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‘Don’t be insane!’ said Martinique. ‘I can’t fight. I’m staying right where I am!’

‘Professor –’

‘I’ve had enough!’ squeaked the man. ‘Don’t you see, I can see it, I can see everything that’s going to happen! Everything, everywhere, ever!’

The blond looked at Cappiello. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘The professor’s not been very well.’

The Ogrons put Cappiello on to the opposite bunk. He looked at the piles of banana skins, and the video-game terminal, the circuitry teased out of its volume control and cranked up four times as loud as it was supposed to go. Error messages were flashing on the screen, over the graphic of a big green dinosaur chasing a little human figure around.

The door slammed shut. Martinique looked at Cappiello.

Cappiello looked at the door.

‘Shit,’ he said.

Sokolovsky sat in the captain’s seat, listening to his bridge crew speaking. The initial shock was firmly under control, their voices taut but calm as they relayed orders and reports.

127

Some of them were glancing at him, wondering why he wasn’t giving more orders, doing everything he could to stop the intruders. Wondering why he seemed so very calm.

On his screen, there was an icon, just a black dot. The icon was attached to a file covertly attached to a normal console maintenance program. The file was full of pointers attached to a dozen programs in the security and life-support systems. Those programs were linked to emergency hatches and vacuum bulkheads throughout the Victoria.

Touch the icon, enter the security code, and the entire ship would depressurize within thirty seconds.

Sokolovsky hadn’t discussed this option with the intruders.

He’d thought of it himself, late, late one night as he watched the news from home. Before the disaster, he’d never paid much attention to the news. Now he found it necessary to view it every night. Perhaps in case another disaster befell the Empire. Perhaps hoping that it would.

Late, late one night, considering strategic options while the light from the news screen flickered over his face… Asking himself how committed he was to this mission. Sending the intruders a coded message, asking if they’d be wearing HE suits.

The intruders were gaining ground, but slowly, much too slowly. His crew were putting up one hell of a resistance. God, he was proud of them.

Sokolovsky paused for an instant, thinking about how quick it would be, so quiet, for most of them a moment’s panic and then oblivion. His finger hovering over the key, wondering how killing his entire crew served the best interests of humanity.

The male prisoner and the two Ogrons exploded on to the bridge, waving weapons. ‘Nobody move!’

Everyone stared at them in shock. The navigator at Ops ripped out his flechette thrower.

The deck was suddenly filled with light. For a moment, Sokolovsky thought the prisoners had done something, set off a bomb or a flaresnare.

A moment later, something hit the ship, something so big it was irresistible. Sokolovsky tumbled from his seat as the Victoria 128

lurched. There were shouts and cries, he was sure, but he couldn’t hear them over the noise of the light.

‘The whole shagging fragging crukking planet blew up!’

‘Is that a report, Ensign?’

‘At this time, sir,’ said SensOps, ‘I have no further data.’

‘All right,’ said Sokolovsky. ‘Let’s get off the floor.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Sokolovsky pulled himself to his feet and almost fell over.

‘We’re adrift,’ he said. ‘The stabilizers are out.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Vincenzi. ‘Was this part of the plan?’

Sokolovsky gripped a railing, looking around at his bridge, trying to smooth his white hair with his free hand. Vincenzi sat in his chair, hands on the controls, dark eyes unblinking with concentration. ‘The Doran is also adrift. They’re not answering my hails, so there’s some good news. The Wilfred Owen report that they’re still going to attempt to dock. They haven’t got much choice, they’re falling apart.’

‘What shape are we in?’ asked Sokolovsky. Around him, the bridge crew were picking themselves up, trying