The Aftermath

Dorn looked at Elverda. “They don’t reply.”

“If their message came from a suit radio…”

“Perhaps they didn’t get our message.”

“Perhaps they can’t reply,” she suggested.

“You take over the comm console,” Dorn said. “Tell the computer to repeat our message, with updated ETAs.” He turned to the navigation console. “I’ve got to plot a course to their position.”

* * *

Strangely, Pauline felt neither apprehension nor excitement as she led Valker to her sleeping compartment. She felt numb. I’m doing what I have to do to protect the children, she told herself. I’m doing what I have to do.

As she started to slide the compartment door open, Valker’s pocket communicator chimed.

“Damn!” he muttered, fumbling it out of his tunic pocket.

Pauline could hear Kirk’s voice from the tiny speaker. “Somebody’s answering the kid’s distress call. It’s the Hunter! They’ll be here in thirty hours.”

“Hunter? Check it out with Ceres and—”

“Already did. It’s the same Hunter. Two people aboard, one of them a woman. No weapons registered.”

Valker broke into a wolfish grin. “Good! Let ’em come! Like flies to honey.”

He clicked the communicator shut and jammed it back into his pocket. “Your boy’s bringing fresh meat to the table, Pauline.”

She knew what he meant, but she asked anyway, “You’re going to take that ship?”

“Why not? Only two people aboard her. They can disappear and we can bring her in for salvage. Get a good price for her, I’m betting.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Valker said, silencing her with a finger on her lips. “This is business.”

He slid the compartment’s door all the way open, saw her oversized bed neatly made against the far bulkhead of the compartment. “But pleasure before business,” Valker said, ushering Pauline in to her own compartment. “We have thirty hours. Plenty of time to get to know each other.”

CARGO SHIP PLEIADES: BRIDGE

The message electrified Victor.

“Attention Syracuse, this is Hunter. We’ve heard your message and are coming to your assistance. Estimated time of arrival at your position, thirty hours. Please confirm.”

“Syracuse!” he shouted. “They’re talking to Syracuse! My ship! Pauline and the children!”

He banged his comm key. “Hunter, this is Pleiades. Can you give me a navigational fix for Syracuse? My wife and children are aboard her.”

Several minutes dragged by. At last his comm screen lit up to show the bizarre image of a man whose face was half flesh, half finely etched metal. A gaunt, aged woman sat beside him.

The cyborg spoke in a deep, slow baritone, “Pleiades, you are listed as a stolen ship. Are you Victor Zacharias?”

“Yes, yes,” he answered impatiently. “I took this ship to search for my family. Please give me a nav fix so I can go to them.”

Neither the cyborg nor the old woman responded. They merely sat there like mute sculptures, staring at him.

* * *

Dorn froze the image of Victor Zacharias’s fiercely bearded face on the comm screen and turned to Elverda. “What should we do?” he asked.

“He says he took the ship to search for his family. If they’re aboard Syracuse…” She realized that she wasn’t certain which course of action they should take.

“I could call Ceres to verify his story,” Dorn suggested.

Elverda shook her head. Pointing to the registration data for Pleiades that had automatically come up on their comm screen once the computer recognized the caller’s name, she said, “Ceres will give us the same information that the computer files have.”

The message light was blinking frantically.

“He’s trying to talk to us,” Elverda said.

Dorn tapped the comm keyboard.

Victor Zacharias’s bearded face suddenly became animated. “Hunter!” he said urgently. “I’m trying to find my family! My wife and two children.”

Reluctantly, Dorn responded, “I’m afraid you’re listed as an outlaw. Ceres claims—”

“That I stole this ship,” Victor interrupted impatiently. “It’s true. I did steal it. To find my family!”

Elverda punched up the computer’s file on Syracuse and touched Dorn’s shoulder to get him to glance at the secondary screen: Missing since the Chrysalis slaughter. Four people aboard, all members of the Zacharias family.

“He’s telling the truth,” Elverda said. Then, to Victor’s image on the main screen, “Mr. Zacharias, we don’t want to be in the position of abetting a criminal. Let us go to Syracuse while you go back to Ceres and turn yourself in.”

* * *

Turn myself in? Victor echoed silently.

“No!” he roared. “I want to get to my wife, my children!”

It was impossible to read an expression on the half-metal face of the cyborg, but the woman looked troubled, concerned.

“Listen,” Victor said, toning down his fervor a little. “I’ll go back to Ceres and turn myself in after I see my family. I want to know that they’re all right.”

“Their message said they need assistance,” the woman said.

“They’ve been drifting through the Belt for more than three years,” Victor pleaded. “Of course they need assistance! We’ve got to help them!”

The cyborg started to say, “The lawful thing to do—”

“Don’t talk to me about legalities!” Victor insisted. “My family needs help! They could be dying while we’re here arguing!”

As unperturbed as a mountain of granite, the cyborg continued, “The lawful thing to do is for you to return to the authorities at Ceres while we go to your family’s rescue.”

“No!” Victor shouted. “No! I’ve got to go to them! I’ve got to!”

“We’ll take care of them,” the cyborg said, implacable. “You’ll see them when we bring them back to Ceres.”

“No!” Victor bellowed again. But his screen went blank.

“The bastard’s cut me off,” Victor groaned. He wanted to batter the screen with his bare fists, smash it into a million shards. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and wept like a man who’s lost his last chance for