Future's Edge by Gareth L. Powell

Author:Gareth L. Powell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

CHAPTER ELEVEN

NATURE VERSUS NURTURE

Jack, Polhaus, and I were back on the foam ship’s bridge, discussing the division of any spoils that might result from this mission. Polhaus wanted his pick of any valuables, and a ticket out of this spiral arm, whereas Jack was of the opinion we’d be lucky to escape with our hides intact, and maybe that was enough to hope for.

“Sir,” Lucien reported from the Crisis Actor, his face looking grave on the wall screen. “I’m reading tramline fluctuations. I think we have an incursion.”

I turned to Jack. “What does that mean?”

“It means we have Cutters incoming. I guess something this size was bound to attract their attention.”

The ship lurched. Coffee slopped into Lucien’s lap. He swore— then cursed again as every light on his console turned red.

Jack said, “What in the bloody hell was that?”

“That’s impossible…” Lucien re-checked his readings, seeking confirmation. It was an old habit with starship crews: if in doubt, run a diagnostic.

“We’re off the tramway,” he said.

Jack frowned. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, somebody must have done something.” Jack called up some readouts in the corner of the screen and glowered at them. “Ships don’t just jump the rails all by themselves.”

“I know that, sir.” Compared to fighting through the raw maelstrom of the undervoid, travel along the tramlines required a much lower expenditure of energy; deviating from the furrow mid-glide would require a huge amount of additional impetus from the jump engines.

“Then, what happened?”

“There’s a Cutter vessel out there. It must have pulled us off course.”

“They can do that? Is that even possible?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“You’re the pilot.”

“You know as much as I do. This has nothing to do with piloting. Unexplained, impossible phenomena are not my bag.”

“Who should I ask?”

Lucien shrugged. “I don’t know. A priest, maybe?”

Jack sucked his upper lip and rubbed his eyes the way he did when he was really pissed off. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. “Assuming we have no priest, can you, as our pilot, suggest a way we might get back on course before they board us?”

“We’re in the undervoid,” Lucien said. “How am I supposed to navigate when I don’t know where we are, and every part of it looks exactly the fucking same as every other part?”

“Ships fly through the undervoid all the time.”

“But they know their entry and exit points. It’s all calculated in advance. We’ve been pulled off a tramline. I’ve no point of reference.”

“Can’t you get us back to the tramline?”

“How? It’s not visible. I can’t just roll down the window and look for it.”

“What do you suggest?”

Lucien turned to his instruments and began tapping out commands on the interface. “I suggest you get ready for some company,” he said, “because here they come.”

Polhaus’s eyes were wide. “What do we do?”

The ship lurched and juddered.

Surprised, I yelled, “Are we under attack?”

“No.” Jack held out a calming hand. “Lucien’s stuttering the jump engines; it makes it harder for the bastards to lock onto us.

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