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  “You wouldn't think they would blend in,” Webb said. “But most surface-types still use transports like this. On Earth anyway. Moon's a different ball game but dirtside...fighters and flyers stick out like sore thumbs anywhere but the spaceport cities. And even there it's best we keep a low profile. Now come on, I know you want to see the bridge.”

  Hugo followed Webb back up the ladder. A couple of twists and turns, and one stairway later, they emerged into a dim space with walls lined by the blinking lights of controls, dominated at one end by a plexiglass viewscreen. The vastness of space yawned beyond it, pinprick stars glinting in the blackness. A control panel spanned the width of the viewscreen with two harnessed chairs bolted in front of it.

  “I like to have a copilot plus a couple more crew up here on the monitors when we're in drift,” Webb said, “depending on the mission. But you can pilot her single-handed if needs be.”

  Hugo noted with relief that at least the bridge was free of the clutter. All the workstations were clear, even if the chairs and harnesses were worn and every display and command pad he saw was functional and high-quality.

  “So, I think that's everything?” Webb span round one of the chairs and dropping himself into it. “Anything I've left out?”

  Hugo gave him a narrow glance. “You.”

  “Me?” Webb blinked. “Well, let me see,” he said, counting off on his long fingers. “Pilot, navigator, infiltrator, gunner...know a fair amount about computer systems though not as much as Rami. Munitions I'm good at.” He quirked another easy grin. Hugo didn't return it. “Go on then, Captain. You've read the files. What am I missing?” Webb leaned back again, hands interlaced across his chest.

  “The files aren't real.”

  Webb shrugged. “Our Service profiles don't exist. Officially. But you read the public profiles, surely?”

  Hugo crossed his arms. “All I could rely on in your public profile was your age. And all that told me was that you are far too young to be in such a commanding position of any vessel. Even a sneak-tub such as this.”

  Webb's smile took on a frozen look. “Technically, you can't even rely on that, Captain. I have no idea when I was born.”

  “Commander -”

  “Look, Hugo. I'm not all that much younger than you -”

  “There's a difference between age and experience. I've been trained since I was six. But you already know that. I do have a Service profile.”

  “If I were being pedantic, Captain, I would say I've been learning what I know longer.”

  “I meant formal training. Academy training,” Hugo countered, feeling his temper flare. “Not picking up tricks from the streets of the colonies. This crew -”

  Webb was on his feet. “You can say what you like about me, Captain,” he said, leaning in, voice low and smile gone. “But I won't hear a word against this crew. They have fought and bled for the Service every bit as much as any fleet officer, except at a higher cost because they did it in the dark.”

  “Commander, I suggest you watch your tone.”

  “And I suggest, Captain, that you pull your head out of your Academy-trained ass before we land at Tranquillity. I'm not about to have another captain screw up a mission trying to prove he's too good for the job.”

  They stood almost toe-to-toe. Hugo felt heat broiling inside him. If it hadn't been for the years of discipline that had beaten his resolve stiff he would have struck the Commander. As it was, he stood, eyes locked with Webb's, until he trusted his voice to be steady.

  “Since I don't assume full command of this vessel until we launch, I'm going to let that slide, Commander. But I would like it noted that any future insubordination will not be tolerated.” Webb leant back out of the confrontational stance and folded his arms, still watching him, but didn't respond. Hugo eventually let his eyes slide from the exchange and paced over to the viewscreen. “You will relay my first set of orders to the crew.”

  “Yes, sir,” Webb responded and Hugo heard the smile was back in his voice. This made Hugo bridle but he surpassed it.

  “We depart for Tranquillity on the hour,” he said, checking the time on his wrist panel. “I want to leave on time. Make sure everything is checked and ready.” Hugo looked up at Webb, who carried on gazing at him for a moment longer than was comfortable. Then he made a slight bow.

  “Aye, Captain,” he said, then paced back to the hatch and left.

