*
Liftoff was abrupt, and momentarily jarring, until the shuttle settled into smooth acceleration into orbit around the moon. He got only the briefest glimpse of the ground complex, and tried but failed to identify the general location of the alien cavern, before the landscape turned out of sight past the edge of the window. He felt himself breathing a little hard under the .7 gee of acceleration, and realized how delinquent he had been in keeping up his exercise program.
He was the only passenger on the shuttle, and was outnumbered by the crew. He recognized the male copilot by sight from his first arrival at Neptune orbit, but the pilot was a hard-eyed woman, unfamiliar to him. He avoided meeting their eyes; the last thing he wanted was a conversation. He stared out the window, as though he might never see the surface of Triton again, with its cratered plains of nitrogen and methane and its tiny plumes of carbon. He tried to imagine what this moon must have looked like twenty or thirty million years ago, or whenever it was that Charlie had ridden it into orbit around Neptune. He sensed that the thought stirred old, and painful, memories for the quarx.
/// We have to plan our next move, ///
Charlie said abruptly.
/Okay./
/// I’ve never stolen a ship before.
I’m counting on our being able to alter flight orders
to give us the diversion we need. ///
Bandicut moved his head, trying unsuccessfully to catch more than a glimpse of Neptune, as the shuttle rolled in a course-change maneuver. /If you’re looking to me for advice, you’ve come to the wrong place. I thought you knew what you were doing in the datanet last night./
/// Well, I’ve isolated two ships
that appear to have the energy capacity
and life support that we need. ///
/That’s a good start./
/// And I hope I’ve figured out
how to rig the departure control . . . ///
Bandicut sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. /You don’t sound all that confident, partner. I thought you had this planned./
/// I do.
Just remember, when you steal the spacesuit—
transfer the red stone to your outer pocket. ///
Bandicut swallowed. /Now I’m stealing a spacesuit, too?/ He pressed his hand against his pocket, feeling the small stones. /Why don’t I just pick a ship that’s hooked up to a boarding tunnel?/
/// You have to go outside, anyway,
to throw that stone into the engine exhaust port. ///
Bandicut took a breath. /Say that again?/
/// I’ll explain when we get there.
Now, as soon as we dock,
make a beeline for the closest neurojack input.
Meanwhile, maybe you should rest up
while you can. ///
Eyes closed, Bandicut shook his head in bewilderment. It didn’t matter how unreal this felt to him; he was sure it would become even stranger before it was all over.
Chapter 26
Triton Orbital
HE GOT ONLY a momentary glimpse of the station, before a wall came up alongside, blocking the view. Docking took just a few minutes: some thumping and jostling, and a metallic clang, followed by a hiss of air. He unbuckled his seat belt and floated toward the baggage compartment, trying to get his zero-gee legs under him. /I should have brought some spacesickness pills,/ he thought, suddenly intensely aware of his stomach.
/// If it’s vestibular disorientation,
I may be able to help
with neural feedback signals. ///
For an instant, he felt twice as dizzy and nearly threw up. As quickly as it came, the feeling cleared. /Okay, that’s good,/ he gasped. /Don’t do anything more./ He opened the compartment and gave his duffel bag a tug, then shoved its weightless mass ahead of him toward the exit hatch.
He drifted down the mating tube into the station, grateful for the lack of passenger amenities, which meant there weren’t a lot of people around asking embarrassing questions. Still, he had to ask directions to the nearest comm-center with neurojack inputs. If the loading officer who pointed the way thought his question odd, she didn’t say anything; she merely looked puzzled by the frantic urgency that he was undoubtedly radiating. He sailed awkwardly into a booth, wrestling his bag in behind him. Closing the door, he paused to take a few deep breaths, realizing that he had let his adrenaline get away from him. Better to go slow than to create attention.
It took only a few seconds to connect with the station datanet and locate the traffic schedules. Charlie showed him specs on two ships presently docked which he had identified as possibilities. One was named Orion, a large interplanetary transport. According to the listing, it was scheduled to depart in-system for Mars, twenty-three days from now. The other was a planetary surveyor, Neptune Explorer, which was scheduled to leave in four days on a much shorter run, a series of research orbits around Neptune proper, before returning several weeks later to Triton Orbital.
/// Which one do you recommend we take? ///
Bandicut blinked. /Is that a rhetorical question? I don’t see how we can get either of them. But if you must dream, then I’d go for the big one. At least it’s made for interplanetary flight./
/// Hm.
It may be less practical. ///
/Charlie, the whole damn idea is impractical!/
/// You know what I mean.
The problem with Orion is that
it’s not fueled and provisioned yet.
Also, it’d probably be
harder to get away with. ///
/May I point out that the other one isn’t even designed for a long voyage? It probably doesn’t have the necessary stores, and it certainly doesn’t have the fuel range or power!/
/// All that, I think, we can finesse.
It’s designed for a crew of six,
and life support supplies are already on board.
If they allowed a decent reserve,
that should give us enough. ///
Bandicut felt his eyebrow twitch. /What about propulsion?/
/// The least of our problems.
The red daughter-stone will convert
the energy of your reaction-rocket
into translational threading potential. ///
His eyebrows twitched harder.
/// Never mind—you’ll see.
But that’s why we have to introduce the stone
into the exhaust outlet.
All we need is for your powerplant to provide
a reliable source of high-temperature heat. ///
/It can do that, all right,/ Bandicut answered numbly. /Listen, if you’ve already thought of everything, why bother to ask my opinion?/
/// I’m sure I haven’t thought
of everything. ///
/Oh. Well, have you planned how we’re going to pull off the actual heist?/
/// I think so, yes.
Watch. ///
A schematic appeared, displaying the movements of all spacecraft in the vicinity. The survey craft was highlighted, along with two tugs that had just finished guiding it from the fueling depot to a tether-stop near the station’s departure dock, where a boarding tube would soon be attached. Several other vessels were in motion nearby—two shuttles undocking and a third, a supply ship, approaching from higher orbit. As Bandicut studied the array, wondering what Charlie had in mind, he noticed the stream of messages going out from Docking & Traffic Control. He felt a sudden rush of fear. Was Charlie proposing to . . . he wasn’t thinking of interfering with the safe movement of local spacecraft traffic, was he?
