Gap [1] The Real Story: The Gap into Conflict Read Online Free PDF Page B

with dead rock. Then he set Bright Beauty straight down on the camp so that his braking blast incinerated the habitation domes, charred the suited figures outside.
    The radio shouts died in a gabble of static. Got you, you bastards. The camp had been large enough to support perhaps twenty people. With luck, he’d killed them all. He didn’t want any witnesses.
    A quick scan for life readings, distress calls, suit-to-suit communications. None. Good. That left him with a clear path to the other ship. As soon as he put on a suit himself, he could go over there and get everything he needed. Then he would be able to hide out in the belt as long as necessary. Until he got a chance to repay some of his fear.
    He was on his way to the EVA locker when Bright Beauty’s klaxons went off like several dozen screams of pain.
    The asteroid’s tiny gravity didn’t hold him back: with a powerful kick, he sent himself diving for the command module. One hand caught the back of his g-seat; the other slapped instructions at the computer, demanding an explanation. He was already in the seat, strapped down, and keying thrust for takeoff by the time the computer told him what was going on.
    His sifters and sniffers and sensors had detected the approach of another ship. And not just any other ship: a ship the same size and configuration as Starmaster.
    In fact, it was Starmaster. His probes weren’t likely to be mistaken about that alloy. He’d programmed the computer to watch for her. And to make enough noise to wake him from his grave if it spotted her.
    She was coming at him fast.
    How the fucking hell did she get here? How did she find me? No time for that. Coming fast. But not fast enough to catch him. Bright Beauty was bound to be more agile than any oreliner, no matter how much cash that bitch cost. And this was the belt, where agility was worth more than matter cannon fire. He was terrified—but he also knew what he could do. What his ship could do. Let that fornicating hunk of money try to chase him and see what happened.
    The only problem was that he didn’t have enough food. Or water. Or air.
    No time for that either. Survival was the highest priority Angus Thermopyle understood: it took precedence over everything. And he was sure from the core of his bloated belly to the sweat rolling down his jowls that the Hyland ship didn’t intend him to survive. As if he really were calm, he hit thrust and began lift-off. At the same time, he primed his cannon, diverting precious boost to build up charge. And he made sure his communications board was clear, set to receive everything and transmit nothing.
    Starmaster was still a considerable distance away, but her first transmission reached him before he was a hundred meters off the asteroid.
    “Set down.” The voice sounded crisp and commanding above the hull-roar of thrust. “Bright Beauty , you are ordered to set down.”
    Despite the intensity of his concentration on his instruments and controls, Angus was able to mutter a few obscenities under his breath.
    “Angus Thermopyle, you are ordered to set down.” The voice was sure of itself. “This is Captain Davies Hyland, commanding officer, United Mining Companies Police destroyer Starmaster. You have committed murder. If you do not set down to be boarded, you will be fired upon.”
    UMCP. That got his attention. For a second, he actually stopped swearing and took his hands off his console. The cops. It made sense; so much sense that he should have figured it out earlier. Who else was there anywhere who could pool enough money to hull an entire ship with that alloy? Who else thought they owned the fucking universe? No one. Only the United Mining Companies—and their private cops, the muscle which enforced or invented the law that kept Earth and its huge appetites fed.
    And this was why they were here: to hunt the pirates and jumpers and scavengers who fed off all the mining operations in vast space. In just a few seconds, they would