In Enemy Hands Read Free Page A

ring.
    The material under her feet wasn’t carpet and it wasn’t metal but some kind of matte rubbery compound that compressed slightly each time she put her weight on it. As she looked around, she saw the covering extended up the walls and even over the ceiling, its dark grey expanse broken only by recessed lighting fixtures, ventilation grilles and control panels of various shapes. Even the doors were covered in the material. She restrained herself from reaching out and touching it. She had never been on a battle-ready Space Fleet ship before, only on private and commercial craft…and Republic prisoner transports. She curled her inquisitive fingers until they formed a fist. Time enough later to satisfy her curiosity.
    “I thought you’d be happier having quarters next to the lab,” Jeen was saying, casting an occasional quick glance backwards as he walked. “So you could work whenever you wanted. The entire lab complex is completely private.”
    Moon knew he was trying to be polite, but couldn’t help the cynical spin she put on his words. The Republic was impatient. It wanted results. Tangible results from the piles of money they had already thrown into the void commonly known as “Dr. Thadin’s research.” And now, at the first stage of real space trials, the pressure was on her to prove she was right, and worthy of a decade’s worth of funding and the fulsome exoneration of her name. She said nothing, merely nodding at his words.
    The ship was silent, she noticed. Oh, it had the usual background humming and occasional beep or hiss from something opening or closing, but she heard none of the loud conversational rambles she was used to in other, more commercial environments. The few dialogues she passed were conducted in low, crisp undertones and often people walked side by side, not exchanging a word. It gave her insight into a world much more coldly disciplined than she was expecting.
    If the lab looked tacked on from her snatched look outside the Differential , the extension was seamless on the inside. Jeen gestured past a doorway at the end of a short corridor, and Moon stepped into what was to be her home for the next three months, perhaps longer.
    The room was huge and roughly octagonal shaped. Against what she gathered was the hull, a clear bulbous sphere sat, the intricate machinery inside dark and quiescent. Surrounding the sphere were banks of angled consoles, their surfaces black and glassy-smooth.
    Moon’s gaze moved from the sphere to the rest of the lab, skimming over large clearboards, overlaid with fine grids but otherwise blank, angled worktables, the familiar chunky bulk of a meta-library unit and a wall of panels, each butted up next to its neighbour. There was plenty of space for her to pace while thinking—the briefing to the lab designers must have been frighteningly complete. There was even a set of table and chairs next to a wall, so she could eat while she worked.
    “The Senior Chef is at your disposal at any time, day or night,” Jeen commented, noting where her gaze lingered. “And the door to the lab complex can be locked for privacy. The actual, ah, missile framework and launching mechanism is down in the cargo bay next to our engineering section.” He indicated another open doorway to the left and stepped in that direction. “Your quarters are through here.”
    Moon took a step, following him, then stopped. There was something not quite right. She scanned the room again. Everything seemed to be in its correct place, but it felt…emptier than it should. Then it hit her.
    “Where’s the Kray?” she asked.
    Jeen stopped and turned to face her. “Pardon?”
    “I normally work with a Kray Quantaflex,” she elaborated. “A Mark Six. I can’t see one here.”
    “Yes, the Kray.” Jeen spoke slowly but looked thoughtful more than discomfited. “We’ve come up with what we think is a better substitute.”
    Moon looked round again. Her Mark Six—that, in a fit of