Bandicut began to protest, but he felt the quarx’s reassurance. Okay, he thought. This must just be a demo simulation. Let it play out and we’ll see what he’s planning.
The two local shuttles were moving in accordance with the instructions from DTC. One maneuvered outward, into a higher orbit, while the other dropped down away from the station toward Triton. On the
far side of the station, the supply ship was approaching, coming from higher orbit toward dock, closing with the forward part of the station as it matched velocity. The supply ship and the outbound shuttle pilots could not possibly have seen each other through the station; it was the role of DTC to keep them separated. But Charlie was proposing to alter the control instructions. Bandicut felt his stomach turning, and it wasn’t the weightlessness.
/Charlie, you can’t do that!/ he yelled, as the two vessels emerged from opposite sides of the station. He must have yelled just as the pilots of the two ships got their first clear view of each other. And at that moment he realized with a shock that this was no simulation.
/// We need the distraction.
I’ve calculated it to keep it gentle. ///
/Gentle!/ Bandicut watched in horror as the two vessels maneuvered in an effort to avoid a collision. Emergency calls were already flashing out on the voice channels. But it was too late—the ships came together like pieces of driftwood in a glancing blow, clung for a few moments, then parted again—the smaller of the two spinning slowly. In the image, the collision was silent and schematic. But Bandicut could imagine the impact, the grinding of hull upon hull, the whistle of escaping air. /What have you done? CHARLIE, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!/
The neurolink showed him: emergency telemetry, damage reports, voice commands overriding the flawed DTC datastream, tugs changing course and diverting to the aid of the stricken vessels. What about injuries?
/// We’re all set, ///
Charlie barked.
/// Get going and
grab a spacesuit from the EVA dock. ///
Bandicut exploded. /What do you mean, we’re all set? Do you know what you’ve just done? You son of a bitch, you can’t DO that to people! Charlie, you son of a bitch—/
/// I wanted to run a sim on it first,
but there was no time.
We HAD to do it for real. ///
/You bastard, you can’t—/
/// John, we NEED THAT SHIP!
There’s no time to discuss this— ///
/No time—?/ he choked, running out of words. He felt sick. It was not just Charlie who had caused the collision; it was John Bandicut who was linked to the datanet. If they tracked the cause, which the system was probably doing right now, it would be John Bandicut who would be named, Bandicut who would be nailed. /Christ, Charlie!/ he whispered.
/// John—DISCONNECT! ///
Everything shifted, and he saw another schematic, the datanet searching backward for the source of the altered DTC commands. The lines of the search were leading toward this comm booth, despite Charlie’s efforts to misdirect it. /Damn you!/ He broke the connection and yanked the headset off and stared, disbelieving, at the comm board, as though he expected it to erupt with lights and sirens.
Charlie flashed an image in his head: directions from the comm booth to the Extravehicular Activity suit-up area.
/// GO! ///
He went, clutching his duffel bag to his chest as he pushed off from one wall after another, sailing down the intersecting corridors to the suit-up area. /I can’t believe it, Charlie. I can’t believe you did that!/ He was in despair as he found the EVA room.
/// It was the only way.
Now, listen—you need to grab a suit.
Pretend you’re part of the damage control team.
And be ready to do what I say,
without hesitation. ///
/Why the hell should I—?/
/// You’ve got to trust me.
Please, John! ///
He had no answer. He had trusted the quarx this far, and it was a little late in the game for second thoughts.
The suit-up area was in chaos. At least a dozen men and women were frantically trying to get outside to render emergency assistance. People were shouting back and forth, and no one paid any attention to Bandicut as he crammed his bag into a locker and made his way through the confusion to the stores. He grabbed at the racks for a spacesuit close to his size and floated back to the locker with it. He dressed facing the locker, hoping that his presence would continue to go unnoticed—not just by the workers, but by the safety-and-security cameras on the walls.
“Hey—come ’ere a second, will you?”
He turned his head cautiously. The man just to his right was floating perpendicular to him, helmet in his hands. He was talking to Bandicut. Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he pointed at his life-support pack and said, “Check my stats, will you? My readouts aren’t working, and I don’t have time to screw around with it. Just tell me if I have two hours’ worth.”
Grunting nervously, Bandicut floated up over the man’s left shoulder, opened the direct readout panel, and squinted at the tiny green numbers displayed there. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You look okay for . . . well, if you aren’t a big oxygen pusher, maybe two and three-quarters hours.” He floated back to his locker.
“Thanks.” The man started to turn away—but another man, lanky and sharp featured even in his partially donned spacesuit, appeared over the first man’s shoulder. The name “Jensen” was stenciled on his suit; he looked like a foreman or supervisor.
“Hold it,” Jensen said, staring at Bandicut with penetratingly dark eyes. “Lemme double-check that.” He held Bandicut in his gaze, as if to say to the other man, Do you know this guy? Then he performed the same check that Bandicut had. “Yeah, you’re okay.”
The first man shrugged, clamped his helmet on, and pushed off for the airlock. The one named Jensen glared at Bandicut for a moment longer. “You’re new here.” Bandicut nodded without answering; he didn’t trust his voice. “Well, if you don’t know what you’re doing out there, stay the hell out of the way of the people who do.” Without waiting for an answer, Jensen turned away to finish his own suiting up.
Bandicut followed him uneasily with his eyes. Jensen’s suspicions were totally justified; he and Charlie were responsible for all of this. If anyone died out there . . .
/// Quit thinking and
get your fr’deekin’ suit on, John!
We’re doing this to save lives,
remember that! ///
/Tell it to the crews who are out there twisting in vacuum,/ he thought darkly, pulling his suit on with deliberate speed.
/// Hopefully, no one’s seriously hurt. ///
/Hopefully,/ Bandicut said acidly.
/// Don’t forget to put the red stone
in your outer pocket.
