Frank Schätzing - Limit

That made up her mind.

She switched back to the general-broadcast channel, and unclipped the little pickaxe from its place on her suit. Everyone had one for emergencies. Hanna had spread his legs, taking up position, aiming. The airlock cabin travelled down the shaft to the landing pad. The doors opened. Astronauts emerged. She saw the pistol muzzle track upwards, and she lifted the pick-axe over her head—

And brought it smashing down.

The point of the pick stabbed through the tough material of the suit and into the back of Hanna’s hand, deep in between the bones and sinews. The Canadian groaned in pain. He spun about and struck out at Dana, knocking her off her feet.

‘Help!’ she yelled. ‘Help!’

There was a hubbub of voices. Incomprehensibly, Hanna was still holding his gun, the fingers of his left hand clenched over the hole in his spacesuit, and was aiming at Dana. She rolled, kicked out at his knee and made him stagger. The next moment, she had sprung to her feet and swung the pick again. This time the needle-sharp end hit Hanna’s faceplate and made a tiny hole in the armoured glass. He leapt backwards and kicked her in the belly. The pick-axe was torn from her grasp and stayed where it was, lodged in his visor. She flew away and landed a few metres off, scrambling to her feet. Part of her chestplate splintered off, and she knew he had shot at her. The crew of Io were running towards them across the landing field in huge lunar leaps.

She had to finish this. Whatever happened, the astronauts mustn’t take Hanna alive. She hurled herself at him with a great jump, knocked him to the ground and grabbed hold of the pick-handle that jutted from his faceplate.

For a ghastly moment she thought that she could see his eyes, despite the mirrored glass.

‘Dana,’ he whispered.

She wrenched at the pick and tore it free. Shards broke loose from the visor. Hanna dropped his gun and lifted both hands, but the air left his suit far faster than he could put his hands to his helmet. He lay there with his arms raised as though embracing a woman she could not see. Dana felt for his gun and slipped it into a pocket on her thigh – nobody could have seen her do it – then toppled ostentatiously to one side and called for help.

People hurried towards her. They helped her up. Gabbled at her.

‘Hanna,’ she gasped. ‘It’s Hanna. He – I think he was planning to escape with the Charon.’

‘Did he say anything?’ Palmer asked urgently. ‘Did he say anything about the bomb?’

‘He—’ Whatever you do, don’t seem too unruffled, Dana! Best to make a drama of the situation, so she staggered exaggeratedly, letting the others catch her. ‘I was outside. I saw him running from the base towards the spaceport. First I thought it was Wachowski, but from his size it could – it could only be Hanna—’ She shook off the hands supporting her, took several deep breaths. ‘Then I ran after him, called him on the radio. He ran out onto the landing field—’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘Yes, when – when I caught up with him. I was trying to stop him, and he shouted that this whole place was about to blow up, and – that’s when he attacked me. He just jumped at me, he was going to kill me, what could I have done?’

‘Shit!’ Palmer cursed.

‘I had to defend myself,’ Dana wailed, putting a note of hysteria into her voice. Kyra Gore took her by the shoulders.

‘You did good, Miss Lawrence, what you did was incredibly brave.’

‘Yes, it was,’ Palmer said, pacing back and forth for a moment, then he stopped dead and clenched his fists. ‘Crap! Damn the guy! He’s dead now, the bastard. What are we going to do? What are we going to do? ’

DeLucas felt carefully at her face. Glistening crimson liquid slicked her fingertips. Blood. Her blood.

The woman was mad!

Lynn Orley had unfolded like a flick-knife and launched herself at her, swiping her fingernails across DeLucas’ face and slicing her cheek open, then tried to run out of the control room. She had chased after the fleeing woman, grabbed hold of her and shoved her up against the lift-shaft.

‘Miss Orley, stop it! It’s me. Minnie!’

Then all of a sudden shouts for help were coming over the loudspeakers, snatches of words, Dana Lawrence, Palmer’s voice.

Lynn tore free, swung an arm and hit DeLucas on the nose so hard that for a moment all she saw was a red haze. When she could see clearly again, Lynn was just leaving the control room. Her head pounding, DeLucas ran after her, caught hold again and clutched her tight, doing what she could to dodge the rain of blows from her fists. Lynn stumbled against Wachowski’s empty chair, looked at the lift-shaft and started backwards, her eyes wide.

‘Everything’s okay,’ DeLucas said, coughing. ‘Everything’s okay.’

Lynn’s lips opened. Her eyes darted from her to the lift-shaft, and back again.

‘Can you understand me? Miss Orley? We have to get out of here.’

Cautiously, she stretched out her right hand.

Lynn scurried backwards.

‘You have to come with me,’ DeLucas said firmly, even as she felt a thick trickle of something warm running down her upper lip. She put her tongue out, automatically, and licked at it. ‘Come next door. Put on your spacesuit.’

All at once, there was sanity and comprehension in Lynn’s eyes. She moved her lips again and put out a trembling finger.

‘That’s where he came from,’ she rasped.

DeLucas followed her gesture. The woman was obviously acutely frightened of the lift-shaft, or more exactly of someone who had come out of it.

‘Who?’ she asked. ‘Wachowski?’

Lynn shook her head. DeLucas felt a cold fear grip her.

‘Who, Lynn? Who came out?’

‘He just shot him,’ Lynn whispered. ‘Just like that. He could have shot me too.’ She began to hum a tune.

‘Who, Lynn? Who shot who?’

‘Minnie? Tommy!’ Palmer’s voice from the loudspeakers. ‘Please come in, we have a problem.’

Lynn stopped humming and stared at DeLucas.

‘What do you want from me anyway, you silly cow?’ she snapped.

‘Leland, I’m having trouble with Lynn Orley.’

‘Oh great, that too! What about the rest of them?’

‘They must be ready by now.’

‘Then get them out of there, Minnie!’ Palmer paced up and down impatiently, with Hanna’s corpse at his feet. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Something seems to have happened to Tommy,’ DeLucas said. ‘Lynn claims that somebody appeared in the control room and shot some other person, she’s scared out of her wits and—’

‘Hanna,’ Palmer snarled.

‘I think she’s been trying to tell me that Tommy’s been shot. But he’s not here, nor is anybody else.’

‘Crap,’ murmured Gore.

‘We have to make a decision,’ Palmer said. ‘Dana’s managed to stop Hanna from escaping. She had to kill him to do it, but before that he said—’

‘I caught what he said,’ DeLucas interrupted. ‘That this place is about to blow.’

‘So stop jabbering,’ Dana spat at her. ‘Will you kindly ensure that my guests are evacuated!’

‘I can’t be everywhere at once,’ DeLucas snapped back. ‘Tell her—’

‘Listen, Minnie, I’m not going to give up the base as easily as that, but she’s right, you have to get those people out of there.’

Palmer stopped dead and gazed upwards at the shimmering oceans of stars, fading out over to the east where the sun glowed low on the horizon. He simply couldn’t imagine that all this might end.

‘Could be we still have time,’ he said. ‘Hanna must have given himself long enough to get away.’