Chapter 14: FIRE IN THE BLACK
The debris field expanded in silence.
No sound in vacuum. No dramatic explosion, no crackle of dying systems. Just light blooming against the black, then fading, then nothing. Fifty souls reduced to particles in less time than it took to draw breath.
Shed made a sound—something between a sob and a retch. Alex's hands dropped from the controls, his face slack with incomprehension. Holden stood frozen at the comm console, the mic still pressed to his lips, calling a ship that would never answer.
"Canterbury, this is Knight. Canterbury, respond. Canterbury—"
"They're gone." Naomi's voice cut through, sharp and controlled. "Jim. They're gone."
"No." He shook his head, not believing, not accepting. "The debris pattern, maybe they ejected, maybe some of them got to the escape pods—"
"Nuclear detonation." Naomi's hands moved across her console, pulling data that confirmed what we all already knew. "Multiple warheads, simultaneous impact. The Canterbury didn't have time to launch pods. There are no survivors."
Holden's hand dropped. The mic floated free in the zero-G, drifting slowly toward the deck.
I watched the debris field on the display. Tried to feel something appropriate—grief, horror, the normal human responses to witnessing mass murder. But all I could access was the cold clarity of a soldier assessing a battlefield.
The stealth ships were still out there. They'd killed the Canterbury. They might come for us next.
"We need to move." My voice sounded too calm. I was aware of that. Couldn't do anything about it. "Whatever killed the Canterbury might decide to clean up loose ends."
Amos met my eyes. He understood. First you survive. Then you mourn.
"He's right." Naomi moved to Alex's station, gently pushing the pilot aside. "Alex. Alex, I need you to fly. Can you do that?"
Alex blinked. Some life returned to his expression. "Yeah. Yeah, I can fly."
"Good. We need to go cold—minimum emissions, no active sensors. Whatever those ships are, they found the Canterbury because she was broadcasting. We stay quiet, we stay alive."
The Knight's engines throttled down to standby. Running lights went dark. We drifted in the black, six people in a tin can surrounded by the ashes of fifty friends.
Hours passed.
The stealth contacts—whatever they were—didn't pursue. They had what they wanted. The Canterbury was silenced, the Scopuli investigation terminated. Six witnesses in a shuttle weren't worth the effort.
Or maybe they hadn't seen us launch. Maybe we'd gotten lucky.
I didn't believe in luck. But I'd take it when offered.
Shed had retreated into medical busywork, inventory of supplies that didn't need inventorying. Alex flew with mechanical precision, making adjustments that were probably unnecessary but gave his hands something to do. Holden sat in the command chair, staring at nothing.
Amos found me in the cargo section, running through emergency gear for the third time.
"You knew." His voice was low, pitched not to carry.
"What?"
"On the Scopuli. When Naomi mentioned the sensor ghosts. You knew what they meant before anyone else did."
I considered lying. Decided against it. "I suspected."
"Suspected." He tested the word. "You've got good instincts for a maintenance tech."
"I've seen some things."
"Haven't we all." He leaned against a cargo strut, arms crossed. "Here's what I figure: you're not what you say you are. Don't know what you actually are—military, intelligence, criminal. Don't particularly care, long as you're on our side."
"I'm on your side."
"Good." His expression didn't change. "Because if you're not, I'm going to kill you. Nothing personal. Just how it is."
"Understood."
He nodded once, then moved back toward the main cabin. I watched him go, appreciating the honesty. Amos Burton didn't play games. Didn't pretend to be anything other than what he was. In a universe full of deception, there was something almost refreshing about a man who'd tell you he'd kill you and mean it sincerely.
I found a storage alcove away from the others and sat in the dark.
Fifty. Fifty people on the Canterbury. I hadn't known most of their names. Hadn't spent enough time aboard to learn their stories, their dreams, the lives they'd been building before someone decided they were acceptable losses in a game of interplanetary chess.
Captain McDowell. The tired commander who'd wanted to ignore the distress call, who'd been right to want that, who was dead because Holden's idealism had overridden his pragmatism.
The mess hall regulars I'd shared meals with. The engineering crew who'd helped me learn the ship's systems. The cargo handlers who'd nodded in the corridors.
Faces I could barely remember. Lives I'd never get to know.
I counted breaths. Fifty. One for each soul.
Then I locked it away. Put it in the compartment where soldiers kept the things they couldn't afford to carry. The grief would wait. The guilt would wait. Everything would wait until I had the luxury of feeling it.
Right now, I had a crew to help survive.
Naomi found me when I emerged.
"Kwame." She blocked my path to the main cabin. "We need to talk."
"About?"
"About how you knew those contacts were ships before anyone else did. About how you responded to finding the Scopuli like someone who'd seen crime scenes before. About how you volunteered for this mission too quickly, processed the Canterbury's death too efficiently, and generally act like someone with training you don't have on your file."
I met her eyes. "I've had an unusual life."
"Everyone in the Belt has had an unusual life. You're different."
"Is that a problem?"
She considered the question. "I don't know yet. Right now, you're useful. You think clearly in crisis, you handle yourself well, and Amos trusts you—which means something, because Amos doesn't trust anyone."
"But?"
"But I'm watching you. I don't know what you're hiding, but I know you're hiding something. Sooner or later, I'll figure out what."
"Fair enough."
She stepped aside, letting me pass. I walked into the main cabin where Holden was finally stirring, some purpose returning to his expression.
"Someone needs to know what happened here," he said.
I knew what was coming. The broadcast that would set the solar system on fire.
"What do you have in mind?"
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