In fact, put all three in. ///
Bandicut frowned and reached inside his suit’s zippered opening to fish the tiny daughter stones out of his pants pocket. He stared at them for a moment, wondering how he could carry them in a large utility pocket without losing them, especially when he would be fumbling for them with gloved hands.
/// Just stick them in and
ask them to stay put. ///
Bandicut popped them into his spacesuit pocket. /Stay./ He raised his eyes and saw Jensen watching him. Turning back to his locker, he tried to ignore the stare.
By the time he was suited, most of the ready room had cleared out, except for Jensen. Bandicut tried to avoid meeting the man’s eyes, but as he finished his checklist and crouched to push off for the airlock, Jensen called out, “Hey, you—stop for a buddy check!”
/// What now? ///
Bandicut hesitated. “Right,” he said, and swung himself toward Jensen. He turned to present his back to the man, thinking, Don’t interfere with me, damn you.
“Okay,” he heard. “Remember what I said.”
“Right,” he repeated, and launched himself toward the lock. When he reached the airlock door, he punched the cycling button and flipped himself into the chamber even as the door was sliding open. He did not intend to look back, but as he caught a handhold and swung around to punch the inside airlock control, he found himself gazing back through the window into the ready room. Jensen was watching him with a scowl. Past Jensen’s head was th
e gleaming eye of the safety-cam.
The airlock cycle seemed endless. The outer door opened onto vacuum, and at that instant he remembered his duffel bag in the locker. /Charlie! My bag!/
/// Leave it.
You can’t go back. ///
/But it has everything I own!/
Charlie’s voice grew more urgent.
/// You can’t go back!
NO TIME! ///
He knew Charlie was right—but that didn’t make him feel any less miserable as he launched himself out into space.
/// Straight out.
Then left about forty degrees
and up thirty.
You have thruster control on this thing? ///
/Yeah./ He was rotating slowly as he emerged from the airlock. “Suit control—give me attitude stability and thruster control at the right wrist.” He felt the thrusters popping, stopping his rotation, and he bent his wrist slightly to the left as he drifted out past the end of the station wall. The thrusters flared and he yawed, and he pointed with his index finger and the thrusters jetted him forward.
Ahead was an array of vessels, some clamped to docking ports on the side of the station, others tethered at in-between points. Most of them had once gleamed white and gold and silver, but were now smudged and weathered with age. As he scanned around to his right, he spotted—at a distance of perhaps a kilometer—the diversion that Charlie had created. The two damaged ships were surrounded by a cluster of tugs. Suited workers were crossing over to the site like flying insects. It was impossible to judge from here the seriousness of the collision. He was tempted to listen in on the comm, but felt a strong opposing urgency from Charlie. Too distracting, too much to do.
/// That medium-sized ship, John—
just beyond the container ship. ///
Bandicut nodded without answering, coasting through the weightless silence of space. He veered past the cargo carrier, then on toward the survey ship. He could see a part of the name Neptune Explorer stenciled on its aft section. It had a configuration like a squashed hatbox, with modest-sized engines on the end nearest to Bandicut. It was tethered, not hard docked. /What do I do when we get there?/
/// Get behind it. Float
right up to the nozzles of its main engines. ///
Bandicut grunted. Charlie’s instructions ran contrary to all of his instincts for safe operation around a live spacecraft. What if those engines came to life without warning? He didn’t even have his comm on. Nevertheless, he aimed for the point that Charlie requested. He was a little rusty at zero-gee maneuvering, and in his haste he overshot, braking frantically, then had to coax himself back with slow, careful bursts on the thrusters. In the meantime he sensed Charlie’s urgency growing. /What’s the matter?/ He came to a stop directly in front of one exhaust bell of the fusion drive. /You’re making me nervous./
/// Sorry.
That guy in the ready room
made me nervous. ///
/Why, do you think he’s following us?/ Bandicut started to rotate to look, but felt Charlie’s desire that he desist. No time for distractions. He peered instead into the dark muzzle of the fusion rocket.
/// Forget him—even if he is following.
Now, take the red stone out of your pocket. ///
He reached blindly into his waist pouch with a gloved hand. /How am I supposed to find the red one? You better hope they don’t float away./
/// Ask for it.
Now take your hand out of your pocket. ///
Bandicut withdrew his gloved hand. Stuck to the tip of his middle finger was a point of ruby light. It was larger now, and pulsing visibly with some kind of internal energy. He wiggled his finger, but the stone seemed glued to it. /I’ll be dipped in—/
/// Throw the stone into the rocket engine. ///
/Wait. It’s stuck to—/
/// Just do it. ///
He drew his arm back, and made a flinging gesture, trying to flick the stone loose with his thumb. It remained stuck to his finger. He held it up to his visor. /It isn’t coming loose./
/// Don’t try to flick it.
Just pitch it like a ball. ///
He pitched it. The stone twinkled and flashed, and sailed from his finger, straight into the empty chamber of the rocket engine. For an instant, it seemed to hang in the center of the chamber, a tiny light straining to cast illumination in the dark space. Then it flashed out a series of sharp red beams, thin spikes of light spinning out to probe, in microsecond bursts, every shape and surface within the rocket chamber.
Bandicut’s heart skipped. Before he could ask what was happening, a gout of fire erupted from the stone. He stifled an outcry, raising an arm involuntarily to shield himself. But the light was already subsiding, and he lowered his arm to see the tiny stone now the size of a basketball. It glowed with a self-contained fire that reminded him of the nerve-wrenching energies he’d glimpsed in the translator.
He looked away, blinking. But out of the corner of his eye, he had an impression of the fire unfolding, like the petals of a flower. As he looked back, the sphere turned to liquid light and began streaming out along the inner surface of the chamber. It flowed in a great wave. He had a sense that the engine and even the spaceship itself had become translucent for an instant, the wave of light flashing from stern to bow, then vanishing. When it was over, the ruby-stone was gone, but something remained, a twinkling and pulsing presence high in the throat of the rocket. He stared at it dumbly.
/// That’s it, John.
Let’s go. ///
/Go where?/ he asked faintly.