  Hugo was left alone on the bridge. His bridge. He sighed, feeling something rattle out of him, and dropped himself into a control chair. He stared out at the spread of stars, trying to ignore the chill of nerves warring with the heat of anger inside him. He was so engrossed in trying not to think, that the beeping of an incoming message startled him. “On screen,” he said when he'd gathered himself.

  Part of the viewscreen opened itself up to display a video feed of an older man with close-cut grey hair, heavy brow and a pristine Service uniform with a spread of pips across the shoulder. “Captain Hugo,” he said, nodding. “I'm glad I caught you.”

  “Colonel Luscombe. Sir,” Hugo replied, straightening himself in the chair.

  “I was hoping to catch you at Command, but you'd gone by the time I arrived.”

  “Apologies, sir,” Hugo said. “If I'd known you were wanting to see me -”

  The colonel shook his head. “No matter. I just wanted to clarify a few things.”

  “Yes, sir?” Hugo said, fighting back a scowl.

  Luscombe paused, eyeing him a minute as if guessing his thoughts. “Firstly,” he said. “I will remind you again that every mission report must be made directly to me, and only me. If it's not a Red-Level mission a skeleton report can be made to my aide, but otherwise you find me or you wait. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  “Good. I want you to report to me in person after your Tranquillity trip.”

  “In person, sir?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Luscombe said. “I have your first Red-Level assignment. And I think it wise we meet in person to go over a few things. I don't have to tell you again about the highly sensitive nature of the responsibility you've been given?”

  “No, sir,” Hugo said. “You don't.”

  “I didn't think so. Take my advice. Use this moon trip to get to know the ship and the crew. Not many Zero captains have had that chance before. Listen and learn. This is not an unworthy command, but neither is it an easy one. But Admiral Pharos thinks you're up to it. I don't think I'll be surprising you by saying I'll be reserving my judgement.”

  “No, Colonel.” He ground his teeth for a moment. “Sir?”

  The colonel’s face was stone again. “Yes?”

  “About Black Dawn...I didn't -”

  “I can't go through that with you now, Hugo,” Luscombe said.

  “I just wanted to clarify -”

  “We will talk more when you return.”

  Hugo swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

  Luscombe nodded. “Good. And one last bit of advice for you...”

  “Sir?”

  “Take Webb's lead until you get your head in the right place. It's the best way. Trust me.”

  Hugo managed a stiff nod. “Yes, sir.”

  “Congratulations again, Captain. See you shortly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  And the screen went blank.

  “Knows what he's talking about, does Luscombe. For a Service type, anyway.”

  Hugo jumped. Webb was leaning against the hatch, his infernal grin back in place.

  “Is everything ready?” Hugo asked, recovering and fighting back the surge of temper.

  “Sir, yes sir,” Hugo couldn't quite determine if the salute Webb gave him was respectful or not. “Shall we cast off? I've yet to know cargo that has delivered itself.”

  “Begin launch sequences,” Hugo said, getting up from the chair. Webb nodded, grinned and took the seat Hugo vacated just as More came onto the bridge and took the other. Rami and Spinn were close behind him. They all gave him nods
and wary glances as they filed past. Rami and the researcher settled themselves at workstations and began running checks. Hugo looked around.

  “Where's the command chair?” he asked.

  “Er,” Webb looked over his shoulder, though his hands didn't stop moving over the control panel. “My ass is in it. Sorry, Captain. Guess we've never had need for a proper captain's chair before.”

  “You've had captains before me,” Hugo gritted. “What did they do?”

  “They died,” Webb muttered.

  “Zeek,” More said, and Hugo could swear it sounded like the older man was scolding his commander. “Captain,” he said, turning to Hugo. “There is a harness on the spare workstation at the back. Would you like me to have a command chair fitted?”

  Hugo tore his glare from the back of Webb's head to look at More. “Thank you, Sub-Lieutenant. We also need to have a word about your oxygen generator.”

  “Yes sir,” More nodded. “I've been wanting to upgrade it for some time.”

  “What's stopped you?”

