by Ginger Booth
He surprised Cortez by levering onto his bad arm. Using his hands, he hauled his injured leg toward the hole – knee self-repair was still far from complete – and scooted forward to sit with his legs parallel to the hole into the hold.
Sass understood his predicament. She was already braced, and kicked Cortez’s feet into position. “Haul on his belt, get a good hold. Then roll him in. Just hold him there until we close the hatch.” Sass couldn’t grab him herself because she still carried Lavelle. “Clay, if you could cut your grav to point 3 relative to the ship, as soon as you’re in?”
“Got it.”
Feeling like an awkward log, Clay let Cortez roll him into the trapdoor. He cut his grav the moment he felt her firmly press him against the wall. His helmet lodged at just the right angle to watch the floor close half a meter below his face. Below the doors, suddenly the dust erupted into a maelstrom. The next clear view showed a brief glint of the domes beneath, grown small, just before the floor sealed shut.
He reached an arm and leg down to the door-become-floor, and Cortez let him free.
Sass demanded, “Was anyone left alive down there?”
“Not ours,” Clay commented acidly.
“We still don’t have Wilder back!”
“Captain to the bridge,” Ben interrupted. “ASAP, sar.”
“Roger that,” Sass growled. She punched the release button five times until the airlock ready light turned green and it accepted input. She hopped out without a backward glance. She didn’t bother to pull off her helmet or drop her gun, just twisted her gravity to near-nothing and hopped a few steps up the slide to the catwalk.
Cortez and Clay carried Lavelle to join the overflow crowd at the auto-doc.
42
Nothing in the surviving records adequately explains why Mahina broke out of its isolation.
Sass paused at the top of the slide. A strange woman stood in her galley, putting together a sandwich plate. Someone must have ordered her to the kitchen the second she boarded to keep her out of the way.
She wore her hair long, glorious waves of orange. She hadn’t removed her pressure suit yet. Like most adult urbs until their expiration date rolled around, she appeared around 25. She hadn’t aged a day since the last time Sass saw her around the city. “Dr. Carruthers?”
“Yes?” The scientist turned, raising an irritated eyebrow. “Ah, Sass Collier. Good to see you again.”
“You as well. I’m needed in the bridge. Come with me please. Bring your lunch. Grab some fruit.”
“I –” Genevieve Carruthers started to object, but thought better of it. “Fine.”
Sass didn’t wait for her, continuing on to the bridge. “What’s happening?” She dumped her weapons behind Ben’s chair and started pulling off her armored vest. The guys weren’t wearing p-suits. Well, she should probably leave hers on, then.
Abel replied, “We are leaving Sagamore near space. On course to exit the rings. Want to chat with anyone before we go?”
“Did we retrieve Wilder while I wasn’t looking?” Sass inquired acidly.
“Nope,” Abel confirmed. “We also did not acquire the second skyship worth of foodstuff containers from Sagamore Dome. We have not visited with Sagamore Orbital. All of those people would be delighted to discuss it with you. Because they sure don’t like my choices.”
Carruthers caught up. Sass took the plate from her, grabbed a quarter sandwich and a peach, and passed the rest to Ben. “Thanks!”
Turning to Abel, she replied, “I’d very much like to siphon the historical database from Sagamore Orbital. Especially any records of the Gannies departing this system. Unless, Dr. Carruthers? Did you ever get that data?”
“Why would I care about the Gannies?”
Sass passed her plate back to her, with a quarter sandwich and a plum pit. “Is there anything you do care about at SO?”
“It’s much like MO,” the scientist suggested. She appeared unsure whether she still wanted to eat what they’d left her of her sandwich. Sass poised her hand above it, giving her a hard eye. Carruthers snatched the remaining quarter and bit in, eyes closing in enjoyment. She sighed. “So tired of rego fish paste.”
“You’ll eat well on my ship,” Sass promised. “Once our cook is out of medical. Abel, is SO actively hostile at this juncture?”
“There is a misunderstanding about why we blew a hole in an inhabited dome.”
“I still want Wilder back,” Sass growled.