/// To the nearest airlock.
That would be . . . uh,
at two o’clock,
right around the stern. ///
Bandicut moved slowly, too stunned to concentrate on the quarx’s directions. A wink of light in the upper right corner of his vision prompted him. He pointed with wrist and finger and jetted around the stern of the ship, then forward along the side facing away from the station. As he turned, he glimpsed—just before the hull of the ship intervened—a spacesuited figure coming in his direction from the station. /Charlie—?/
/// I saw it.
Don’t stop, but you’d better switch on your comm
and find out what’s happening. ///
“Suit—comm on, receive only! Sort all frequencies.”
His helmet filled instantly with barking voices, some synthesized, some human . . .
“TUG TANGO, COME TO ZERO FOUR EIGHT MARK—”
“Sort!” he snapped.
“WORK CREW BRAVO, WE’VE GOT A MAN TRAPPED IN THE MIDSECTION OF THE SUPPLIER. WE NEED CUTTERS AND TORCHES—FAST.”
“Sort. Mokin’ foke, Charlie.”
“—JENSEN. THAT GUY I SAW HANGING AROUND EXPLORER IS MOVING UP TOWARD THE AFT AIRLOCK. SOMETHING VERY WEIRD JUST HAPPENED OUT THERE—A FLASH OF LIGHT. I’M GOING TO HAVE A LOOK.”
Bandicut tensed as he listened for a reply. He was accelerating now toward the airlock. He cut off the thrusters, realizing that he was going too fast. He was also getting warm in his suit, and short of breath.
“ALL RIGHT, LET US KNOW IF YOU NEED HELP. WE’RE A LITTLE SHORTHANDED RIGHT NOW.”
“THIS GUY MAKES ME NERVOUS, CONTROL. IF I HOLLER, GET SOME PEOPLE OUT HERE FAST.”
/Terrific. What do we do now?/ Bandicut was braking, closing feet-first with the airlock.
/// Move like hell
and hope we can beat him out of here.
According to the datanet,
there’s no one aboard the ship. ///
/Good./ He landed and swung around to the airlock controls. He breathed a prayer of gratitude that the chamber was already evacuated. The door began to move, sliding open with painful slowness.
“YOU THERE—DON’T ENTER THAT VESSEL!” echoed the voice he had heard a moment ago. It was Jensen, and he was angry.
Bandicut swung into the airlock and hit the control. The door slid closed. /I’d say we h
ave about four minutes before he gets here./
/// Can you lock this entryway? ///
Bandicut fretted as the airlock pressurized, and the inner door finally opened. /Maybe./ He searched the controls, and when the inner door was wide open, snapped the DISABLE toggle to freeze the controls. /If he has the right code, he can probably override this from the outside. But it should slow him up./
/// Then let’s get to the flight deck, fast.
How soon can you light the rocket? ///
/That depends on how secured everything is. Anywhere from three minutes to three hours. If you want me to do any flying, I’d better get out of this suit. At least the helmet and gloves./
/// No time!
Wait till you get there! ///
The urgency in the quarx’s voice was mounting.
Bandicut vaulted down the passageway. He didn’t know the inside of the ship, but it seemed to be laid out in a reasonably sensible manner. There were a few cabins, and a kitchen—he saw them flashing by as he careened, diving far faster than was safe, down the narrow passage. It was not that large a ship, and most of the rest looked like lab and engineering cubicles. The flight deck, he figured, should be at the far end.
He slid open a bulkhead door and dived through, loosening his visor. He floated into an observation deck—a dead-end. /It must be below this!/
/// Hurry! ///
He backed out, found a crossover passageway, dropped through it with sickening turning movements, and found a door marked COCKPIT. He wanted to yank off his helmet to gulp some fresh air, but he needed both hands to push himself through the bulkhead door. He floated straight into the flight deck—and there were the controls and the maneuvering windows right in front of him. /Here we are. I see some green lights on. I may be able to able to fire up the maneuvering thrusters pretty quickly, at least./ He seized the back of the left seat, intending to swing his legs around into it.
He sensed a movement to his right and turned dizzily. A woman in a jumpsuit was facing him, brandishing a screwdriver in one hand and a wrench in the other. Startled, he froze. When he could breathe again, he flipped up his visor to talk to her. “What the furgin’ fuck do you think you’re doing in my ship, mister?” the woman yelled, before he could say a word. She elbowed a comm switch and shouted, “Station, Explorer! He’s here in my cockpit! Get me some help, fast!”
Bandicut opened his mouth to reply, but could not speak against the wave of fear that rose up in his throat.
Chapter 27
Departure Time
/// Don’t give in to it! ///
The quarx’s yell brought Bandicut up short as he fought back the fear-bile in his throat. The woman was advancing on him. He hadn’t bargained on hand-to-hand combat, especially not with a woman. /I thought you said there was no one aboard!/ he croaked.
/// The ship was listed as empty!
Can you defeat her—
or talk to her? ///
He tried to make his voice work. “I—wait!” he cried through his open visor. “Don’t wave that thing at me!” Sweat from his forehead was getting into his eyes, and he was having trouble seeing properly. But he could see the glinting point of the screwdriver well enough.
“Listen!” she snapped. “You assume the fucking position against the fucking wall, mister—or I’m gonna stick you in the belly with this thing. Who are you and what are you doing on my ship? Did you have anything to do with that collision?”
“Uh—” he grunted. “No . . . no!” His protest sounded weak, even to him.
“No? Well, I just heard on the comm that they think you did. Someone messed with those traffic codes. Let me tell you, I don’t put up with that kind of shit, mister. I’ve got friends out there in those ships. So you better tell me—”
“I—” He reached out an imploring hand.
“GET UP AGAINST THAT WALL AND SPREAD ’EM!” The woman loomed, waving the screwdriver.
He floated back from her. /What the hell do I do?/ he hissed to Charlie. He had no desire to fight—but he was afraid he would have to try to knock her out.
/// The white stone!
Get it out! ///
Bandicut blinked, groping in his pocket.
