Like moons or satellites trapped by orbital decay, the ghosts appeared to swirl and converge, coming together as scan labored to filter out the mad from the actual.

There.

No mistake.

s.h.i.t!

And no time- "Angus," he barked urgently, trying not to shout, not to panic, "we've got company. Off to the side." He named the blip's relative position. Scan was still too hampered to supply an image. "She's coming in fast.

"It's Free Lunch." Free Lunch." His voice cracked. Scan was sure. "The emission match is too close to be wrong. His voice cracked. Scan was sure. "The emission match is too close to be wrong.

"G.o.d, Angus! Now Now what're we going to do?" what're we going to do?"

Angus didn't answer. Only panting came over the intercom, guttural as a death rattle.

Davies looked at Morn, but she didn't answer either. Instead she stared at the screens, her face blank and helpless.

She'd routed a course projection overlay to the scan display: her course; the one she'd plotted for Trumpet's Trumpet's escape. It told him that when she hit her keys, ignited cold thrust, the gap scout would burn almost directly into the path of escape. It told him that when she hit her keys, ignited cold thrust, the gap scout would burn almost directly into the path of Soar's Soar's ally. ally.

ANGUS.

The airlock closed and sealed behind him, but he didn't notice it. He needed to reach the far side of Trumpet's Trumpet's hull quickly-the exposed side. Get there and get back behind the relative shelter of the gap scout's ma.s.s in the few seconds left. He slipped the muzzle of his matter cannon into the nearest handgrip, left it there. Slamming his boots against the rock, he sailed up and over the ship. hull quickly-the exposed side. Get there and get back behind the relative shelter of the gap scout's ma.s.s in the few seconds left. He slipped the muzzle of his matter cannon into the nearest handgrip, left it there. Slamming his boots against the rock, he sailed up and over the ship.

The instant he rounded the occlusion of Trumpet's Trumpet's bulk, a keen lance of pain drove through his EM prosthesis into his brain. Too swift for his zone implants to stop or manage it, it seemed to nail his optic nerves to the back of his skull. bulk, a keen lance of pain drove through his EM prosthesis into his brain. Too swift for his zone implants to stop or manage it, it seemed to nail his optic nerves to the back of his skull.

Oh Christ s.h.i.t G.o.d! Involuntarily he slapped a hand over his faceplate, but that didn't help him. Even sheathed in mylar and plexulose, his flesh was too permeable to ward off the pain. Involuntarily he slapped a hand over his faceplate, but that didn't help him. Even sheathed in mylar and plexulose, his flesh was too permeable to ward off the pain.

He'd forgotten to adjust the polarization of his faceplate against the boson storm; to filter out the savagery radiating on the bandwidths his prosthesis received.

d.a.m.n it! Where were those f.u.c.king databases when he it! Where were those f.u.c.king databases when he needed needed them? Why hadn't his programming foreseen this? them? Why hadn't his programming foreseen this?

He knew the answer. Neither Warden Dios nor Hashi Lebwohl had understood how far he would go when he was desperate.

Through a red, squalling, visual knife of pain, he found the controls on his chestplate, began frantically dialing changes to the polarization.

By the time the neural screaming eased enough to let him see again, he'd already drifted more than fifty meters from Trumpet Trumpet Out toward the center of the storm, where Out toward the center of the storm, where Soar Soar waited- waited- How much time did he have left?

Fifty-five seconds and counting, his computer reported.

Viciously he toggled his jets; turned his trajectory with compressed gas so that he swung back in Trumpet's Trumpet's direction. direction.

As fast as his jets could take him, he gusted toward the place he wanted on his ship's flank.

He hit hard; nearly missed his grip and bounced away. But machine reflexes saved him. He closed his fingers on the cleat beside the access hatch.

Forty-seven seconds.

Trying to concentrate, forget pain and time limits, let his microprocessor carry him, he keyed open the hatch.

Unlocking it was another of the details he'd prepared before leaving the bridge. Otherwise he would have had to shout to Davies or Morn, tell them what he wanted, give them the codes. Now only his planning saved him. His breathing rattled so thickly in his throat that he didn't think he could speak, much less shout.

The hatch accessed the storage compartment which fed Trumpet's Trumpet's singularity grenades to their launcher. singularity grenades to their launcher.

