by M. D. Cooper
“I’m coming, Dad,” Cara called.
He glanced back to see her jogging after him with Em in her arms. Brit was still standing at the airlock, staring at him. Every minute he spent on the ship was more time for Kraft to harm Tim. Andy put that fact to the side and considered everything around it. Kraft had picked Tim up, saving him. Why had he done that? How?
Andy ran a hand through his hair, momentarily considering how odd it was that the person he was talking to was underneath his hand.
Andy could tell that Lyssa was frustrated, and more than a little worried. At least she felt bad about what was happening to Tim.
If Kraft hadn’t made the decision to save Tim, then he couldn’t be trusted not to harm him in the meantime. Any minute now, they would get a call with a ransom demand. Kraft would want to trade Tim for the AI seeds Brit had stolen. Andy drew a deep breath, then nodded to himself. That’s what he would do.
He reached the command deck and walked through the open door. He was still lost in his thoughts when Fran caught him in a hug that nearly knocked him over. Andy stood stunned for a second before returning the embrace. He kissed her hair and she pulled her head away and kissed him hard on the lips, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Em barked but Fran ignored the dog, pulling him deeper into her kiss. When Andy finally came up for air, he looked around the command deck, blinking, to see Cara staring at them from the doorway with raised brows.
Brit stood behind their daughter with a confused expression. She looked from Andy to Fran, and then at Cara, and something like fear entered her eyes. She shook her head.
“Well,” she said. She raised a hand, half pointing, then let it drop and walked past the entrance.
Fran relaxed her arms around Andy’s neck but didn’t let go completely. “Oof,” she said. “I guess I knew she was aboard but I just didn’t care.” She glanced at Cara. “Sorry, kid.”
Andy put his hands on Fran’s waist and pushed her away gently, giving her a slight smile. “Thanks for that,” he said.
“You mean fucking things up with your wife?”
“No, the hug. That was good. I needed that.”
Fran let her hands slide to his shoulders and patted his chest before stepping away. She waved at the holodisplay. “See the static I was talking about? I’m picking up returns all around the station that weren’t there before.”
“Apparently, it’s not static,” Andy said. “There’s a fleet out there in cold storage.”
“If you say so. I still want to get a look at the sensor array.”
“Did you kill that last drone yet?”
“It pulled back just after I talked to you. Looks like it’s headed back to their station.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.” Andy slid into his pilot’s seat and pulled up the smaller astrogation controls. He tried not to think about Brit or Tim. He needed to make a plan.
Maneuver Sunny Skies in close to the station and breach? He couldn’t risk the ship. If he was going to be smart, he would pull back, give himself stand-off distance. But he didn’t have time.
Heartbridge was going to call in reinforcements or they were going to hurt Tim. Why hadn’t Kraft called with a ransom demand yet? Andy needed to know that Tim was all right. He needed to know that Kraft was going to act rationally.
Once Kraft made his demands, they might not have time to move on one of the Heartbridge ships. Andy needed to move now.
He activated the shipwide audio channel. “Brit,” he said. “I need you back up here. I need to know where this ship is you were talking about.”
“I’m still here,” Brit answered, reappearing in the doorway. “I didn’t go anywhere.” She walked into the command deck looking composed, and went straight to the communications console. “If you do a review by mass you should be able to find the densest ships. Those are the military types.”
“We’re going to need schematics,” Fran said. “You don’t have time to waste on a wild goose chase.”
Brit shot a hard glance at the engineer but only nodded curtly in agreement.
“Once we have better returns we can run some pattern matching for schematics,” Andy said. “Can you try to ping their registries and see if anything comes up?”
“Doing it,” Fran answered.
“What happened to this console?” Brit complained. “Nothing is where it should be.”
“Things change in two years,” Andy said. “That’s Cara’s workstation. She can explain it.”
Brit continued trying to use the console for another minute before looking up in obvious frustration. “Cara,” she said. “Are you going to help?”
Cara glanced at Andy, then put Em down and walked over to the communications console. Brit moved out of the way and let her sit. Em followed Cara and sat next to her leg.
Brit eyed the puppy suspiciously. “Why the hell do you have a dog?” she said.
