Back in SRV-66, Ivan sat sprawled in his seat.

Eyes closed. Head propped against the bulkhead. Pretending to sleep even though that damned Chippie would occasionally let out a low groan or a stifled whimper.

Give it a rest.

You're the one who decided to chip in.

Deal with it.

Mostly, though, he couldn't sleep because he knew the Seeker, Ruth, was watching him ... wanting to talk.

"Waiting's the hardest part, isn't it?"

Her voice was soft, soothing. In his half-sleep state, like a voice in a dream.

"Don't you think?"

Dream voice or not: Leave me the hell alone, he thought.

"Gage?"

A light tap on his shoulder.

"Not in my experience," he said sleepily, not opening his eyes.

Will she get the hint?

"I'll bet you've been to lots of interesting places. On the Road, I mean."

The Chippie.

Ah, there she is ... back to her old self ...

Ivan decided to let that comment pass. Next thing you know, she'd be wanting to make a chip with him ... doing ... God knows what?

Not that she wasn't attractive.

In fact, that was the problem. She was very much not unattractive.

"What do you think's happening? Out there?"

Seeker Ruth again.

So much for a nap.

Sounding earnest. Nervous. And maybe-yeah, scared.

Ivan slid his eyes open and looked up at her. In the hazy glow of blue sunlight, she actually looked ...

Interesting ... maybe.

"Isn't there something you can do?"

Ivan heaved a sigh and sat up straight. The Seeker might be right.

Waiting is the worst part.

No, what's worse is not having a damn gun ...

"None of my concern," he said, and he meant it.

"But it's so ... empty out there. Where are they? Why aren't they back yet?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"What if-"

She let the thought drop, but Ivan finished it for her.

"What if whatever happened to the station personnel happened to them?"

"Yeah ... then what?"

Then things would get interesting, he thought, but he reminded himself that getting tangled up in other people's problems usually led to problems of his own.

And he needed to avoid problems ... especially during this trip.

Still ... if I had a gun ... I might go find out what's happening.

Looking past the Chippie, he eyed the storage locker where Jordan had stowed his weapon when he'd first boarded.

A combination lock-with numbers and letters.

Great.

Besides, the locker probably had a failsafe that would lock it permanently if he entered the wrong code more than a couple of times.

It was strong, too. Judging by the looks, there was no way he was going to be able to pry it open unless he came at it with a laser torch.

So let Captain Annie and the others figure out what's going on out there, he thought even as his eye lingered on the locker.

Yeah. That's what I should do.

Nothing.

Instead ...

"Pardon me," he said, standing up and easing past Ruth, who shied away from him as though fearing he might hit her.

Why is she so jacked up?

He made his way up the aisle, trying to appear casual as he approached the storage locker. Leaning his elbow against the ship's wall, he brought his face up close to the keypad and inspected it. Then-just for the hell of it-he tapped in a couple of numbers and letters.

At random.

As if ...

He grabbed the handle and pulled on it, not at all surprised when it didn't open.

He sensed Ruth's presence behind him, turned, and looked at her.

But she was at the side hatch. It was open, and she was standing in the doorway, looking out. A thin, piping whistle sounded from outside.

Ivan focused on the combination again. Frustrated.

He entered another series of random numbers and letters, each key beeping as he pressed them.

The small, unblinking red light stayed red, and when he yanked on the handle-a bit more angrily this time-he muttered a curse under his breath.

The Chippie shifted in her seat behind him. He could feel her gaze fixed on him.

What was she thinking? Time for some fun?

He glanced at her and smiled. She was digging through a small leather case filled with chips.

Good solution, he thought. Retreat into another safe little fantasy world.

He turned back to the lock. Stared at it. Frustrated.

Then a voice said: "K-2-6-Y-Y-7-A-1-9."

Ivan turned.

"What's that?"

"K-2-6-Y-Y-7-A-1-9," the Chippie said. "The combination."

He looked at her in disbelief. Smiled. Shook his head.

She putting me on?

"What are you," he said, "psychic or something?"

A slow, sensuous smile spread across her face, and her almond-shaped eyes narrowed as she raised her right hand and tapped the chip implant on the side of her head.

"I was in recording mode when you first came onboard the ship. I watched the gunner open the locker before he opened the airlock to let you in."

"Son of a bitch." Ivan laughed.

He punched in the code.

After a second or two, the lock chimed, and the light started blinking green. When he triggered the handle, the alloy-plated door swung open easily. He glanced at the Chippie over his shoulder and nodded his thanks.

She licked her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.

Yeah ... she's feeling better.

Then he reached inside ... and grabbed his gun.

As he pulled his hand back and stared at the pistol, he smiled and thought: Now that feels better.

Time to see what's going on out there.

20.

PREDATOR AND PREY.

Rodriguez walked out of the data pod bay, and Annie could tell from his expression that whatever he had just learned, it hadn't been good.

"You okay, Doc?"

His face pale, the scientist walked stiffly to the balcony railing that overlooked the station complex.

Annie glanced at Jordan.

Then she approached Rodriguez.

"You don't look so good."

Rodriguez didn't bother to turn to her. Instead, he kept staring out over the empty station below, littered with bodies and body parts.

Then-uncharacteristically-he banged a fist on the railing and turned to Annie.

"I can't tell you," he said, barely repressing his anger.

Now Annie was alarmed.

What did he just learn in there?

"What do you mean?"