Junkyard Heroes

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Junkyard Heroes Page 7

by Tracy Cooper-Posey


  Noa’s heart squeezed. Two. Haydn Forney had guessed right. She recalled the last hour she had sat at the table, while Forney had coached her on the design parameters for a pressure suit. “I hope one of the suits will be small enough for me,” she said carefully. She put the cup back on Magorian’s desk, because her hand was shaking.

  He lifted a single brow. “Does it matter what size it is? You’ll fit inside it, anyway.”

  She shook her head. “Putting on a pressure suit isn’t like putting on a business suit.” She glanced at Magorian’s shirt and admired the dull gleam once more. “It takes forty minutes or more to get into one. Another thirty to take one off. That’s not something you want to do every time you need to pee.”

  Magorian blinked and sat back. “No, I don’t suppose you would.” He considered her for a moment. “Building in something like that would be simple enough, I imagine…for a man, anyway.”

  This was exactly what Forney had warned her about. “Plumbing for a woman is three times more complex than for a man,” he’d said. “They’ll try to exclude you just on that alone. You have to convince them it’s worth the time and effort to design a suit for a woman.” He’d gone on to explain how she could do that.

  Noa gave Magorian a small smile. “It’s simple for a woman, too. It’s just different. There are three attachments instead of two.”

  “Three…!” He frowned. “Oh, I guess all the bio-waste would have to be dealt with.”

  Noa nodded. “The ancient suits would have been built for women, too. It’s just a matter of finding the old designs and adapting them for modern materials and construction methods. Then, suits can be made for anyone who needs to go outside. Even the Captain could step out and have a look at the stars for herself, if she wanted to.”

  Magorian’s mouth parted. Then he closed it and his eyes narrowed. “Are you playing me, Ms. Doria? Reminding me the Captain is a woman and wants to go outside as much as you do?”

  “She does?” Noa shook her head. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Maybe not, but you waved the Captain in front of me just the same. I see I am going to have to keep up my guard with you more than I thought.” Only, he was smiling.

  Noa let out a trembling breath and reached for the chocolate. She needed to grip something. Forney’s ploy had worked.

  Magorian got to his feet. “You’d better join the meeting, Noa. Come along.”

  “What meeting?” She got to her feet and thought about putting the cup back on the desk. She didn’t want to lose the last half of decadent beverage, so she clutched the cup to her chest instead.

  “Bannister is leading the team to design the suits. He thought he had all the experts he needed. I think he might have overlooked one.”

  * * * * *

  Lizette kept her hands by her sides as Dennis Meyrick worked, his fingers moving over the terminal controls with practiced speed. She watched the text on the screen. He was working at the base level of code, invoking sub-routines using raw commands.

  “Do you use base commands all the time?” she asked. “Or are you just trying to impress me?”

  She pressed her fingers to her mouth as Meyrick looked at her, frowning. Why had she said that?

  “You recognize base commands?” Then he rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. You taught yourself legacy coding.”

  “You made that sound like a bad thing.”

  Meyrick shrugged. “I know people who can recite poetry in Latin. It doesn’t make them linguists.”

  He thought she was a parlor magician. Lizette stared at him, hurt squeezing her chest and her throat. Coders. Over the years she had heard all sorts of stories about how truly strange they could be. Social etiquette was unknown to most of them. This was a taste, then, of what they could really be like.

  She wanted to turn and walk away, but didn’t, because Noa needed her help. Lizette recalled Noa’s face when she had been speaking of Daniel’s death and how that had made her want to find out why it had happened. She remembered that Noa had thrown up in front of Magorian, yet had still talked her way into being a part of the investigation.

  So Lizette lifted her chin. She realized with a start she had to look up at Dennis Meyrick. “It might be a trick to know how to read legacy code. It doesn’t change the fact that you need me. So you should be nicer to me.”

  Meyrick’s very blue eyes widened. Then he scowled. “Says the woman who just accused me of showing off.”

  “I just wanted to know why you were using base commands, that’s all.”

  Meyrick studied her, his fingers drumming on the terminal’s dashboard. Then he turned back to the little screen hovering over it. “I have to find the navigation AI code. That—”

  “We have to find it.”

  He let out a breath. “I can’t find code unless I’m actually looking at code. Standard user interfaces just get in the way. So, I’m using base commands.” He scrolled through screens of raw code. “I don’t suppose you care to point out when we find it?”

  Lizette made herself step up next to him and studied the screen. “There isn’t a directory or something?” she asked.

  He glared at her. “You know what the file structures look like, too?”

  She smiled at him.

  Silently, he turned back to the terminal, his shoulders stiff. His fingers stabbed at the controls with controlled fury.

  * * * * *

  Noa only waited long enough to find the first public terminal she could, once she left the Bridge. She worked the controls, her trembling fingers uncooperative, until she had pulled up the Forum.

  Haydn Forney was easy to find, yet his profile was a bare skeleton. There was nothing personal there. Nothing but the dry records that automatically compiled inside a person’s profile, including his financials, which made her brow rise. No wonder he wore rags.

  She wrote a fast message alert.

  Where are you?