  More swallowed, glanced at Webb and then turned back to his panel.

  “Pirates don't need oxygen like everyone else, Commander?”

  “Privateers, if we're talking labels, Captain.” The fact that there seemed to be genuine amusement in the commander's voice made Hugo want to snarl. “And yes, we need oxygen. But where would pirates, as you say, get a Service-grade generator?”

  “We'll pretend we stole it,” Hugo muttered.

  Webb shook his head. “Whatever you say, Captain. Permission to contact control.”

  Hugo sighed and started buckling himself into the last remaining chair. “Permission granted.”

  Hugo watched his crew complete the pre-launch checks and contact spaceport control, looking out for anything missed or any corners cut but all he saw was a group of people so familiar with their ship it was like an extension of their own bodies. Whatever else happened, Hugo reasoned, at least it was looking less likely he'd be blown up or drifted by his own crew.

  “Checks complete and control has cleared us, sir,” More said.

  “Set a course for Tranquillity and take us away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  There was a clang and a slight rumble in the metal under his feet as the Zero detached from her walkway. The stars out the front viewscreen dipped and then levelled out. Webb and More's hands skated over the panel without them having to look and the ship glided away from the Command Centre. As soon as they were at a safe distance Hugo commanded full thrusters. The ship shuddered around him and Hugo dug his fingers into his harness. The juddering smoothed out as the engines reached capacity. The ship turned, and a creamy curve of the Earth came into view, the fingernail of the moon beyond it. “Course set in, sir. Approximate arrival at Tranquillity in six hours.”

  “Good,” Hugo said, taking lead from the others and unbuckling his harness. “Now, tell me more about this contact we're going to meet.”

  “Point.”

  “I'm sorry?” Hugo said, turning to Spinn with a frown.

  Spinn turned in his chair, eyes wide as if just realising who he had corrected. “Sorry, sir. Point, sir. Not ‘contact’.”

  “What?”

  “He means, 'contact' is Service-speak, Captain Hugo,” More explained. “It's best to refer to our connections as 'points'.”

  Hugo ground his teeth. “Very well. Tell me more about this point.”

  “Anton Dolgorukov, Captain,” Webb said, leaning back in his control chair and idly steering the ship with twitches of his fingers. “He's a no-one. We trade machine parts with him.”

  “Does he have a record?”

  Webb snorted and everyone else looked away. There was a pause before Webb looked over his shoulder at him. “Sorry, sir. It's just...everyone has a record. Even you do, now. It's the ones without records you need to watch out for.”

  “Tell me more about him.”

  “Rami?” Webb asked. “What's Dolgorukov's sheet look like at the moment?”

  Rami tapped on her keypad, eyes skimming text on the display. “Nothing new from last time. Theft. Fraud. Aiding fugitives. Nothing proved, it’s all Service Analyst data.”

  “Okay, Captain?”

  “Not really,” Hugo said. “What does he steal?”

  Webb sighed. “Trust me, Captain. He's not dangerous. He's a mechanic. He cobbles together oxygen units, mopeds, repairs transports. He buys the odd load of stolen parts but he makes and sells cheap things that people on the outskirts of Tranquillity would never normally be able to afford.”

  “Thief with honour, then?” Hugo drawled.

  Webb actually laughed. “Don't let him hear you accusing him of having honour. Look, Captain: Rami, Bolt and I will drive out to his yard, give him the cargo of parts and then we're out. We're keeping up appearances and maintaining goodwill. We'll probably not even have to pay a second cycle's berthing.”

  “I'm coming with you.”

  Webb span his seat round, eyes a little wide. “Uh, Captain?”

  “What?”

  “It's just...” Webb blinked, exchanged looks with More.

  “Is there a problem, Commander?”

  Webb shrugged. “No problem, Captain. It's just greenguns usually...”

  “I am not a greengun Commander Webb,” Hugo grated.

