on the final broadcast, the fate of the world. Death. Now it is up to me to see that fate is met on my ship.”
“You’re going to try and kill everyone on board?”
“Not an easy task, I grant you. But I suspect that if I eliminate the senior crew, the general panic caused will give me a helping hand in terminating more lives.”
Jake tried to back away. “Captain, where is Staff Officer Hollen? What have you done, Captain Ibsen?”
“I told you, I am eliminating the crew. I am going in order of rank, more or less, so you’re next.”
He took a step towards Jake, curled his finger around the trigger. Jake felt his trouser leg become warm and moist. He hung his head, resigned to his fate. Then, slowly, a smile crawled its way across his lips. He raised his head again and looked the captain in the eye. The expression clearly unsettled Ibsen.
“Something amuses you?”
“Three things, actually,” Jake said. “The first thing is, aren’t you being a bit dramatic about all this? I mean, if you are going to kill me, just kill me, right? The second thing, well I’ve just realised that I’m not afraid of dying. I nearly died twice today already. A bloody great asteroid missed me, and then I avoided a molten ash cloud.I must be the luckiest man alive, or I really should be dead already. Either way, if you kill me now, I’ve already won an extra hour or two of life that I should never have had.”
“The third?” Ibsen asked.
“The third?” Jake queried.
“You said three things amused you. What is the third?”
“Oh! Oh yes, the third,” he paused for effect. “The third thing is, you should probably watch your back if you’re going to go around pointing guns at people.”
Ibsen swung round. He completed the move just quickly enough to see Lucya swing a bottle of Dom Pérignon at his head. It connected with crack that rang out through the corridor. Ibsen’s arms dropped to his sides, his grip was lost on the gun which clattered to the floor, along with the whistle. The captain followed, landing with a thud.
“Thanks,” Jake said, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“My pleasure,” Lucya said.
“Johnny!” Jake ran into the staff officer’s cabin.
He found his superior, half lying half sitting against the wardrobe. The quarters were bigger than Jake’s, not exactly spacious, but there was enough room to circulate freely. Jake froze, staring at Hollen. Blood soaked the carpet around him, and more continued to trickle from the bullet wound to his chest.
“Shit,” Lucya said from his side. “Is he still alive?”
“I…I don’t know. How do we tell?”
Lucya dropped to her knees, put her fingers against Johnny’s neck, feeling for a pulse.
“Nothing. I can’t feel anything. I think he’s dead Jake.”
She pulled her hand away, stood slowly, backed away from the body. The two of them remained there in stunned silence, not sure what they should say or do.
Finally Lucya spoke.
“We should get Max down here. I’ll go and find him. You need to tie Ibsen up before he comes round. Johnny must have a belt or a tie or something you can use.”
Jake said nothing, he was still staring at his colleague, processing what had happened.
“Jake,” Lucya placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go and find Max. Tie him up, okay?”
“Yeah. Um, yeah, sure, you’re right. I’ll tie him up.”
Lucya left the cabin and Jake began to search for something he could use to secure the captain.
Johnny appeared to have very few clothes in his cabinet. The first drawer was full of magazines, mostly about self building ecological houses, and green energy generation. The second drawer was full of knick-knacks that he must have picked up from various ports of call. Cheap souvenirs, tat made for tourists. The third drawer held some clothes, and bundles and bundles of letters. Johnny wasn’t married, and had never mentioned a girlfriend, or boyfriend for that matter, so Jake
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child