  Her finger hovered over the send key. She made herself think it through. Haydn Forney’s was not the first profile she had seen on the Forum that was a fleshless, impersonal record. Some people liked their privacy. They communicated in person, or through the audio and visual networks, which the average citizen couldn’t track.

  Haydn Forney was already hiding out in the Capitol where no one knew him. He would resent being forced to use the Forum, where the entire ship would see him.

  Noa wiped the message and shut down the terminal. She caught the train to the Capitol market square. She had no idea where Haydn lived. She only knew she had seen him in the public areas of the Capitol. She could start there.

  Her search ended there. She found him sitting with his back against a wall, his head leaning back against it, too. He held a rag to his forehead and the rag was red with blood. Capitolinos walked past him as if he wasn’t there.

  Noa crouched down in front of him. “What happened?” she asked, dismayed. She reached for the rag, to lift it away and see for herself.

  Haydn jerked his head away. “Didn’t you hear?” he said bitterly. “The Cavers trashed the little market in the Aventine this morning.”

  “Let me see.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I said, let me see.” She pushed at his hand, making him lift the rag away. There was a cut there. It didn’t look deep, yet she knew from experience that cuts on the forehead tended to bleed a lot. Mechanical engineers put up with endless nicks and scrapes and cuts, when tools and machinery didn’t cooperate.

  She pushed the rag back into place. “Put pressure on it for a moment,” she told him and pulled out the sterile medical patch from her thigh pocket and broke the seal. “Here, let me at it again.”

  This time, he pulled the rag away without protest.

  Noa put the patch over the cut and sealed the edges. “It’s a gro-patch,” she told him. “In a day or two, it will flake away, after it has healed the cut.”

  “I know what a gro-patch is,” he growled.

  “Sometimes, Forney
, I’m surprised you even know your own name.” She sat back on her heels. “Do you like being such a lost soul?”

  He put the bloody rag down next to him. “There are worse ways to live.” Then he frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the Bridge, impressing the shit out of everyone?”

  “I was. That’s why I came looking for you. The meeting finished early because they had nothing to report.” She shook her head. “I was the one who did all the talking.”

  He leaned his head against the wall. This time, it wasn’t to help slow the flow of blood. It was a tired movement. “You said what I told you to say.”

  “I did.” She realized she was smiling. “You got me into that meeting, Haydn. It worked. Everything you said. About the suits, the environmental risks…they all turned gray as they realized what was involved.”

  “That’s what finished the meeting? They all got scared?”

  His sarcasm didn’t upset her. Not today. “They can’t do anything until they find the old schematics. And yeah, I think they all wanted to go away and think about what I said, too.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

  Haydn scowled, then winced as the expression wrinkled the fresh cut. He put his hand to the patch and looked at her. “I didn’t do it for your thanks.”

  “You want to go outside the ship. I know. I don’t think that’s the only reason you helped me, though.” She looked around. Traffic was flowing around them.

  “It is the only reason you need to worry about,” Haydn said.

  “Do you have somewhere to stay?” she asked. “I mean…you’re not homeless, are you?”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. It wasn’t a smile. It was very nearly a sneer. “I don’t care to live at my registered address.”

  “Your father’s place?” she guessed. “Can’t you register for an apartment of your own? You’re an adult.”

  “Then he’d be able to find me.” He shook his head. “Your concern is touching, Doria, but I’m fine.”

  “You keep saying that. Repeating it won’t make me believe it. I have a bed you can use for a few hours. You’re almost falling asleep where you sit.”

  He sat up, snapping upright. “I don’t need your pity.”

  “It’s a thank you, not pity.”

  “I don’t need that, either.” He pushed on the ground, slowly getting to his feet. “Don’t try to do anything for me.”

  “Like you’re doing for me?”

  “I told you—”

  “Yeah. You’re not doing it for me. Only, I think you are. I saw you watching me, when Daniel died. I think you feel responsible for Daniel and for the other engineer who died. I think you’re trying to make up for your father’s ways.”

  Haydn looked down at her. He was a long way up, so she scrambled to her feet and faced him. That didn’t help much, either. He was a tall man, something she hadn’t realized until right now.

  His eyes, which she had thought were black, were actually a deep brown, devoid of any flecks or discolorations. It was a warm color.

  “I don’t do nice,” he said flatly.

  She shook her head.

  Irritation made him scowl again. This time, he didn’t wince. “The only reason I helped you, Doria, is to make sure you succeed. Once you step out onto that hull and everyone sees what you see, my father and his cult of idiots will be destroyed. I have a vested interest in your success and it has nothing to do with you and your friends.”

  Heat shivered through her. Was he really that callous? Had she just made a colossal fool of herself?

  Haydn pulled the coat in around himself. “I don’t need your bed or your charity.” He stepped into the flow of people around them and was swept along with them, out of sight.

  After a while, Noa bent and picked up the bloody rag with the tips of her fingers, holding it by a clean corner. She spotted a recycler and dropped it in. Then she went home, where she called up all the archival texts on basic physics and astral-environmental mechanics and bookmarked them.

