‘Are you sure Alexa and Mikel are going to be okay?’ It was the second time Cally had asked the question in the last ten minutes. ‘One of us should have stayed with them.’
‘No,’ Blake insisted. ‘I need all of you here. Lant won’t give up without a fight.’
‘And neither will we,’ added Gan, encouraging a gagged Vyse to continue walking ahead of them with a shove to the shoulder. The rebel had attempted to make a run for it, until a warning shot above his head from Blake had forced him to his knees. They had all frozen, waiting to see if the shot ringing around the corridor would bring Lant’s men running, but so far they were safe.
‘I wouldn’t worry about Alexa,’ Blake said, slowing as they approached a junction in the corridor. ‘All she wants to do is protect Mikel. There’s no way she’ll risk putting him in danger.’ Which is why Blake had been glad when she agreed to stay in the storage bay. The last thing he needed was having a concussed mother and her son to worry about in the middle of a fire-fight.
At least Cally didn’t argue. The group fell back into an uneasy silence, creeping towards the intersection. Blake signalled for them to stop. He peered cautiously around the corner. The corridor was clear and they continued on their way. They didn’t run. They didn’t rush. There was no point expending unnecessary energy when they didn’t know what would face them when they arrived at the flight deck. Would Lant be surrounded by his men? Would he have guards in place? And what about Avon and Vila? Whose side would they be on? Cally insisted that Avon had been trying to protect them. Blake wanted to trust Avon, but…
They approached the next intersection and followed the same pattern. Slow, stop and check if the coast was clear.
But this time it wasn’t.
This time Blake crept around the corner just as a gang of Lant’s men were coming the other way. He jumped back, waving for everyone to back up, but it was too late. One of the women cried out—Leylana. He’d been spotted.
This was it. Without a word, his crew dropped into position, weapons raised, ready to defend themselves, ready to attack. Fate may have thrown them together, and the lines of loyalty were yet to be clearly defined, but when it mattered they formed a natural team, a force to be reckoned with—or so he hoped.
‘Blake!’ The voice that rang out along the corridor made Blake’s blood run cold. Confident. Arrogant. Familiar. ‘We know you’re there, Blake.’
His eyes caught Jenna’s and he recognised the fury, the betrayal, that he felt so keenly himself. Up to this moment, he’d clung to the hope that it had all been a mistake, a ploy, but Avon’s words made everything quite clear.
We know you’re there.
We.
Blake indicated for Gan to bring Vyse forward. Blake grabbed the rebel by the arm, hauling the gaunt hostage in front of him.
‘We’re going on a little walk,’ he hissed, jabbing his rifle into Vyse’s back. ‘I wouldn’t suggest trying anything. Over the last 24 hours I’ve been knocked unconscious, tied up, beaten, double-crossed and left for dead. I’m just waiting for an excuse. Do you understand?’
The rebel nodded, the rifle jabbing harder as he did.
‘Avon?’ Blake called out. ‘I’m coming out. But I have one of your men. Do you hear me? One false move and he’s dead.’
‘Sounds reasonable.’
‘Blake,’ Jenna warned, her eyes wide. ‘What are you doing?’
He gave her a grim smile.
‘Just going for a chat with an old friend.’
‘But…’
He shook his head. This wasn’t the time. Jenna stopped herself and looked away, her jaw clenching in frustration.
Blake took a deep breath, gave his crew one last, knowing look and then pushed Vyse around the corner.
At the far end of the corridor stood Lant’s people—Halla, Leylana and Rinney, all with their weapons up and trained on Blake. He noted with a sinking dread that Leylana and Rinney brandished handguns taken from the Liberator. A tall figure stepped out from behind them, walking languidly to the front of the group. He took his place behind Halla and looked straight at Blake, his face an unreadable mask.
‘I think it’s time we talked,’ Avon said.
*
‘Distance to Space Command?’
‘THREE MILLION SPACIALS. ARRIVAL ESTIMATED IN IN 13.4 MINUTES.’
Lant crouched down in front of Travis and examined his handiwork. The metal box was now firmly secured to the Commander’s chest, the cable looped round and round. Klagga had tied the knots. Even if Travis had full use of his arms, it was doubtful he’d be able to get out of those. Vila was pretty sure that Klagga had never been a Galactic Scout—or a sailor for that matter. He didn’t really want to think where, or why, he’d learnt to tie such formidable knots.
‘Nearly home, Commander. Nearly time for your big entrance.’
‘It won’t work,’ Travis sneered, still full of bravado, even though he’d obviously lost. You had to hand it to him. He was tenacious. ‘Some of the best scientific minds are on that station. They will have this off me and disarmed before my pursuit ships have even finished blasting you to atoms.’
‘You know the one thing I’m going to miss about you, Travis?’ Lant said, pinching the Commander’s cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, making his mouth form a ridiculous pout. ‘Your sense of humour. You really do make me laugh.’
Lant pressed his palm against the touchscreen on the front of the device. Vila watched, stomach churning more than ever, as words scrolled across the screen.
BIOMETRIC TEST COMPLETE.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED: FARROW LANT.
