The Final Battle

so do me a favor and answer the fucking question.”

“Okay, okay,” Horda said, putting his hands out to pacify Michael. “Keep your hair on. Now, let me see. You want me to drop this ship not just into Commitment nearspace but here-” He stabbed a finger out at the screen. “- only 300 or so kilometers above the planet’s surface. Right?”

“Right.”

“And you want me to do that after a 33-light-year pinchspace jump.” Horda shook his head. “The last time you pulled this stunt, you said you dropped your ships 8,000 kilometers out, not 300. And you had the benefit of military-grade AIs. The Starlight’s were built before you were even born, and even then they weren’t state of the art. Oh, yes, and the Hammers weren’t expecting visitors. They are this time.”

“Listen,” Michael said taking a deep breath to keep a lid on his temper. “I appreciate the positive spin you’re putting on things, but can you answer the damn question? Can you put us on the drop datum, yes or no?”

“You’re lucky because I’ve been captain of this ship for twenty-two years, and here-” Horda brought a new screen up on the holovid. “-are the results of every drop I’ve done in the last five years.”

“Holy shit!” Michael hissed after a moment’s study. “That’s very, very impressive.”

Horda nodded. “Yes, it is,” he said looking very pleased with himself. “Better than any of your fancy mil-spec AIs can do, and you know why?”

“Why?”

“You space fleet guys don’t spend more than a couple of years in a ship. Me? I’ve spent years talking to the AIs that run this ship. Oh, I know they’re not people, but they might as well be. When I first took command of the Starlight, the navigation AI had trouble dropping us into the right system. But we worked on it together, and there are the results.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“From what I’ve heard, I think you already are.”

“Thanks. So you’re saying you can do it?”

“As long as you accept that there’s no margin for error, none at all, and that we’ll all be dead if we miss the drop datum, then yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You remember I said that I’d miss the Starlight, that she was our home?”

“I do.”

“It’s not the ship I’ll miss,” Horda said, his voice soft and his eyes glittering with tears. “It’s just a whole lot of metal and plasfiber. No, it’s those damned AIs …” His voice choked up, and he stopped. “They’re like people to me, you know?” he whispered. “No, not people … my friends.”

“What can I say?”

“Nothing.” Horda took a deep breath. “I’ll do what I have to. You said you wanted to talk about Kalkuz?”

“I did. Look, there’s no easy way to say this, but the man knows too much. I’m going to have to-”

“Stop!” Horda barked. “I don’t want to know. He’s your problem. You fix it. Now go.”

Michael left, too wracked with guilt to say another word.

“On your feet, Mister Kalkuz,” Michael said.

The man looked up. He must have sensed something was wrong. His hands shook. His face was a pasty gray. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. “Why? I’ve told you everything, I swear.”

“Just do it.”

“What do you want?” Kalkuz’s voice trembled. He got to his feet with obvious reluctance.

“You’ll find out.”

Mitchell stepped forward and pulled out his stunner. He pointed it at Kalkuz and stunshot him in the chest. Kalkuz dropped to the deck in a twitching, moaning heap. Michael stunshot him again. He stopped moving.

“Let’s go,” Michael said. He waved Mitchell and Akuna to pick the man up.

Dragging Kalkuz between them, the marines followed Michael. He threaded his way along corridors and down ladders until the group reached one of the midships airlocks. Shinoda was waiting for them; she opened the inner door. “Dump him in there,” she said. She looked at Michael. “Let me do this, sir.”

Michael turned away and opened an emergency locker to pull out a skinsuit. “We’ve had that discussion,” he replied. “It’s my screwup, so I’ll fix it.”

Shinoda put her mouth to Michael’s ear. “Fuck that,” she whispered. “I won’t let you do this on your own.” She leaned past him to pull out a second skinsuit. “And don’t argue with me … sir.”

Michael was too demoralized to try. “Okay, okay,” he muttered. A minute later, he was suited up. “All set?”

Shinoda nodded. “All set,” she said.

Michael commed Horda as the two of them stepped into the airlock. The door shut behind them with a soft hiss. “We’re ready.”

“Roger … External door interlocks released.”

Sick to his soul, Michael started the scavenge pump. In seconds the air in the lock had turned to white mist as the pressure dropped. To Michael’s horror, Kalkuz’s eyes opened; they were wild with fear and stared up at him until anoxia closed them forever. He knew those eyes would come back to haunt him. A lifetime later, the red light over the external door turned to green. Michael froze. He could not finish what his stupidity had started.

“Let me, sir,” Shinoda muttered. She pushed Michael aside and punched the controls to open the outer airlock.

Shamed into action, Michael reached down to take hold of Kalkuz. Together he and Shinoda dragged the man’s awkward mass to the door.

“On three,” Shinoda said. “Stand by … one, two, three!”

Kalkuz’s body vanished into the gray mist of pinchspace. Michael threw up.

Saturday, June 26, 2404, UD

New Varanasi nearspace

“All set?” Michael asked.

“All set,” Captain Horda replied.

“Let’s do it.”

Horda nodded. Fingers flew, and he initiated the drop. Michael’s world turned itself inside out. A moment later, the navigation plot stabilized.

“Aha,” Captain Horda said. He pointed at the string of digits displaying the ship’s position. “Read that, spacer boy, and weep. We’ve jumped a quadrillion kilometers, give or take a few, and we’re less than a hundred klicks from the datum.”

“Now that is very impressive,” Michael said. And he meant it. For a beat-up old mership, it was extraordinary.

Horda shrugged. “Thank a great AI. And it helps that we’ve done the Scobie’s-to-Varanasi route more times than I can remember. I swear we know every last ripple and bump in pinchspace. Anyway, that’s enough self- congratulation. Let’s get the sob story on its way, and then we can piss off.”

“Do it,” Michael said.

“Varanasi Nearspace Control,” Horda said. “This is Scobie’s World mership Matrix Starlight.”

“Matrix Starlight, Varanasi,” the voice of the duty controller said. “Go channel 42. Out.”

“And good morning to you too,” Horda muttered as he changed channels. “Varanasi, Matrix Starlight on four-two.”

“Matrix Starlight, we do not hold a valid flight plan for your arrival, and you have dropped outside the designated drop zone.”

“Sorry about that, Varanasi. We have major problems with one of our pinchspace nodes.”

“Tell that to the inspectors, Starlight. You are in breach of Varanasi nearspace navigation regulations. Reverse vector to-”