by Darren Beyer
“Sorry.” Mandi sniffled and wiped her sleeve across her face. “I didn’t know anyone was here.” She stared at Grae’s floating body. “How exactly is this lucky?”
“It was a significant suit breach. The structure caught him straight on. It glanced off his helmet and slammed his shoulder. I am still in disbelief that the faceplate remained intact. If Lieutenant Ivey hadn’t caught up with him and slathered him with rigiplast, who knows what might have happened. As it stands, he suffered brain trauma and a broken collarbone—”
“Brain trauma?” Mandi choked.
“That sounded bad. I apologize. He has a serious concussion.”
“How long will he be like this?”
“We have him sedated. For now, we’ve got him in zero g and one hundred percent oxygen. That’s the best environment for healing the brain. We injected nanites to mend the bone in his shoulder, just as we did for your arm. But they can’t help with brain injury.” Captain Stanton pointed to a screen behind the clear tube. “This monitors his brain patterns. When they normalize, we’ll bring him out.”
“How long?”
“Days, at least. Maybe a week.” Captain Stanton cleared his throat. “Maybe more.”
From the moment they’d met, Grae had been a rock for Mandi, steadfastness personified. He was not just capable, he was exceptional, with more skills than any one person had any right to claim. Dedicated and loyal, he showed integrity to a fault. To see him hurt and helpless was almost more than she could bear.
“He likes you,” Captain Stanton said, breaking the silence. “Grae and I go back a very long way, and I’ve never heard him speak of anyone the way he does you. Actually, I don’t remember him ever speaking of anyone at all.” He watched Mandi. “He’ll be all right, Ms. Nkosi—Mandi. If there was one person I’d always bet on, it would be Grae.”
Yes, Mandi thought, me too.
Chapter 43
Eridani System
An alarm sounded at the sensor station of the system defense boat Bastion. The ship had detected a concentrated neutrino source of the type associated with a wormhole formation.
Far from Eridani, Bastion had the lonely duty of patrolling the area near the designated Earth-Eridani jump termination point, monitoring incoming traffic.
“Inbound jump initiating. Two, eight, three, mark one, seven. One hundred twenty-seven thousand kilometers,” announced the sensor operator.
“Monitor and report,” responded the Bastion captain. Forced out of the Coalition military due to retirement, her age was clear to see, but she still had years to give. She kept herself in shape, and her attention remained focused.
“Inbound transponder ID verified. Centric Cargo Hauler designation tango, four, niner, eight, alpha, Charlie. Manifest received, and match confirmed.”
“Please relay to New Reykjavik.”
The sensor operator studied the screen as the mass sensors took their readings. Within seconds, a 3-D depiction of the large cargo pod appeared. The size of the new haulers pushed the limits of feasibility. Interstellar travel was always limited—as were so many things—by economics. The higher the mass of the jumping ship, the larger the hyperium coils required, and the more degradation they experienced with each jump. Interstellar ships seldom weighed in above a magic mass of two thousand metric tons.
However, frugal cargo companies realized that jump drives could be tailor-built to exactly match the distances traveled. Purpose-designed drives dramatically reduced the wear and degradation on the jump coils, allowing larger masses to jump economically.
“Mass information?” The Bastion captain turned to the sensor operator.
“Coming in now, ma’am. Five thousand four hundred ninety-seven point one five tons. It’s a big one. Within manifest parameters.”
“That’s the last scheduled traffic for a while.” The Bastion captain nodded to the comm officer. “I’m heading to the galley. You have the bridge.”
As the sensor operator turned to acknowledge, for only the briefest moment, the mass and the hyperium signature of the hauler skyrocketed. The sensor operator caught it from the corner of his eye, but before he could turn back, the parameters settled to their original values. The sensor operator turned to the captain and saw her feet floating through the hatch.
It could wait.
Chapter 44
Rho Indi System
Mandi wrung her hands. The ship’s medic stood at the control panel of the clear recovery tube, reviewing Grae’s vitals. Captain Stanton stood next to Mandi watching the medic’s every move.
“Everything looks in order.” The medic looked to the captain.
Captain Stanton nodded, and the medic began to work the controls.
Slowly, Grae descended to the bottom of the clear tube and came to rest on its thin padding.
Mandi shifted, craning her neck.
“It’s all right, Mandi,” Captain Stanton said. “You can get closer.”
Mandi moved to the side of the clear tube and placed her hands along its edge, making no effort to suppress her tears as they ran down her face in streaks.
“Ready to revive.”
“Go ahead.”
At first, there was no response. Grae remained motionless on the bottom of the recovery tube. Then an eye twitched, a finger moved. Mandi glanced at the monitors, which showed Grae’s heart rate rising, his breathing quickening. She looked back at his face just as his eyes began to flicker open.