Earlier he'd wondered why his tormentors had bothered to equip the gap scout with singularity grenades. They were almost impossible to use. Launching them was easy enough: detonating them effectively was altogether more difficult.

At the moment, however, he didn't care what Dios' or Lebwohl's reasons might have been.

Thirty-nine seconds.

Quickly he undipped the nearest grenade from its rack, levered it out of the compartment. That part was simple in zero g. And the grenade was no bigger than his chest: he could manage its size. But its ma.s.s was another matter. It weighed-a database told him this-over five hundred kg. It had inertia with a vengeance. He could pull the device into motion, but he would have to red-line his jets to make it stop.

He couldn't afford to fail. What was the good of all his reinforced strength, if it wasn't enough when he needed it?

Gasping for courage as much as air, he heaved the grenade up, toggled his jets to full power, and began to lift like a feather up the exposed curve of Trumpet's Trumpet's side. side.

Twenty-four seconds.

Unless Davies' estimate was wrong. Maybe Soar Soar could see him already. could see him already.

He didn't risk a look in that direction.

Move, a.s.shole! Motherf.u.c.king sonofab.i.t.c.h, move it! move it!

Above the line which served him as Trumpet's Trumpet's horizon, he shifted the vector of his jets. Straining until he feared his sinews might snap, he fought the grenade to a new heading. horizon, he shifted the vector of his jets. Straining until he feared his sinews might snap, he fought the grenade to a new heading.

Across Trumpet's Trumpet's spine. Directly at the black asteroid. Down at the last moment toward the narrowing s.p.a.ce where spine. Directly at the black asteroid. Down at the last moment toward the narrowing s.p.a.ce where Trumpet Trumpet met the rock. met the rock.

Seventeen seconds.

He couldn't turn the grenade in time. It crashed into the asteroid. Shedding chips and splinters like hail, it rebounded away.

He was ready for it. He jammed the toe of one boot into a handgrip for an anchor: his hips c.o.c.ked urgently to aim his jets. With a final lurch that nearly dislocated his arms, the grenade settled beside the ship and stopped moving.

Eleven seconds.

s.h.i.t, that was close! And he still wasn't done. He needed to nudge the grenade back upward until it was poised at the horizon. Then retrieve his small matter cannon; take up his own position.

Somewhere inside the lost crib of his EVA suit he had to find the strength to throw the grenade at Soar. Soar.

He wasn't strong enough. No one was. UMCPDA had equipped him for any number of things, but not for this. For the last time in his life his wrists and ankles were tied to the slats; tied to the slats; utterly bound. Nothing he'd ever been able to do would prevent Sorus Chatelaine and the malign forces of the swarm from tearing him apart. utterly bound. Nothing he'd ever been able to do would prevent Sorus Chatelaine and the malign forces of the swarm from tearing him apart.

"Angus." Davies' sudden call seemed to crack open his head. Stress made his hearing wail like feedback. "We've got company. Off to the side." Davies gave coordinates which only Angus' computer understood. "She's coming in fast.

"It's Free Lunch. Free Lunch. The emission match is too close to be wrong. The emission match is too close to be wrong.

"G.o.d, Angus! Now Now what're we going to do?" what're we going to do?"

Soar's ally. Here. Already. ally. Here. Already.

It was worse than being tied in his crib, worse than needles and pain. Angus wanted to scream, but he was gasping too hard.

Clutching like a wildman at cleats and handgrips, he wrenched his way up the hull to his chosen horizon and looked out at the seething midnight of the swarm.

It should have been too black for him to see anything. The erratic crackle and flare of static couldn't mitigate the dark. But in the deep distance the aurora borealis of the Lab's destruction still burned faintly, giving a nacreous, fatal glow to some of the asteroids, limning others with evanescence. And Soar's Soar's running lights were on, etching her against the void. running lights were on, etching her against the void.

She was there; there there, directly in front of him; no more than fifteen k away.

And closing.

He could see Free Lunch Free Lunch up past the point of his right shoulder, at the edge of his faceplate's field of view. She, too, had her running lights on. But she was closer-G.o.d, she was up past the point of his right shoulder, at the edge of his faceplate's field of view. She, too, had her running lights on. But she was closer-G.o.d, she was closer! closer! Five k at most. Point-blank range. Five k at most. Point-blank range.

