And then there was a small tab under my forefinger, and I flipped it. I couldn't hear any click or hiss of equalizing air, but the waist of the giant popped apart then, and kept moving as the soldier inside pushed with her legs. I wanted to help, but I was fighting to free my hand.
The eye flashes were now bright and fast -- energy bleed-over from Cageless dancing on the electronics of my retinals. It was dizzying, and I tried to shade my eyes with my free hand, for all the good it could possibly do.
I wasn't trying to get free anymore. I couldn't see. I couldn't move.
But then suddenly I could, because two soldiers from the other suits were lifting at the hulk, helping to extract their Teammate. How could they see anything right now, let alone stand?! But the armor shifted, and I slid out my arm.
Other hands lifted me up, but the power-plant roar spiked for a moment in an overload check -- the last automatic self-test before a jump engine could show green -- and I went blind. Pain lanced through my eye sockets. I screamed unheard in the chaos, and jerked out of the helping hands.
In a second, the overload check was completed, and it was back to mere sparkles and noise and confusion. There was a low discordant shriek under the roar of the power-plant now, and it was growing.
With a stab of terror, I realized I didn't know how big the freejump's transdimensional bubble would be!
Normal commercial ships, using normal star drives, had bubble radii that extended out from the hull. This was the furthest point in the artificial universe -- created and maintained by a ship's jump engine. But the bubbles were formed here first, before transition, otherwise a ship would slip from our dimension over to one where nothing, where less than nothing, not even the laws of physics, existed. Without a pocket universe in place beforehand, matter, energy, time, space, and any hope for survival simply ceased to be.
A couple hundred meters was considered a healthy safety margin, therefore, in case of any transition errors. If Cageless was set to form a similar radius, Mylag Vernier would be ripped apart from the inside out!
We had to get away, we had to run! But running was impossible. Just getting to my feet took everything I had.
The soldier from that last set of useless armor was out of it now, but she'd gotten hurt in the process, and was limping. The rest of them were moving toward the door, including the rifle guards. The limping woman was even less steady on her feet than I, and in her attempt at haste, almost fell. Floy, ahead of me, was able to catch the soldier up under the shoulder, and keep her moving.
We stumbled on, the shriek that I couldn't identify before now rising precipitously. I thought my eardrums would pop! It had to be the freejump engine winding up.
It hurt so much, and the flashes in my eyes were getting so bright again, that I tumbled head-over-heels on one of the discarded metal torsos directly in the way.
I screamed in confusion and terror and pain, and no one heard me.
I wasn't going to make it...
Maybe none of us were going to make it...!
Through the dance of lights, I saw Floy and the other woman just passing through the doorway. The Seven handed her burden off to one of the others and then turned back for me. She had thought I was right behind, but I was across the deck, flat on my butt, stunned and tortured by the mad howl, and half-blinded by fireworks only I could see.
I sealed the bubble helmet of my cheap emergency suit. The piercing whine of the prototype engine became a surge. I looked through clear plastic into my girlfriend's horrified eyes.
The universe and everything I knew...my life, my thoughts...it all fell into a single point, collapsing away from reality, from experience, from life and death, hope and certainty...down, down into the pit of my stomach.
And Cageless starjumped, taking me with it!
OOOOOOOOOO
"Better?" the man who'd been hiding in the dark asked. There was a total lack of annoyance or sarcasm in his voice, thereby alluding to some in his head.
"Much. Thank you," I told him.
"Could you, perhaps, answer my question now?"
"You didn't ask one...Mister...?"
"Senior Agent Strom Jammud, Regional Director, Spinward Border, Alliance of Independant Nations, Intelligence Branch. Agent Jammud is just fine. Didn't I? Ask a question, I mean?"
"No, Agent, you made a comment. But if what you meant to ask was whether I consider the prisoner to be -- to have been -- a well-trained, formidable opponent, the answer is an unqualified yes."
He studied me, a half-smile now playing on his unremarkable face.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Dosantos -- you just seem so blasé about all this."
"Is that another misphrased question, Agent Jammud?"
He kept watching, kept almost-smiling.
"No. I know better than that now."
He sat back a bit, done with his silly challenge game, and the admiral spoke up almost immediately.
"I don't know if you've had access to data you aren't meant to see, Mr. Dosantos, or if this just stems from insight of your own, but you seem to possess knowledge about AIN policy at a level you are not cleared for. What are we going to do about that?"
"Um...forget I was ever here?"
Bitter chuckles from around the room followed this, even from Dusane.
The skinny guy on my side (believe it or not, I never did learn his name) put up a shushing hand to me, which could have been very insulting if I'd cared at all. He waited until there was a chance to speak.
"Frankly, this man's participation here is of questionable value, Admiral. We have his sworn testimony under debrief, and can always recall him for any clarifications needed. His observations about Territorial policies seem to be little more than speculation -- and, by his own admission, this so-called Department he leads is one in name only."
