“Who is on trial? What’s the charge?”

Extending a long pointing finger, Kananga said, “Holly Lane stands accused of the murder of Diego Romero.”

“That’s bullshit!” Tavalera shouted.

Kananga stepped toward the wounded young man and kicked him in his ribs. The breath rushed out of Tavalera’s lungs with a painful grunt. Holly’s hands balled into fists, but Kananga turned and struck her with a vicious backhand slap that split her lip open. She staggered back a few steps.

“This court will not tolerate any outbursts,” Kananga said severely to the gasping, wincing Tavalera. “Since you have aided and abetted the accused, you stand accused along with her.”

“If I’m the judge here,” Eberly said, “then I’ll determine who can speak and who can’t.”

Kananga made a mock bow. “Of course.”

“I assume you are the prosecutor,” Eberly said to the Rwandan.

Kananga dipped his chin once.

“And who is the defense attorney?”

“The accused will defend herself,” Morgenthau answered.

“And the jury?”

Vyborg said, “Morgenthau and I will serve as the jury.”

Eberly thought bleakly, A drumhead military trial. They’re making me part of it. I’ll never be able to deny that I took part in Holly’s execution, they’ve seen to that. The best I can do is see to it that this drumhead trial follows some kind of legal order. The result is as clear as the fear in Holly’s eyes.

He sighed deeply, wishing he could be somewhere else. Anywhere else, he thought, except my old prison cell back in Vienna.

“Very well,” he said at last, avoiding Holly’s eyes. “This trial is called to order.”

Using the suit’s internal computer, Gaeta made some rough calculations. The temperature inside the suit was still sinking even though he had the heaters up full blast. Make up your mind while you’ve still got some heat inside the suit. Otherwise you’re dead.

He made his decision. Gaeta pulled both arms out of the suit sleeves. Getting his legs out of the suit’s legs was more difficult. Shoulda taken those yoga lessons they were offering last year, he told himself as he strained to pull out one leg and fold it beneath his buttocks. The other leg was even more difficult; Gaeta yelped with pain as something in the back of his thigh popped. Cursing in fluent Spanglish, he finally managed to pull the other leg up into the suit’s torso. Panting from the exertion, feeling his thigh muscle throbbing painfully, he sat inside the suit’s torso in a ludicrous parody of a lotus position.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “Now we see how long you can breathe vacuum.”

“I didn’t kill Don Diego,” Holly insisted, dabbing at the blood from her split lip. With her other hand she pointed at Kananga. “He did. He admitted it to me.”

“Do you have any witnesses to that?” Eberly asked, stalling for time. He didn’t know why. He knew there was no hope. Kananga was going to “convict” Holly of the murder and execute her, with Tavalera alongside her. Airlock justice.

Holly shook her head dumbly.

Kananga said, “She’s lying, of course. She was the last one to see Romero. She claims she discovered the body. I say she murdered the old man.”

“But why would I do that?” Holly burst. “He was my friend. I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Perhaps he made sexual advances at you,” Eberly suggested, clutching at straws. “Perhaps the killing was self-defense. Or even accidental.”

Morgenthau, standing to one side beside Vyborg, muttered, “Nonsense.”

“You’re the jury,” Eberly said. “You shouldn’t make any comments.”

“She’s guilty,” Vyborg snapped. “We don’t need any further evidence.”

Let the heat out of the suit and maybe it’ll drive ’em away, Gaeta told himself. If it doesn’t, I’m dead. So what’ve I got to lose?

He nodded inside the ice-covered helmet. So do it. What’re you waiting for?

He refigured the control board inside the suit’s chest to pop the access panels in both the suit’s arms and both legs. The four keypads glowed before his eyes. The four fingers of his right hand hovered above them.

Do it! he commanded himself.

Squeezing his eyes shut and blowing hard to make his lungs as empty as possible, Gaeta jammed his fingers down onto the keypad.

And counted: One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three…

In his mind’s eye he saw what was happening. The suit’s heated air was rushing out of the open access panels. The ice creatures should feel a sudden wave of heat. Maybe it would kill them. Certainly it should make them uncomfortable.

…one thousand eight, one thousand nine…

Gaeta’s ears popped. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer, but he didn’t dare open his eyes yet. He remembered tales of guys who’d been blown apart by sudden decompression. The whole suit’s insides’ll be dripping with my blood and guts, he thought.

…one thousand twelve, one thousand…

He banged the keyboard and felt the access panels slam shut. Opening his eyes a slit, he hit the air control and heard the hiss of air from the emergency tank refilling the suit.

But his faceplate was still completely iced over. In final desperation he banged on the thruster firing key again.

It was like lighting a firecracker under his butt. The thrust of the jets caught him completely unaware. He yowled in a mix of surprise, delight, and pain as the suit jetted off. He was flying blind, but at least he was flying.

Morgenthau and Vyborg didn’t even have to look at each to agree on their verdict.

“Guilty,” said Morgenthau.

“Guilty as charged,” said Vybrog. “And her accomplice, too.”

“Accomplice?” Tavalera blurted.

Kananga kicked him again.

“The jury has found you guilty,” Eberly said to Holly. “Is there anything you wish to say?”

“Plenty,” Holly spat. “But nothing you’d want to hear.”

Morgenthau stepped in front of Holly. Pulling a palmcomp from her gaudy caftan, she said, “There is something I would like to hear. I want you to confess that you and your friend here were working with Dr. Cardenas to develop killer nanobugs.”

“That’s not true!” Holly said.

“I didn’t say it had to be true,” Morgenthau replied, with a sly smile on her lips. “I merely want to hear you say it.”

“I won’t.”

“Neither will I,” Tavalera said.

Kananga looked down at the wounded, beaten engineer, then turned to face Holly. Smiling wolfishly, he said, “I think I can convince her.”

He punched Holly in her midsection, doubling her over. “That’s for the kick in the face you gave me,” he said, fingering his jaw. “There’s a lot more to come.”

Fritz had been sitting tensely at the main control console for hours, not speaking, not moving. The other technicians tiptoed around him. With their communications link to Gaeta inoperative, there was nothing they could do except wait. The mission-time clock on Fritz’s console showed Gaeta still had more than thirty hours of air remaining, but they had no idea of what shape he was in.

Nadia Wunderly came into the workshop and immediately sensed the funeral-like tension.

“How is he?” she whispered to the nearest technician.

The man shrugged.

She went to Fritz’s side. “Have you heard anything from him?”

Fritz looked up at her, bleary-eyed. “Not for two hours.”

“Oh.”

“Are those ice flakes actually alive?” Fritz asked.

“I think so,” she said, with the accent on the I. “We’ll have to get some samples and do more studies before it’s confirmed, though.”

“They’re actually eating the new moonlet?”

Wunderly nodded somberly. “They’re swarming all over it. I’ve got the instruments making measurements, but it’ll be some time before we’ll be able to measure a decrease in the moonlet’s diameter.”