breath. “That will be a pretty tough assignment.”

“Or hurting my son.”

“Hell, we can let him join our crew. The boy’s got nerve; I like him.”

“But my daughter’s got to be safe. From all of them, including you.”

Spreading his arms in a gesture of complete agreement, Valker replied, “If you’re willing to let me share your bed, why would I be interested in your daughter?”

She looked into his eyes: greenish blue, hazel eyes, the kind that changes color, the kind that can’t be trusted. But what else can I do? Pauline asked herself. What else can I do to keep Angela and Theo safe?

Aboard Hunter, Dorn stared at the communications screen as if he could make it light up by sheer willpower.

“The message isn’t being repeated,” Elverda said.

“No,” said Dorn. “And it was very weak, almost as if it was made from a space suit radio rather than a ship’s comm system.

“No visual.”

“I have a fix on it, through,” Dorn said, tapping on the comm keyboard with his mechanical hand.

“You attacked their ship?”

“Dorik Harbin did.”

“When? How long ago?”

“Just after Chrysalis,” Dorn said, his voice barely audible. “Nearly four years ago.”

“We must go to their assistance.”

He nodded slowly as he opened a comm channel and said, “Attention Syracuse, this is Hunter. We’ve heard your message and are coming to your assistance.” Glancing at the navigation display, Dorn added, “Estimated time of arrival at your position, thirty hours. Please confirm.”

No response. Nothing but the hiss from the Sun and stars.

Dorn looked at Elverda. “They don’t reply.”

“If their message came from a suit radio…”

“Perhaps they didn’t get our message.”

“Perhaps they can’t reply,” she suggested.

“You take over the comm console,” Dorn said. “Tell the computer to repeat our message, with updated ETAs.” He turned to the navigation console. “I’ve got to plot a course to their position.”

Strangely, Pauline felt neither apprehension nor excitement as she led Valker to her sleeping compartment. She felt numb. I’m doing what I have to do to protect the children, she told herself. I’m doing what I have to do.

As she started to slide the compartment door open, Valker’s pocket communicator chimed.

“Damn!” he muttered, fumbling it out of his tunic pocket.

Pauline could hear Kirk’s voice from the tiny speaker. “Somebody’s answering the kid’s distress call. It’s the Hunter! They’ll be here in thirty hours.”

“Hunter? Check it out with Ceres and—”

“Already did. It’s the same Hunter. Two people aboard, one of them a woman. No weapons registered.”

Valker broke into a wolfish grin. “Good! Let ’em come! Like flies to honey.”

He clicked the communicator shut and jammed it back into his pocket. “Your boy’s bringing fresh meat to the table, Pauline.”

She knew what he meant, but she asked anyway, “You’re going to take that ship?”

“Why not? Only two people aboard her. They can disappear and we can bring her in for salvage. Get a good price for her, I’m betting.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Valker said, silencing her with a finger on her lips. “This is business.”

He slid the compartment’s door all the way open, saw her oversized bed neatly made against the far bulkhead of the compartment. “But pleasure before business,” Valker said, ushering Pauline in to her own compartment. “We have thirty hours. Plenty of time to get to know each other.”

CARGO SHIP PLEIADES: BRIDGE

The message electrified Victor.

“Attention Syracuse, this is Hunter. We’ve heard your message and are coming to your assistance. Estimated time of arrival at your position, thirty hours. Please confirm.”

“Syracuse!” he shouted. “They’re talking to Syracuse! My ship! Pauline and the children!”

He banged his comm key. “Hunter, this is Pleiades. Can you give me a navigational fix for Syracuse? My wife and children are aboard her.”

Several minutes dragged by. At last his comm screen lit up to show the bizarre image of a man whose face was half flesh, half finely etched metal. A gaunt, aged woman sat beside him.

The cyborg spoke in a deep, slow baritone, “Pleiades, you are listed as a stolen ship. Are you Victor Zacharias?”

“Yes, yes,” he answered impatiently. “I took this ship to search for my family. Please give me a nav fix so I can go to them.”

