Traviss expression grew incredulous. I dont have time for this. He moved closer, his boots making a ripping sound as he headed across the strip of sticktite that ran the length of the passageway. Turn around now, he barked, reaching for his gun.

As he grabbed hold of her around the waist, Gabrielle pulled her homemade shank loose from the belt loop and drew it swiftly across Traviss cheek.

He yelled in surprise; the wound it left was deep and raw. His pistol spun away from him, clunking loudly against a bulkhead. She threw herself away from him, chasing after the gun and grabbing hold of it.

She twisted round, bringing it to bear on Travis just as he came sailing towards her, with hands outstretched.

The gun seared a line across the mans chest. He jerked, his arms and legs flailing, and smoke started billowing out of his mouth as his internal organs combusted.

Travis drifted up against a bulkhead, his limbs still and lifeless. Gabrielle exhaled a rush of air ending in a half-choked sob.

Pushing herself as far away from the corpse as she could manage, she stared at the weapon still gripped in one shaking hand. It felt strangely unwieldy, its grip being too large for her small fingers. She shifted her fingers to cover the coloured band wrapped around the weapons grip, whereupon several virtual menus immediately appeared around the guns barrel.

She let out a small gasp as the weapons grip began pulsing and quivering beneath her fingers. It gradually changed shape, and even size, adapting itself to her grasp until it felt better balanced in her hands. Where before it had felt awkward and unwieldy, the weapon now felt as if it had been made just for her.

She pointed it towards a ceiling light further down the corridor. Lines and numbers appeared around the tip of the barrel, flashing with greater rapidity as she centred them over the fixture. Then she pushed the weapon deep into a jacket pocket, and made her way towards the drop shaft and the command deck beyond.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Gabrielle

A few minutes later, she found herself outside the command deck. Footsteps echoed from further around the curve of the corridor, coming closer.

She looked round until she saw a door marked SUPPLIES on the opposite side of the corridor; she slipped inside, peering back through the small window set into it in time to see a man with cropped blond hair entering the command deck. In the moment before the door closed again, she caught a glimpse of Tarrant.

Deciding she needed to try and talk to Megan, if she could, she found her access to the transceiver array was still active. She sent out a hailing signal and waited.

She didnt know how long she might have before Szymurski noticed her using the transceiver, assuming there was anything human left inside his skull that was still capable of noticing . . .