Angus hadn't planned for this. Nothing would help Trumpet Trumpet against against two two attackers. attackers.

Helpless, he was always helpless, always, there was nothing he could do. The abyss hovered over him, loving and cruel. His own weakness tied him down: his own failures and fears stuck him full of pain.

"Give me orders!" Morn's voice cried. "Angus, tell me what to do!"

"I can see Soar!" Soar!" Davies yelled. "They're both ready to fire! They're going to kill us!" Davies yelled. "They're both ready to fire! They're going to kill us!"

Tell me what to do!

Morn had set him free. Otherwise he might have given up and died. He would already have died inside himself, driven mad by helplessness and coercion. But Morn had set him free- And his equipment didn't understand surrender. His programming made no provision for it.

Desperately he flipped back down Trumpet's Trumpet's side, propped himself under the grenade, and shouldered it into motion. side, propped himself under the grenade, and shouldered it into motion.

Then he dove for his matter cannon.

That was enough. He had weapons. And terror was strength. Morn had set him free. His zone implants steadied him, refined his control, but took nothing away from his stark urgency.

As the grenade crested his horizon, he rose with it.

Stopped it with a sharp blast of his jets.

Took his position behind it.

He was too late. In that instant Free Lunch Free Lunch opened fire. opened fire.

A second later Soar Soar fired as well. Without transition the dark became a caterwauling blaze of light and discontinuities as matter cannon unleashed pure chaos. fired as well. Without transition the dark became a caterwauling blaze of light and discontinuities as matter cannon unleashed pure chaos.

But they were firing at each other. G.o.d, they were firing at each other! they were firing at each other! One of them had betrayed the other. One of them had betrayed the other. Trumpet Trumpet was too rich a prize to share. was too rich a prize to share.

And they could afford to ignore the gap scout. She already looked dead.

If Soar Soar had used her proton gun, had used her proton gun, Free Lunch Free Lunch would have been finished; torn apart before she could deliver a second barrage. But Angus knew the energies of matter cannon; recognized them when he saw them. would have been finished; torn apart before she could deliver a second barrage. But Angus knew the energies of matter cannon; recognized them when he saw them. Soar Soar fought back in kind- fought back in kind- That gave Free Lunch Free Lunch the advantage. She'd fired first; would be able to recharge her guns first. And she'd taken the advantage. She'd fired first; would be able to recharge her guns first. And she'd taken Soar Soar by surprise. If either ship could win this battle, it was likely to be by surprise. If either ship could win this battle, it was likely to be Free Lunch. Free Lunch.

He made his choice by instinct-too quick for thought. Bracing himself, he heaved at the grenade with every gram and fiber of his enhanced force; fired his jets with all their power in the same direction.

What he did should have been impossible. The grenade weighed five hundred kg. And he was alone. But he'd been made for this in ways he didn't understand; trained for it in ways he couldn't imagine. Terror was strength. It was life. life. Trapped in the crib of his suit, he strained for freedom so hard that watching him should have broken his mother's heart. Trapped in the crib of his suit, he strained for freedom so hard that watching him should have broken his mother's heart.

Somehow he succeeded at launching the grenade straight at Free Lunch Free Lunch's looming ma.s.s.

It would take forever to get there. Or it would have taken forever, but Free Lunch Free Lunch continued to advance, improving her position and angle of fire between barrages. She came to meet the grenade faster than the grenade itself moved. continued to advance, improving her position and angle of fire between barrages. She came to meet the grenade faster than the grenade itself moved.

Angus gave his computer a fraction of an instant to calculate relative trajectories, estimate the point and moment of impact. Then he dropped to Trumpet's Trumpet's hull. hull.

Frantic for speed, he clipped the belt of his suit to one of the handgrips; cinched it tight so that he wouldn't waver or fall away. He set his boots on the base of the nearest particle sifter, dialed up their magnetic field to help him stay in place. Swinging the muzzle of his gun around, he brought it to bear.

Another barrage. Free Lunch's Free Lunch's lambent fire enclosed lambent fire enclosed Soar Soar like a penumbra of ruin. Her sinks pulsed and burned like suns, throbbing to bleed off the damage. Frenetically she blazed back at her attacker. like a penumbra of ruin. Her sinks pulsed and burned like suns, throbbing to bleed off the damage. Frenetically she blazed back at her attacker.