“Grae—” Mandi put a hand to her mouth to suppress a sob.
His eyes opened wider, and he glanced around. He saw Mandi, and a faint smile crept to his lips.
“How are you feeling, my boy?” Captain Stanton moved closer, as the medic reached into the clear tube and removed the oxygen mask from Grae’s face.
“Like I drove a car off a bridge.” Grae met Mandi’s eyes, even as pain forced the smile off his face.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Lieutenant Ivey and I—the crossing on the cargo sled.” Grae rubbed his head and closed his eyes. “I got near, and—I couldn’t attach the karabiner. So I tried to force it in. My hand—it got stuck—and that’s it—” He looked up. “That’s all I remember.”
“You were flung off. The rotating ship gave you a sizable wallop. If Ms. Ivey hadn’t been so quick, I dare say you’d still be floating out there.”
“I broke the cardinal rule of EVAs,” Grae said, “never do anything quickly. I should have pulled back and waited for another opportunity. I’ll know better next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“But Captain, we’re in the middle of something so big.” Grae was suddenly alert. “That wreck may hold critical information.” He looked toward Mandi. “We don’t have the luxury of doing nothing. We’ve got to get aboard the Gaussian. I’ll get that APU attached and secured.”
“Easy there.” Captain Stanton shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “There won’t be a next time, because there doesn’t need to be. We’ve already stabilized the Gaussian. You might have been thrown off, but your karabiner held. Now, as soon as possible, you’ll lead the boarding party. We’ve sent drones to look inside. Engineering is nothing but twisted metal, and access to the forward decks is restricted. You’re the only one with experience at this type of thing. We need you to find a way in.”
“I’ll be ready in no time,” Grae said groggily, as the medic slid him out of the clear recovery tube. “This contraption has fixed me right up.”
“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll hold a briefing: you, Ivey, and Ms. Nkosi.”
Grae looked from Captain Stanton to Mandi and back again.
“It turns out that Ms. Nkosi is fully certified in spacesuit operation. If it weren’t for her, that wreck out there would still be spinning.”
Mandi smiled through her tears at the confusion on Grae’s face.
“After Lieutenant Ivey doused you in rigiplast, she swung by the APU to cut the cable loose.” Captain Stan
ton met Mandi’s look. “It was Mandi who told her to leave it. She recognized that the rotation of the ship would naturally draw the tether in. And so it did. After that, attaching the power and control cables was straight forward.”
Grae cast a look of approval at Mandi.
Pride filled her chest.
“Ms. Nkosi also represents the objective eye of journalism upon our findings. If we ever have to use her testimony as evidence, we’ll be one step ahead of the game.”
“And I’m needed to keep you out of trouble.” Mandi quickly wiped her cheeks.
Grae managed a smile and lightly shook his head.
“Don’t dismiss that too quickly,” Captain Stanton said. “Ms. Nkosi has proven quite adept. In fact, she’s made quite the pest of herself. She wouldn’t let anyone near you without her say-so.” He chuckled. “Raymus, my boy,” Captain Stanton said softly as he turned toward the door, “if you don’t get off your arse and kiss her, I sure as hell will.”
Mandi sniffed back tears, bringing her hand across her nose, as her gaze caught a sparkle in Grae’s eyes.
Chapter 45
Eridani
“Members of the press,” Dagan addressed the reporters assembled in the briefing room of AIC Tower, his normally booming voice small through the holo screen. “As I am sure you know by now, eight days ago while traveling to our uranium mining and processing facility, a high-speed helo carrying Jans Mikel, pilot, and another passenger disappeared. Early this morning, the wreckage of that helo was discovered. The pilot and other passenger were dead. However, Mr. Mikel survived and is in critical condition in our medical facility here in AIC Tower. Mr. Mikel was on his way to review the facility in preparation for the nuclear inspection team from Earth. The floor is now open to questions.”
Hands shot up, and shouts rang out from around the room. Dagan pointed to one.
“What can you tell us about the nature of Mr. Mikel’s injuries?”
“Mr. Mikel has severe internal injuries and is suffering from exposure. Beyond that, I do not care to comment.” Dagan pointed to another.
“What was the nature of his trip? What was he reviewing?”
“Mr. Mikel was traveling to the facility to personally ensure that all was in order for the arrival of the inspection team.” Dagan raised his arm to point again and froze in mid-gesture.
“Holo screen off,” Jans called from his bed.
Groaning, he sat up and grasped the cane next to him. With effort, he made his way to the arching windows to gaze across New Reykjavik below.
