‘About the reinforcements? Sure. There’s a couple of orbital platforms that can launch police boats in a hurry, plus there are tactical teams on permanent standby on the ground.’ He nodded towards a screen flush with the door’s surface. ‘Help me over there and let’s see if I can get us through that entrance.’

Corso got an arm under Martinez’s shoulder and helped him over to the door just as Ray Willis arrived, his rifle slung over one shoulder. He was panting heavily, having just run the entire way around the centrifuge from the opposite side of the bridge.

‘I saw a body,’ Willis gasped. ‘Was there any . . . ?’ He stopped when he saw Martinez.

‘We ran into some trouble,’ said Corso.

Willis nodded, his chest still heaving. ‘Door’s locked round the other way as well,’ he said, ‘though we didn’t run into anyone. Nancy’s ready to blow it open on your signal.’

Corso nodded and checked his pulse-rifle. Its battery was at half capacity. Weapons such as these were only good for about a dozen shots before their batteries were completely drained, but they were cheap and easy to manufacture.

He nodded to Willis, who moved to one side of the bridge entrance, his back to the wall and his rifle held close to his chest.

‘Visors down, everyone,’ said Corso, taking up position opposite Willis. ‘Ted, get the Commander safe to one side as soon as he’s done.’

Martinez finished entering his code into the screen, but didn’t activate the door. Corso warned Nancy to be ready, then waited until Martinez was out of harm’s way before leaning over to touch a panel on the screen that read CONFIRM.

The door slid open a moment later, to the sound of shouting from inside.

‘Now,’ Corso barked into his comms.

Willis twisted at the waist, aimed the barrel of his rifle through the open door and fired off several shots. Almost at the same moment there was an enormous thump from somewhere inside, followed by more yelling and scuffling.

Willis ran inside, Corso following a moment later.

The first thing Corso noticed was the buckled remains of the door on the far side of the bridge. One of the Mjollnir’s crew lay facedown near the interface chair positioned at the bridge’s centre, a pulse-rifle just beyond his outstretched hand.

Willis was barking orders at a uniformed man and woman who had sheltered behind a comms console. They stood up uncertainly and dropped their weapons, clearly shaken.

The noise and confusion was tremendous, as black smoke rose up to collect under the smooth dark dome of the bridge’s ceiling.