"I'd go along with that," Agent Jammud endorsed from his resented patch of light, and the uniforms on either side of Bethany Dusane nodded as well.
The admiral thought about it for a bit. She was the kind who thought about everything for a bit, it looked like.
"All right, then," the scarred woman conceded. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Dosantos."
"Ma'am," I replied with a nod, then got up and left the room.
OOOOOOOOOO
thirty
* * *
To say the least, Mavis was surprised to see me on the comm.
She'd been told what had happened in the storeroom by Chris (who'd been told by Barney, who'd learned about it all through sources of his own). Everyone had assumed I was dead, of course. Why wouldn't they?
When Cageless had starjumped, Mylag Vernier had had a spherical hole in space/time torn out of it. Because the ship had been sitting on the deck, its jump bubble had extended through the floor and into a water purification processor on the level below. A main sewage treatment line had ruptured accordingly, creating a huge biohazard. The energy flux from transition had scrambled all sensors and communications on the station, while the localized power loss to the area, from the folding EMP attack before the jump, greatly hampered efforts to repair the sewage spill. R&D and several other sections of the station were evacuated.
The prototype's theft was seen as the last straw I guess, to say nothing of the newly-revealed violation of The Javelina Reduction Agreement. Corporate placed the entire project on hold. By the time I returned to 216-11B, hitching a ride with an official AIN Fleet Observation Group upon a fast and lean cutter, efforts to dismantle and relocate the project were well underway. The AIN FOG was invited to go along with them to the star system selected as the new location.
I was not.
When I came aboard station, CPS08 Amanda Kesselior, and some Team guards, were waiting outside the locker room attached to the airlock. She shook her head in angry surprise.
"The amount of paperwork you generate for the rest of us..."
"And Eight Maelbrott?"
"Oh, he couldn't believe it when he got the reports. He still chooses not to, but I
had to come see for myself."
"Don't tell me you missed me!"
"Have I ever given you reason to think I would? These fine gentlefolk will act as your escort while you're aboard. Notice they are armed."
I placed a hand over my heart.
"Your kindness touches me...right here."
That made her start listing off all my faults, and the various breaches of protocol I was guilty of, and the long tally of legal violations I would be charged with. I smiled the whole time and didn't reply. She was as nettled by that as I could have hoped, and finally stalked off, smoldering.
As usual, Barney was in the loop without anyone knowing it, or knowing how. I saw him down the companionway, emptying trash. I'd gotten a new wristcomp (cheap one) while at Murietta, and received a notice of an incoming call in my eye-view a few moments later.
"Well, looky what the cat dragged in!" he exclaimed, sounding tinny but sincere over my bonecons. "I'm very happy to see you, Ejoq."
"I'm happy to be seen. Is everyone okay?"
"Yep, and laying low. We thought you were gone forever."
"So did I for a while. I'll tell you about it later. Look, it's over now, Barney -- our mission's done. They can come forward. They're safe. UH is here, and so are Fleet personnel. Let them all know."
He told me that the Shady Lady crew had obtained apartments, and were considering getting stupid little undercover jobs on-station -- except for the captain, who still didn't feel free to move about in public. For her sake, though, Barney had pulled off a magic trick in managing an atmo recharge for the ship without anyone on-station getting wise. Mavis was fine, in other words, but effectively a prisoner.
Like last time, I didn't go aboard the stealthship alone. The people with me this time, though, were all Meerschaum and Corporate engineers, as well as a few security personnel from both sides of the border. Rather than deal with the fire vent, we hiked over to the ship's hiding place from the nearest exit. The sight of our little makeshift airlock put all the engineers into stitches, and they crowded around the thing for a minute, poking and prodding with derogatory commentary, even while suggesting equally makeshift improvements in the design. It's the sort of thing that sort of person can't help, I guess.
My captain had lots of questions, but she displayed good sense in holding off for a bit while others were within earshot. The Meerschaum boys and girls took responsibility for the ship right off the bat, and even started repair work on the mess Dieter had left in Engineering. Team guards, well-armed and wearing powered vac-armor were now posted outside. They were angry about missing the ship in the shadows all this time, and were not about to lose it again.
After she got suited up, I, myself, brought Captain Mavis Singleton aboard Mylag Vernier for the very first time. In addition to my own assigned entourage, we had an escort of both Team and Fleet guards, as well as other characters from Corporate and station Admin chattering around us relentlessly. We were quite a mob. Shady Lady's intrepid crew (save for its Engineer, of course), was standing outside the locker room, waiting for us.
There were smiles and laughter all around, and I even got a desperate, overly-long hug from Stinna (no sobs though). They all looked good, and it was really, really good to see them. I shook Chris' hand, and he shook mine.
"You were right," he said.
"What about?"
"About playing this one straight. I'm rather ashamed of my behavior, to be honest."