PRIME DEVICE: YES / NO?
‘I had Alexa simplify the arming sequence for me,’ he explained to no-one in particular as he jabbed at the ‘Yes’ option. He really was a man who liked an audience. ‘And to think she never believed this day would come. How wrong she was, god rest her soul.’
SET TIME FOR DETONATION
He paused for a moment, rubbing the fingers of his hand together as if trying to loosen them.
‘I wonder how long it took her to die?’ His eyes focused on Travis. ‘I wonder how long it will take you to die? When Space Command’s life-support systems fail. How long for you to gasp your last. You seem like a man who clings on to life. Four? Five minutes after the air runs out? Some people have been known to last longer, if they’re strong enough. Are you strong enough, Space Commander?’
He typed a number into the screen. The unit beeped.
DETONATION IN 15 MINUTES 00 SECONDS
CONFIRM YES / NO
‘I’ll see you dead long before I breathe my last,’ Travis spat. ‘Do you hear? And I’ll tell people what a coward Farrow Lant was. What a sick old man he’d become. Senile. Ineffectual. Irrelevant.’
Lant jabbed at the screen.
DETONATION IN 15 MINUTES 00 SECONDS
14 MINUTES 59
14 MINUTES 58
‘You do that, Space Commander Travis. You do that.’
Lant looked up at Klagga, who rammed the butt of his rifle into the back of Travis’s neck. There was a crunch and Travis’s head flopped forward alarmingly. Had they just broken the man’s neck? Lant touched the side of his neck, checking for his carotid pulse. He smiled when he found it.
‘He’ll live. Long enough, that is.’
13 MINUTES 30 SECONDS
‘Now what?’ Vila asked, never taking his eyes off the countdown.
‘Now you and Klagga take him to this teleport room of yours.’
‘Me?’
‘You’re the only one who knows how to operate it.’
‘Well, it’s not that difficult really…’
‘Oh, in that case, Klagga can do it. He’s a quick learner. Shame, though, as that was all I was keeping you alive for.’
Lant’s gun was in his hand as he rose to his feet, pointing straight at Vila’s head.
‘Now, there’s no need to be like that.’ Vila threw up his hands. ‘We’re all friends here, aren’t we? Eh, Klagga old pal?’ He smiled his most winning smile at the giant. Klagga didn’t smile back.
Lant lowered the gun. ‘Right choice, Vila.’
‘So, Klagga,’ Vila said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Head or feet? You choose.’
‘I see Lant doesn’t trust you enough to give you a gun. Trouble in paradise, eh, Avon?’
Avon raised his hands in conciliation and took a step forward.
‘I’m unarmed because there’s no need for any of this.’
‘Tell that to your friends.’ Blake’s eyes darted from Avon to Halla and Leylana. It was disconcerting seeing Lant’s rabble with Liberator weapons in their hand, although Halla seemed comfortable still cradling his percussion rifle.
He weighed them up. Halla was the most dangerous, rifle or no rifle. A bullet was just as lethal as a blaster. Leylana was stocky and powerful, her body tense and ready for action. Rinney, the copper-haired woman at the back of the group, seemed more unsure, distracted even. That must have been the one the others had drugged. The weakest link.
‘They’re just nervous. You can’t blame them. You have one of their own.’
‘And they have my ship.’
‘Our ship, Blake. Our ship. We can talk about this. Come to an understanding.’
‘Lant had his chance to talk. His actions spoke much louder than words.’
‘Then be the bigger man.’
‘We’re way past that point, Avon. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. Your new friends drop their weapons, slide them over to me and we’ll let Vyse go. Then we’ll all go and have that little chat with Lant.’
Halla snorted, flashing Blake a yellow grin. ‘You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.’
‘Halla,’ Avon warned. ‘Back off. I’m handling it.’
‘Not from where I’m standing. You’ve told us how you see it, Blake. Now it’s my turn.’
Blake didn’t react. He just kept his rifle pressed firmly in Vyse’s back.
‘You’re alone, outnumbered and outgunned. There’s no way you’re going to take this ship back. Your choices are surrender or die. Simple.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Jenna walked calmly into view, gun trained on Halla. Positioning herself beside Blake, she shifted her aim to Leylana. ‘I think there are more options than that.’
‘Many more,’ added Gan, as he joined them, taking up position on Blake’s other side. Finally it was Cally’s turn. Her gun didn’t waver from Halla.
‘In fact,’ she said, ‘I would say the odds are fairly even.’
Avon nodded in greeting to the Auronite, a smile flickering across his mouth. ‘It’s good to see you, Cally.’
She didn’t respond.
‘Shall we start again?’ Blake brought his rifle up to rest on the back of Vyse’s head. The rebel let out a whimper as he felt the cold metal slide up his neck. ‘Drop your weapons or we kill your man.’ He glanced back at Halla, fire in his eyes. ‘Simple.’
Halla sighed and shifted his weight. ‘This has gone on too bloody long,’ he said.
‘Then finish it,’ retorted Blake.
‘Fine,’ Halla said, and shot Vyse in the chest.