Neither the cyborg nor the old woman responded. They merely sat there like mute sculptures, staring at him.

Dorn froze the image of Victor Zacharias’s fiercely bearded face on the comm screen and turned to Elverda. “What should we do?” he asked.

“He says he took the ship to search for his family. If they’re aboard Syracuse…” She realized that she wasn’t certain which course of action they should take.

“I could call Ceres to verify his story,” Dorn suggested.

Elverda shook her head. Pointing to the registration data for Pleiades that had automatically come up on their comm screen once the computer recognized the caller’s name, she said, “Ceres will give us the same information that the computer files have.”

The message light was blinking frantically.

“He’s trying to talk to us,” Elverda said.

Dorn tapped the comm keyboard.

Victor Zacharias’s bearded face suddenly became animated. “Hunter!” he said urgently. “I’m trying to find my family! My wife and two children.”

Reluctantly, Dorn responded, “I’m afraid you’re listed as an outlaw. Ceres claims—”

“That I stole this ship,” Victor interrupted impatiently. “It’s true. I did steal it. To find my family!”

Elverda punched up the computer’s file on Syracuse and touched Dorn’s shoulder to get him to glance at the secondary screen: Missing since the Chrysalis slaughter. Four people aboard, all members of the Zacharias family.

“He’s telling the truth,” Elverda said. Then, to Victor’s image on the main screen, “Mr. Zacharias, we don’t want to be in the position of abetting a criminal. Let us go to Syracuse while you go back to Ceres and turn yourself in.”

Turn myself in? Victor echoed silently.

“No!” he roared. “I want to get to my wife, my children!”

It was impossible to read an expression on the half-metal face of the cyborg, but the woman looked troubled, concerned.

“Listen,” Victor said, toning down his fervor a little. “I’ll go back to Ceres and turn myself in after I see my family. I want to know that they’re all right.”

“Their message said they need assistance,” the woman said.

“They’ve been drifting through the Belt for more than three years,” Victor pleaded. “Of course they need assistance! We’ve got to help them!”

The cyborg started to say, “The lawful thing to do—”

“Don’t talk to me about legalities!” Victor insisted. “My family needs help! They could be dying while we’re here arguing!”

As unperturbed as a mountain of granite, the cyborg continued, “The lawful thing to do is for you to return to the authorities at Ceres while we go to your family’s rescue.”

“No!” Victor shouted. “No! I’ve got to go to them! I’ve got to!”

“We’ll take care of them,” the cyborg said, implacable. “You’ll see them when we bring them back to Ceres.”

“No!” Victor bellowed again. But his screen went blank.

“The bastard’s cut me off,” Victor groaned. He wanted to batter the screen with his bare fists, smash it into a million shards. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and wept like a man who’s lost his last chance for redemption.

Elverda stared at the suddenly blank screen. “That… that was… cruel.”

Dorn nodded minimally. “Perhaps it was.”

“He’s trying to find his family.”

“If he’s telling the truth. Perhaps he’s really a thief and he wants to take our ship. Or Syracuse. Or both.”

“That’s far-fetched.”

“Is it? Do you have any idea of how many people he has aboard his ship? Thieves. Pirates.”

“The data from Ceres said he was alone.”

Dorn almost smiled. “I’m sure that if he’s spent the past several months recruiting cutthroats to serve under him he wouldn’t send updates to Ceres about it.”

Elverda had to admit that Dorn was right, but she said nothing to him. Then she realized that Dorn did not want to be confronted with the man whose ship Dorik Harbin had crippled.

“Remember that other ship? Vogeltod?” Dorn said. “They claimed they were in the salvage business.”

“But…”

“It would be quite profitable to find a ship, get rid of its occupants, and sell it back at Ceres.”

“And you think that’s what this man Zacharias is doing?”

“I’m not willing to take that chance,” Dorn replied. “There are only the two of us here. I’ve got to protect you.”

“I don’t think we need protection from a man who’s trying to save his family.”

“If that’s what he’s truly doing,” Dorn said, looking up at the empty screen. Turning to the screen that showed the file on Syracuse, he noted, “There are four people in the Zacharias family. He claims to be one of them. How did he get aboard Pleiades?”