“Our star drive awaits at Hell’s Bells,” Abel countered. “As do Seitz and Griffith. It is Gossamer’s home base, captain.”
“Who am I talking to on SO?”
“A Commander Fusston.”
“Sagamore Orbital, this is Thrive Actual, over.”
Ben shot a trio of metallic rocks. Their newly trained guns were doing a bang-up job – literally – on the asteroid threats. But they were not at pressure security. The hold was full of air and med bay had patients out of pressure suits. And Copeland made clear that if another metallic rock ever hit his hull again, Ben could damned well fix the hole himself.
“Did you want me to stop here, captain?” Abel inquired, making clear that he really didn’t want to.
“No. Exit the rings,” Sass agreed. “Hold over Sagamore in clear space while I chat.”
“Thrive, this is Sagamore Orbital Actual, Commander Fusston. Who the hell is Thrive Actual?”
Sass identified herself and switched them to a chatting channel. “Commander Fusston, I have a request. Would it be possible to get a copy of your data core? You are welcome to omit anything sensitive or security related. We are primarily interested in historical data.”
“You just blew up a fucking dome! Innocent people died in that dome!”
“Actually, we did not. The Gossamer had remote control of my ship at that time. To be fair, Gossamer did not shoot the dome, either. The gun turret fired on Thrive. We returned fire to disable the gun. Debris happened. That is what damaged the dome.”
“That’s not how I heard it!”
“Commander, I assure you. I personally walked through that dome not 15 minutes ago. That’s what happened. We are interested in historical data.”
“Why the fuck would I give you historical data?”
“Because I’m asking nicely?”
“Shooting a dome isn’t asking nicely!”
Sass took a bite of her peach. She feared Commander Fusston suffered high blood pressure. “What would be asking nicely? What do you want?” She raised an eyebrow at Carruthers hopefully.
“Posarium,” the scientist returned. “The surface doesn’t give them much. Sagamore medicine is based on posarium. Fascinating chemistry. I’m carrying a ton of it back to Mahina in my container.”
Fusston was still swearing a blue streak, suggesting what exactly he wanted of Sass and her thrice-damned ship.
“Mind if I trade a quarter ton of it?” Sass asked Carruthers.
Carruthers recoiled. “For data? Offer 50 kilos, see if he bites.”
Sass clicked back into the channel. “Commander, would you like 50 kilos of posarium?” She waited until he spluttered to a stop. “That was 50 kilos of posarium, in exchange for your data core. I’m primarily interested in ancient history. Ganymedes. Settlement of Sagamore. For security, you could lop off anything that happened in the past 20 years or so.”
Silence.
“Not interested in posarium?”
“Make it 100 kilos.”
“I’ll give you 75.”
“Deal.”
“When might you have that ready? Say, 24 hours from now?”
“You can dock within the hour,” Fusston replied.
Abel turned to glare at her.
“Not today, I think,” Sass returned. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Thrive out.”
Abel growled, “Sure, everyone’s willing to deal with you.”
Sass grinned at him. “Bet you didn’t ask the good doctor.”
“She wasn’t here yet
at the time.”
Sass laughed. “Who are you dealing with on Gossamer?”
“Clarke.” Abel spat it like an epithet.
“Chatty dude,” Sass allowed, and clicked to the hailing channel. “Gossamer, this is Thrive Actual. Come in.”
Fusston was downright courteous compared to Clarke.
“Mind if fix another plate?” Carruthers asked.
“Only if you’re willing to bring us back one,” Sass said, challenge in her eye.
“Fine!”
“Clarke –” Sass attempted several times before she managed to cut in, “We’ve got Lavelle.”
“What?”
“One – we’ve got Lavelle. Two – we want Wilder back. Three – we have a deal with Sagamore Orbital. Four – we have a deal for Hell’s Bells that will triple your agricultural yields. Freshwater aquaponics.”
Clarke considered that for a moment. “Let me talk to Lavelle.”
“He’s in bad shape. I’ll have to get back to you.”
“Fine. We are loading only three containers instead of our usual four. Then we’ll depart Dome.”