"Don't be," I told him, with a pat to the arm. "Lots of people were trying to take this tech, so it must have been a good idea."
We laughed, the two of us. John and Mavis did, too.
We were a crew that could take on a mission and see it completed. We could endure each other's company in the worst of situations, and not go homicidal. We could survive in secret, and we could survive betrayal. In that moment, we were the best there was, and no one could say anything different.
"I don't get it," Stinna stated simply.
"There's nothing to get," I assured, then took her and John aside for a moment, to speak privately. We agreed upon a time and place, then I turned them over to our captain.
"You guys should give Mavis the grand tour!"
They all seemed up for it, and Team called for a few extra guards. It made for a regular parade. They expected me to come along, but I begged off with a smile that faded just as soon as they turned to go.
Floy wasn't around.
She would have been, so I asked about her. The soldiers at my heel said they didn't know anything, and her number was no longer in the public registry.
Ghazza's was still there, so I placed a call.
I thought she was going to have a stroke, she was so surprised. She sputtered out half-formed questions and excited demands for information. I couldn't even get a word in for a long while, but finally asked about Floyeen. For this, she took a breath.
"Physically, she was unharmed by the...um, event, but...she thought she saw you die right in front of her, Ejoq! She actually seemed okay at first. Sad, but coping. But, last Threeday, thirdshift, I guess she was found wandering the companionways, acting strangely -- laughing, crying, making loud noises. She almost got into a fight. It was drugs. I...I didn't know she had a problem."
"Where is she now?"
"Team shipped her to a military hospital -- Darzon Base, over in Kowanda System. You probably passed her shuttle in mid-route while you were inbound from the jump point. I did visit her in the infirmary before she left. She was...so embarrassed. She wanted to talk about you, I think, but couldn't get the words out...blaming herself. I didn't even know what to say..."
I looked away from the camera pickup on my wristcomp and just nodded, because I didn't know what to say to that.
I didn't know what to feel.
For a moment, I thought I should go after my girlfriend. Right then, immediately! That was the thing to do, right?
Except, I couldn't. Not yet. The job still wasn't done.
Ghazza hadn't known she had a problem.
I hadn't known.
Yes, I had.
Maybe.
Or, maybe I was busy, and just didn't notice.
I wasn't the cause of her addiction. I knew that. But I might have been the cause of this latest fall off the wagon.
But had she ever really been on it? Eyedrop stims, party drugs, long hours, high stress, secrets.
And a man who was busy, and didn't notice things.
It was true there were some very effective treatments these days. But it would still take time to heal. Time to bounce back from people who wore chaos and danger like fine cologne -- seductive and powerful, but outgassing, radiating, seeping into the lives of others.
Yeah, bounce back. That was the phrase!
Her career in Team was hardly over: addiction was a disease, after all, not an aspect of character. She was on sick leave, and would be cured. People always were.
Okay, not always. Or, if so, not always easily or well.
Sometimes it took voluntary neural and genetic adjustments to break such cycles. Things like that changed a person. The treatments often made them into someone else entirely -- someone with different priorities, different needs, different goals. More often than not, they didn't see themselves, or the people around them, in anything like the same way, ever again.
Which was, of course, the very point.
I needed to get a message to her, and asked Ghazza to look up her current contact information. She said she would, and then told me once more how happy it made her to see me alive and well.
* * *
Later on, back in the apartment (I was staying with Barney again), I put together a long report to CPM10 Mannix Farlington. I dictated into a recorder, explaining everything I was free to discuss, start-to-finish.
With the project shut down and in the process of relocating, there would be a need for civilian law enforcement in this place, and I strongly recommended that the department of Station Security be reestablished. I ha
d a few people in mind, I said, so it could be up and running in no time.
Several people stood out as being instrumental in my investigative efforts, and I named Floy, Ghazza, and several of the Fleet kids in our little Weaponry club. I named young Stafross, and the others who had been there at the storeroom. I even named CPM06 Jacob Hammerhülse. Why not? I can be as gracious as the next guy.
It was a very long report, actually, taking most of the night to finish. I queued it up for priority dispatch on the next courier out.
Before hitting the rack, I checked scheduled arrivals on the shuttle timetable.
Two days.
I slept well, awoke, showered, and trotted off to my favorite coffee kiosk, Team guards in tow.
The place was closed and gone -- even the little wire-frame tables.
"What happened?" I asked one of the soldiers, feeling genuinely forlorn.
"With the project moving out, a lot of places are closing down now, sir," the young man replied.
I'd been gone an age.
As it was firstshift now, I met up with the Fleet reps who had traveled here with me. A few of my Shady Lady crewmates were there as well. It was important to get them all in on it early. It was important to be sure of the facts. And it was the Fleeties that had to reach out to their Team counterparts, not me, because this had to happen by the numbers. We spent most of the day going over what we knew, what we learned, and what we were going to do about it.
Risk Analysis (Draft 04 -- Reading Script) Page 45
