Make a fucking statement with blood?

"Right. I hear you, sir. But there's no need to-"

The man's eyes darted back and forth now that he was off-plan.

What's he going to do?

Is he considering getting everyone on the SRV, leaving here, and then ... what?

Kill them ... or hold them for ransom?

Perhaps the idea that he was trapped, that it was already over, was beginning to dawn on him.

In which case ...

What the hell is he gonna do?

He has an SRV captain at his mercy.

A lot of passengers around.

Not a bad statement.

Bunch of dead bodies.

Free the Road indeed.

Annie took another step, maintaining steady eye contact with him, not even thinking to look at what might be going on around her, locked in this deadly standoff.

Deadly for me, she thought.

"Why not lower the gun, and we can talk?"

Another small smile, but Annie guessed that her partner in this dance wouldn't opt for that.

Annie lowered her gaze to the man's hand, the outstretched arm holding the weapon. Was his grip tightening, or did she only imagine it?

Her stomach tightened. She felt like she might throw up.

The man licked his lips and then opened his mouth.

"Free the-"

His voice wound up higher and then broke.

Finger definitely tightening.

And then, from the side, an arm flew from out of nowhere, hitting the man's outstretched arm-and the gun-knocking both to one side.

But too late. The trigger pulled.

The gun shot a pencil-thin pulse at Annie's head.

But the intervention had moved the man's arm just enough. A high-pitched sizzling sound whizzed by, inches from Annie's head. The hairs above her ear actually moved in response to the charged particle burst.

Then her savior grabbed the man's gun hand and almost effortlessly twisted it. The gun clattered to the tile floor. Now-finally-the hapless guards were running toward them while the assailant found himself in a firm choke hold, arms pinned to his sides.

And finally, Annie realized who her savior was.

She walked up to him.

"Jordan. What the hell-?"

"Nice to see you, too, Annie."

Been a long time, Annie thought. A lot of water under a lot of bridges.

Jordan. A gunner. But what was he-?

"Someone upstairs decided you needed me on this trip," Jordan said simply.

"Luck of the draw? Or did you ask to be with me?"

Jordan smiled and said nothing. Then he indicated the assailant, who was now being collared. One of the guards stretched out a length of yellow-green neoprene and looped it around the man's neck. The collar glowed as the neural interrupters made the man go as limp as a baby.

"Orders are orders." He smiled-barely. "So, I'm your gunner. And-"

They both watched as the security guards dragged the man away.

"And it looks like, once again, I've saved your ass."

Another tight grin.

Annie shook her head. "Jordan. Damn." Then looking at him, "Thanks."

"My pleasure."

Annie smiled at that and then turned to the crowd, all of them watching as if this was some bizarre sporting event.

"All right, folks. Show's over. Time to finish up your drinks and get on board."

And then, with Jordan a few steps behind, she strode over to the ramp leading up to the opened hatch of her SRV.

It was time to get on the Road.

When he realized what was going on down in the lobby, Humphries left his office in a hurry.

And Nahara finally saw his chance.

Without any hesitation, he walked over to Humphries's desk and sat down in the plush, leather chair. He leaned forward, his face close to the desk, and whispered, "Computer."

Something inside the machine clicked, and a thin red laser beam shot out from the screen and scanned his left retina. After a few seconds, the computer's friendly female simulated voice said, "Hello, Bill. Que pasa?"

After a nervous look around, Nahara whispered, "Download Matrix zero-eight-eight-zero."

"That's classified information, Bill," the computer voice said.

Naraha got up from the desk and went over to the window. Looking out, he saw Humphries down below, talking to the security guards. How long would that take? He didn't have much time.

Back at the computer: "I'm authorized to override security clearance with Protocol nine-six-nine-alpha."

After a moment: "Confirmed."

Nahara waited, counting seconds. His eyes kept flicking to the door to Humphries's office. The entire front wall was made of wide panes of glass, fifteen meters high. Humphries would be able to see him as soon as he got to the top of the stairway, if he didn't take the elevator.

"Sometime today," Nahara muttered, tapping his fingers on the desktop.

"Transfer processing complete in five, four, three-"

"For God's sake, hurry up!"

"Two, one. Transfer process complete."

From the terminal console, a thin, transparent crystal with multifaceted sides emerged. It caught and reflected the light in a faint rainbow. Nahara grabbed it, almost ripping it from the slot, and pocketed it.

As he glanced up and started moving away from the desk, Humphries appeared in the doorway.

He looked grim. Unsmiling.

"Well," he said to Nahara. "Now that that's settled, you'd best get down there and board your vehicle. It leaves in ten minutes."

When they shook hands, Nahara was keenly aware of how slick with sweat the palm of his hand was. He wondered if Humphries noticed. He smiled broadly, nodded, and then turned and left.

As soon as he was out the door and walking to the elevators, he was filled with a sudden panicked thought.

Did I log out of Humphries's computer?

He took a deep breath.

Held it.

And kept walking, forcing himself to keep a slow, easy stride.

Fuck it. It's too late to turn back now.

5.

WELCOME TO THE SRV-66.

Annie sat down on the-for her-oversized seat and looked at the massive, intimidating control board in front of her.

Considering the size of the board, it always amazed her that the SRV actually had something that resembled a steering wheel.

That this ... vehicle could take people across the galaxy, and if you held the wheel, and sat back in the pilot's seat, you might think you were driving an Italian sports car.

Except sports cars didn't come with a panel full of lights, switches, a bank of holoscreens, computer readouts, and a "Heads-Up Display."

Then another part of that thought.

And I actually know how to drive this.

Even more amazing.

She liked this moment-sitting in the chair, ready to run through her pre-journey checklist, minutes away from following Mobius Control's checkout procedure.

For these few moments, the SRV was all hers.

And then Jordan entered the cockpit, hurrying up the steps from the passenger and baggage area below. He had to bow his head to avoid hitting it against the overhang.

"How we looking?" he asked.

She turned to him.

"Not too shabby."

She waited to see if Jordan got it. That hint of innuendo. Jordan was mighty quiet but also very easy on the eyes.

He seemed, though, oblivious or else willfully ignorant of such things.

Innuendo? Not in his vocab.

She turned back to the SRV control board and threw some switches, watching the displays change as the ship powered up. A faint hum filled the cockpit.

"All good. Think we have some time before Control begins checking us out."

Jordan sat down in his chair, resting his hands on the console.

SRVs didn't normally travel with copilots. Annie imagined that was because an SRV was really more like a bus or a truck, or interstellar cab. Why have a copilot?

But they always traveled with gunners.