The Aftermath

He had made certain that all the maintenance and repair work on the ship had been completed. Cheena Madagascar had no intention of leaving Chrysalis II for another week, he knew. She had offered to take Victor with her, to search for his family. For six months. Victor knew it would take longer than that, and he didn’t want Cheena or any other distractions on the ship when he started out on his search.

So he had updated Cheena’s own departure plan, hoping that the human flight controllers wouldn’t ask the ship’s captain why she had changed her departure date.

Sitting in the command chair, Victor took a deep breath, swiftly reconfigured the electronic keyboard to handle the communications system, then pecked at the keys once they lit up.

“Chrysalis flight control, this is Pleiades,” he said. “Ready for departure.”

A wait that seemed endless, then, “Pleiades, you’re twelve seconds behind your schedule.”

“So sue me,” he growled.

The flight controller chuckled. “Okay. Lemme check you out. Right. Okay. You are cleared for undocking.”

“Undocking,” he said, tapping the controls. He felt the ship shudder as it was released from the grapples that held it to the habitat’s dock.

“Initiate separation maneuver,” said the flight controller.

“Initiating separation,” Victor confirmed. Jets of cold gas nudged Pleiades away from the dock.

“We need the captain to request final departure clearance,” the flight controller said.

Voiceprint identification, Victor knew. He tugged out the palm-sized digital recorder he had been carrying in his coverall pocket. It had taken him weeks of talking with Cheena and editing her words to get the message straight.

“Pleiades standing by for departure clearance,” said Cheena Madagascar’s voice. It sounded stilted to Victor, herky-jerky.

But the voiceprint identification computer was not programmed to analyze the cadence of speech, merely the frequency pattern of the voice that was speaking.

A wait that seemed endless. Then, “Pleiades, you are clear for departure,” said the flight controller.

“Pleiades on burn,” Victor said. He clicked off the communications link, lit the ship’s main fusion engine, then howled an utterly triumphant, “YAZOO!” as Pleiades headed out into the Belt.

ATTACK SHIP VIKING: WEAPONS BAY

Yuan studied his first mate’s beefy face as they checked the laser’s double row of capacitor banks. The man was clearly unhappy, troubled.

“What’s the matter, Koop?” The first mate’s name was Kahalu’u Kaupakulu’a. Everyone on the ship called him Koop. “Nothing,” he answered. He was almost as tall as Yuan, but much broader in girth, built like a fleshy brick. Before meeting Koop, Yuan had thought of Hawaiians as smiling, gracious souls, always relaxed and contented. Koop was just the opposite: moody, dark, always looking worried.

The weapons bay was narrow, its overhead so low that Yuan hunched over as he squeezed through the equipment that crammed the compartment. With the blocky Hawaiian in it, the bay seemed on the verge of bursting.

“Don’t try to con me,” Yuan said, keeping his tone light. “We’re alone in here, nobody’s going to hear you. What’s eating you?”

Koop wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to second-guess you,” he said. His voice was a soft, gentle tenor.

“You’re not after my job?” Yuan joked.

The Hawaiian’s eyes flashed wide. “No! Honest! I just…” His voice trailed off.

“You just what?” Yuan asked, trying to hide the irritation growing inside him. Do I have to drag it out of you? he wondered silently.

“This business of running away,” Koop said.

“Running away?”

“Well, maybe not running away, but… I mean, how’s it going to look back at headquarters? We were on his track and then we backed off.”

Yuan edged past the laser’s copper mirror mounting as he replied, “Why should we go chasing all over the Belt when we can make him come to us?”

“We were on his track.”

“And he spoofed us with an empty suit. So now we’re heading for a spot he’ll come to and we’re baiting a trap for him.”

“With empty suits.”

“That’s right. According to the crystal ball readers from headquarters, he’s out there picking up bodies from all the battles he fought in during the war. Must be crazy with guilt or something.”

“Or something,” Koop muttered.

“So we’ll give him some bodies to find.”

“Decoys,” said Koop.

“Bait.”

Koop shook his blocky head slowly. “I don’t know. Most of the crew thinks it’s a mistake.”

“You’ve been talking with the crew about this?”

“Some of them. You know how it is. They’ll tell me stuff they wouldn’t say to the captain.”

“And they think I’m making a mistake, do they?”

“Sort of. Tamara says—”

“Tamara?”

“Yeah. You know, Cap, if you’re worried about somebody being after your job, worry about her, not me.”

Yuan felt his brows rise. But he forced a smile. “Really?”

Koop nodded unhappily.

“Thanks for the input,” Yuan said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You know, as comm officer she hasta make daily reports back to headquarters.”

“Strictly routine,” Yuan said, thinking of the microsecond bursts of laser messaging that she sent every day, his only contact with HHS headquarters back on the Moon.

“Maybe,” said Koop.

There was a world of meaning in those two syllables, Yuan realized. Koop’s telling me that I can’t trust Tamara, that she’s been sleeping with me just to keep me from suspecting… suspecting what? That she wants to take the captain’s post away from me? That she’s a spy from headquarters?

Looking into the Hawaiian’s dark, cheerless eyes, Yuan thought, Does Koop want Tamara for himself? Is that what’s going on here?

“Thanks for letting me know,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m loyal,” said Koop.

Meaning, Yuan decided, that Tamara isn’t.

* * *

Elverda felt tired. Even sitting in the padded command chair her body ached sullenly. It’s the acceleration,