  If she learned enough, she could live without Haydn Forney’s dubious help. That would be her reason.

  Chapter Eight

  They found the navigation AI later than afternoon. Lizette was astonished how long it had taken, while Dennis didn’t seem to think it was unusual. “There are three generations of organic code over the top of this stuff,” he pointed out, “and the last time anyone needed the navigation AI for anything was just after the ship reached full speed. The primary course doesn’t change, the speed doesn’t change and there’s nothing to see out there but a lot of black stuff and some stars.”

  “Exactly,” Lizette said, remembering the glow of excitement on Haydn Forney’s face when he had spoken about going outside the ship. “Why wouldn’t anyone want to see the stars?”

  “They can, any time they want,” Dennis shot back. “Look.” He tapped out a command and the huge screen at the front of the Bridge formed an image. Black space, hundreds of pinpoints of light and a glowing red cloud that surrounded many of them.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Lizette said, her breath escaping in a gasp. “That’s what is out there right now?”

  “See?” he said. “Why go outside, when you can look at it on any screen?”

  She stared at the star field. This was what Noa had seen through the hole. She had seen the real thing.

  Lizette shook her head. “It’s not the same, on a screen like that. I can’t even image what seeing it for myself would be like.”

  “It would be exactly the same. Believe me,” Dennis said.

  “No, I don’t think it would be. Not even for a moment.”

  “The screen is an exact representation,” he said, his voice rising.

  She shook her head. “It would feel different.”

  Dennis hissed in frustration. “You’re a mechanic. What would you know?”

  Lizette studied him. In the last few hours, she had lost her timidity. Every snide comment and disparagement had rubbed away a little more of it. Frustration made her chest ache. “Why can’t you read legacy code, anyway?” she demanded.

  Dennis spun to look at her. “What?”

  “Why can’t you read legacy code? Why aren’t all coders taught how to read legacy coding as part of their training? Legacy runs all the autonomic functions of the ship. It is the ship. You’ve ignored it because it’s too basic and digital for your sublime intellects.”

  “It is basic,” he said dismissively.

  “If I wasn’t here, you’d be completely screwed.”

  “Then I guess I’m lucky you’re here.” His tone was withering.

  “I grew up admiring coders. I thought becoming one would be the ultimate career choice. Then I hated you, all of you, for years and years, because you wouldn’t let me in. Only, you know what? Now I’ve met one of you and got to know you, I’m glad I’m not one. Not if it means being like you.”

  His face tightened and turned red, except for two fine white lines running on either side of his mouth.

  Lizette held her breath, afraid she had pushed way, way too far.

  Dennis squeezed his hands into fists. Even his knuckles were white.

  Silently, he turned and stalked off the Bridge.

  Lizette held onto the edge of the shelf where the terminal sat, her knees suddenly weak. Why had she said anything at all? She should have just shut up. Now there was a good chance she had wrecked Noa’s project.

  * * * * *

  After five hours of reading material that left her baffled and confused, Noa gave up. It was still early, yet she had a feeling that everyone would already be at the Midnight Garden, anxious to hear any news.

  She gobbled down a printed meal, barely noticing the taste, except to recall the hot chocolate Magorian had given her with a wistful sigh. There was no need to wash and change as she would after a normal day’s work. She scrubbed at her hair, smoothed it down with the palm of her hand and headed for the Garden.

  Everyone except Lizette was there. Daniel’s emp
ty chair was a missing tooth, constantly drawing her gaze and reminding her of why she was doing this. Cai even put his board down to listen to her description of the morning and her wasted reading that afternoon.

  “It’s as though every second word in a sentence is just letters on the screen,” she confessed.

  “You need to start with something more basic,” Cai said. “Something that explains the concepts.”

  “This is a basic text,” she said grimly. “You know what the first sentence was?”

  Cai shook his head, smiling.

  Noa recalled the offending sentence. “‘As everyone knows, inertial forces play an integral role in the success of any ex-troposphere construction techniques.’”

  Ségolène frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly,” Noa said.

  Cai laughed. “They’re saying that when you build a spaceship in space itself, not inside a gravity well of a planet, then you don’t have to worry about the forces that gravity inflict on a ship taking off from the surface. Instead, the most important force to worry about and to build a ship to cope with is inertia.”

  “The word planet doesn’t appear anywhere in the sentence that Noa just quoted,” Ségolène pointed out.

  “Troposphere,” Cai said instantly. “It’s the atmosphere of a planet, right next to the surface.”

  Ségolène wrinkled her nose. “Fancy words. Plain words work better.”

  “It’s a precise word,” Cai amended.

  Noa frowned. “So I would be better off finding out what each word means, then going back to the text and starting again?”

  “For each time you meet a concept you don’t understand, yes,” Cai said firmly. “Then it will all start to make sense.”

  Peter snorted. “Or you could just ask Haydn Forney and save yourself the trouble.”

  “Speaking of which,” Cai said softly and nodded.

  Noa looked up. Haydn was heading to their tables, an ale in hand. The gro-patch was almost invisible against his forehead. He had washed away all the blood. Instead, there was a new bruise forming on the corner of his jaw.

 

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