“He’s Tim’s dog,” Cara said, her tone defensive.
“We’ve got registry returns coming back in,” Fran said. She whistled. “This would make the TSF proud. They’re all heavier than transport freighters or hospital ships. How did they think this would look normal?”
“Nobody knows this place is here,” Andy said. “It’s been sitting off the shipping route for years.”
“Space is too damn big,” Fran said. She leaned closer to her display, squinting. “This one looks good. I’m showing multiple weapons systems just on the external sweep. It’s a gunship. And it’s relatively close. We can be there in forty-five minutes.”
“Let’s move,” Andy said. “Send me the location.”
When the target appeared on his display, Andy quickly mapped the mothballed ship’s orbit around the station and planned a series of short bursts of thrust that would lead to an intercept.
“Did we get a name from the registry?” he asked.
“Came back as the Forward Kindness.”
Andy shook his head. “Heartbridge and their names.” He tapped his console and executed the first burst of thrust. A feeling of weight pressed on his shoulders as the ship responded.
They were thirty seconds into the maneuver when an audio channel crackled alive and Fugia Wong’s voice berated him from the speaker. “Captain Sykes! Is that you? Are we done being boarded? Or am I talking to some pirate mercenary right now?”
Andy smirked. “You know it’s me or you wouldn’t be giving up your presence on the ship. Are you all right?”
“Some warning before you start changing velocity would be nice. I spilled my tea.”
“That sounds terrible. Is the senator in one piece?”
“She says she’s having fun.”
“That’s great to hear. What does her bodyguard know about power armor?”
“That’s a strange question, Captain Sykes.”
“We’re going to breach the Heartbridge clinic. I need everyone who can fight.”
Fugia’s voice went up an octave. “We’re doing what?”
“Cal Kraft has my son.”
“How did you allow that to happen?”
Andy nearly punched the console. He held his fist in front of the display, reminding himself that if he needed Senator Walton’s bodyguard, this wasn’t the way to get him.
“We can’t outrun Heartbridge this time. We need to cut them off here.�
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“You have missiles, yes? Move to a stand-off distance and attack. It’s easy. Ships move faster than stations. Captain Sykes, you’re forgetting that I need to get Senator Walton to Callisto. I don’t have time for excursions, and I certainly don’t have room in my plan for the loss of my ship’s pilot.”
“Look, we have a problem. The mercenaries who raided the ship have my son, Tim. We’re picking up some extra firepower and then we’re going to get him back.”
The line went quiet for a second, except for a pulsing crackle of static that Andy would wager was the result of Cara’s flour fire.
Finally, Fugia said, “You’re going to get him back? What does that mean exactly?”
“It means I’m going to find some power armor—which I’m pretty sure is sitting on one of the ship’s Heartbridge has in storage—and I’m going to tear that station apart until I find Tim.”
“How long has it been since you operated power armor?”
“It’s like riding a bike. I have help.”
“Help from who?”
“Brit is on board. My—” He almost said wife, which wouldn’t have been wrong but didn’t feel like the right thing to say. “The kid’s mother. She has the same TSF experience that I do.”
“So two of you against a station?”
The ship executed the second maneuver, pushing Andy forward in his seat.
From the comms console, Brit asked, “Who is this person? She sounds familiar—the static’s making it hard to hear her.”
“Who am I?” Fugia demanded. “You hold tight, Captain Sykes. I’m getting Senator Walton situated and then I’m coming up there.”
“That sounds great,” Andy said. He switched off the audio channel.
CHAPTER THREE
STELLAR DATE: 09.23.2981 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Outside the Sunny Skies
REGION: Jovian L1 Hildas Asteroids, Jovian Combine, OuterSol
Glowing icons swam across the HUD inside Cal Kraft’s helmet, showing him Clinic 46, the nearby drones, and the shuttle looming larger in front of him. His velocity had exceeded the safe range of his EV suit and red warning bars flashed on either side of his vision.
Sandra, the shuttle’s onboard AI, was making the final velocity adjustments that would place them on a collision course. A hammer hit him in the chest as his suit’s attitude thrusters spat steam, slowing him down, matching his velocity with the shuttle so he didn’t smash into it like an egg. The shuttle became visible at approximately five hundred meters: a gray shape with brilliant points of white light at its nose and tail.
