“I can tell which cylinder we are over, this is not my only flight in a shuttle,” Zoya snapped back. Then she caught herself. “I am sorry. I appreciate what you are doing I am just…”
Wham!
Something grazed the stubby wing of the shuttle. Brinley expertly corrected for the collision and put the shuttle into a sharp roll to approach the distant hanger bay doors.
“That is what happened before!” Zoya screamed.
“I figured that out. I will flash our external lights so they can open the bay doors.” Brinley agilely adjusted the controls and flashed the lighting. “We are a long way out; I hope they can see us.”
As they rapidly approached the hanger bay, Brinley saw in the distance a spewing fountain of spray dispersing into space in a rotating and moving arc. Those fluids were coming from a Class 9 shuttle which was twirling out of control and heading for the hanger bay. It was leaking fluids, probably thruster fuel and water, as well as jets of gas. There were numerous small plumes erupting from the crippled shuttle.
As they watched, the large shuttle suddenly bucked in a new direction and a section of the tail shredded violently off. A trail of permalloy chunks shot away from the ship. Only two of the shuttle’s thrusters fired, and they did so ineffectually. They then sputtered into nothingness. The ship, eccentrically tumbling, struck the hull hard. The top of the shuttle smashed against the hull. It ripped apart apparatus, mechanical parts, and other equipment on the hull. Debris flew out from the crash in all directions, but the main sections of the shuttle were wedged into the hull in a terrible mess. One wing section was torn completely away and it sluggishly followed along its own new course away from the hull. That gently floating wing section was suddenly obliterated by a vast number of things pummeling it. It disintegrated into a fine cloud of rubble.
“Someone crashed there!” Zoya cried out.
“Indeed,” Brinley said. “the doors are already open. We are going in!”
“They are closing!” Zoya pointed. The wide yellow warning stripes on the doors were observable as the doors came out of their pockets to seal over the hanger bay’s entry. Warning lights were flashing from within the hanger bay.
“Yes, they are. We are tiny compared to them.”
Wham!
The shuttle rocked to the side, but Brinley kept it under control by putting it into a barrel roll and spinning off the transferred force. She was unsure where the ship had been struck that time, or from exactly what direction. It did not seem to be a direct impact, but more of a glancing blow. She worried about their chances for surviving another hit.
They zipped into the hanger bay just moments before the doors drew together too close for them to pass.
“We are inside!” Brinley yelled in triumph. “Yes!!”
Brinley fired the shuttle’s thrusters and it jerkily slowed down. She could not totally recover from the barrel roll, as some of the shuttle’s systems were failing. Brinley used her eyes and mind to determine the correct amount of adjustment and barely looked at the pilot’s display screen. The shuttle responded sluggishly. She lined it up for an emergent landing. It took all of her flight skills.
“Stay together. Yes, you will stay together,” Brinley said as she gritted her teeth and wrestled with the controls. Brinley landed the craft on the pad with only a hard thump. The locking clamp on the inferior aspect of the shuttle secured it down. There was a shuddering grind which was felt thought the shuttle and it was locked down.
Red warning lights were flashing all over the hanger bay. Brinley now looked closer at her pilot’s control display for the shuttle and realized that the cabin pressure was far below tolerable levels. Several other gauges showed near total system failures. She pointed to the display.
“How did we land? How did you do that? We would have died without the spacesuits!” Zoya remarked in astonishment. “The hull was punctured somewhere.”
“Yes, the danger was immense.” Brinley unhooked her restraints and realized that gravity manipulation had returned. She checked the observation deck, and the lights indicated that pressure had returned to the hanger bay. The red warning lights were still flashing wildly. Brinley had never seen the combination of signal colors that she saw now.
“Hanger Bay?” Brinley tried the short range communication.
“Disembark as soon as possible. Do not remain in the hanger bay!” Rodgeeri commanded. Brinley had never heard the Trade Master sound so stressed.
“You heard him, get inside. Keep the suit on!” Brinley yelled as she unplugged the cable between them. She motioned with her hands to emphasize her command.
Zoya leaped into action and threw the levers on the hatch. It burst open, and she jumped out into the hanger bay.
The white automacube paused, but Brinley waved it ahead. It rolled out of the hatch and away toward the bulkhead doors. Zoya was already entering a code to the color pad controls to open the bulkhead doors.
Brinley stepped from the shuttle and realized that the hanger bay had several fires roaring in various places.
“The fires must have started after pressurization happened,” Brinley said to herself as she followed the automacube out through the bulkhead door. The door shut and sealed quickly behind her.
Several teams of service personnel were running down the corridor, and Zoya and Brinley stepped out of their way.
“Depressurizing the bay in five, four, three, two, one.” Rodgeeri’s voice echoed over the short range communication system.
Zoya tapped on Brinley’s bubble helmet. She pointed her finger at her own helmet and made a circling motion.
