“Let’s go.”
We made our way across the arc. It was amazing how immense even a third-rate space station could be. Five hundred years ago, this type of construction would be unthinkable.
“Time frame?” I asked, checking my phone.
“Nineteen minutes,” she said.
“We’re pushing it, but that hems him in. Still got him?”
“He’s at the ship, if that’s him.”
“It would be great to see him right here,” I said. “That would conclude things easily.”
We were almost home. I could feel it.
She said, “He’s not boarding. He’s in the downward waiting area.”
“Slow, then. I don’t want to spook him. If he misses and is stuck here, good. If he misses us and we get aboard after him, better. It gives me days.”
“We can duck into that shop,” she said.
“Good.”
Twelve minutes. He was cutting it really close.
“He’s not moving,” she said. “I’ve got him that way, two hundred meters.”
“Luggage transfer. Dammit.”
I dithered. Was he there? Or just the bags? Those were good transponders, but they were active now . . .
“Let’s get him.”
She split with me, keeping enough distance to expand our net, and to be backup, and to be able to give hand signals, without being so close as to make us a unit for tactical purposes.
“Within meters,” she said
Dammit. He wasn’t here, and we needed to get to the ship. Except, if he was, and we were aboard . . .
I started opening lockers. I worked around one side of an island and found nothing but some food wrappers.
There was nothing to be lost by multiple pings, so she dialed in, and pointed.
“In this locker.”
It was locked. I shrugged. She fished into her pockets and pulled out tools.
In a few seconds she had it open. Sure enough, luggage.
“He abandoned his bags,” I said, uselessly. “Run.”
This was an old game, and I was furious. He’d wandered around waiting, almost certainly observing us, able to dodge either way, as I was now doing.
We had tickets. All we had to do was board. All we had to do was get there. We were at a full sprint, and I was about to Boost, when I saw it was too late. The hatch was closed, and the lines dropped.
If he was aboard, he was gone.
I thought about an insystem ship and transfer at the jump point, but this Mesolithic hellhole didn’t have the infrastructure. Ships went directly.
I was incandescent in impotent rage. Brilliant misdirection. Now we had to play catch up again.
“He’s bound for Novaja Rossia, assuming he is aboard. Find us a workaround.”
She nodded, looking frustrated and worried. Was I scaring her? I might be. I forced calm. The situation was what it was and nothing I could do about it now.
She strode over to the public terminal and logged in. Ships didn’t leave here often, but there were a couple.
“Got one leaving for Celadon space, in nine hours. We can disembark at the jump point, take a cross-system shuttle to the far side for Alsace, then across there and to Novaja Rossia.”
“Time frame?”
“Twenty days.”
“And he’s going to be there in fourteen. Blast. He could even light out again before we get there.”
“Do you want to try to hold at one of the stations for him?”
“I am not holding. I am intercepting, one way or another.”
“I’ll book them. Can we try to get the ship stopped at the jump point?”
“Citing what grounds? We’d need to persuade a UN judge, then he’d be in a ship full of hostages.”
“Understood. Passage through is thirty-seven thousand and change.”
“And comes with capsaicin lube?”
“That’s what we have, okay?” she snapped in a whisper.
“Aggravated. Not you.”
“Sorry,” she said. She was taking this personally. He’d defeated her trackers.
I said, “Those were excellent devices. It happens.”
“He’s better than me.”
“He knows he’s being followed. Remember, he only has to make one mistake.”
“As opposed to the tens we’re making?”
She was steamed.
She was even angrier a moment later.
“Dammit, this line has a purchase window. We can’t get on that one, either.”
“Yes we can,” I said. I motioned and started walking. That line’s office was only a hundred meters down.
The counter clerk didn’t seem very interested as we approached.
“Yes?” he asked.
“We missed our flight, and are trying to rebook now. Family emergency. But we’re inside the cutoff window.”
He shrugged.