“HANDS IN SIGHT! And no sudden movements!” The woman’s voice was growing a little shrill, with just an edge of panic. She undoubtedly thought he was reaching for a weapon.
/// Do as she says. ///
Bandicut swallowed and drew his hand out slowly. There were two stones on the tip of his finger, one black as night, the other a dazzling point of white light. The white stone flared dazzlingly, directly into his eyes. He felt as if a sheet of light were writhing against him, molding and transforming his face.
“What the fr’deekin’ hell—?” The woman’s eyes bulged, and she grabbed a panel edge to stop her movement toward him. “Who the fuck are you?” she whispered. “What are you?”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Bandicut pleaded, but what came out was a harsh, guttural rasp: “HARKK-AHHH DERRK-K-EN GRAK-K-K-NEESH’N.” Stunned, he fell silent. /What was that?/
/// The white stone—
it’s translating you into Krenz.
I think it’s giving her pause. ///
Bandicut’s mind was reeling. Without thinking, he raised his hand to look at the stone. The woman screamed. The black gem had expanded into a huge, squirming ball of living darkness, engulfing the white one, yet glimmering with inner energies. Before he could ask Charlie what that was, the thing erupted with knife blades of light, flashing out, crackling, striking the wall on all sides of the woman.
She started to cry out again, but caught herself and backed toward the comm panel, hand over her mouth. “DON’T!” he warned, not knowing what he would do if she disobeyed. His voice reverberated inhumanly in the cockpit.
She stopped her movement. “Please,” she whispered. “Wh-what . . . do you . . . want?”
He felt the quarx encouraging him to speak. “I want you to leave the ship,” he said, and his words came out resonant, but fully human. “Call them and tell them to keep everyone clear, including the blast area. I want all tethers freed, and I’ll give you five minutes to get away from the ship to safety.” His temples were pounding, his eyes watering. He could not believe what he was saying. “Is there anyone else aboard?”
He was interrupted by a burst of static from the comm, and a voice saying, “WE’VE IDENTIFIED HIM AS JOHN BANDICUT, A SURVEY DRIVER. WE DON’T KNOW WHAT HE WANTS, BUT WE’RE TRYING TO CONTACT PEOPLE WHO KNOW HIM. HE MAY BE HAVING A PSYCHOTIC BREAKDOWN. BE EXTREMELY CAREFUL IN DEALING WITH HIM!” His breath caught, hearing that; he felt a protest, a denial rising in his throat.
The woman froze with indecision, and Bandicut finally erupted angrily, “You’re wasting time! If there’s anyone else on this ship, get them off—or you’re signing their death warrants! Do you hear me?”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “There’s no one else aboard.”
“Good. Call the station!”
“You’re—you’re—”
Crazy? he almost said, but instead snapped, “DO IT!” His hand traced the air, and the undulating black ball fired a new volley of crackling beams of light.
As she moved toward the comm, her voice was fearful and strained. “You can’t just . . . where can you go?”
He opened his mouth, and for a moment pondered how insane this must look. They were in orbit around Triton and Neptune. Where could anyone go from here? He didn’t know how to answer her. “Watch it on the holos,” he whispered at last, and his voice came out as a threatening hiss. “Now MAKE THAT CALL!”
She fumbled for the comm switch. “Triton Orbital, this is . . . Captain Schroeder. He has—he has—some sort of weapon—bomb—I don’t know what.”
“EVERYONE AWAY FROM THE SHIP!” Bandicut boomed.
“Everyone away from the ship,” she whispered.
“FREE ALL MOORING TETHERS AND CLEAR THE ARE
A.”
“Free all . . . did you copy that?” she croaked.
An incredulous voice answered in the affirmative.
“HAVE SOMEONE READY TO HELP THIS WOMAN TO SAFETY, WHEN SHE LEAVES THE SHIP!”
She looked startled. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” he said, more softly. “Now get the hell out of here, captain.” When she still hesitated, he raised his voice one last time. “GO!”
She fled from the flight deck.
/// Good work!
Let’s get this thing powered up! ///
Bandicut swallowed hard and stared at his finger. The ball of darkness had contracted to a black jewel again. Hesitantly, he removed his gloves and started to put them in his pocket, fearful of dropping the two stones. To his astonishment, both jewels sprang away from the tip of the glove’s finger and flew to his wrists, just under the suit cuffs—the white one to his right wrist and the black one to his left. His skin burned as the stones, like sparks, embedded themselves in his flesh just below the hand joint. /Oww!/ The pain subsided slowly. /Jesus, Charlie, what—?/
/// Never mind the stones now.
John—power up! ///
Stunned, but responding to Charlie’s urgency, he pulled himself into the pilot’s seat and peered at the control board. There were some differences from the panels he knew, but he didn’t think he’d have any trouble maneuvering the ship away from the station. He began snapping switches, initiating the computer-controlled launch sequence. /What about that woman? I wonder if we can trust her to leave. Is there a camera in the airlock?/
/// Can we jack in and take a look? ///
The board was designed for both manual and neurolink control. He looked frantically for a headset. Finally he checked the overhead compartments, and two headsets floated out. He snatched one from the air and plugged himself in.
The transformation was abrupt. He felt himself in a hollow, echoing ball surrounded by inputs. He could still see the instruments on the panel, but his attention was focused inward. /There’s the launch sequence . . . we have to shortcut some of it, or we’ll be here for hours./
/// All I need is a fusion fire in one chamber.
Can you get that much going? ///
/I think so. You find anything on the airlock monitors?/
/// One moment.
Yes, here it is. ///
The quarx showed him an interior shot from near the midships airlock. An angry-looking Captain Schroeder, suited except for her helmet, was studying a panel in the corridor wall. It took him a moment to realize that it was probably an environmental control panel. What was she thinking of?
/Give me an intercom channel—fast./ He felt the connection open, tied to his throat mike. “CAPTAIN, YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT. TOUCH THOSE CONTROLS AND YOU’LL BE TAKING A VERY LONG, ONE-WAY RIDE!” He could feel his voice booming through the ship’s passageways. He saw Schroeder stiffen, looking around. She fled into the airlock, fastening her helmet as she went.