“Do not approach us within gun range,” Sass warned him. “Say 200 klicks? Do we have an understanding?”
“Agreed.”
“Thrive out.” Sass patted Abel’s shoulder. “You did great.”
Abel shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t do squat.”
“Not true. You got us the hell out of there. You did perfect. Ben, once we’re out of the rings, if anyone comes within 200 klicks of us? Fire at will.”
“Is that a survivable scenario?” Ben asked.
“I doubt it,” Sass replied. “But keep a happy thought. Abel, you want me to drive? You can check on medical.”
He was out of his seat like a shot.
“Give my love to Jules!” Sass called behind him. “And call me –” He was already gone. She could ask after Lavelle later.
She slid into the pilot’s seat and spent a moment considering how she might know when to override the AI. The ship seemed to do quite a creditable job of dodging and firing by itself now, with an occasional override by Ben on the guns.
Life was good, temporarily. Her immediate to-do list loomed large, but until Thrive exited the rings, she could sit for a breather in pure clean air.
“Ben. Bring me up to date. We haven’t talked in days.”
43
Schuyler is the preeminent city of Mahina now. But the pleasant college town of Mahina Actual was the original capital.
The med bay cleared out nicely. Sass approved of Abel’s management of the problem while she sat and kibitzed with Ben on the bridge. Any urb who did human biology research started with a medical doctor degree, so he shanghaied Carruthers to help Eli sort out their wounded.
The med bay was down to just Lavelle now in the auto-doc, lights low on a quiet susurrus of air systems. Sass gave Eli a hug and praised him fulsomely for his heroic nursing. Then she dismissed him to get back to his seed and fish embryo manufacturing, so crucial to their negotiations with the hellbellies.
Sass checked the auto-doc displays. Lavelle was damned lucky to survive the laser shots he’d taken. The auto-doc advised he stay cocooned for another two days for a full recovery.
She was happy to see that all traces of their rough handling – frostbite, hypoxia, toxin exposure, lung damage – were already resolved. The auto-doc busied itself on rebuilding lased organs now.
She pressed a button to rouse him from drug-induced oblivion, and settled on the gurney to hold his hand and stroke his face. She allowed him to float up to consciousness at his own speed.
His eyelids fluttered, and he sighed.
Sass reached for a cup of water and offered it through a straw. “You’re not actually thirsty,” she prattled. “The auto-doc keeps you hydrated and fed intravenously. But your mouth gets dry.”
Lavelle nodded and sipped obediently. She gave him a few more moments to pull his thoughts together. “Why?” he asked. “Save me.”
“Leverage,” Sass replied. “But I do like you, Pierre. I wouldn’t have slept with you otherwise.” Probably. “I really think there’s potential for trade between Mahina and Hell’s Bells. Via Gossamer, and maybe Thrive, too.”
“Martin would –” he began. “Martin’s dead.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I think Gossamer lost at least six crew. I don’t know how many died on the surface when the dome was breached. But Gossamer is safe outside the rings now, as are we.”
“I failed utterly.”
Sass squeezed his hand and pressed another sip of water on him. “Failure is inevitable. As a stepping stone to success. I told you this, Pierre. I tried a rebellion once, too. Been there, done that. I think I’ve found a better way.”
He huffed a half-laugh. “And you told me you’re a hundred years old. Is that what this machine does?”
Carruthers had confirmed that Sagamore medicine did not employ auto-docs or the nanites the technology depended on. The pirates walked by this med bay a hundred times without realizing what strangeness it held.
“No, but it will heal you completely.” She pulled the monitor around to show him, “in 42 more hours. This number. If you choose to stay that long.” She paged through a few displays itemizing the carnage wrought on his internal organs, skeleton and musculature, as well as skin and mucus membranes.
“I’m trying to trade you for one of my people, Wilder,” Sass explained. “If you want to leave us tomorrow, we could do that. Or you could stay and we do the trades at Hell’s Bells. Am I going to get screwed? Is my guy safe on Gossamer?”