Elverda nodded grudgingly. “You think he’s lying, then.”

Dorn ran his human hand across the etched metal of his chin. “If he’s telling the truth, if he really is who he says he is and is trying to rescue his family, he’ll find a way to track us and let us lead him to Syracuse. A man desperate to save his wife and children will go to any lengths. A scavenging pirate will look for easier prey.”

Elverda hoped he was right.

SALVAGE SHIP VOGELTOD: BRIDGE

The bridge was crowded, hot and sweaty with Vogeltod’s entire crew jammed into the compartment. Valker had called them all in to plan how to handle the ship that was nearing them.

“The Hunter,” he said jovially. “We haven’t lost her after all.”

“Only two people aboard her?” one of the crewmen asked.

The man on duty at the communications console looked up from the data displayed on his screen. “Two people,” he confirmed. “One’s listed as a priest and the other’s a woman.”

“A woman?”

“She’s over a hundred, for chrissakes. Some famous artist named Elverda Apacheta.”

Hunching forward slightly in his command chair, Valker remembered, “I met her, back when that Humphries captain forced us to give the ship back to her.”

“That’s the same ship that we’ve been looking for!”

“That’s what I said: the Hunter.”

“The ship we let go,” Kirk said, throwing an accusing glare Valker’s way.

With a widening smile, Valker said, “And now she’s coming back to us, nice and sweet.”

“So whattawe do?” Nicco asked, standing to one side of Valker.

“We take her, boys. They’re coming to help Syracuse but they’re walking right into our hands. A priest and an old lady.”

“On a nice, fat, shiny ship,” said one of the crewmen.

“She’ll bring a good price at Ceres. Better than this creaking old tub Syracuse.” Valker laughed. It was all working out beautifully, he thought. Maybe we can leave Syracuse, let her drift. I can bring Pauline and her daughter here aboard Vogeltod. The crew’ll be happy with the daughter and I can keep Pauline for myself—if I can keep Kirk and Nicco away from her.

“Yes, sir,” he said aloud. “We ought to thank that kid for sending out his distress call. He’s luring a good ship straight to us. What could be better?”

“You can have the old lady, skipper,” Kirk said, grinning. “We’ll take the two tarts from Syracuse.”

“Yeah,” one of the crewmen chimed in. “I bet the daughter’s still a virgin.”

“Not for long!”

They all laughed.

Holding up a hand, Valker said, “First things first, boys. First things first. I hope none of you has religious qualms about slitting a priest’s throat.”

After posting his men for seizing the approaching Hunter, Valker got up from his chair, ducked through the hatch, and started down the passageway that led to his quarters. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Kirk and Nicco were trailing him.

“Come on in, fellas,” he said amiably, sliding open the door to his compartment. “Have a drink on me.”

They stepped in, Nicco carefully shutting the door behind him as Valker went to the cabinet where he kept his liquor. Not much left, he saw. Most of the bottles were perilously close to empty. He pulled out the fullest, brandy from one of the L-4 habitats between the Earth and Moon, and opened it with a satisfactory pop of its plastic cork.

“Good times coming,” Valker said, pouring three meager drinks.

As he accepted his glass from Valker’s hand, Kirk said, “You banged the mother, didn’t you?”

Valker grinned at him. “That I did, Kirk. That I did.”

“How was she?” asked Nicco.

“Not half bad. Kinda tense at first, but I soothed her well enough.”

Kirk swallowed more than half his drink with one gulp, then asked, “When’s our turn?”

“In due time. We’ve got to grab Hunter first.”

“That shouldn’t be much of a problem,” said Nicco. “An old woman and a priest.”

“What’s a priest doing out here?” Kirk wondered.

“Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to be finding the dead bodies?” Nicco said.

“Yes, that’s him,” said Valker. “Some sort of religious fanatic.”

“Well, he’ll be a dead body himself in a few more hours,” Kirk said. Then he finished his drink with another swift gulp.