Brinley nodded and popped open the seal and removed her own helmet.
“Brinley, I can easily survive without atmosphere, you should have preceded me in evacuating the shuttle,” Doctor 147 said in its mechanical voice.
“Sorry about that. I was wrong,” Brinley said sheepishly.
“I am just pleased you two survived that crisis,” Doctor 147 said. “My conjectures were not high on the likelihood of human survival from those impacts.”
“Brinley!” Paul called from down the corridor. He was standing next to Gretchen in a doorway.
“Zoya, we need to get out of the repair crews way. We also need to learn what just happened. I must check in with the Trade Master,” Brinley said as she keyed in on the intercom. “Rodgeeri? How can I be of assistance?”
“Get off the intercom, and away from my hanger bay. No more flights until further notice!” Rodgeeri yelled. “You are very lucky to have landed. I would not have opened the doors for you. We barely got the exterior doors shut in time! Get out of here.”
Brinley signed off. “So where can we talk?”
Gretchen and Paul led Brinley and Zoya away from the hanger bay. Doctor 147 rolled along following.
.
9 how to proceed?
“So you two are the ones who will help rescue my momma?” Zoya asked as she sat down in the comfortable chair in the lounge outside of the hanger bay.
“Well,” Paul sputtered. “That was the idea, until…”
“Yes.” Gretchen interrupted, while glaring at Paul. “We will help you, but we need to figure out what the first steps in doing that are going to be.”
“Brinley?” Paul asked. “Are you injured?”
“No, but that shuttle is kaput. I only got a glimpse of the external damage, but it will take a total re-work to get it functional again. That is, if it can be repaired at all. It will take more than a transmolecular wrench to fix that ship. Not to mention the damage to that hanger bay.”
“We will need to find another shuttle to get us to the Pampas cylinder. We crashed by Exterior Repair Station V-2210. We then were working our way back to the hanger bay nearest there. My momma got infected, and we must get back and save her,” Zoya said. “Brinley said you two saved her and some other people from being a Roe. Jodie said she saw that happen once. You can save my momma, right?”
“Yes, our medical kit can
cure the infection. We will need to find your mother and be in physical contact with her,” Gretchen replied. She tapped the medical kit which hung on her belt. It was next to the holstered pistol made by Willie. Both she and Paul had backpacks and assorted other equipment on their bodies.
“So we leave now!” Zoya stated.
Brinley hesitated for a moment, but then said, “There will be no shuttles from here for some time. That Class 9 was shot down, and nothing will be allowed to leave until the hanger bay is repaired it is safe to fly.”
“Then I will walk there,” Zoya said in determination. “I will save my momma.”
The mechanical voice of Doctor 147 added to the conversation. “A shuttle flight or walking there are not the only two alternatives. There is the transport tube system. I am not a transport automacube, so that is just a consideration.”
“Can that get us where we need to go?” Zoya asked.
“Tennard has been working on it,” Brinley stated. “He is my mentor and very knowledgeable, I am confident in his abilities, but it depends on the status of that system.”
Paul interjected, “He has met some resistance from the Trade Master here, so I am not sure what that system is capable of doing.”
Brinley shot Paul a look and then turned to Zoya. “Come with me now. I need to run to my apartment, and get some things. My primary tools were lost in that shuttle. I will get my secondary set, as well as some weapons. Then we will head to that transport system and see if it can get us where we need to go. We also need to store these spacesuits. Come with me and I will make sure you have the gear you need for this mission.”
Zoya and Brinley trotted away.
“Paul and Gretchen?” Doctor 147 asked. “Again I ask you to allow me to interface with your medical kit to acquire the knowledge of proper treatment and cure for the Outbreak.”
“Well,” Paul said and looked at Gretchen. “We have not gotten in touch with Tiffany to get an evaluation on what your systems linked to the medical kit will do. There is a risk of incompatibility, and the information and treatment might be lost. It is too great a risk. So I guess I say no.”
“I disagree with your assessment of the potential loss of data,” Doctor 147 replied.
“Our medical kit runs off of fusion pack power, your systems are lufi-amalgum powered, right?” Paul asked. “Can you promise complete compatibility?”
“No, I cannot,” the automacube replied.
“We want to share the information,” Gretchen added. “We really do. However, if it is lost, how will it ever be recovered? With Tiffany, we had a backup system for the cure. Since we lost contact with Tiffany, that redundancy is not available. The risk is too much right now. Our data sticks do not work, and have not since we came to the Vanguard. We have not figured out why. The same issue might be the reason we lost contact with Tiffany, and may cause a loss of the medical kit. I know it is mere speculation, but to me the risk is unacceptable. If we are to help Zoya’s mother, we must get the medical kit to her. When we find her it will be much like what happened with Brinley and with Tennard.”
