by Jack Dann
“Yes, ma’am, Captain Murchison ma’am,” Gerry said, grinning as he unbuckled his safety harness. “I guess I am glad you got your license today.” Then, as he clambered around to go through the hatch to the passenger compartment, “Of course, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d done what Mama told you.”
Andi reached over and smacked his backside just as he went through. “Or if you and Bird had done what I told you. Just how did you get caught, anyway?”
“She’s still unconscious,” Gerry said, without answering that. “But I can lift her . . . just a second.” Various creaks and clunks. “I've got one of the seats flattened out.”
“I don’t know if you should lift her,” Andi said. “What if her neck’s broken or something?”
“Andi!” That was Gallagher. “Are you talking about your little sister? Is she still unconscious?”
“Yes,” Andi said. “Gerry’s flattened out one of the seats; he was going to move her up there and strap her in for landing. ”
“Tell him not to move her; I’ll get a medic in here to give you advice.”
Andi turned to the hatch. “Did you hear that, Gerry? They said don’t move her until they talk to a medic.”
“I heard. You know, Andi, these seats are really fancy. You can lower them almost to the floor by pushing a button.”
“Don’t play with the seats, Gerry,” Andi said. “I still want to know—”
“Captain Murchison, let’s talk about your landing protocol.” That was Gallagher again. Andi blinked.’ The older woman had called her Andi before, like an, adult talking to a child. Why was she being formal now?
“Yes, ma’am?” she said, trying to read the expression on that older face. Beside her now on the screen were two other faces, a young man in a coat like those she’d seen at the Clinic, and an older man in the same green uniform as Gallagher’s.
“As you know, the autopilot function can safely land a shuttle in an emergency situation in vertical mode, but cannot bring it to dock. If you choose to let the autopilot land your craft, it must be at least 500 meters from Base, and you will then require a tow vehicle to bring you dockside—”
“But I can bring it in myself!” Andi said.
“That is true. You have a license; the shuttle has accepted you as its commander. You have every legal right to land and dock the shuttle yourself. And—since I’ve now seen your scores on your exam—you probably have the skills to bring your family shuttle—the one you trained in—into dock very neatly.”
A pause, during which Andi stared at the screen, wondering what was coming, and Gallagher stared back. The man in green turned to Gallagher. “Are you crazy, Naomi? Look at her! She’s barely out of the cradle and this is her first actual flight, and it’s not even the model she knows! You can’t be thinking of letting her try it, even if she didn’t have an injured child aboard! You’ve got to exercise prime authority.”
Gallagher raised a hand, and the man fell silent, his mouth shutting like a trap. “It’s my choice, Sam. You gave me this job. She’s obviously bright, with plenty of initiative, and besides—it’s her legal right.”
He snorted, but said nothing more. Gallagher looked at Andi. “Captain Murchison, let me express my concern about your landing that particular shuttle. It’s not the shuttle you trained in. Every craft is a little different in its responses. I believe that even so you are capable of landing it safely enough—I believe the probability of your doing so is quite high, perhaps as high as 92 percent. The landing might be a tad rough without doing you or the craft any harm. But we do not know the condition of your little sister. If in fact she has other injuries than drug-induced unconsciousness— injury to her neck or spine, for instance—then the slightest jolt on landing could do her permanent damage or even kill her.”
“How—how smooth is an autopilot landing?” Andi asked, her mouth dry.
“It depends on the quality of the A.I.-autopilot interface. Frankly, I would not care to trust it in this instance, since I can’t personally examine that interface. There is another possibility.”
“What?” Andi asked.
“Through this communications link, I can remotely control your craft and bring it to dock myself, if you relinquish command to me and certify that with your A.I. Naturally you would do this only if you thought I could do better. I know I can do it; you don’t yet, but I brought Sam along to back up my claim to be a very experienced pilot, including in remote-control situations.”