/// How’s that launch sequence going? ///
/It’s coming./ He scanned the checklist, cueing the computer to compress or eliminate everything possible. The ship was fully loaded with isotopic fuels for the engines, and life-support stores registered three-quarters full . . . except the galley, which was only half stocked. /Is that going to be enough?/ he thought worriedly.
/// It’ll have to do.
We can’t send out for pizza now. ///
He nodded unhappily.
/// We can manage.
As long as we have some food,
we can make more.
John, when can you light this thing off? ///
/In about nine minutes. Chambers are heating now./ He glanced nervously at the external monitors, half expecting to see a platoon of space marines boarding. He saw no one, but the cameras didn’t give full coverage, either. /What about a course? Are you doing the navigation in your head?/
/// For now, yes.
We just need to get clear of the station,
for starters.
We can’t start the spatial threading
until we’re clear. ///
/Uh . . . huh. Are we undocking normally?/
/// I’ll augment the thrusters a little.
You can steer normally,
but expect a slight translation forward. ///
/Uh?/
/// You’ll see.
Oh, and we have two passengers to pick up.
Be ready with the midships airlock. ///
Puzzled, Bandicut readied the airlock, noting that the captain was clear now, crossing back toward the station airlock. Several other figures were joining her, escorting her in. He didn’t have time to ask Charlie about it, because the fusion chambers were approaching critical heat and temperature, and the magnetic pincers were fluctuating just enough to worry him. He didn’t like rushing it. But if he lingered, they would never get away.
And, he realized suddenly, they were still tethered.
“Station! Get those tethers freed!” he snapped.
“BANDICUT, STOP NOW BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!” squawked the comm. “WHATEVER’S WRONG, TALK TO US! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF DOING THIS!” There were some rustling sounds, then the voice added, “IF YOU TELL US WHAT YOU WANT, MAYBE WE CAN HELP YOU.”
“You can help me by not interfering.”
“PLEASE—”
“Cut those tethers!”
“WAIT—BANDICUT—WE’VE GOT SOMEONE HERE WHO WANTS TO TALK TO YOU. WE’RE PATCHING HIM IN NOW.”
“Forget it—” he said, but a familiar voice was already booming out of the comm. It was Krackey, from Triton.
“BANDIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I THOUGHT SOMETHING WAS WRONG, THIS MORNING! THIS IS CRAZY, MAN. THERE’S NO PLACE FOR YOU TO GO!”
“I’m going to save Earth,” Bandicut muttered.
“WHAT? SAY AGAIN? BANDIE, IS THIS ANOTHER GODDAMN SILENCE-FUGUE? DAMN IT TO HELL, I KNEW WE SHOULD HAVE TOLD SOMEONE ABOUT THOSE! BANDIE, CALL THIS OFF BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!” Krackey sounded frantic, as if he were about to burst into tears.
Bandicut drew a deep breath. “Krackey, I’m not in fugue, and I’m not crazy. At least I don’t think so. I want you to watch my trajectory—all the way—” his voice caught “—across the solar system.”
“BANDIE!” Krackey wailed. “THAT’S JUST CRAZY! PLEASE, IT’S NOT TOO LATE TO SHUT DOWN!”
Bandicut grunted. He wanted to turn off the comm, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Krackey,” he said, “talk to Julie Stone, tomorrow! I’ve explained everything in a letter to her! About the alien artifact and everything else. She’ll get it tomorrow. Tell her I said it was all right to show it to you.” His voice was starting to tremble; he clamped his mouth shut.
“JULIE STONE? ALIEN ARTIFACT? WHAT THE HELL—? WAIT, BANDIE—JUST WAIT A MINUTE—LET ME GET HER PATCHED IN FOR YOU!”
Bandicut shuddered, closing his eyes. He opened them again. “It’s too late. I have no time to argue, Krackey. I hope I’ll see you again, but if I don’t—just trust me.” His voice became harsh. “Station, damn it—CUT THOSE LINES! I am about to fire thrusters.”
He saw a series of flashes along the station’s mooring points, and the cut tether lines began drifting toward the ship. He suddenly realized that Neptune Explorer probably had releases of its own. He searched for the software control, found it, and fired the tethers loose on his end, as well. The lines writhed like snakes in the open space between the ship and station.
“AW, MAN—!” he heard Krackey mutter, then a click as that connection was broken off.
The chambers were ready to fuse hydrogen. He had only to feed it, as soon as they were a safe distance from the station. “Everyone clear. I’m about to fire thrusters.”
“BANDICUT, WAIT!” cried a panicked voice. “WE’VE STILL GOT A MAN OUT THERE.”
He cursed and held off thruster ignition. “You’ve got one minute,” he warned, checking the monitors. If their man was alr
eady aboard, he might be stupidly giving them the time they needed to stop him. He looked up from the controls, mind still mostly in the neurolink—and nearly jumped out of his seat. A man in a spacesuit was hovering directly in front of him, staring in through the maneuvering window. It was Jensen, and he was waving angrily.
“JENSEN, GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!” called the voice from the station.
“NEGATIVE. HE’S GOING TO HAVE TO GO RIGHT THROUGH ME. I DON’T THINK HE’LL DO IT.”
“CHRIST, JENSEN—THE MAN’S INSANE!”
“Thirty seconds,” Bandicut murmured aloud. He gestured with an angry hook of his thumb, wondering what he would do if Jensen refused to move. He snapped his visor shut, thinking, I don’t want to hurt him—but I also don’t want him crashing through that window . . .
“BANDICUT, WE’RE TRYING TO GET JULIE STONE PATCHED IN!”
Don’t, he whispered silently. Please.
/// Pop the thrusters backward. ///
/Huh?/ Then he realized what the quarx meant. He gave the forward-pointing thrusters a half-second burst. The ship began moving backward, away from the suited figure—and toward the station, stern-first. “TEN SECONDS!” he yelled.
Still, Jensen didn’t move clear. He jetted toward the window again.
/// Give me a few joules of power
in fusion chamber four.
