going first into that ship. She might be fast and deadly but armed only with claws and teeth she might well end up on the bad end of a pulse-rifle in such an enclosed environment. It hadn't happened before, but the feeling I had that things were somehow coming to an end was making me more protective of her.
Moving aside, I now gazed through the slanting windows overlooking the bathysphere bay. Bathysphere Two—the
Coin Collector
had only two of these vehicles—had first been adapted for inter-ship travel, its line detached and chemical boosters affixed all around its rim. Its second adaptation had been mine: a big metal mouth extending around its main door, a leech lock. This could attach to the hull of any ship, its rim digging in with microscopic diamond hooks and making a seal. It had come in very handy over the years.
Harriet followed the thetics in and, after a pause, I followed too. Inside, the thetics were, as instructed, sitting down in the concentric rings of seats and strapping down tightly, their rifles slotted into containers beside them. I headed over to the single seat before the adapted prador controls, sat down, and hit the release button. Even as I secured my own straps the bathysphere jerked and set into motion. I turned on the screens and observed the space doors opening, then laid in the correct course. Harriet, meanwhile, squatted down beside me, her claws clenched around the floor grid.
"Shouldn't be too bumpy," I said.
"One I've heard before," Harriet replied.
In a moment, we were out in vacuum, the chemical rockets firing to put us on the pre-programmed course. I glanced over to the door leading into the leech lock, hit a control, and the door irised open. Within this, running on rails around the inner face of the lock, was a robot cutter that wielded a carbon-titanium thermic lance, tubed for feed-through of laser heating, oxygen, peroxide, and catalytic nano-spheres. It was the fastest way to cut through just about anything. I closed the iris door again. It was also messy, producing thick searing smoke and poisonous gases.
"Approaching vessel, what is your purpose!" a voice demanded from my console.
"I've got something for Gad Straben," I replied, now calling up an image of Straben's hauler on my array of hexagonal screens.
"Identify yourself!"
I turned on the visual feed and gazed at an unshaven face displayed in just one of the hexagons. The man's head was partially submerged in a half-helmet augmentation, and the one eye I could see widened in shocked recognition.
"I'm Tuppence," I said, just to be sure.
"Gad Straben is not here," said the man.
"Not a problem—I'll leave his gift with you."
"You are not to approach this ship. I will not allow docking!"
I lined up the boost and paused with my finger over the control to operate it. "Don't be so hostile. I'm sure Mr. Straben will be very interested in what I am bringing him."
"I know exactly who you are, Tuppence," replied the man. "If you approach any closer you will be fired upon."
Of course, many in the Graveyard knew of me, even though I'd been away for a couple of decades. Many had dealings with me, some coming off worse and some better. The likes of Straben had generally been the former kind.
"Oh well," I said, and hit boost.
The sudden acceleration tried to lever me sideways out of my chair, but I locked my body in place. Behind me a couple of the thetics made an odd warbling sound. At the same time I saw the
Layden
fire up its own engines to move away and two flashes on its hull marking the departure of two missiles. I watched them curve round and head toward Bathysphere Two, their drive flames growing in intensity like angry eyes.
"Incoming," I stated.
"No shit," said Harriet.
Gee forces now tried to throw me into the screens as the bathysphere turned to present its thickest armor to the missiles. They hit one after the other with shuddering crashes. The screens whited out for a second, then gradually came back on with