  “No sir,” Webb said, having the decency to look a little embarrassed. “What I meant to say, sir, is that all...all newcomers...I mean...” He scratched his head. “All the other captains took on more of an...observatory role, if you get me. For the first few missions at least.”

  “And where did that get them?”

  Webb blinked. “Good point.”

  “I'm coming with you,” Hugo stated. “If I am to command this ship and these missions I need to know and understand them. Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir?” Rami said.

  “Have everything we've got on Dolgorukov and our trade sent to the display in my cabin, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Rami, turning back to her workstation and started entering commands.

  “Let me know when we're preparing to dock.” Hugo didn't wait for a response but left down the corridor toward the cabins.

  When the door to the captain's cabin slid shut behind him he leant against it with a sigh and rubbed his temples against a rising headache. When he felt able to face it he lifted his head. The cabin was tiny. There was one narrow bunk sunk into the port bulkhead, a foldaway table with a chair bolted to the floor beside it and a couple of lockers. His pack was on the bed. There was a wall display above the table with a little blinking light in the corner showing waiting information.

  He pulled the pack up onto the table and began unpacking whilst queuing up Rami's data. It didn't take him long to stow the couple of hard-copy books he'd brought with him and the little clothing he had. He would have to find time to get some more. He'd spent so long in uniform that he had pitifully little civilian clothing and even less that was suitable for this assignment.

  Last of all he pulled out the lockbox that contained his guns. He keyed in the combination and took them out, laying them on the table side by side. They hadn't let him bring his Service-issue semis with him. These were new, unmarked and probably with no official licence anywhere. They were black, not silver like his service guns, and Hugo felt they carried more weight than the ones he had before.

  He sat down at the table to clean them whilst flicking through the data from Lieutenant Rami. There was pitifully little there: a copy of Dolgorukov's criminal record (nothing proven, as Rami has said) and a little information on his repair and maintenance business. There was also a copy of the Zero's manifest, including the consignment of parts they were to deliver to their point.

  It only took him a few minutes to go through it all but Hugo went through it backwards and forwards anyway and then searched for whatever else he could find in public records that might be relevant. He found little and tried searching Service records and found eve
n less. He chewed his lip for a minute then shook his head. Webb seemed confident enough. Then again, he was beginning to wonder whether Webb wasn't confident about everything.

  He finished reassembling the guns, strapped them into his shoulder holster and set it aside. Then he lay down on the bunk, threw his arm over his eyes to block out the view of the cabin, and continued trying not to think.

  II

  “Captain?”

  Hugo started, hardly believing he'd fallen asleep. For a moment he was horribly disoriented, the metal walls of the bunk swirling and refusing to solidify into something real. Then everything came screaming back along with his headache.

  “Hugo here,” he mumbled.

  More's face appeared on the cabin display. “We're entering moon space now, Captain.”

  Hugo sighed and sat up. “Do we have a dock?”

  “Not yet, sir. Webb's just on the comm with harbour control.”

  “Fine. Is the Jeep ready and loaded?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I'll be up in a minute.”

  The display went blank. Hugo pushed back the clench of nerves in his belly and heaved himself upright, straightened his clothes, strapped on his holster and shrugged his coat over the top. The ship was shuddering again as he made his way back onto the bridge. Hugo got himself back to the workstation chair and strapped himself in just as the Zero lurched as it came under the influence of the moon's artificial gravity.

  Webb and More were at the controls. Hugo watched as the two men mumbled to each other and used the thrusters and dampers to steer the ship between the skyways towards the harbour. He watched the spacescraper towers of Tranquillity, a thousand bright lights against the orange-tinged sky, rise out of the view screen. Flashes of flyers zoomed back and forth, and soon the entire viewscreen was taken up with sheet metal and blinking lights.

  “Shit, More, watch out on your left.”

  “I see it,” More mumbled.

  “Where exactly are we?”

  Webb turned in his seat, making Hugo extremely nervous. “Tranquillity Northside harbour, Captain. Don't tell me you've only ever been to the classy ports?”

  “Are there any classy ports on the moon?”