“Speaking of dead bodies,” Valker said, without offering to refill the drink, “we’ve got that boy to take care of.”

“We shoulda done that already,” Nicco grumbled.

“Naw,” said Kirk. “Let the kid finish swabbing the antennas. Let him do the work. Then we’ll finish him.”

Valker took a genteel sip of his brandy, then mused aloud, “Maybe we ought to take care of the kid before Hunter gets here. No sense having him around when we take the ship. Get rid of him now.”

Kirk glanced at Nicco, then shrugged. “Wouldn’t take much. We go out with him, finish the antenna job, then we yank out his air line and send him jetting into deep space.”

Nicco giggled. “He might be the first guy to reach Alpha Centauri.”

Valker saw that Nicco’s glass was empty, too. Taking both glasses and putting them down on the cabinet, Valker turned and laid a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Good thinking, lads.” Gently he nudged them toward the door. “Now you go out there and take care of the boy. I want him out of our hair by the time Hunter gets here.”

Victor Zacharias unconsciously scratched at his thick beard as he scowled at his communications screen. The system displayed a graph showing the direction from which Hunter’s message had come, but not the ship’s distance from him.

That damned half-robot, he growled inwardly. Telling me to turn myself in to the authorities. Victor refigured the keyboard beneath his fingers to call up the propulsion controls, then lit Pleiades’s fusion torch engine to full thrust, heading along the vector of Hunter’s message.

They’ll be gone by the time I get there, he realized. But maybe I can pick up their ion trail. If it hasn’t diffused too much. Maybe I can track them and let them lead me to Pauline and the kids.

Maybe.

ORE SHIP SYRACUSE: PAULINE’S QUARTERS

She stayed in the shower until the ship’s life support computer shut off the hot water. As she toweled dry, Pauline said to herself for the ten thousandth time, You did it to protect Angela and Thee. It’s all right. You did what you had to do. You didn’t have any choice, really.

Still she felt grimy.

As she dressed she thought that it could have been worse. Much worse. Pauline had wondered, as she watched him strip and climb into bed with her, grinning like a wolf, if she could actually allow another man to make love to her. She closed her eyes, picturing Victor in her mind. I’ll fake it, she told herself. I’ll please him as much as I can. It doesn’t matter what he does to me. I’ve got to protect Angela.

To her surprise, Valker was a gentle lover, even thoughtful. All his swaggering, smirking attitude dissolved as he genuinely sought to bring pleasure to her. With some surprise, Pauline remembered what she had learned all those years ago, before she’d met Victor: you never know what a man is truly like until you’re in bed with him.

Once dressed she walked absently into the family room. Everything was still the same. All the chairs in their places; the sofa, the lamps and wall screens. But I’m not the same, she told herself. I’ve been unfaithful to my husband. I allowed that grinning hyena to use me. Then the truth slapped her in the face: I enjoyed it! I enjoyed having sex after all these years. My body overpowered my mind.

She sank into the nearest chair, guilt flooding through her like a tidal wave, and burst into racking sobs.

A noise from the galley startled her.

Stanching her tears, she went to the hatch and saw Theo sitting at the table, his back to her, scraping the remains of a meal from his plate.

Pauline hurriedly wiped her face, rubbed her eyes. She had to swallow hard before she could get any words out. “Thee?”

He turned and smiled at her. “Hi, Mom. Where’ve you been?”

Ignoring his question, “How long have you been here? In the galley?”

His youthful face wrinkled slightly with thought. “Oh, ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I thought I heard the shower running.”

“Yes,” she said, sitting beside him, hoping he wouldn’t notice her reddened eyes.

“I’ve got to go out again, finish the work on the new antennas.”

“Have you checked on Angela?”

“No, didn’t get a chance to do that. Those two apes were with me all the time I was out. I just got rid of them no more than a half-hour ago.”

“I don’t think anyone’s aboard right now.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be here in a few minutes to finish the antenna work. Maybe you can call Angie on the intercom while I start to suit up.”

Pauline nodded. “I’ll do that.” Silently she added, If the intercom is working today.

