“Will do,” Adam promised.

Oscar looked along the row of couches in the rear room. One of them had its array activated; green LEDs were shining on the front of the unit. He gave a snort of disgust. “Water damage my ass!”

“We still need them to get the hyperglider ready for you.”

“This is wrong. The odds are completely against me getting up there intact.”

“So tell me which one of them is the Starflyer agent?”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Exactly. Lie back on the couch.”

Oscar did as he was told. He rested his wrists on the i-spots. “Interfaced,” he said.

Adam’s virtual vision confirmed the connection. He told his e-butler to initiate the program. Plyplastic cushioning flowed over Oscar’s wrists.

“The induction prep phase will last about a minute,” he said, reading from the menu. “Implantation is eight minutes.”

“And integrity review is another minute,” Oscar said. “Yes, thank you. I went through this enough times when I was with the CST exploratory division. The junk we needed to know for that…”

“Relax please,” Adam said dryly. He moved his virtual hands across the icons, initiating the induction preparation phase.

Oscar’s eyes were already closed. Now his face began a series of minute twitches to accompany the REM.

Adam went back into the hangar. Two of the hypergliders were still running through their checklists. No problems had been red-flagged.

He was peering into the cockpit of one when he heard a sound behind him. Lifted his head to see who it was. “Oh, couldn’t you—”

The slim harmonic blade was rammed into the base of his skull, angled perfectly to slice up into his brain.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The quantumbuster would not load into its launch tube. There was nothing Ozzie or the SIsubroutine could do to make the fat missile slide out of its magazine rack into the tube. Not one goddamn thing. He’d tried every trick he could think of. Forcing power into the electromuscle handling arms. That just made them spasm and flash up burnout overload warnings in his virtual vision. Getting the SIsubroutine to review the code for the whole magazine management program. Its analysis proved that the software was effective. Running diagnostic after diagnostic on the physical mechanism. The scrutiny showed every component was fully functional.

It still didn’t work.

Ozzie let out a furious snarl. There was a dark pressure inside his head that was growing with each passing hour. He’d never known frustration like it. To have got to this point only to be blocked by some kind of glitch was the kind of irony that only a truly badass god would practice.

There is a logical reason why this machine does not work; therefore I will find the fault.

When he looked around his virtual vision at the appallingly complex architecture of the launch mechanism all he could think to do was beat his virtual fists against it. His inability to concentrate wasn’t helped by lack of food. Two days now. He hadn’t slept much during that time, either.

There was an unexpected yet familiar rustling sound in the cabin that drew Ozzie’s attention back through the virtual structure. On the right-hand couch Mark was floating a couple of centimeters above the cushioning with his back toward Ozzie. The rustling came again.

“Yo, Mark what’s…Hey. Wait a goddamn minute! Is that CHOCOLATE?”

Mark rotated lazily, his cheeks bulging as he munched away contentedly. One hand held the torn and crumpled wrappings of a Cadbury’s milk chocolate bar. He peeled the purple foil away from the last four squares and popped them defiantly into his mouth.

“You bastard!” an outraged Ozzie yelled. “I’m like fucking starving here and you’ve had a secret supply of food all along.”

“Lunch box,” Mark mumbled through his clogged mouth. “Mine.”

“We’re in this together! Son of a bitch, where’s your humanity? The only thing I’ve had in the last two days is water. And we both know where that comes from.”

Mark finished the chocolate with a big swallow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you forget to steal sandwiches from the kindergarten before you kidnapped me on a hijacked starship?”

“This is my ship! I paid for half of it.”

“Fine, so just open the TD channel and explain that to Nigel Sheldon.”

Ozzie wanted to thump the arrays in front of him. “What the fuck were you in an earlier life, a lawyer?”

“You’ve killed me!” Mark bellowed back. “What in that twisted-up piece of wreckage you call a brain made you think I’d be grateful? Please, I’m interested. Do tell.”

“If you’d actually close your mouth and listen to me then maybe your low-achiever IQ could just get a handle on what I’m telling you.”

“At least I’ve got an IQ larger than my shoe size.”

“Dickhead!”

“Wanker!” Mark tossed the empty wrapper at Ozzie. “Oh, and traitor, too.”

“I am not a fucking Starflyer agent. Man, why will no one ever pay attention to me?”

“Was that another rhetorical question from the giddy heights of your intellect?”

“I am not a violent person, but if you don’t stop that right now I swear I am going to kick your ass through the cabin wall.”

“Would that be the insults or the shouting I’m to stop?”

Ozzie clenched his fists. Ready to—Just about going to—“Jeez! How did you ever get through our personnel screening program? Nobody in this galaxy could stand working next to you. You are the most goddamn irritating person I have ever met.”

“Was it your charm which impressed Giselle? Or did she just feel sorry for you because of your hairstyle?”

Ozzie’s hand automatically went up to pat at his hair that was floating around like an agitated jellyfish in the cabin’s freefall environment. “This is fashionable, man,” he said in an icy voice.

“Where?”

Mark sounded so genuinely curious it threw Ozzie’s thought processes, preventing him from coming out with a reply. Besides…“Look, we’re getting off track here, man. I’ve apologized like thirty billion times for what happened back there in the dock. I never meant for you to be dragged along.”

“How do you think my kids will cope without me? They’re both under ten, for Christ’s sake. You’ve taken me from them to die alone in interstellar space, and now the Commonwealth is going to lose the war because of your treachery. They’ll have to take flight on the lifeboats. Chased across the galaxy by an alien fiend never knowing if they’ve truly escaped while the rest of their species is systematically hunted down and wiped out. Don’t you have children? Try to remember your feelings for them from before it took over your mind.”

“I am not a fucking Starflyer agent!” Ozzie screamed. He took a moment to calm down. When he glanced over at Mark, he saw a smug grin on the man’s face. “All right, put your superior logical IQ to work on this: What’s the point in me stealing the Charybdis?”

“Is that a Starflyer joke?”

“I’m serious. We’re going to get to Dyson Alpha, what? Six hours before Nigel arrives and turns their star nova. So what exactly is this Starflyer agent going to achieve with that? Is six hours enough time for MorningLightMountain to build a fleet of frigates like this? Tell me, come on, you’re the frigging expert on assembling these babies. Can it be done in six hours?”

“I’m not playing this game.”

“Scared I’m right?”

“You’re such a child.”

The kind of willpower that could only arise from living for three hundred sixty years managed to keep Ozzie’s voice calm and clear. “I am Ozzie Fernandez Isaac; I built the first wormhole generator and I was a midwife to the Commonwealth society that you and your children enjoy. Even if you really believe that part of me is buried under Starflyer conditioning it is still entitled to some respect. And Ozzie Fernandez Isaac is pretty fucking sure that you cannot duplicate this frigate in six hours.”