I swore under my breath. It would be just my luck to escape a hail of gunfire only to drown a few minutes later. “Can you swim?”

Sasha shook her head. “Swimming pools are in short supply on Europa Station. How ‘bout you?”

“Not a lick. Not that I can remember, anyway.”

Her eyes left mine and darted away. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

We were silent for a moment. A pillar flashed by. She looked my way. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“The column had words on it.”

“So?”

“So, slow down. If that column had words on it, the next one might have them too.”

It made sense, although the practical value of reading the words escaped me. I eased the throttle back and took a look at the speedometer or the nautical equivalent thereof. The needle dropped as our speed fell off. The boat bobbed up and down as its wake caught up with it. Sasha pointed at the next pillar. “Look!”

I looked. The column bore the likeness of a skull and cross-bones with words underneath. The boat had drifted close. I slipped the engine into reverse and goosed the throttle. “What does it say? Your eyes are younger than mine.”

“It says, ‘Death to corpies. Proceed at your own risk.’“

I nodded agreeably. “A noble sentiment indeed. It’s time to haul ass.”

Sasha nodded. I moved the transmission lever into the “forward” position, brought the throttle up, and felt the boat surge forward. It took longer than before, and the wheel felt sluggish. A hand darted in to flip one of the many switches that lined the control panel. There was a humming sound, and water gushed from the boat’s side.

“Jeez, Maxon. It says ‘Bilge Pump.’ What hell were you waiting for?”

I felt blood rush to my face. “Sorry…”

She looked angry. “Sorry isn’t good enough! A mistake like that could get us killed.”

I kept my eyes straight ahead. What could I say? The girl was right. I did make mistakes, and one could get us killed. A hand touched my arm. I looked in her face and saw the anger had disappeared. Something else had taken its place. Something I couldn’t quite name.

“I’m sorry, Max. That was a stupid thing to say. You came after me, and that took guts. I won’t forget it.”

I couldn’t remember anyone saying something that nice to me. A whole host of emotions bubbled up from deep inside. I wanted to say something suave but knew I’d cry instead. So I settled for a nod and tried to look impassive. I couldn’t tell if she bought it or not.

We continued that way for another forty-five minutes or so, water gushing out of the boat’s side while it sank lower and lower in the water. That’s when the floaters roared out of the darkness. Their small, sledlike boats wove in and out of the pillars like shuttles on a loom. There were ten or fifteen of the speedy little craft, and each boasted a two-person crew. The drivers hunched behind their control panels while their gunners stood within cagelike structures and aimed their pintle-mounted weapons in our general direction. They wore black scuba suits and enough armament to embarrass a marine. I hit the throttle and the boat surged forward, but it was too late.

Four or five of the sleds turned inwards, pulled alongside, and bumped our hull. Four of their neoprene-clad gunners were aboard a half-second later and aimed some rather ugly-looking machine pistols in our direction. I considered the.38 but rejected it as a bad idea. A member of the assault team gestured with his weapon. “Throttle back. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

I looked at Sasha. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug. I pulled the throttle back. The boat nose-dived, regained its equilibrium, and wallowed in the waves the sleds had made.

The man spoke again. “Good. Place your hands behind your head and step away from the controls.” He pointed the machine pistol towards Sasha. “You too.”

We did as instructed. Another member of the assault team, a woman this time, patted me down. She found the.38 and held it beneath a light. “Nice, very nice, but not the sort of heat that corpies carry.”

My voice came as a croak. “We aren’t corpies.”

She grinned. Rubber framed an average face. Her skin was unnaturally white. “No shit. That would explain why you look like hell and the boat’s full of holes. What happened to your head, anyway?”

“A guy blew my brains out and the medics stuffed them back in. They couldn’t find the top of my skull, so they installed a metal plate instead.”

The woman thought I was joking and laughed appreciatively. “I like your sense of humor. Now, explain how you got the boat and what you’re doing in our territory.”

That’s when Sasha jumped in. She was concerned that I’d screw things up, and I couldn’t really blame her.

“We found a hole in Trans-Solar’s security, tried to hijack some proprietary information, and were caught in the act. We headed downwards, wound up on a jetty, and stole this boat. Finding you was chance and nothing more. End of story.”

The woman nodded slowly. There was a smile on her face. “And quite a story it is. Parts of it could even be true! Well, never mind. You really pissed ’em off, that’s obvious from the condition of the boat, and that makes you okay with us. Here, take your cannon back.”

I accepted the.38 and stuck it down the back of my pants. Sasha’s.44 had been confiscated as well. A man handed it back. The woman offered her hand. It was strong but cold. “My name’s Murphy. What’s yours?”

There wasn’t enough time to think of a good lie, not for me anyway, so I told the truth. “I’m Max Maxon…and this is Sasha Casad.”

“Max…Sasha…glad to meet you. Now stand by while we bring some pumps aboard.”

Sleds bumped the hull, pumps were handed up, and two of the floaters headed below. Within minutes the hoses were connected, the pumps were started, and water gushed over the side. It was all done with a minimum of motion and conversation, as though they’d done similar things many times before.

Murphy looked over the side and nodded her satisfaction. “That should do it. I’ll take the wheel if you have no objection.”

Neither of us had been all that excited about steering to begin with. We shook our heads in unison. Murphy smiled, waved the sleds off, and inched the throttle forward. The bow came up in one smooth motion, steadied, and hung there as if suspended from above. The sleds roared along to either side, dashing back and forth across our wake, narrowly avoiding the pillars. It looked like fun. Murphy yelled over the sound of the engine, “What will you do now?”

Sasha was unaware of our travel arrangements, so I took over. “We need to get topside as soon as possible.”

Murphy nodded thoughtfully. “You owe my family for the cost of our fuel, and the use of our pumps, but the boat is yours. By our laws, anyway. What will you do with it?”

I was about to give it to her gratis when Sasha took over.

“We plan to sell it, pay our debts, and keep the balance. Would you like to make an offer?”

Murphy flicked the wheel to the right, skidded the boat around some floating debris, and straightened it out again. “Boats like this are hard to come by. We use them to run contraband in from the ocean. The corpies try to stop us, but we usually outrun them. My father will give you a good price.”

Sasha looked skeptical. “No offense, but others might offer us a good price as well, and we owe it to ourselves to listen.”

Murphy nodded, as if Sasha’s comment was not only appropriate but expected. “True, but that would take time, and Max says you’re in a hurry.”

I wanted to say something agreeable, but Sasha sent a scowl in my direction. “We’ll listen to any reasonable offer.”

These people had saved our bacon, but when it came to business the girl didn’t have a sentimental bone in her body. A little gift from her corpie-type parents, perhaps? But it didn’t bother Murphy. She nodded and pointed towards the bow. “That’s Floater Town. We’ll be there in five minutes or so.”