Orange sunlight filled the elevator. I felt sweat break out between my shoulder blades. “Yes, sir. But I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

“Is it my son?”

I glanced at Preston. The kid was fidgeting from one foot to the other. Pinned by indecision, he shook his head. Then he grimaced, and gave a nod.

“Yes,” I said to the admiral. “He is.”

“Can he hear me?”

“He can.”

“All right, then.” The admiral cleared his throat. “Preston?”

The kid froze, paralysed like a deer caught in the lights of an oncoming train. “Y-yes, Father?”

“Preston, listen to me very carefully, boy. I am hereby giving you a field commission. You are now a lieutenant in the Conglomeration Navy.”

“A lieutenant!” The boy’s voice came out as a cracked falsetto, pitched halfway between amazement and indignation.

“I told you to listen.”

Preston lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Just pay attention. You are now the senior officer on the ground. I want you to take Childe and proceed to the attached coordinates, where you will find a woman named Ona Sudak. You will then escort her to the surface, ensuring her safety at all times. Do you understand?”

“Ye-es.” Preston looked helplessly at the bubble of vacuum beyond the elevator’s glass door. “But—”

“No buts.” People were shouting in the background. I heard an alarm, and the call to battle stations. The admiral raised his voice to a parade ground bark. “Get it done, boy. No excuses. Righteous Fury out.”

Sixty-Seven: Sal Konstanz

SIXTY-SEVEN

SAL KONSTANZ

“The Fury has a missile lock,” the Trouble Dog reported. “She can fire on us whenever she likes.”

I felt my stomach flip. Nod was doing what he could to hold the hull plating together, but we couldn’t take any more damage. “Are the defence cannons primed?”

“Spun-up and ready.” The avatar shrugged. “Although there’s not a great deal they can do at this range.”

I chewed my thumbnail, mind racing. The first of the incoming Multiplicity ships would be here in minutes. If Menderes wanted to silence us, he would have to kill us before they arrived—and this missile lock only confirmed his plans. We had no way out. If we tried to run, the Fury would anticipate our course and rake us with her cannons. We’d be perforated like a teabag, and still travelling less than half as fast as we needed to, by the time her missiles caught us.

I looked at Laura Petrushka. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve really screwed this up.”

She shook her head. After hours at our posts, we were both bedraggled and dog-tired. “No,” she said. “You did okay, given the circumstances.”

“I got us all killed.”

She twitched her shoulders. “There wasn’t anything else you could have done. And to be honest, we’ve lasted a lot longer than I expected us to.”