She pulled it open and tugged at the lever behind it. Something clicked loudly and the door slid partway open to reveal a sliver of red-lit passageway beyond. Dakota prised at the open edge of the door with the fingers of both hands until it finally slid all the way open with a protesting whine.

She headed straight for the bridge. The quickest way there was to board a car at the nearest transport hub, about a minute’s walk away, but they all proved to be out of action as well. Dakota peered in through the window of one car and saw red failure lights blinking spasmodically on its dashboard. She turned back and made her way to a corridor that led directly towards the hub.

Once it was clear that the Mjollnir had suffered a sudden catastrophic systems failure, there was a part of Corso that was not surprised, and his first thought was of Trader.

Ever since Dakota had brought the Shoal-member on board, Corso had made sure that a discreet but constant eye was kept on his yacht. Although the frigate’s internal surveillance system had been directed to survey the main hold at all times, Corso wasn’t taking any chances. Both Willis and Schiller made frequent trips to the bay to check on Trader’s ship in person. Corso couldn’t say exactly what he was hoping they might find, but he wanted to send the alien a message that he was under constant surveillance.

He shut the alarm off, and the silence that followed fell across the bridge like a heavy, smothering blanket. He next used a console to project a highly detailed schematic of the Mjollnir overhead. Red dots blinked on and off up and down its length, identifying the depressingly numerous systems failures.

A groggy-looking Martinez entered the bridge, pulling a jacket on. ‘What the hell just happened?’ he demanded, striding over to join him.

‘Take a look for yourself Corso waved towards the console.

Martinez leaned over its glassy surface and quickly scanned the data Corso had just pulled up. His eyes widened, and then he glanced upwards at the schematic floating above their heads.

‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ Martinez muttered, then peered over at the recently vacated interface chair.

‘You’re wondering if a machine-head could pull something like this off?’ suggested Corso.

‘Could they?’

‘You told me yourself that the new security measures make it just about impossible for anyone with implants to take covert control without being directly plugged into the interface chair. And if either Ted or Dakota was responsible, the other would know.’

‘That’s the idea,’ Martinez agreed. ‘But the system’s never really been tested properly, and I wasn’t around when they carried out the most recent modifications. Do we have any idea where either Merrick or Lamoureaux are?’

Corso sighed. ‘Right now I couldn’t tell you where anybody is, Commander.’