by R. M. Olson
482 Standard, seven-month, third-day.
It has been the chill of a late Prasvishoni fall, and a thin dusting of snow was falling, yellow-white against the dirty streets. He’d told Caz and Peti he had some work to do, and he’d be back in a couple of days, and they’d believed him. He shivered under the thin blanket as he pulled up page after page of information on his hacked com.
To be honest, he couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t been a little too cold, from his first memory until now, but he was used to typing into the holoscreen with fingers that were stiff from the chill that had worked itself into them.
It wasn’t hard. He’d figured it wouldn’t be. Vadym had let him into his system so he could make sure Tae’s talents were worth stealing, before he stole them. He hadn’t considered that by allowing Tae into his system, he’d given Tae every tool he needed.
Tae smiled grimly to himself as he worked.
He’d realized, about ten minutes after Vadym had given him access, that the man was arrogant. So certain of his defences that he hadn’t bothered to mod them. Assuming that if he paid enough money for a system, that was all it would take to keep him safe.
He hadn’t counted on a street kid hacker. Probably hadn’t thought twice about him, once he’d gotten his tech. Tae doubted he’d remember his name.
Well, he might not remember Tae’s name. But he was about to get something he wouldn’t forget any time soon.
The first bug he planted was a simple one—set to activate the next time someone went into the system, copy down every last piece of information on Vadym’s protected devices. Nothing too frightening—except then it would vomit it back onto the government’s public servers, for anyone who wanted to take a look.
They’d shut that down quickly enough, but it was just a distraction. Because underneath it, he was currently planting the most malicious time-bomb he’d been able to devise. If the copy-paste was the distraction, this one was the ground-cannon. And as soon as they shut down the first one—it would go off, ripping the code to every tech device that was wired into Vadym’s system into a million shreds of data.
It was a delicate trap to set, but he was pretty sure he could make it undetectable. He just had to get in deep enough … He paused for a moment, frowning at the screen.
There was a system here he hadn’t noticed during the two weeks he was working for Vadym. Which meant it was probably something Vadym was being very careful no one should see.
He tapped on the system, and, almost holding his breath, worked his way keystroke by keystroke past the protection.
It was something to do with the government. Not completely unexpected—he’d seen plenty of money coming in from various government entities when he went through Vadym’s financials—but still. Something that secret—it seemed strange.
Of course it didn’t really matter, because in a few hours’ time, the whole system would be blown wide open.
He worked his way quickly through the hidden system, priming his bomb to go off. He didn’t have time to read details on what it was for, or why it had been so well hidden, because now that he’d started, he was working against the clock.
Still—there was something about it, the way it had been set up.
He shook off the feeling of faint unease. That was the last thing he had to worry about right now. What he really needed to worry about was getting back out again before he got caught. Because a street boy taking down Vadym Dulik—that would be something the police would be very interested in indeed.
And then the alarms went off. At first he almost imagined it was his own nerves that had triggered it, but the blaring alarms wailing from the building across from him were real enough. Lights flashed red and white, and people were shouting, the wrist-coms of every person in a twenty-metre radius of the building flashing, locking down. He glanced quickly down at his screen of his own com, stomach tight. They must not have got through his spoof yet, but it would be a matter of seconds. Frantically, he worked his way backwards through the system, trying to cover his tracks as he went.
And then, finally, he was out. He sucked in a shallow breath, jumped to his feet, slapped off his com, and took off down the alley as fast as he could run. When he turned to glance behind him, police were swarming the building, weapons drawn.
But whatever it was, whatever had happened, they hadn’t detected his time bomb. The next day, Vadym was ruined.
And a week later, so was he.
He’d have thought that, combined with five months in jail before Masha broke him out for her crazy suicide-mission heist, would have been enough to teach him not to be an idealist.
But here he was. Believing this stupid crew was going to risk their lives to help him, and then risking his own life to help them even when they’d proved they wouldn’t.
He hadn’t actually learned anything after all.
“Hey. Tech-head. You find anything?”
He jumped and spun around. Jez was standing next to him. He glanced around quickly, as if he could somehow protect her from the sight, but she’d clearly seen everything. Her face, what he could see of it through the oxygen mask at any rate, was haunted, and she looked a little like she was going to throw up. Her jaw was set, though, and there was a slightly sick determination in her eyes.
He held up a handful of burned components.
“That it?” she asked. He shrugged, and she knelt beside him, sifting through the ash.
When they emerged an hour later, between the two of them they could carry every part that they could possibly salvage.
That was one good thing from growing up on the street, at least. He was used to working with junk.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hour 12, Lev
Lev watched in concern as Tae and Jez emerged from the hatch with their small collection of scorched and warped ships’ components. He was no techie, but he could make a pretty decent guess that it wasn’t good. The looks on their faces as they pulled off their face masks confirmed his assessment.
“What do we have?” Masha asked as they dropped the parts in a pathetically-small heap on the deck floor.