***
“Captain Murchison, it is your decision. I will not take control of your ship without your permission—I could do so but I won’t, not unless your maneuvers risk injury to the Dome. Under law, you get to make the choice.”
“You want me to let you bring us in,” Andi said. She could feel herself drooping, imagining them brought in by someone else, like helpless babies.
“It’s an option,” Gallagher said. There was no urgency in her voice, no anger, nothing for Andi to take hold of and resent.
“I thought maybe—” Andi stopped. She had had a flash of inspiration minutes back, but hadn’t really thought it out yet. In law, citizens who helped capture criminals could claim part of whatever the criminals had when they were captured. Like, for instance, this shuttle, because surely workforce pirates were criminals. Even with all that had gone wrong, she felt a river of joy right under the surface; she and this shuttle belonged together. She was Captain Murchison; the ship didn’t care if she was short and ugly. With her own ship, she could be free, she could go anywhere. She glanced up to the sky, full as it was of deadly danger and immense opportunity.
“I wondered about. . . about salvage,” she said. She hated the wavering, pleading tone in her voice. “It says in the law—”
Gallagher actually grinned. “You little monkey! You never stop thinking, do you?” Her voice changed back to the steady, reasonable tone of the earlier conversation. “Captain Murchison, on my word as a senior pilot, I will not put in a salvage claim for any assistance rendered, and you can see my two witnesses right here.”
“Naomi, this is ridiculous!” the man in green said.
“Sam, quit judging her by her size. That’s a born pilot adventurer, or I’m a backhills miner. Now speak up and confirm what I said.”
Andi’s mood lifted; she felt two meters tall. A born pilot adventurer? Someone else saw that in her?
“All right. Er . . . Captain Murchison, I stand witness that Senior Pilot Gallagher has renounced any claim for salvage as a result of any assistance given you in docking at Base.”
“And I, Medic First Class Patel,” the other man said. “I heard and confirm what Senior Pilot Gallagher said. But please, Captain, do consider what is best for the child who is not conscious. If I may—?” He looked at Gallagher, who nodded. “Is there anyone aboard who knows how to take a pulse, without moving the child’s head?”
“I . . . don’t know,” Andi said. “I’ll ask.” Gerry had helped Mama with Damon—they all had—but she didn’t know if that translated into taking pulses. Gerry, when she asked, shook his head. He was sitting beside Bird, on the deck. “No,” she told the medic. “I’m sorry . . .”
“But she is breathing?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Do you have anything, any pillows or blankets or anything, that could be put so her head won’t wobble around if there’s a bump?”
Again, Andi asked Gerry, who found nothing but a jacket wadded up in one of the lockers. The medic explained how it should be placed, and suggested that Gerry sit with her and try to hold her head still “without pushing on it at all!”
So . . . Gerry and Bird would be unrestrained, not safely strapped in, when the shuttle landed. Andi didn’t like that. She looked at the altimeter and the rate-of-descent indicator. The A.I. was bringing them smoothly down, exactly as ordered. Another few minutes and they would be at 500 meters, and then . . . then it would be time to make a landing. One way or another.
“You really need t
o listen to Naomi,” the other man—Sam somebody—said. “She’s an outstanding pilot; I’ve been on expeditions with her; she was senior pilot on the Io—”
“Ma’am,” Andi said to Gallagher. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Captain Murchison,” Gallagher said.
“So far this shuttle hasn’t felt that different. The A.I. told me because I had only a Class C license, there were functions I couldn’t access. From what I can tell, it just means I have to go slower and pick more conservative maneuvers.”
Gallagher nodded. “Most high-performance craft do have safeguards like that.”
“So ... is there anything I’m likely to need, in landing, that would be blocked? If there were an ... an emergency? You don’t do anything . . . anything extreme in landing, ever, I thought.”
“That’s true,” Gallagher said. “The only thing I can think of that might cause such a problem would be a serious drive malfunction, requiring some fairly extreme uses of steering jets. Very unlikely, I’d think.”
