“I’m not a spy! I’m a thief.”
“Thieves caught stealing military equipment during frontline conflicts may be subject to summary execution.”
“I didn’t technically steal anything,” I said, “I haven’t taken anything off the ship. I was just looking. And besides, there is no frontline conflict. The war has been over for almost forty years. We won. Sort of.”
“Your data is in error. There has been no formal notification of an end to hostilities. No ceasefire has been announced.”
“The Celestia has been out of signal range for forty years,” I said. “Her main antennae were destroyed when she crashed.”
“Until official verification has been received, your data cannot be accepted as accurate. You will be escorted to the brig.”
“Contact one of the satellites and send a message,” I said. “Or the space station that is in orbit around Saphira – they will confirm what I have said.”
“Please stand by.” The robot entered into silent communion via the ether, searching the sky for signals.
“Presence of orbiting entities confirmed,” the robot said. “Secure communication channels have been requested. Please stand by.”
A knot formed in my stomach as I realised there might be a problem here. The robot would send a coded transmission. Unless the receiver replied with an appropriately coded ‘handshake,’ the reply would be treated with suspicion and regarded as having possibly come from ‘the enemy.’ I didn’t think it was very likely that anyone out there was going to have access to those forty-year-old codes.
“Contact with alliance military command cannot be established. Your attempt to infiltrate and disrupt the operation of this vessel has failed. You will be escorted to the brig, there to be held in solitary confinement and treated according to the protocols for prisoners of war.”
Meaning that Big Red would lock me up in a cell and leave me there. There was every chance that I’d die of starvation, given there were no crewmembers to ensure that I was regularly fed and watered.
“As an alliance citizen, I am entitled to appeal directly to the captain of this vessel.” This was a guess, but I thought there must be some procedure for making an appeal if you’re arrested and accused of spying.
“Your request cannot be granted – Captain James G. Fitzroy is deceased.”
“Then I wish to communicate with the senior officer aboard.”
“Your request cannot be granted – there are no crew members aboard. Put down your weapon and surrender. Failure to comply will result in a severe penalty.”
“You mean you’ll shoot me?”
“Use of lethal force is authorised,” the robot confirmed.
I held up the gun between my thumb and fingers, showing that I wasn’t touching the trigger. I placed the gun back in the canvas holdall. While my hand was in the bag, I hit the trigger on one of the explosive devices. I passed the holdall over to the robot who took it in his big metal hand.
I had the door open and was diving out into the corridor as all the explosives in the holdall erupted into a giant orange ball of flame.
Chapter Twenty
I raced down the corridor aware of the expanding blast of scorching air that was coming after me. At the first corner, I paused and glanced back. The robot stepped out of the flames, unscathed. Of course it did, it used to be a firefighter on the battleship’s launch deck. It raised its cannon and I didn’t wait around to see what came next.
I tripped on a ridge in the floor and stopped when I saw what it was. There was a blast door here that would completely seal the corridor. It was one of many around the ship that would close off a section if there was a major fire or a hull breach, protecting the other parts of the ship. These were big, heavy doors. If I could get this one sealed, it would slow the robot down, buying me enough time to figure out a way to deal with it permanently.
The idea was that these doors could be closed instantly to maintain the integrity of the ship – and this meant they were easy to close. I pressed by ID tag to the plate on the wall and pulled down the yellow leaver. The door dropped into place and I heard the bolts lock. Hopefully, the smoke and flames from the exploding holdall would be enough to convince the ship’s sensors that this door should remain sealed.
There was a muffled boom on the other side, which I assumed was the robot firing its cannon at the door. Beyond the sound, there was no other evidence of the attack on my side. I took off at a swift uneven jog, heading for the warehouse deck – I needed to stock up on equipment. The adrenaline rush meant that, for the moment, I was feeling no pain.
The big red robot now regarded me as an enemy agent and it would do everything it could to prevent me from leaving the ship. If I did manage to get off the wreck, it would come after me and hunt me down – to ensure that I couldn’t reveal the location of the Celestia to the Gators. It probably also thought I had stolen the Navigator and would want to recover it. This was its program and it would carry it out relentlessly. To stand any chance of getting away, I would have to disable the robot permanently – or at least slow it down for long enough to make my getaway. I needed to be faster than I was on foot. And I needed to be better armed. No matter what else you say about the military, they do always have the best toys. And now it was playtime.
When I had first come through the warehouse deck, I had been looking for small items of swag that I could easily carry away. I had spared the big stuff only a glance. There were large sections
