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ar, for raw material." He grins humourlessly. "You didn't know they could do that?"
"What did you do?"
"What could we do? We put together a pathfinder team then upload in good order. Then Anubis - - "We sat on our collective ass for fifteen years in a backwater hole with a suicide rate that tends towards a hundred percent ... never saw that, did you? People just sort of ... bowed out. Couldn't take the boredom or fear. Or the goon squad conscripted them. But now, who knows? If we can take the Ultrabright ship and make use of its Dreamtime, well ... slower-than-light would be enough. The nearest system is Newhaven, range five light years -- we could do it in under a century, given a real spaceship."
"Good luck to you. Boris, why did you shut the door before you told me ..?"
He looks over his shoulder. The door's still shut. He looks back at me. "I think there's a saboteur on board."
"Say more."
"Pet theory of mine," he says. "Look at it this way. Your Boss, your Superbright owners, sent you. Do you really think they don't believe in backup systems?"
Someone is sitting on my grave. I can feel it: a nasty sense of rightness. "If that's the case, we are all losers. Including the saboteur. Maybe if we find them -- if they're there at all -- we can argue with them. I'll keep my eyes open. But don't count on me succeeding."
"Why is that?" he asks.
"I'm not omniscient ..."
Time passes rapidly. We close with the quiescent target, stealth-sneaking in from the anti- sunward side, almost invisible. As we approach, drones awaken in the payload bay. Hastily rigged weapons twitch and track, transceivers rattle and bleep behind shielded test rigs.
Most of us, most of the bodies packed into this metal canister, are tense. There are people everywhere; in the tunnel, in the cabins, doubled and tripled up, in the gym, on the bridge ... breathing, coughing, farting, talking humanity. We take turns sleeping, three people sharing each cabin. Privacy is a captu