ONLY number four! ///
/But Charlie—the station!/ He was going to have to thrust forward in a few seconds to avoid colliding with the station, Jensen or no Jensen.
/// Let me try it.
I won’t harm the station. ///
He fed chamber four a tiny squirt of fuel. In the rear monitors, he saw a great bloom of light. The ship began to glide forward, toward Jensen. The entire station behind the ship appeared to be on fire.
“JESUSGODALMIGHTY—!”
The comm circuit was filled with panicked outcries and static.
/What have we just done, Charlie?/
/// Very little. Trust me. ///
In front of the ship, Jensen was turning frantically. He lit his thrusters and fled sideways, away from the ship. Neptune Exlorer continued moving, but the blaze of light died away, and Bandicut took control with the maneuvering thrusters. They were moving not quite parallel to a wing of the station, at close quarters—and closing. He had to fire a burst or they’d collide. Pop. Pop. Pop. The ship stopped closing with the station. In one of the monitors, he saw Jensen tumbling away, caught by a thruster blast. He cursed, but there was nothing he could do except get farther from the station.
/// Wait!
Open the airlock.
Maintain this distance
until we pass that hangar up ahead. ///
Bandicut obeyed, terrified that armed men would leap across into the airlock—even though he knew that they were moving fast enough relative to the station to make that unlikely. He pointed one of the external cameras toward the hangar at the end of the station—and was unnerved to see two small figures spring away from the hangar, into space. They didn’t appear human.
/// There they are.
As soon as they’re aboard— ///
/Who are they?/ he demanded. /Quit screwing around with me, Charlie!/ The tiny figures were drawing close enough now to see with magnification, and he felt a flutter of astonishment as he recognized them. He’d half expected them to be aliens.
/// Napoleon and Copernicus.
I programmed them to respond to a
priority call from us. ///
/But we didn’t send any call—/
/// Yes, we did—
in the datanet, last night.
I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.
But they came up on the shuttle with us. ///
/Why?/ Bandicut whispered.
/// Allies.
You never know what we’ll need help with.
They’re good workers. ///
Bandicut couldn’t think what to say. If Charlie had told him about this earlier, he probably would have protested that he didn’t need to steal any more property.
/// Okay, they’re in.
Let’s close the airlock and move away,
before anyone else
decides to come after you. ///
Swallowing, Bandicut gave a long maneuvering burst on the thrusters. The ship passed the hangar, and then the entire station was behind them, slowly receding. /Charlie,/ he asked, painfully aware of the tightness in his chest. /What happened back there, a minute ago—when I lit the fusion chambers?/
/// You mean the light show? ///
/Light show? It looked like we were incinerating the station! What kind of radiation were we throwing back at them?/
/// Visible light only, John.
The stone converted your fusion output,
mostly for dramatic effect—
plus enough spatial translation to slip us forward
through the continuum.
They might have felt some ripple-tremors behind us,
but mostly I expect they just wondered
what the hell happened. ///
Oh, Bandicut thought. /What about Jensen? We hit him with a thruster./
The quarx was silent for a moment.
/// I don’t know, John. ///
Bandicut nodded unhappily. He realized that the comm circuit had been turned down to a murmur. Had he unconsciously done that, to avoid distraction?
/// I believe there are some tugs chasing us.
I think it’s time we powered up
for the long haul. ///
Bandicut hesitated, reluctant to take the final steps. Before he could respond, he heard a muted yell to him on the comm, and he raised the volume again.
“BANDICUT, ARE YOU LISTENING? WE’VE GOT JULIE STONE PATCHED IN. WILL YOU TALK TO HER?”
His heart seemed to fill his throat. Julie? Now? Please, God, don’t make me go through this . . .
“JOHN, THIS IS JULIE!” He could tell at once that she was trying hard not to cry. He closed his eyes, imagining how she must have felt when told what he was doing. “JOHN, PLEASE TALK TO ME!”
Julie, please—what can I say? he whispered soundlessly.
“I’VE READ YOUR LETTER—”
His eyes blinked open. “Julie? You’ve—read—”
Her voice quickened at his response. “YOUR FRIEND—GORDON KRACKING—BROKE IT OUT OF STORAGE FOR ME TO READ. JOHN, I—I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY, THIS IS CRAZ—IT’S—”
I know . . .
“IT’S . . . INCREDIBLE, IT’S . . . I DON’T KNOW . . .”
“What to say?” he whispered, supplying words to her faltering voice. He tried to make his own voice strong. “Julie, I know what you’re thinking,” he croaked. He tried again, and this time his voice held. “Julie, every word of that letter is true! The artifact . . . the alien . . . the comet . . . the danger to Earth . . .”
“JOHN, I . . . BELIEVE YOU.” Her voice was full of doubt. “BUT YOU CAN’T JUST . . . HIJACK A SHIP!”
His eyes were starting to well with tears. “I can’t not do it, Julie! Do you think I want to? I know you can’t believe me—not really—not until you find the artifact yourselves.”
/// Or until they see what this ship can do— ///
He blinked the tears from his eyes. “Or—the alien tells me—” he said huskily, over the sound of Julie struggling to find words, “until you see what this ship . . . can do . . .”
/// —when we start threading space. ///
“. . . when we start threading space.”
For a few moments, there was no answer, but several rasps of static—probably the result of someone cutting Julie in and out of the connection while they argued over who should talk to him.
/// We’ve got to accelerate.
Those tugs are gaining on us. ///
/Yeah./ He gave the thrusters a blast to increase their velocity away from the station. “Juli
e—?”
“JOHN,” Julie called, her voice barely holding together. “IF IT’S REALLY TRUE . . . AND I WANT TO BELIEVE YOU, THAT IT IS . . . CAN’T YOU WAIT JUST A FEW MINUTES LONGER, SO WE CAN TALK? SO YOU CAN EXPLAIN?”
He closed his eyes again, squeezing them shut. No, Julie, I can’t. And I’m so sorry, more than I can tell you. He cleared his throat, several times. “Julie, I—I wish I could. But I have to go—now. Please trust me. This must be . . . done. I hope you’ll see why.” He swallowed with difficulty. “Good . . . bye, Julie.”
