Mika looked at him sharply, then returned her attention to the screen.

‘Give me what is mine!’ shrieked Dragon.

‘Wants the dracoman,’ said Mika.

‘Do you wish Isolation unsealed?’ asked Hubris.

‘No, keep it sealed. If it wants its dracoman, then it’ll have to take the whole chamber.’

‘There will be extreme damage to the interior of the ship.’

The Dragon head appeared next in Isolation. ‘Open! Open!’ it shrieked.

Cormac began to rattle his fingers on the console. He was humming a tune and chewing his lip at the same time. After a moment he said, ‘Then prepare for extreme damage to the interior of the ship . . . Tell me, what could the intruder-defence systems do now?’

‘Specific nerve gases, low-intensity lasers, EM pulse-guns, evacuation of sealed areas—’

‘Use low-intensity lasers and the EM guns.’

‘Beton-twelve nerve gas—’

‘Just! . . . as I said.’

Over the intercom they heard the high-speed crackling of the pulse-guns. Pseudopods began to fly apart and become charcoaled with black lines; but where one pseudopod was destroyed, another took its place. The ship convulsed.

‘Charge up proton guns.’

‘Charging. Stress readings all round Isolation Chamber One. Stress reading along all corridors to drop-shaft. Stress readings in drop-shaft.’

The screen showed walls and struts being torn away in Isolation, wads of insulation falling, pipes bursting and snaking through the air on jets of vapour, then it showed walls buckling and being pushed back into the corridors. One scene flickered out as a camera was destroyed. The screen then showed the whole of Isolation Chamber One peeled down to its armour, and being shifted by the pseudopods.

‘Cormac! Cormac!’ screamed the Dragon head.

‘Target that head.’

The head was suddenly latticed with black lines, and then EM pulses began to blow pieces of it away. It shrieked and drew back out of Isolation. The chamber was dragged along after it, tearing walls, folding out ceilings. Sparks rained down, and cameras went out one after another.

‘Isolation chamber in drop-shaft. Stress readings at drop-shaft doors. Ventilation seals breached, closing secondary seals.’

Just then there came into the room a smell of burning flesh and metal, and another smell—so strong it was almost a taste—of cloves.

‘How long until proton guns enable?’

‘Forty seconds. Mark.’

Suddenly the scene revealed was of the shuttle bay. The mutilated Dragon came on-camera. Its jaws opened and slammed forwards. The camera went out.

‘Not too happy, I would say,’ said Thorn.

‘General idea,’ muttered Blegg.

‘Dragon has isolation chamber. Detaching. Flooding drop-shaft with crash-foam. Massive air loss. Crash-foam not holding. Closing shuttle-bay doors.’

The screen showed the shuttle bay from another angle. The bay doors were labouring to close against a hailstorm of crash-foam and wreckage. The debris was hurtling out into the vacuum.

‘Pull away, maximum acceleration. Fire proton guns when ready.’