'Instigate two,' said Hatch. 'Now.'
The Officer of the Watch, the impeccably correct San Kaladan, pressed the instigation button a second time.
And -
And the world wavered.
The image on the gigantic main battle display screen buckled, collapsed to a point of light then died into absolute darkness.
Though Hatch had been prepared for this, he nevertheless experienced a frisson of the purest horror. This was every starwarrior's worst nightmare: a ship dying in the wastelands of interstellar space.
The main command console went dead.
The consoles minor were dead already.
A moment later, the lights went out.
Darkness made its cave. Hatch closed his eyes, allowed them time to adjust. When he opened them, weak emergency lights were already on. In the main command console, a small panel had come to life. It was a piece of electrical-based equipment. San Kaladan, the Officer of the Watch, was struggling to preserve his immaculate calm, to remain cool and collected in the face of an entirely unorthodox tactical situation. He studied the readouts and telltales of that small panel, studied it for longer than was necessary while he perfected his control of his own emotions. Then he addressed his commander:
'Sir. All three asmas are down, sir. Destroyed, sir. They self-destructed, sir. We have total failure of all ship systems based on probability manipulation. Total loss of main and auxiliary manoeuvering capacity. Total loss of all heavybattle weapons systems. Total loss of all shield systems. Emergency electricals are operative. Electrical- based emergency computational and navigational equipment operative. Otherwise our ship is null and dead. We are on a collision course for the enemy Galactic Class MegaCommand Cruiser.'
That was Nexus style. Spell it out. Not 'the cruiser', the one and only cruiser sitting out there in the vacuum of interstellar space. Not 'the enemy cruiser'. Not 'the enemy MegaCommand Cruiser'. But the whole thing, 'the enemy Galactic Class MegaCommand Cruiser', spelt out in full. The maintenance of working routines under extreme pressure: that was the military ideal of the Nexus.
Intergalactic space.
A dead ship.
A dead ship on a collision course with another dead ship.
And, everywhere:
A disciplined watchfulness. A disciplined readiness. And the implacable maintenance of routines.
'Estimated time to intersect point,' said Asodo Hatch.
'Sir,' said San Kaladan. 'Estimated time to collision with enemy MegaCommand Cruiser is three arcs plus or minus one tenth of an arc.'
'Good,' said Hatch.
He had done it.
On his command, the ship's asmas, its intelligent probability manipulators, had self-destructed, disrupting local probability for five light years in every direction. Hatch's ship had died instantly in the resulting turbulence. The enemy ship commanded by Lupus Lon Oliver had died in the same instant.
This tactic was not to be found anywhere in any Book of Battle ever written by the Nexus, for the Nexus did not teach suicide tactics. Suicide? Yes, it was surely suicide to kill one's ship way out in the wastelands of intergalactic space, far from any star or any planet. How long could life survive on the dead hulk of a ship which had lost its asmas? Ten days? Twenty? It made no difference. Everyone on board would die, and sooner rather than later, dying when food ran out, or water, or air.
'Suit up,' said Asodo Hatch. 'Everyone on the bridge is to suit up and join the rest of the ship's complement. Suit up – and prepare to board.'
Prepare to board.
An electrifying command!
Asodo Hatch was going to lead his men into battle and fight Lupus Lon Oliver hand to hand, weapon to weapon, face to face.
Hatch was going to meet Lupus Lon Oliver in close quarters battle.
Back in Forum Three, the assorted beggars, wives, relatives, friends, Startroopers and Combat Cadets were absorbed by a multiscreen view of the proceedings. Each and every one of them could understand what was going on, for the entertainments of the Eye of Delusions – garish and inaccurate though they were – had long tutored Dalar ken Halvar in starwarrior dramas. So everyone in Forum Three understood that Hatch and Lupus each commanded a ship; that the ships were now dead, and sliding helplessly through deep space on a collision course; and that Hatch was getting ready to lead his men into battle.
Beggar Grim and his friends passed their Eye between them, seeing (or pretending to see) the drama which was unfolding before them. Hatch was giving orders, marshaling troops, explaining plans. Meanwhile, on the opposing ship – On the opposing ship, Lupus Lon Oliver was cursing at bewildered technicians. Cursing and swearing with a rage which was but a mask for a panic close to hysteria.
Sitting in Forum Three, watching the splitscreen drama being played out on that lecture theater's display screen, Manfred Gan Oliver tried to defend his son.
'He cheated!' said Gan Oliver, seeing that Lupus was coming across badly. 'Hatch cheated!'
'All's fair in the Season,' said Shona stoutly.
'The Season!' jeered Beggar Grim. 'You're a woman. What would you know of the Season?'
'Shut up,' said Shona. 'Shut up or I'll rape you.'
Which provoked Grim to venture a further unfortunate witticism, which led to him shortly finding himself face down on the deck while Shona tore the hair from his head in handfuls. The room roared applause as Grim thrashed and screamed. The younger Combat Cadets indulged themselves in hysterical ululations.
'Silence!' shouted Gan Oliver in fury. 'Silence! There are real men at battle!'
But the show being played for real in Forum Three was better than that being widescreened from the illusion tanks, at least for the moment. So Gan Oliver was ignored. Except by Scorpio Fax, who had just then entered Forum Three, and who immediately began to work his way through the crowd toward Gan Oliver. Fax, freshreleased by the cure-all clinic, was shaky but still resolute. In his pocket, Fax had a knife, a small knife made from cellophane cooked up over burning painkiller tablets.
A small knife – but a sharp knife.
One could kill with such a weapon.
And Scorpio Fax fully intended to kill Gan Oliver, and thus to win himself the fair Penelope as his bride.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The scenario: for the purposes of the competitive interactive wargames being played out in the illusion tanks of Dalar ken Halvar's Combat College, it is assumed that a Nexus ship crewed by the Nu-chala-nuth has mutinied. Asodo Hatch is the captain of that mutinous MegaCommand Cruiser. Lupus Lon Oliver captains the MegaCommand Cruiser loyal to the Nexus which has been sent to destroy the mutinous ship.
Who of the gods can know, or know
If we be flesh or shadow, or By doom are damned to judgment or to judge.
And was it sin when with her sweat -
Or was the act salvation?
So.
So this is how it was.
The two MegaCommand Cruisers were blind, dead and disabled.
The ship captained by Asodo Hatch was on a collision course with that which was ruled by his rival. Hatch and his men had suited up in their deepspace battlearmor. The space armor, and the lightbattle Weapons Minor which came with those suits, were powered by corrosion cells, powerpacks in which small quantities of antimatter were