“Also, you are not the only one seeking that information. We met someone named Klara who also seeks to become immune to the infection,” Paul added. “Klara is offering to sell us a map showing a route to where the scout ship is located. If we could go to Tiffany, that might change things considerably.”
“For some reason, I do not trust Klara,” Gretchen added quietly. “There is more to that interaction than I know. I am not sure what is behind all that, but it troubles me.”
“Should I possess that same curative method, and prophylactic dispensary, we could offer more help to more people,” Doctor 147 replied in its mechanical voice. “However, I cannot guarantee absolute safety in interfacing, so your point is noted. I disagree with your risk assessment.”
“After we have Tiffany evaluate the potentials, we will reconsider,” Gretchen stated.
“If that does not happen, what then?” Doctor 147 asked. “If I successfully interfaced with your medical kit, there would be a backup system.”
“But if you were unsuccessful and the information was lost, we have nothing,” Paul said.
“That is where I disagree with your risk assessment. I believe the potential benefit outweighs the potential risk,” Doctor 147 stated.
Before Paul or Gretchen could answer, Brinley and Zoya returned on the run. They each were laden with tool packed belts, backpacks, and other equipment. Both Brinley and Zoya had holstered firearms on their belts.
“We are ready to go save my momma,” Zoya said.
“You gave her a weapon?” Paul asked.
“Better her than you, Paulie. I have seen your marksmanship, remember?” Brinley joked with him.
“I can handle the tools I selected, including a weapon,” Zoya stated. “My momma taught me all about tools, and how to use them, and a weapon is a specialized tool.”
“Well, sorry. I meant no offense,” Paul said. He looked to Gretchen who was smiling at him.
“Your aim is good in ricochet ball,” Gretchen giggled.
Brinley opened her backpack and pulled out a holster, belt, and sidearm. “Here you go Paulie. I was teasing you about your aim. Some people are naturally gifted at weapons, and some are not, but you are needed.”
Paul took the sidearm, and strapped it on. “Thank you. I hope we do not have cause to use it.”
“Where we are going, I am afraid we will need the weapons,” Brinley grew serious. “Not just against the Roe. Whoever is shooting down the shuttles will not hesitate to kill us. I have a feeling Larissa is behind all this.”
“What do we do about Klara?” Paul asked.
“Finding Zoya’s mother is our top priority. I will help you with Klara when we come back,” Brinley stated. “From what you have described, that scout ship of yours is in a remote place, and since the shuttles are not flying, it would take a massive search to find it internally.”
“Even with a map?” Paul asked.
“We have not actually seen a map,” Gretchen added. “Perhaps it was all a ploy or trick? After all, if we gave Klara the immunity, we might be given some bogus directions and no way to check it until we went out there. By that time, Klara would be long gone.”
Paul was uncertain, but said no more. He worried about what would happen to the information, and in turn to the scout ship and Tiffany, if Klara were to give the map to Larissa.
They walked through the safe zone. On two occasions they had to move to the side while a repair crew ran toward the hanger bays. Brinley led them along and they did not take the more scenic route through the transparent permalloy tunnel, which ran under the sea, but rather walked briskly via the more direct route to the freight elevator under Inaccessible Island.
“It is not far from here. Even I know where we are,” Paul said. “We will take the lift up and stop on the right level.”
They entered the freight elevator and Paul used the controls to have it ascend. When they reached the proper level they stopped. The door to the freight elevator opened, and they walked out into a hallway which had been recently swept clear of the dust and mildew from lack of use.
“This is part of the safe zone now?” Zoya asked. She obviously noted the difference between where they had been and the corridor they just entered.
“Yes, Tennard and Sigmond have worked at clearing out a passage to the transport terminal. They sealed this companionway back two levels, and have made it secure against Roe and tagalongs. They have been mocked often by the other Free Rangers, but Tennard’s status has allowed them to keep working.” Brinley’s voice had a bit of an edge to it. “The three of us also told Rodgeeri that we wanted a space for our own and were willing to do the work ourselves. He relented and allowed us to do this. Partly the Free Rangers here feel some guilt, and partly they wanted us in a different place, outside their own safe zone.”
They came to a large room with many work stations, chairs, and various instrument
s. Each work station was about three meters wide and a meter deep with small walls around it forming a cubical. Many still had papers stacked on shelves, and some had neatly arranged books. Others had newly installed equipment as well. There was also a kitchen and a set of cots newly built into the corner.
“I did not know Tennard was living here,” Paul commented.
“The laboratory was convenient for him to stay in since it is close to the transport system,” Brinley answered. “I have not seen him as much as I should have.”
“I see someone did disassemble a data stick,” Gretchen stated as she looked at one work station. The data stick reader and the data stick itself were laid out in orderly positions with their multiple parts displayed.
The Colony Ship Vanguard: The entire eight book series in one bundle Page 53