Sandra said. She sounded almost stressed or upset, a note he hadn’t heard in her voice before.
The bay door in the side of the shuttle slid open, showing him the well-lit interior. Details grew sharper as he approached. His suit spat another thrust of steam and he slowed considerably. It still hurt when he impacted the interior wall of the shuttle, scraping his shins against a bench seat, but the ballistic armor absorbed most of the force.
Sandra closed the shuttle door before the suit could rebound back into space.
As he grabbed at the pistol on his hip, the suit floated in the middle of the shuttle bay, rotating so he saw the face inside its battered helmet. Cal stared, realizing he was looking at Andy Sykes’ kid but not understanding how he could have come in behind him. Cal hadn’t ever expected to see him again. The kid hadn’t sealed his helmet in the airlock. He should be dead.
Granted, he didn’t look good, capillaries in his skin had burst, making his face look bruised and splotchy.
Cal shoved his pistol back in its holster and kicked toward the kid. He grabbed the suit so they both floated toward the rear of the shuttle and lifted him so he could stare through the boy’s face shield. The kid’s eyes were barely open and his breath fogged the inside of the helmet, indicating a leak somewhere.
Cal grabbed a dangling safety strap from the wall and clicked its hook onto his suit’s harness, hanging onto the kid with his other hand. Behind the boy, the bay door opened to show a black square of space.
Cal held the kid out, ready to shove him outside the shuttle. The remaining atmosphere blew out, pulling Cal against the safety strap, and the jerking motion seemed to shock the kid. His eyes opened wide, staring straight into Cal’s face.
“I did it!” the kid shouted, voice high and tinny through his helmet’s speakers. “I blew out my breath and I got the helmet on. I got the helmet on!”
Two spots of color appeared on the kid’s cheeks. Before Cal could stop him, the kid grabbed the front of his harness, gripping the material through his sleeve even though his hands didn’t reach his suit’s gloves.
“I caught you!” the kid shouted. “I’m going to tell my dad.”
The words I got my helmet on! bounced inside Cal’s head, reminding him of the desperate whoop for joy he’d made when he had been just about this kid’s age and had survived the same ordeal.
Cold radiated through Cal, pulling him back into the memory of the bodies blowing out of the airlock with him, Sol raging overhead, and the feeling when he grabbed the helmet out of the dead boy’s hands and pulled it over his own head, knowing he was going to live.
Cal frowned, looking at the kid, who was now fumbling with his other hand for a better grip on the front of Cal’s suit. He looked ridiculous with the gloves flopping back from where his hands actually were in the bulky sleeves. But the kid didn’t let that stop him. Cal would have to shoot him to get him free.
He turned, moving the kid with him, and pushed him against the shuttle’s wall to clip him in place with one of the safety straps.
“Hey!” the kid shouted. He stopped trying to grab Cal’s harness and reached for the small of his back where the strap was attached.
“Sit still,” Cal said.
Get that kid a suit that fits and a pulse rifle and he’d decimate a squad in EV.
Thinking about the kid attacking a squad reminded him of the group he’d led onto the Worry’s End.
Damn, Cal thought. Too bad about Gibbs.
Sandra continued, End and Station Shuttle 26-12.>
Cal kicked over next to the kid. “Hey,” he shouted, getting the kid’s attention. The kid looked up with frustration rather than fear on his face. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Tim.”
“Tim Sykes?”
“Yes.”
“We’re going back to my station, Tim Sykes. You do what I tell you and I won’t put you out an airlock. You understand me?”
“Are you taking me back to my dad?”
“Not right now. If I read your dad right, he’s going to come to you.”
Sandra said.
That was interesting. Why wouldn’t Brit Sykes have taken her cargo on board the Worry’s End with her? Why leave it vulnerable until now?
Cal smirked.
For a second, Cal wondered if Sandra might be lying to him. The presence of the kid on the shuttle still didn’t make complete sense to him. The Sykes boy had gone out the airlock first, sure. But Cal was heavier and might have kicked out harder, creating more velocity, but it still seemed too much of a lucky coincidence for the kid.