Angela was startled by the intercom’s sudden chime. She’d been pacing around the circular interior of the storm cellar, counting her steps: two hundred and fifty-three, two hundred and fifty-four… Nothing better to do, locked in the pod alone. Then the intercom chimed.

She touched the keypad and her mother’s face appeared on the tiny wall screen.

“Are you all right?” they asked simultaneously.

Pauline broke into a tight smile. “I’m fine, Angela. What about you?

“I’m bored out of my skull. There’s nothing to do in here!”

“Good. Just stay there. It’s the safest place in the ship for you.”

“But—”

“No buts, Angela. Stay in there. Stay where it’s safe.”

The screen went blank.

Angela stared at it for long moments, thinking, If it’s safe in here, that means it’s not safe outside, where Mom and Theo are.

Despite his headband, sweat trickled into Theo’s eyes, stinging, forcing him to blink. But through the glassteel of his helmet he looked with some pride at the finished antenna set that he and the two men from Vogeltod had painted along Syracuse’s curving hull.

He hung at the end of his safety tether, Nicco and Kirk on either side of him. Battered old Syracuse swung slowly through the dark emptiness, Vogeltod still attached like some mechanical parasite. The steadfast stars looked down on Theo, unblinking, solemn, terribly far away.

“Try transmitting now, Mom,” he said into his helmet microphone.

In his earphones he heard his mother’s calm, steady voice, “This is Syracuse, testing its communications system. Testing, testing, one, two, three.”

Turning to Kirk, hovering in his nanosuit alongside him, Theo switched to the suit-to-suit frequency and asked, “Did it work?”

Kirk grinned and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “They heard her on Vogeltod loud and clear.”

Switching back to the ship’s frequency, Theo said, “Sweep through the comm channels, Mom. See what you can pick up.”

For several moments he heard no reply. Then, “Thee! I’m getting Ceres! And video from Selene! And Earth! It works, Thee! It works!”

Theo thought he should feel wonderful. Ecstatic. Triumphant. Instead he merely felt tired.

“Turn on the tracking beacon,” he said. “And the telemetry transmitter.”

“Yes,” Pauline replied. “Green lights! They’re working. At last, they’re working.”

“Good,” he said, feeling flat and somehow disappointed. “We’ll come in now.”

“You did it, Thee,” said his mother, her voice trembling slightly. “You did it.”

“I had help,” he replied, eying Kirk and Nicco, who were drifting closer to him.

He clicked back to the suit-to-suit frequency. “Okay, we can go back inside now.”

Nicco was close enough to see his toothy grin and crooked scar. Kirk had slid around behind him.

“We’re goin’ in, kid,” Kirk said. “You’re not.”

Aboard Pleiades, Victor cursed long and loud as he desperately tried to pick up the ion trail from the exhaust of Hunter’s fusion drive. I must have misjudged their distance, he said to himself between bouts of swearing.

“Maybe you got the motherhumping vector wrong,” he muttered to himself.

He set up the communications keyboard and checked the transmission he’d heard. No, the vector’s correct, he saw. They must have been farther away than I estimated.

The comm screen’s yellow message light was blinking. Automatically, Victor tapped the keypad to play it back.

“This is Syracuse, testing its communications system. Testing, testing, one, two, three.”

Pauline’s voice!

Suddenly Victor’s hands were shaking so badly he could hardly manage to work the keyboard. They’ve fixed the antennas! He thought. Theo did it. Or Pauline. They’re alive! She’s alive!

Sure enough, the strong steady signal of a tracking beacon came through on its normal channel. With tears in his eyes Victor read off the name and registration that appeared on his comm screen: Syracuse.

ORE SHIP: SYRACUSE OUTSIDE

Even though he half expected it, it happened so fast that Theo didn’t know what to do. At first.

Nicco suddenly wrapped him in a bear hug, pinning Theo’s arms to his sides. Behind him, he felt Kirk click open his tether and then start banging and yanking on his life support backpack.

He didn’t have to ask what they were doing. They’re going to kill me, he thought. And then they’ll go back into the ship and rape Mom. And Angie.

