modifications make them impure. Half-animal, barely human.”
She frowned, as if she couldn’t believe that kind of prejudice still existed. “Nukes don’t distinguish between one set of genes and another, sir. They suffered during the bombardments, just like we did. They fought beside us, they went to our church. Even the archbishop called them good citizens. They’re as proud to be Jesusalemites as I am. And as loyal. Sir.”
Max rubbed his nose again. “A role model for treason. They betrayed one government to serve another. I know for a fact this crew contains at least one double agent, someone who serves two masters. I suspect there are more. Is it you, Miss Reedy?”
Lukinov turned into a fossil before Max’s eyes. Petoskey glared at the young intelligence officer across the table like a man contemplating murder.
Reedy pressed her fingertips together until her hands grew still. “Sir. There may be a traitor, but it’s not me. Sir.”
Max leaned back casually. “I’ve read your Academy records, Ensign, and find them interesting for the things they leave out. Such as your role in the unfortunate accident that befell Cadet Vance.”
Reedy was well disciplined. Max’s comments were neither an order nor a question, so she said nothing, gave nothing away.
“Vance’s injuries necessitated his withdrawal from the Academy,” Max continued. “What exactly did you have to do with that situation?”
“Come on, Max,” said Lukinov in his senior officer’s cease-and-desist voice. “This is going too far. There are always accidents in the Academy and in the service. Usually it’s the fault of the idiot who ends up slabbed. Some stupid mistake.”
Before Max could observe that Vance’s mistake had been antagonizing Reedy, Petoskey interrupted. “Lukinov, have you forgotten how to deal? Are you broke yet, Nikomedes? You can quit any time you want.”
Max flashed the plastic in his pocket while Lukinov started tossing down the cards. As he made the second circuit around their makeshift table, the lights flickered and went off. Max’s stomach fluttered as the emergency lights blinked on, casting a weak red glare over the cramped room. The cards sailed past the table and into the air. Petoskey slammed his glass down. It bounced off the table and twirled toward the ceiling, spilling little brown droplets of whiskey.
Petoskey slapped the ship’s intercom. “Bridge!”
“Ensign,” Lukinov said. “Find something to catch that mess before the grav comes back on and splatters it everywhere.”
“Yes, sir,” Reedy answered and scrambled to the bathroom for a towel.
“Bridge!” shouted Petoskey, then shook his head. “The com’s down.”
“It’s just the ship encounter drill,” Lukinov said.
“There’s no drill scheduled for this rotation. And we haven’t entered Adarean space yet, so we can’t be encountering another ship…”
Another ship.
The thought must have hit all four of them simultaneously. As they propelled themselves frog-like toward the hatch, they crashed into one another, inevitable in the small space. During the jumble, Max took a kick to the back of his head. It hurt, even without any weight behind it. No accident, he was sure of that, but he didn’t see who did it.
Petoskey flung the door open. “The pig-hearted, fornicating bastards.”
Max echoed the sentiment when he followed a moment later. The corridor was blocked by drifting crates. They’d been improperly secured.
“Ensign!” snapped Petoskey.
“Yes, Captain.”
“To the front! I’ll pass you the crates, you attach them.”
“Y es, sir.”
“Can I trust you to do that?”
“Yes, sir!”
Max almost felt sorry for Reedy. Almost. In typical fashion for these older ships, someone had strung a steel cable along the corridor, twist-tied to the knobs of the security lights. Max held onto it and stayed out of the way as Petoskey grabbed one loose box after another and passed them back to Reedy. There was the steady rasp of Velcro as they made their way toward the bridge.
“What do you think it is?” Lukinov whispered to him. “If it’s a ship, then the wormhole’s been discovered…”
The implications hung in the air like everything else. Max compared the size of Lukinov’s boot with the sore spot on the back of his head. “Could be another wormhole. The sponge is like that. Once one hole opens up, you usually find several more. There’s no reason why the Adareans couldn’t find a route in the opposite direction.”
Lukinov braced himself against the wall, trying to keep himself oriented as if the grav was still on. “If it’s the Adareans, they’ll be thinking invasion again.”
“It could be someone neutral too,” said Max. “Most of the spongedivers from Earth are prospecting in toward the core again, so it could be one of them. Put on your ears and find out who they are. I’ll determine whether they’re for us or against us.”
Lukinov laughed. “If they’re against us, then Ernst can eliminate them. That’s a proper division of labor.”
“Our system is imperfect, but it works.” That was a stretch, Max told himself. Maybe he ought to just say that the system worked better than the one it replaced.
“Hey,” Petoskey shouted. “Are you gentlemen going to sit there or join me on the bridge?”
“Coming,” said Lukinov, echoed a second later by Max.
They descended two levels and came to the control center. Max followed the others through the open hatch. Men sat strapped to their chairs, faces tinted the color of blood by the glow of the emergency lights. Conduits, ducts, and wires ran overhead, like the intestines of some manmade monster. One of the vents kicked on, drawing a loud mechanical breath. Truly, Max thought, they were in the belly of leviathan now.
One of the men called “Attention” and Petoskey immediately replied, “At ease-report!”
“Lefty heard a ship,” returned Commander Gordet, a plug-shaped man with a double chin. “It was nothing more than a fart in space, I swear. I folded the wings and initiated immediate shutdown per your instructions before our signature could be detected.”
“Contact confirmed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good work then.” The ship chairs were too small for Petoskey’s oversized frame. He preferred to stand anyway and had bolted a towel rack to the floor in the center of the deck. The crew tripped over it when the grav was on, but now Petoskey slipped his feet under it to keep from bumping his head on the low ceilings. It was against all regulations, but, just as with his smuggled tobacco, Petoskey broke regulations whenever it suited him. He shared this quality with many of the fleet’s best deep space captains. “Those orders were for when we entered Adarean space, Commander,” Petoskey added. “I commend your initiative. Put a commendation in Engineer Elefteriou’s record also.”
“Yes, sir.” Gordet’s voice snapped like elastic, pleased by the captain’s praise.
“Identity?”
“Its prime number pings up Outback. Corporate prospectors. Her signature looks like one of the new class.”
Petoskey grabbed the passive scope above his head and pulled it down to his eyes. “Vector?”
“Intercept.”
“Intercept?”
“It’s headed in-system and we’re headed out. At our current respective courses and velocities, we should come within spitting distance of each other just past Big Brother.”
Big Brother was the nickname for this system’s larger gas giant. Little Brother, the smaller gas giant, was on the far side of the sun, out past the wormhole to home.
“Are they coming from the Adares jump?” Petoskey asked.
“That’s what we thought at first,” said Gordet. “But it appears now that they’re entering from a third wormhole.