“But it could happen?”
“Yes, it could. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell exactly what functions are blocked without getting into your system.” She said nothing more. What she might have said spoke up in Andi’s mind as if telepathy were real. Unlikely or not, something can always go wrong. Are you willing to risk your little sister’s life just so you can show off?
“Mama says never ask for help,” Andi muttered to herself.
Gallagher clearly heard that. “Your family’s very independent; that’s probably what made you such a self-starter.”
Andi struggled to understand what she was feeling. She wanted to land the ship herself; she wanted to go away—far away from Base and her family—somewhere with the ship and . . . and do something, she couldn’t think what. She wanted to please Gallagher—which was probably letting Gallagher land the shuttle. But Gallagher wasn’t pushing her, wasn’t making clear what she wanted. “Pilot adventurer” warred with “just a child” and her worry about Bird and her other worry about Beth and Vinnie, and yet other worries about Damon and Mama and what Mama was going to do to her when she found out . . .
“I think,” she said, and stopped. Gallagher waited. Then it came out in a rush, as if someone else were speaking. “I want to do it myself; I think I can do it myself. But I’m not sure, and Bird and Gerry aren’t strapped in and even if they were they’re—well Bird is—just a kid. It’s not fair. Mama says nothing’s fair and don’t trust anybody and I can’t ever have what I want and she didn’t want me to take the test, so it’s my fault, because I did anyway, and ... I think I can do it. But... I think you should do it. But not because I’m scared to try.”
Gallagher nodded. “I will do my best, Captain Murchison, to bring you in without jarring your sister at all. Here’s what you need to do.” She explained the sequence of commands that would slave the A.I. to her master pilot’s certificate. “Now, Captain, I’d like you to remain on the bridge—er, in the cockpit—and observe closely. We will be in constant contact, so if you see anything that concerns you, be sure to tell me. You’re my copilot. I may need to hand over some specific tasks. It’s just a bit trickier to fly one of these things remotely.”
Andi had expected Now just sit back and don’t worry. “Th-thank you,” she managed.
Then she gave the A.I. the commands and that pleasant voice said, “Command change logged: Captain Murchison relinquishes command to Base senior pilot Gallagher. Welcome, Captain Gallagher.”
Gallagher took them out of the slow descent and made a circuit to the left that ended with the shuttle approaching Base directly. “Now what we’re going to do,” Gallagher said to Andi, “is try for a zero-relative-motion touchdown. Given the medical concerns, and your sister’s position on the floor—I have access to the compartment visuals now—Medic Patel says a vertical will be best. What I want you to do is monitor any sideways drift— there’s often a little current coming off the side of the dome, or a little bleed from the dock seals. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Captain Gallagher,” Andi said, returning courtesy for courtesy.
“Excellent. Barring emergencies, you are now authorized as my copilot, under my license, and all functions are available to you.”
Andi watched the view outside until Gallagher brought the shuttle to a hover. Then she looked only at the readouts: the nav lasers, locked onto the shuttle pad X below, gave their position more accurately than she’d be able to see.
“We’re going down,” she said to Gerry. “Don’t move.”
“I think Bird’s waking up.”
“Well, talk to her or something. Don’t let her move.” From the corner of her right eye, she could see the shape of the dome moving upward. She forced her eyes back to the controls. The shuttle was coming down perfectly centered in the landing zone as steadily as a bead sliding down a string. Then the side of Base filled the windows on that side, and she felt the first shudder, the first tendency to tip and skid away as the downblast came off the Base wall to the side as well as the landing pad itself.
Her hands countered it with the steering jets almost as the shuttle moved, and brought it back to center. It didn’t take much—but it was pure pride now that held her, pride more than fear. She could do it; she could show them.
And then they were down, the shuttle safely grounded so gently that Andi didn’t know herself when the skids touched.
