"Full house. Kings over jacks."
"Oh, may a radiation storm fry you! But you play masterfully, Mister Carter," the celebrated detective Jack Pompeo said with displeasure, scratching irritably behind his right ear. "Yes, yes, you play excellently," he continued, "but no better than I. You got the better of me here at the table, but what a magnificent 'jackpot' I hit back there on Genoa when you, like a gambler who's lost his last credit, tried to hide in the farthest technical tunnel of the derelict dock! Think you could hide from me? In vain! Jack Pompeo will flush out a criminal even at the bottom of a nebula."
"Here's my bet, Carter," he said, leaning back with self-satisfaction, and activated an artificial cigar.
Ilon Carter merely shrugged in silence.
"You simply held too many cards," he uttered calmly. "You roused the entire Genoa security service, so the game was rigged against me from the start. No player can win a hand holding one card against an entire deck playing for the opponent."
"And besides, Mister Jack Pompeo, our game is still... not over."
"You think so? This magnetic bracelet still hasn't convinced you?" The detective tapped the light but powerful adhesion field chaining Carter's left hand to the metal bunk.
"You're naive, like many geniuses. Are technologies—logical proof? But let's not delve into philosophy."
"And we will resume the game. I demand a rematch," Pompeo finished.
"Unlikely to succeed. The vibration is intensifying and may scramble the cards before we finish."
"Am I to understand that figuratively as well?" asked Pompeo, dealing the cards.
"As you wish."
"Yes, it's shaking thoroughly," he said, making a move.
The cabin was stuffy and hot. Located on the lower technical decks near the reactor compartment, which, like a powerful heart, shook the walls of nearby cabins and filled them with a rhythmic hum. The players fell silent, trying to keep the deck of cards on the table.
The vibration intensified. The ship was entering a turbulence zone. The liner shuddered as if it had run into an invisible barrier in the void. A dull rumble traveled through the entire hull, setting panels and equipment buzzing. Then the Voyager began to list slowly but steadily to port. The cards scattered and slid to the floor. Pompeo tumbled after them. Carter, held by the adhesion field, felt a painful jerk at his wrist where the "bracelet" was.
Pompeo swore and sat on the floor.
"It's steadier down here, you know, Carter. I'm feeling unwell... you know... space-sick. Never endured such devilish shaking. I'll lie down a bit. But... you won't run off, will you, if I get really sick?"
"Certainly," Carter answered, lying back on the bunk. "I'll tear the field and run... throw myself out the airlock. I prefer open space to your company..."
"You're always joking, Carter." Pompeo crawled to his bunk and, groaning, lay down.
No sooner had he stretched out than another terrible jolt threw him off, shaking the entire ship. Somewhere, something cracked and rang; alarm sirens wailed. From above came screams and the stampede of feet, and then, drowning out the cacophony, an emergency siren began to howl, blaring the signal: "All hands, spacesuits! Emergency readiness!"
Clutching the walls, fighting fatigue and weakness, Pompeo stumbled to the door. He was mortally frightened but tried to hide it from his companion.
"Carter! Something's happened. I'm going to check. Forgive me, but I must lock you in!" shouted Pompeo.
Carter looked at the detective with contempt and said nothing.
The shaking continued, but even through it, one could tell the artificial gravity in the bow section was failing.
After a few minutes, Pompeo appeared in the doorway. His face was twisted with horror he no longer bothered to conceal.
"Catastrophe... We've hit a meteoroid swarm... The forward compartment is breached... Though properly, no one knows anything... The crew is preparing the escape pods... orders are to don emergency suits... But still no one's allowed into the pods. They say the ship has emergency shields; maybe it won't fall apart if they do something up there, devil knows what... And the passengers are fighting the technicians who are keeping them from the pods... But as for me, what am I to do?" he cried, rounding on Carter with a look that accused him of all his misfortunes. "What am I to do? Save myself or keep watch over you? We could end up in different pods, and you might slip away."
"And does this no longer reassure you?" Carter asked mockingly, pointing to the chaining bracelet.
"I can't just stay here with you, damn it."
"In short, you want to save yourself, me, and the ten-thousand-credit bounty for my capture? I deeply sympathize with your difficult position, but I can't help."