If her fire hit the grenade before it reached Free Lunch Free Lunch-Before Angus could fire himself- "Now!" he howled into his pickup. He could scream at last-scream from the pit of his torn heart, even though his voice seemed to fall dead in the dark around him; unheard; unheeded. he howled into his pickup. He could scream at last-scream from the pit of his torn heart, even though his voice seemed to fall dead in the dark around him; unheard; unheeded. "Do it "Do it now! now! Hit those keys!" Hit those keys!"

Indicators inside his helmet yammered at him, warning of dehydration, temperature overloads, exhausted jets, oxygen depletion. Clutching his matter cannon, he waited in the crib at Morn's mercy to find out whether he was going to live or die.

MORN.

"It's Free Lunch," Free Lunch," Davies had croaked into his intercom. Davies had croaked into his intercom. "G.o.d "G.o.d, Angus! Now Now what're we going to do?" what're we going to do?"

Morn could see the other ship's blip on the screens. She stared at its place in her course projection overlay as if her heart had failed. The terror of Starmaster's Starmaster's murder filled her, and she couldn't move. murder filled her, and she couldn't move.

She understood cold ignition. Some ships were able to do that. The acceleration would be severe, but not cruel. From a cold start, Trumpet's Trumpet's thrust drive wouldn't generate enough force to push her and Davies beyond their physiological limits. They had trained, under hard g: they could bear it. If she didn't fall into clarity and craziness- thrust drive wouldn't generate enough force to push her and Davies beyond their physiological limits. They had trained, under hard g: they could bear it. If she didn't fall into clarity and craziness- But her course projection was a problem of another kind; insuperable. The scale of thrust Trumpet Trumpet could produce, the nearness of could produce, the nearness of Soar Soar, and the nature of the available route through the swarm had determined the course Morn had programmed. There were no alternatives.

As Trumpet Trumpet pulled off the asteroid and came around, she would pa.s.s-would have to pa.s.s-straight in front of pulled off the asteroid and came around, she would pa.s.s-would have to pa.s.s-straight in front of Free Lunch. Free Lunch.

Davies' fingers. .h.i.t and flashed on his board. Targ displays jumped up and down the screens: scan scrambled to find its way through the residue of the storm. Free Lunch Free Lunch took on definition, looming and fatal. It was obvious which of the two ships would survive a collision. And took on definition, looming and fatal. It was obvious which of the two ships would survive a collision. And Free Lunch Free Lunch would be able to fire at point-blank range- would be able to fire at point-blank range- Morn had no choice. The helm computer showed her none. If Trumpet Trumpet didn't go didn't go there there, she would go nowhere at all.

Angus' stertorous respiration sc.r.a.ped and ached over the intercom as if he were dying.

Morn wanted to call out, Help me Help me, G.o.d d.a.m.n you! Tell me what to do! But she didn't believe he was in any condition to hear her.

Then another fear took hold of her.

What if Trumpet did Trumpet did go go there! there! What if she survived? What happened then? What if she survived? What happened then?

Morn couldn't reach past the immediate crisis. Beyond her course projection lay only darkness: asteroids and collisions; blank scan and blind navigation; hard g, unconsciousness, gap-sickness. She hadn't studied Deaner Beckmann's charts or the lost Lab's operational data. She didn't know how to think beyond the doom on the overlay in front of her.

But the gap scout and everyone aboard would die if she failed: if Trumpet Trumpet survived survived Soar Soar and and Free Lunch Free Lunch, and Morn hadn't planned for what came next.

She'd already killed her father's ship and most of her family.

Trembling with fear, she copied Trumpet's Trumpet's a.s.signed departure protocols from the log, then dummied them back to her helm program so that they would run automatically. After that, she set the command overrides to slow or stop the ship if her preset course threatened to damage her. a.s.signed departure protocols from the log, then dummied them back to her helm program so that they would run automatically. After that, she set the command overrides to slow or stop the ship if her preset course threatened to damage her.

Morn had no idea what else to do.

"Jesus, Morn." Abruptly Davies silenced his intercom pickup so that Angus wouldn't hear him. He turned his station partway toward her. "Do you know what he's doing!" doing!"