• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

‘My experience is all hands-on experience,’ said Roz. ‘Give me a rank.’

Leabie sighed. ‘You never could just sit still,’ she said. ‘Do you want to talk about this privately?’

‘No,’ said Roz. ‘There’s isn’t time. Listen, I won’t be able to look the Doctor in the eye if I throw in my lot with your war and let someone else go out and die in my place.’

Leabie gave her an appalled look. ‘ Usisi,’ she said, ‘I need someone with brains and experience. I don’t need a hero and I don’t need a martyr.’

‘I thought the point of war was to make the other son of a bitch die for his country,’ said Roz.

‘I see you’ve grasped the basics,’ said Leabie. ‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘If you’ve got to go into action, I’ll make you a colonel.

You can replace Ncube. But I want you to follow SOP, stay on the ship while your soldiers make the drop. That way we get the advantage of your experience.’

Roz nodded. ‘Colonel,’ she said. ‘That’s pretty good.’

281

‘Pure nepotism, my dear,’ said Leabie, turning back to the screen. The lights cast pale and worried shadows on her face.

Earth

Simon really should have taken another stim, but he decided instead to let his head rest on the window of the intercontinental hopper.

Pushback had been delayed because of the rioting; the Adjudicators had beaten the crowd back beyond the fringe of the transport terminal now. Outside was dark, and deceptively quiet, the hyperglass of the porthole shutting out the distant shouting and explosions.

He looked at himself in the glass. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for three days, which was good, since he hadn’t slept for four. His brown eyes were surrounded by bags dark enough to look like bruising. His hair hung loose, out of its usual queue.

There was a nasty cut on his cheek, still healing from two days ago in Overcity Five.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ announced the captain’s voice, ‘we’re pleased to announce that we’ll be under way in ten minutes.

We’re grateful to you for bearing with us. Today’s intercontinental flight will take twenty-five minutes. Light refreshments will be served once we’re under way. Thank you.’

Simon punched up a newsfeed on the back of the seat in front of him. Riots in Overcity Six, riots in Overcity Five, demonstrations in Antarctica that looked as though they’d shortly turn into riots. A complete both-way boycott by the Earth Reptile Economic Confederation.

The elderly woman in the seat next to him clucked her tongue.

‘It seems as though no matter where you go, things are a mess.’

‘Yeah,’ said Simon. ‘I know what you mean.’

The hopper lifted gracefully from the terminal, and for a moment Simon had a view of the riot he’d helped start, flames and floodlights stabbing through the night in a seething pattern on the ground.

Overcity Eight, here I come, he thought, and reached for his stims.

282

Mimas

The rescue autopilot cut in point eight of a second after the ship’s pilot lost consciousness. The Zero Discipline was losing a little height, so it gently lifted it up, engaging the retros as it sailed over the edge of Herschel Crater.

The autopilot checked the life-support and fuel reserves – no problem – and did a scan for the nearest signs of civilization. It knew where the major, minor and minuscule spaceports were throughout the solar system, but it wanted to get its passengers to proper medical attention as soon as possible.

There was a base up ahead in the crater, less than fifty kilometres away. It wasn’t putting out a navigation index signal, but there were lights and some movement. The autopilot had been putting out a standard distress signal ever since it had kicked in; they would have heard it by now, be ready for the shuttle’s arrival.

Softly it lifted, pointing its nose towards the white buildings, shapes like beads against the rocky ice, and carried its crew to help in silence.

Valles Marianas, Mars

‘Minus fifty, Woodchuck. Fire for effect.’

Muller’s voice was a comforting