"You can, you can... Listen, Carter," Pompeo's voice turned ingratiating. He seemed to shrink into himself, like a beggar pleading for alms. "Give me your word... just give your word you won't run from me at the first station, and I'll deactivate and remove the bracelet right now... just give your word. I believe you."
"Thank you for the trust. But I won't give my word. Actually, no: I will run at the first opportunity. That word I can give you."
"Oh!... Have you ever seen the like?... And if I leave you here, you stubborn fool?" Not waiting for an answer, Pompeo rushed to the door.
Clutching, clambering, and falling, he fought his way up the steep stairs to the central deck, now harshly lit by emergency floods. He was immediately deafened by the roar of sirens and the wild screams of the crowd. Pompeo scanned the deck and saw that the discipline holding mere minutes ago had been overthrown by the furious onslaught of that primitive, animal feeling called the instinct of self-preservation. Exquisitely dressed gentlemen, who just yesterday had gallantly rendered ladies small courtesies, now trampled those same ladies underfoot, punching their way with fists toward the escape pods. The strongest triumphed. The siren's wail merged with the inhuman roar of the crazed herd.
Pompeo's head swam; a hot wave of blood flooded his brain. For a moment, he himself was ready to plunge into the fray. But a thought flashing through his mind—of the ten thousand credits—held him back. Tumbling head over heels, he rolled back down the stairs, flew into the cabin, fell, scrambled to the bunks, and with trembling hands silently began to deactivate the bracelet.
"Upstairs!" The detective shoved Carter ahead and followed.
When they emerged onto the deck, Pompeo cried out in impotent fury: the deck was empty. All escape pods had launched. Salvation was unthinkable.
"All because of you!" Pompeo shouted, shaking his fist under Carter's nose.
But Carter, ignoring the detective, was already sprinting down the corridor. From an open technical airlock leading to the damaged compartment came muffled female cries. Carter charged inside.
"You're trying to run? You'll answer for this!" Drawing his impulse pistol, Pompeo aimed it at Carter's back.
"Stop talking nonsense, you idiot!" Carter shouted back, forcing his way through the chaos of the devastated compartment.
When another piece of meteoroid shrapnel pierced the liner's hull, Miss Rose was near the docking module—perhaps trying to reach an escape pod on her own. The blast wave threw her right under a bundle of severed power cables that now crackled menacingly, spraying sparks. She was already losing consciousness, pinned by heavy equipment, when Carter spotted her and rushed to help.
"Hold on, Miss!" he shouted, trying with one hand to heave the multi-ton console and with the other to bat away the sparking cables.
"He's even giving orders! Don't you dare shut me up, Carter—" the detective shouted, observing the rescue operation powerlessly.
Miss Alice Rose came to in the cabin. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Pompeo bowed gallantly.
"Allow me to introduce myself: Agent Jack Pompeo. And this is Mister Ilon Carter, under my custody, so to speak..."
Rose didn't know how to conduct herself in the company of an agent and a criminal. Rose, the billionaire's daughter, now had to share quarters with these men. Moreover, she owed her life to one of them; she had to thank him. But to offer her hand to a criminal? No, no! Fortunately, she was still too weak, couldn't lift her hand... Well, of course she couldn't. She moved her hand slightly, without raising it, and said in a faint voice:
"Thank you. You saved my life."
"It's the duty of any decent person," Carter answered without a hint of posturing. "Now you need rest. You can be calm; the ship has stabilized and won't break apart." Pulling Pompeo by the sleeve, he said, "Let's go."
"On what authority are you ordering me around?" grumbled the detective, following nonetheless. "Don't forget, you are under arrest, and at any moment I can lawfully activate the bracelet and deprive you of your freedom."
Carter stepped close to Pompeo and said, calmly but with force:
"Listen, Pompeo. If you don't stop babbling nonsense, I will take you by the scruff of your neck, like this, and throw you into the emergency airlock like a blind kitten, along with that impulse pistol of yours, which has become as much an eyesore as you are. Understood?"
"Holster your weapon right now and follow me. We need to prepare some food for the Miss and find a bottle of decent wine from the ship's restaurant stores."
"Devil take it! You want to turn me into a servant? Should I polish her spacesuit and serve cocktails next?"
"I want you to chatter less and do more. Now move!"