I looked in the direction of her pointing finger. The boat appeared to be about twenty-five feet long, had lots of lights, and, judging from the shape of its hull, had been designed for speed rather than cargo capacity. Just the thing for harried executives or fugitives like ourselves. I shoved Sasha in that direction. “Jump! I’ll cast off.”
“You know how to drive one of these things?”
“Of course,” I lied. “Now jump.” She jumped. The boat bobbed slightly as she landed.
I ran to the point where the forward line had been wrapped around a bollard, found that someone had used a double-reverse-something-or-other-knot to secure it, and swore as my fingers strained to undo it. A rent-a-cop opened up with a submachine gun, and Sasha’s words were nearly inaudible. “I dumped the other line! Come on!”
Bullets whipped past Sasha’s head as I ran towards the boat, jumped the ever-widening gap, and tumbled into the cockpit. I was still sorting myself out when the starter whined, the engine caught, and the boat surged forward. The bow hit the jetty a glancing blow, bounced off, and roared away. Corpies ran the length of the jetty. Fire flickered from the muzzles of their guns as empty casings arced through the air. A piece of side glass shattered, tiny bits of fiberglass peppered my face, and an invisible hand tugged at my sleeve.
I fought my way forward, shouldered Sasha out of the way, and assumed control in time to avoid a head-on collision with a support column. She seemed happy to relinquish command.
Someone fired a scope-mounted rifle. The windscreen shattered, and miniature geysers erupted all around us as he or she emptied a clip.
I didn’t think of it then, but would eventually realize that the sniper could have hit me had he or she really wanted to, and had missed on purpose. Then we were gone, beyond the range of the rifle, and hidden by almost total darkness. My heart beat a mile a minute as I remembered the columns that held everything up, searched for the right pictograph, and flicked the appropriate switch.
The spotlights were mounted on a bar over the flying bridge. Some had been shot out, but a dozen or so remained. They illuminated a row of concrete pillars that marched off into the distance and disturbed hundreds of bats. The miserable little bastards swooped down, sailed through the lights, and flapped away. An unexpected waterfall poured from above, spattered across the bow, and ran the length of the boat. Drainage from the spaceport? A broken pipe? There was no way to know.
I looked back to where our wake broke white against concrete columns and the lights from the jetty seemed to wink off and on. I glanced at Sasha as I turned towards the bow. Her hair blew straight back, and she reminded me of someone else, though I didn’t know who. Had that thought passed through my mind before? I strained but couldn’t remember. “Did you see another boat?”
She shook her head. “Just the one that had been hauled out for repairs.”
I nodded. “Do us both a favor. Go below and look for holes.”
Sasha frowned, as if disappointed that she hadn’t thought of that, and backed down a short ladder. I basked in my moment of brilliance, edged towards the exact center of the channel, and wondered where the hell we were going. Well, we’d get there pretty damned fast, that was for sure. The wind pressed against my face, and the pillars whipped by like pylons in a race. Sasha reappeared at my elbow. “You were right, Maxon.”
“The name’s Max.”
She looked impatient. “Max, schmax. We’re taking water. Lots of it.”
“How fast is it coming in? Could we plug the holes?”
Sasha looked doubtful. “I don’t think so. It’s half a foot deep and rising fast.”
I swore under my breath. It would be just my luck to escape a hail of gunfire only to drown a few minutes later. “Can you swim?”
Sasha shook her head. “Swimming pools are in short supply on Europa Station. How ‘bout you?”
“Not a lick. Not that I can remember, anyway.”
Her eyes left mine and darted away. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
We were silent for a moment. A pillar flashed by. She looked my way. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“The column had words on it.”
“So?”
“So, slow down. If that column had words on it, the next one might have them too.”
It made sense, although the practical value of reading the words escaped me. I eased the throttle back and took a look at the speedometer or the nautical equivalent thereof. The needle dropped as our speed fell off. The boat bobbed up and down as its wake caught up with it. Sasha pointed at the next pillar. “Look!”
I looked. The column bore the likeness of a skull and cross-bones with words underneath. The boat had drifted close. I slipped the engine into reverse and goosed the throttle. “What does it say? Your eyes are younger than mine.”
“It says, ‘Death to corpies. Proceed at your own risk.’“
I nodded agreeably. “A noble sentiment indeed. It’s time to haul ass.”
Sasha nodded. I moved the transmission lever into the “forward” position, brought the throttle up, and felt the boat surge forward. It took longer than before, and the wheel felt sluggish. A hand darted in to flip one of the many switches that lined the control panel. There was a humming sound, and water gushed from the boat’s side.
“Jeez, Maxon. It says ‘Bilge Pump.’ What hell were you waiting for?”
I felt blood rush to my face. “Sorry…”
She looked angry. “Sorry isn’t good enough! A mistake like that could get us killed.”
I kept my eyes straight ahead. What could I say? The girl was right. I did make mistakes, and one could get us killed. A hand touched my arm. I looked in her face and saw the anger had disappeared. Something else had taken its place. Something I couldn’t quite name.
“I’m sorry, Max. That was a stupid thing to say. You came after me, and that took guts. I won’t forget it.”
I couldn’t remember anyone saying something that nice to me. A whole host of emotions bubbled up from deep inside. I wanted to say something suave but knew I’d cry instead. So I settled for a nod and tried to look impassive. I couldn’t tell if she bought it or not.
We continued that way for another forty-five minutes or so, water gushing out of the boat’s side while it sank lower and lower in the water. That’s when the floaters roared out of the darkness. Their small, sledlike boats wove in and out of the pillars like shuttles on a loom. There were ten or fifteen of the speedy little craft, and each boasted a two-person crew. The drivers hunched behind their control panels while their gunners stood within cagelike structures and aimed their pintle-mounted weapons in our general direction. They wore black scuba suits and enough armament to embarrass a marine. I hit the throttle and the boat surged forward, but it was too late.
Four or five of the sleds turned inwards, pulled alongside, and bumped our hull. Four of their neoprene-clad gunners were aboard a half-second later and aimed some rather ugly-looking machine pistols in our direction. I considered the.38 but rejected it as a bad idea. A member of the assault team gestured with his weapon. “Throttle back. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
I looked at Sasha. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug. I pulled the throttle back. The boat nose-dived, regained its equilibrium, and wallowed in the waves the sleds had made.
The man spoke again. “Good. Place your hands behind your head and step away from the controls.” He pointed the machine pistol towards Sasha. “You too.”
We did as instructed. Another member of the assault team, a woman this time, patted me down. She found the.38 and held it beneath a light. “Nice, very nice, but not the sort of heat that corpies carry.”
My voice came as a croak. “We aren’t corpies.”
She grinned. Rubber framed an average face. Her skin was unnaturally white. “No shit. That would explain why you look like hell and the boat’s full of holes. What happened to your head, anyway?”
“A guy blew my brains out and the medics stuffed them back in. They couldn’t find the top of my skull, so they installed a metal plate instead.”
The woman thought I was joking and laughed appreciatively. “I like your sense of humor. Now, explain how you got the boat and what you’re doing in our territory.”
That’s when Sasha jumped in. She was concerned that I’d screw things up, and I couldn’t really blame her.
“We found a hole in Trans-Solar’s security, tried to hijack some proprietary information, and were caught in the