Tae shook his head, not even attempting a smile. “This is all we could salvage. Even most of this is junk, it’s just less melted than the other components.”
“Do we have what we need?” she asked.
Jez managed something that could have been a grin. “Well, guess that depends on what you think we need. To make the ship run again? Nope. To throw at each other when we get into a fight? Maybe.”
Tae glared at her, and, to Lev’s shock, she subsided, staring wearily at the floor.
His stomach twisted slightly.
It was worse than they were letting on.
“I don’t know,” said Tae at last. “I can use a few of these parts, but the spare thruster fins were all melted. We can possibly rig something so she can run with the broken fins, but it’ll be slow, and it’ll tear her to pieces. I doubt the thrusters would be reparable. And this is something Sasa Illiovich created, and I’ve never seen another piece of tech like it. If we run it like this, it’s lost forever.”
Lev glanced involuntarily at Jez. She was staring fixedly at the floor, and she looked like she might either throw up or pass out. But she wasn’t saying anything.
“I understand that, Tae,” said Masha quietly, and Lev noticed that her eyes went momentarily to Jez as well. “But if we don’t get them online, we won’t get the emergency oxygen generator online either, will we?”
Tae shook his head.
“And if that’s the case, then I’m afraid Sasa’s tech will do no one any good.”
“I know,” said Tae quietly. He glanced at Jez as well. She seemed to feel the combined weight of their stares, because she looked up wearily.
“Jez,” Tae began, his voice a little more gentle than it had been.
“I know,” she said dully. “Guess we better do it, then. She—” she swallowed hard. “She was a good ship, but … well, guess Masha
’s right. Not going to do any of us any good if we’re dead out here.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor again, and Lev bit his lip.
She hadn’t even tried to insult Masha.
Tae watched her a moment longer, and there was a look on his face, bitterness and concern warring with each other. He turned away finally and said, “Alright then. I’ll put in the internal components. I’ll need someone on the outside, though.”
“I’ll go,” said Lev quietly.
Tae nodded. “Probably best. You know the specs, right?”
“Yes. I’ve looked them over.”
“Can you pull them up on your com? I’ll show you what we need to do. It will be easier for you to find out there if you’re already familiar with it.”
Lev pulled up his com, and Tae crossed over to him, an almost-unrecognizable piece of tech in one hand.
“Here,” he said pointing. “This is the part that’s blown. You’ll need to replace it with this, and then we’ll pray to the Lady and the Consort and all the plaguing saints that it holds.” He paused. “Have you been on a spacewalk before?”
Lev shook his head. “I’ve never had to. But I believe I understand the principle.”
Behind him Ysbel snorted, and for half a moment he forgot that she wanted to kill him, and almost smiled.
“It’s not hard,” said Tae. “Same as being suited up in the ship. You’ll bite down on the oxygen release to get it flowing. The tank holds enough for about two hours, but you should be in well before then. Your mag-boots will hold you to the ship, and you’ll have mag-patches on your gloves, but you’ll be tethered in case anything happens. If you need to talk, there’s a com in the helmet that’s patched in to the ship’s coms. It’s possible that the damage the ship took will interfere with the external com interface, but there’s no way to know until you’re out there. Either way, three tugs on the tether will tell us you need to come in.”
Lev nodded. His hands, he realized, were sweating slightly, and his heart beat slightly faster than normal.
Still, as Masha had pointed out, the alternative to trying was certain death, which made the risks slightly less significant than they otherwise might be.
Ysbel left the room and met them in front of the airlock with a space suit. She didn’t meet his eye, but dropped the equipment in a pile in front of him. He suited up quickly, pulled on his helmet and clipped the fastenings, stepped into the heavy mag-boots, and pulled the gloves over his hands, sealing them to the suit. Tae stepped closer and inspected the suit for leaks, then gestured Ysbel over, and the two of them lifted the oxygen tank onto his back. He staggered a bit at the unaccustomed weight. Tae handed him the thruster component, and he clipped it to his belt.
“You ready?” Tae’s voice came through his earpiece. He nodded.
“Ready,” he said, and his voice echoed slightly inside the helmet. Tae hit the airlock controls, and the first set of doors slid open. He stepped inside, and the doors sealed shut behind him.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
It was fine. There was nothing to be worried about. There was no reason that his hands should be slippery with sweat. He forced his breathing back to normal.
They had limited enough oxygen as it was. No need for him to gasp the rest of it in some sort of self-created panic.
Still—he’d never actually enjoyed space. In fact, at the university, he’d always operated on the general principle of the farther he was away from it, the better. He’d assumed there were plenty of things planet-side that could kill you, and there was really no point in seeking out an environment that was designed to freeze you to ice long before you’d have time to suffocate on your own fluids.
He managed a smile of wry amusement. Jez would never let him hear the end of it if she had any idea what he was thinking right now.
Jez.
His smile faded.