Theo struggled but Nicco was surprisingly strong and held his arms pinned. The scavenger was grimacing with the effort, though, his inflated helmet pressing against Theo’s glassteel bubble. Theo was bigger than he and flooded with adrenaline. The two of them grunted and strained. Theo could see sweat breaking out on Nicco’s face, see his lips pulling back over his mottled teeth in an angry snarl.

“C’mon,” Nicco grunted to Kirk. “Whatcha doin’ back there?”

“Got his radio. But the goddamn air hoses are inside the pack,” Kirk growled. “I gotta pull off the whole fuckin’ tank.”

“Punch a hole in it!” Nicco shouted.

“Yeah… yeah…”

Theo felt Kirk hammering on his air tank. They’ll kill me! roared a voice in his head. They’ll kill me!

The three of them were floating weightlessly away from the ship, twisting and spinning as they struggled. Theo rammed a knee into Nicco’s groin and heard a satisfying screech of pain. He pulled his arms free and punched Nicco in the face as hard as he could. His gloved fist bounced off the inflated helmet but Nicco sailed backward, away from him, as Theo recoiled in the other direction with Kirk still hanging on his back.

My suit’s like armor, Theo thought gratefully. Kirk was swearing at the top of his lungs, still banging away at the air tank behind him. Theo tried to twist around and get Kirk off his back, but the scavenger had locked his legs around Theo’s middle. Fumbling for the kit buckled to his waist, Theo pulled out the first tool his fingers clutched, a smallish wrench. With all his might he pounded it against Kirk’s knee.

“Sonofabitch!” Kirk yowled. Theo realized that the nanosuits were too soft to offer much protection against such blows.

Kirk unwrapped his legs from Theo. “You shitfaced little bastard! I’ve got you now, asshole!”

Theo felt something click in his backpack and suddenly he was whooshing away from the two other men, jetting madly away from Syracuse, spinning wildly out into dead empty space. He saw the ship whirling insanely with the figures of the two nanosuited scavengers hovering near it.

“I’m gonna fuck your mother!” Kirk’s voice taunted in his helmet earphones. “And then your sister!”

“Me too!” Nicco added gleefully.

Theo knew he was going to die. The oxygen was spurting out of his life support tank and Kirk had disabled his radio. But all he could think was, I’ve failed. I’ve failed to protect Mom and Angie. I’ve failed them. I’ve failed them.

Valker was at Syracuse’s airlock, waiting for them with his fists on his hips and a disgusted sneer on his face.

“You two sure blew that one,” he grumbled as Kirk and Nicco began to peel off their nanosuits.

“We got rid of the kid, didn’t we?” Kirk snapped.

“One kid, and he damn near beat you. And you shot off your stupid mouths good and loud. Now the mother’s locked herself into the command pod and the daughter’s hiding somewhere.”

Nicco shrugged elaborately. “We’ll find ’em. The ship ain’t that big.”

“What you’re going to do,” Valker said, with steel in his voice, “is get back to Vogeltod and help the crew when the Hunter gets here.”

“And what’re you gonna do?” Kirk asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.

“I’m going to try to sweet-talk the mother into coming out of the pod.”

“You could blast her out.”

Valker shook his head. “Two numbskulls. We want this ship as intact as possible when we sell her at Ceres. Don’t you think the rock rats’ inspectors might wonder why the control pod hatch has been blasted open? And where the ship’s original owners might be?”

“Yeah, well…”

“I keep telling you dim bulbs: you catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar.”

Nicco made an obscene gesture.

“She knows you killed her son. You made that clear enough for anybody this side of Ceres to figure it out. Now I’ve got to sugar that woman until she unlocks the pod hatch.”

“Come on,” Kirk growled to Nicco. “Let’s go find the daughter.”

“Get back to our ship,” Valker insisted, “and get ready to take Hunter. The girl will still be here after we’ve taken it.”

Nicco nodded reluctantly. “Okay. You’re the skipper.”

Kirk grinned nastily and said to Valker, “Well, after you’ve sweet-talked the mother out of the pod,” he snickered, “save some for us.”