“We have a medical team standing by in the docking area, Captain Murchison,” Gallagher said. “You have control of your ship now. Do you need help with the hatches? The ground crew says the forward one appears to have been dented.”
“One of the men did that,” Andi said. She touched the A.I. control and informed the pleasant voice that they needed to complete docking procedures and open the passenger compartment hatch.
“Life support and electrical umbilical hookup complete,” the A.I. told her a moment or two later, as the outside spy-eye flicked on and she saw a small crowd waiting. Medics in obvious medical clothing. Men and women in uniform. Andi looked for Gallagher but didn’t see her. “Passenger hatch open. Open cargo hatches?”
“Not now,” Andi said. She could hear the people outside. Who would they be? Where was Gallagher? And what was she supposed to do? Captains stayed with their ship, but Gerry and Bird would need her. She unbuckled her harness and twisted around to look into the passenger compartment.
A man and a woman who looked like medics were just climbing aboard. The man met Andi’s gaze. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Ron and this is Claire. We’re here to take care of Bird—” The woman went down on one knee; Andi couldn’t see what she was doing from there. She spoke into a shoulder mike, but Andi couldn’t hear what she said. Then the woman turned and smiled at Andi.
“She’s alive and I don’t think she has any broken bones,” Claire said. “We’re going to take her to the clinic to be sure and to help her wake up.”
“Should I come with her?” Andi asked.
“Senior pilot Gallagher is coming to see you,” Claire said.
“And someone should stay with the shuttle, for legal reasons. What about you, though, Gerry? Why don’t you come along?”
Gerry gave Andi a frantic look. “I want us to stay together,” he said. The cocky assurance of that morning seemed to have melted away in the last hour or so.
“If I have to stay here, Bird needs someone with her she knows,” Andi said. “Please do it, Gerry. You were a big help—”
He put his head back into the cockpit. “You were great, Andi. Whatever happens. I thought when they grabbed me I was done for; I hoped you’d figure it out but I never thought you’d be smart enough to get put in with us.”
She didn’t have time to tell him that had nothing to do with being smart before the medics had Bird out of the ship and onto a litter, and called Gerry to follow. Two men in gray-blue uniforms, who said they were Base proctors, came aboard then.
“Pop the aft hatches,” one of them
said. “We need to inspect the cargo.”
“Yes, sir,” Andi said. The A.I. unlocked the hatches on her command and one of the men climbed back out. The other poked around the passenger compartment, opening and shutting all the locker doors.
“What are you looking for?” Andi asked.
“Whatever’s here,” the man said. “Look, kid, I’m not supposed to talk to you; you’ll have to make a statement to the chief investigating officer later.”
“A statement?”
“What happened. Start to finish. Now just let me finish this inventory.”
Andi felt shaky. Now that it was all over, she was hungry, thirsty, and she really could use the bathroom, if that man would ever leave her alone.
She heard a familiar voice outside and glanced at the external view: Mama, arguing with a man in uniform at the other end of the docking area. She boosted the external pickup.
“I don’t care; she’s my daughter and you have to let me see her. How do I know she’s all right? The other two went to the Clinic? I have a right to see her; she’s my daughter.”
Andi wanted to sink through the cockpit all the way through Base to the center of Ganymede. Mama was in what Pop called a spittin’ rage, and she could tell from the man’s posture that he was going to cave in and let Mama come to the shuttle. She was trapped again, this time strapped in as well. She fumbled with the buckles but before she got them all undone, Mama was at the hatch.
“You get out of there and let my child alone!” Mama said.
“Excuse me?” the proctor said. “Who are you?”
“I’m her mama, and we don’t need any of your interference,” Mama said. Andi yanked the last buckle loose and turned around.
“He’s not interfering,” she said. “He’s investigating.”
“Don’t give me any of your sass, girl,” Mama said. “You have well and truly done it this time. You didn’t take that pill, did you?”