He wasn’t entirely sure if, even if they made it back, Jez would survive this, at least, not the Jez he’d come to know over the past couple months. She looked broken. Like the ship. Like maybe they’d be able to put her together as well, somehow, but not the way she had been.
There was a faint hiss, and Tae’s voice in his earpiece. “I’m opening the outer doors. Hold on to something.”
He grabbed for the rungs of the ladder, and then there was a sudden weightlessness as the airlock’s grav controls kicked off, and the doors swung open to the glittering black of deep space. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the airlock, his mag-boots and his gloves anchoring him to the ladder’s rungs.
When he glanced back, he could see Tae’s worried face though the viewing port. He rolled his eyes slightly.
Apparently, any time he was forced to do something that required any amount of physical dexterity, half the ship wondered if he would survive it.
It was a slow climb to the outside port for the thrusters, and it took a mind-numbingly long time to make his way across the exterior panels of the ship. As he walked, he noticed the scorch marks that cut across the polished gleam of the paneling, and he shook his head.
It was a good thing Jez wasn’t seeing this. He wasn’t certain she’d survive another blow at this point.
When he reached the external access port, he hit his com. “Tae. I’m here. I’m going to remove the hatch now.”
There was no response. He tapped the side of his helmet and tried again. This time, a faint clicking and some static answered him.
The coms must be down.
At least he knew the specs. He should be able to get this back together with a minimal amount of errors.
He pulled the multitool off his belt and set to work popping off the access hatch.
He’d only been working for a few minutes when he noticed, in the back of his mind, a slight hesitation, a sort of restless irritation. He frowned and tapped his helmet, bringing up the internal com screen.
The oxygen indicator on the side of the helmet was flashing yellow.
The tank must have malfunctioned. He’d only been out for maybe twenty minutes, but the indicator showed the percentage of oxygen he was breathing was frighteningly insufficient.
He almost had the hatch off. And besides, they had limited oxygen tanks, and limited time. By the time he got back to the ship, they found a new tank, and he was able to come out again, that would waste a good forty standard minutes he couldn’t afford to waste.
Best get this thing done as soon as possible.
He fumbled with the access hatch.
How long had his oxygen been low? He wasn’t certain, but somehow his hands were clumsier than they should have been.
Damn.
He fumbled again with the hatch, and this time it popped off. He managed to grab it before it floated off, and he clipped it awkwardly to his belt.
His thoughts were less clear than they probably should have been, but there was something in the back of his mind that was suddenly very worried.
Probably should tell Tae he was running out of oxygen. At this point, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d get back to the airlock.
“Tae—” he mumbled, but there was no response.
Of course. The coms weren’t working. For some reason, the thought was slightly funny, and he found himself chuckling at it.
A lance of panic sliced through his thoughts, although he wasn’t sure where it came from. Something about this wasn’t right.
Oxygen. He was running low.
There was something in his hand, and when he looked down, he saw it was a thruster component.
That was the whole reason he was out here, right? Replace the component.
He was pretty sure.
He was lightheaded, and there was a certain unreality to everything. Breathing in seemed to take more effort than it usually did, and his lungs ached dully. He glanced down at the port, and the part that needed to be replaced was instantly apparent, blackened and half-way disintegrated. He tugged on it for a moment, and at last it popped free. Carefully,
methodically, he clipped it to his belt, since he apparently couldn’t trust his fumbling hands to hold onto it for any length of time. Then he pulled out the spare part and began trying to fit it into the empty space.
This was more difficult, as the slot was narrow and his hands were unsteady.
Jez could probably do it. If she was here, it wouldn’t even be a problem.
He smiled to himself, despite his growing headache and the dull burning in his lungs, then turned back to his task, frowning.
Breathing was getting more difficult, and he wasn’t entirely certain why.
Oxygen. He was low on oxygen. Again that spike of panic.
He needed to get back.
No, he needed to get this component in.
Something crackled in his earpiece, static and clicking. Did he sound like that when he called back? Probably.
Get the part in. He had to get the part in.
Finally, it slipped into place, and he breathed a shallow breath of relief and fumbled with clumsy hands for the door to the access port. It should just slip on, he was pretty sure, but he managed to almost drop it twice taking it off his belt.
His earpiece crackled again, and he jumped.
His head was spinning now, and he felt dizzy. If he let go, he wasn’t sure if he’d fall down or up.
He laughed again. No gravity. He was on a space walk. He’d just float away.
The thought was unaccountably funny.
He shook his head, and turned back to the port.
Get the access hatch back on, that was the first thing. Then he could worry about the rest. There was something urgent he needed to do, but he didn’t have time to think about it until he got this damn hatch back on.
At last it popped into place, and somehow, with the multitool, he tightened it, but his awkward efforts let the tool skitter across the surface. He pulled it back and peered carefully at the place.
Good. No scratches. Because if he scratched the ship, Jez would kill him. And somehow he couldn’t bear to hurt her. He didn’t want Jez to be hurt, at all. He’d prefer if she never got hurt ever again.