He shifted his thoughts inward. /Do something, damn it!/
/// Give me a squirt of fuel. ///
He touched a control and watched in the monitor. The station, and the pursuing tugs, receded at an impossible rate. He felt no sense of physical acceleration. His heart had not stopped pounding yet. He wasn’t sure it ever would.
/// Okay, that’s enough simple translation.
Let’s pour it on, John.
We have a long way to go. ///
“JOHN? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” whispered Julie.
Unable to breathe or speak, he opened the flow to chamber four, trusting the quarx to know what he was doing. In the rear monitor, he saw a sunburst of concentric colors expanding outward: white in the center, radiating to blue, to green, yellow, orange, and deep red on the outside. For a few seconds, he couldn’t see the station at all. Then the quarx pointed it out—a tiny point of light, vanishing behind the horizon of a shrinking, orange-grey disk of Triton. /Charlie? How are we—?/
/// We’re threading space, man.
Say good-bye to Neptune. ///
His heart almost stopped as he realized that the great blue ball of Neptune was also shrinking visibly, and with frightening speed. He could not tear his eyes from it. He wondered what the people on the station had seen, what they thought now. What Julie thought. He imagined a choir of voices . . . he felt his thoughts spinning toward silence-fugue. He felt the quarx putting the brakes on the process.
/// Stop it, John!
Just say good-bye.
Think of what’s ahead.
Think positively. ///
He could not breathe, could not swallow. /Good-bye, Neptune. Good-bye, Triton,/ he whispered. /Good-bye, Julie./ And after a moment: /Good-bye, life./
Chapter 28
Sunward Bound
A HALF HOUR later, Charlie announced that the course was set, he’d confirmed their trajectory via one last linkup with the translator back on Triton, and Bandicut could relax. Relax? Bandicut watched the white diamond in his right wrist flicker one last time. The black one on the left had throbbed with heat during the linkup. Other than that, he had felt nothing. But he stared at the stones suspiciously, rubbing his wrists.
/// They’re intelligence and communications
accessories.
We’re passing out of range of the translator,
but we’ll be using the stones again, I’m sure. ///
Bandicut nodded slowly. He didn’t really care about the stones. All he cared about was what he had left behind. The solar system was a vast, cold, dark, and lonely place and he had just set course for himself across its enormous emptiness. How the hell was he supposed to relax? He was feeling severely depressed. He struggled to get out of his cumbersome spacesuit.
/// John, it’s going to be a long flight.
I hope you can find a way to unwind. ///
/You can hope./ Bandicut shook his head angrily and hurled the empty suit away. He settled back into the pilot’s seat and stared at the monitor images of the planet he had left behind. He kept increasing the magnification as the planet dwindled. Out the front window, he saw only darkness and a few of the brighter stars. He knew if he dimmed the cockpit lights or turned up the light augmentation, he would see more stars; but just now he didn’t care to. He knew he should get busy. There was plenty to do, including checking the ship over from stem to stern. He had only Charlie’s earlier datanet access to assure him that the ship was ready for space. He wanted to make sure that some hardware problem or missing supply wasn’t going to doom them from the start. For that matter, he wanted to make sure no one else was aboard. The datanet had been wrong about that once already.
/// I suggest you enlist
Napoleon and Copernicus in your inspection.
They seem well equipped for the job. ///
Napoleon and Copernicus—he couldn’t believe that the quarx had thought to bring him a pair of mechanized companions, but no one human. He knew why, of course; it was bad enough to be risking one human life on a suicide mission.
/// I would like to claim that as my only reason.
But actually, John,
who would have come with you? ///
He sighed, not answering, and checked the instruments again. He couldn’t quite make himself leave the pilot’s seat. He couldn’t help wondering just what the translator-stone was doing, back there in the rocket’s belly.
/// I’ve tried to explain that to you. ///
/Yeah./ Charlie had told him that “threading space” meant that they were weaving in and out of the “normal” space-time continuum many hundreds of times per second. With each fraction of an instant that they were in “secondary” space, they slipped forward so that they reappeared in the normal continuum at a point considerably displaced from their previous position. The effect created the illusion, to human eyes and instruments, of astonishing forward velocity.
/// It’s not totally an illusion.
We’re picking up energy
with each passage through the spatial boundary.
Plus, as we fall toward your sun,
we’ll gain some hefty gravitational acceleration,
which we need, too. ///
/Need?/
/// For the actual destruction of the comet. ///
/Ah./ Somehow, that did not make him any less depressed. He could well imagine the outcome of all that energy being released. See Julie again? Not likely.
He wanted desperately to send a transmission back to Triton, but Charlie had told him that it was impossible while they were threading space—and indeed, his brief efforts had met with a tempest of static. Charlie’s final link with the translator had been via a spatial-thread connection that human communications equipment could not pick up, and even that link was no longer possible, at the present distance.
Nevertheless, Bandicut ached to explain again, to justify himself to Julie, to beg her forgiveness and her blessing. He wanted to tell her to wait for him. He didn’t want her to think of other men. He wanted her to dream of him the way he dreamed of her. He wanted her to—
/// Stop it!
You’re making yourself miserable! ///
/Then find a way for me to get another message to her,/ he said miserably. The letter hadn’t been nearly enough; he wanted a chance to say it right.
/// John, I’m afraid your letter will have to do.
There’s simply no way we can transmit right now. ///
/Well, when can we transmit? You never told me it would be like this. There are some things I’d like to make clear to the rest of them, too. I don’t want people to think I’m a criminal, damn it!/
/// I understand.
Maybe they’ll find the translator.
We’ll just have to see.
It depends on when we break out of threading,
and I don’t know when that will be yet. ///
He grunted, and swiveled in his seat to start another checklist of the instruments. After a minute, he stopped and sighed heavily. /Where are those damn robots, anyway? I might as well get some work out of them./
/// Good.
That’s really the best way to approach it. ///
/Go jump in a lake./
Neptune Crossing Page 59