He figured the angles for a few dopey minutes. “Clarke is in charge? He lacks imagination. I assume Gossamer doesn’t control your ship anymore?”
“No,” Sass agreed. “We could have kicked you out of our systems days ago. But we wanted to visit Sagamore, and it sounded dangerous. If we’d realized how dangerous, we wouldn’t have gone. But then you offered to escort us. Ish.”
That surprised a wincing laugh out of him, quickly smothered by the auto-doc adjusting his sedative level. “I was a fool.”
“I still am.”
“What do you want, Sass Collier?”
“I want you to save Sagamore, Pierre. To the extent I care, in the long run. In the short run, I want you to tell Clarke you’re healing and to be nice to my guy. Medium term, I want you to bring trade with Hell’s Bells to Mahina. Think about it.”
“I can speak to Clarke?”
“That depends. What are you going to tell him?”
Pierre closed his eyes. “To accept your terms. And we’ll talk more when I’m well.”
“Any way he could give us our guy back now? Maybe deposit him at Sagamore Orbital for pickup? We could drop you there.”
Pierre Lavelle’s face scrunched. “Not the orbital for me. No. I could try for your man. I surrender unconditionally, madame. If you will let me finish healing in this device, I happily remain here.”
Sass pursed her lips, trying to decide whether she believed him. “Screw over Wilder, and I unplug you from the auto-doc, to writhe in agony on the floor until I offload you on Sagamore Orbital.”
“I accept your carrots, Sass. No need for sticks.”
“Good.” She fished out her comms. “Ben, connect me to Clarke on Gossamer. Lavelle will get Wilder delivered to Sagamore Orbital for pickup.”
Clarke was indeed crotchety, but Lavelle sweet-talked him around to his way of thinking. Wilder was somewhat the worse for wear, but would be deposited at Sagamore Orbital as Sass requested. Clarke would follow Sass’s orders to make rendezvous at Hell’s Bells to retrieve the pirate captain.
Sass disconnected the call all smiles. “Thank you very much. Now that’s all sorted out, there’s a slight wrinkle.”
Lavelle raised a dubious eyebrow.
“We only have one auto-doc, and you can’t hog it,” Sass explained. “But not to worry. In,” she checked the display, “about 7 hours you should be stable
enough to move without setback. Then you give someone else a turn. We’ll keep you comfortable on drugs. You’d better hope Wilder is in good shape. But you should be fine by the time we reach Hell’s Bells. OK?”
This was a rhetorical question. She pressed the button to restore auto-doc control of his consciousness. She kissed her pirate’s forehead as he sunk back under the opiate waves of healing sleep.
The trades at Sagamore Orbital went off without a hitch the next day, Gossamer long gone. Having sampled the questionable delights of Mahina Orbital, and having zero confidence in the sanity of Sagamores, Sass didn’t allow her people onto the station, nor any of the natives on board her ship.
Abel and Copeland retrieved 100 kilos of the posarium from the container latched to Thrive’s belly while they were outside the rings, a metaphysical experience Kassidy tagged along to capture on video.
At the station, all they needed to do was dock. They handed over 75 kilos of posarium to Commander Fusston, and received Wilder on a grav gurney in return, with the data block perched beside him. They cordially agreed to keep each other’s grav carriers, shook hands, and parted ways.
Cortez was managing the med bay since the auto-doc repaired her shoulder, during Lavelle’s first eviction from the device. She kicked him out again to install Wilder immediately. Both patients were too tanked on painkillers to care.
Clay quickly confirmed – employing his best electronic quarantine measures – that the data dump held what was promised. Actual study would take far longer.
And they were on their way back to Hell’s Bells, following the shining ribbons of glittering ice that were the rings of Pono.
44
Something happened to radically accelerate scientific progress on Mahina about a century after its founding. This coincides with the beginning of the end of its isolation. Was this cause or effect? Unclear.
“Thank you for joining us, Dr. Carruthers,” Sass welcomed, opening the meeting around the galley table after dinner the next day. “Sorry our departure from Sagamore was a little chaotic.” She smiled.