The monorail moved smoothly around its track now, carrying real passengers whose faces were visible through the smoked windows. A hauler with a cargo container moved down the road from the spaceport. Robot construction workers swarmed the girders of new apartment buildings overlooking the temporary habs. Jans simply stood and watched the seemingly inane tasks, proud that such common things were taking place in a distinctly uncommon place.
A chime sounded from the door behind Jans.
Shuffling his feet and leaning on the cane, Jans turned to see Dagan. “You play the part well,” Jans said, attempting a smile.
“I would prefer not to play any part. I do not like reporters.” Dagan scrutinized Jans. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad.” A pain shot through Jans’ leg as he shifted his weight. Wincing, he leaned heavily on his cane. “At least for ‘critical condition.’ When do you think my state will improve?”
“At the latest possible moment. As the inspectors arrive. At the brink of death, how can you hold press conferences or—” Dagan motioned with his head toward the window. “—appear out there. This way you are safe, with no questions asked.”
“What about the families of the others?”
“Keeping one patient in ‘critical condition’ is enough. I could not do it with three. I am afraid the pilot and my agent will have to remain ‘dead’ for some time. We will avoid releasing their names for as long as possible, so as not to alarm their families, but if we must they have agreed to it. They are quite loyal.”
“You’re certain this was no accident.”
“I am quite positive. We found explosive residue on what remained of the main rotor shafts on two of the engines. Fortunately for you, before you left I succumbed to an abnormally strong wave of paranoia. Had I not installed an additional tracker on the helo, we would still be looking for you.”
“So they’ve upped the ante,” Jans mused. “It’s got to be a hostile takeover. Our stock continues to tumble, and this episode didn’t help. But who is behind this?”
“I should think that is obvious,” Dagan said. “This message from Assemblyman Andrews, the presence of his agent—the timing is too coincidental. I have received another message from this Erik Hallerson. The original offer still stands. At the same price.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. Why make an offer, then try to have me killed, then keep the original terms? Was this to scare me into capitulating? Andrews is too smart for that. I don’t doubt that he’s behind the government rhetoric. I’ve believed it from the moment he made his offer. He’s been putting the pressure on us to force our hand, but I don’t think he was behind this.”
“Regardless,” Dagan cast a doubtful look at Jans, “a takeover—hostile or otherwise— would mean that we cannot keep a lid on Helios.”
“I know. I’m already getting inquiries into Andrews’ offer from the Board. He’s leaked it to select members. The Mars attack—it’s playing its role. And when they inevitably connect Mars to us, our stock price falls off a cliff, Board members get jumpy, and enough stock winds up for sale to the highest bidder—then the takeover becomes unavoidable.”
“Maybe I should ask a simple question. So what?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, so what? What do digital stock certificates mean out here?”
Jans shot Dagan a skeptical look. “Are you suggesting that we defy access to whomever might become the rightful controlling entity of AIC?”
“We are fifty-seven light-years from Earth. Hundreds of thousands of residents and employees on Eridani look up to you as not only their CEO but their leader. So, lead. If necessary, lead them to become the first autonomous star system in history.”
“Others have tried—” Jans countered. “—and failed. Gamma Cephai-b was a bloodbath.”
“There is no comparison. Gamma was a workers’ revolution against a corrupt company. They had limited resources on a moon with a poisonous atmosphere. We have the most powerful system defense fleet outside the Sol system, and we live in a Garden of Eden.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best metaphor, Danny, but I take your point. Can our defense force stand up to the fleets of the big alliances?”
“Realistically? Yes. Although it is far from a sure thing. The Euramerican Coalition, Pan Asian Alliance, and to some extent, Eastern Bloc—each has a massive system-based fleet in the Sol system. Those fleets can’t leave. They have no jump capability. As such, they are no threat to us. Numerically, each of them has large interstellar forces as well. However, each of our system defense boats is equal to ten of their strongest interstellar warships. What with size limitations and the amount of mass taken up by jump drives, they simply can’t compete. Should any interstellar single fleet attack us—Coalition, Pan Asian, Eastern Bloc—they would pay a very heavy price. Any single alliance risks the others swooping down all over our arm of the galaxy to clean up their rival while they are weakened by the temporary loss of their standing fleet. It would be a gambit too risky for any of them to entertain. So what does a hostile takeover really mean to us? What can they do?”
Jans looked down at the sling around his arm, the cane supporting his other side. He felt the throbbing pain in his leg, the pang of loss in his heart. What would become of his city, his people? They had taken Sophia from him. They had tried to take his life. They would not get Eridani. They would not get Helios.
“Put together a plan, Da
nny. Reposition the fleet. Get it ready, but for fuck’s sake, do it quietly.” Jans looked across the room at a picture of Sophia with a rush of anger. “If they want a fight, they’ve got a fight.”
Chapter 46
Rho Indi System
Through the small window of the airlock, the Gaussian stood out against the void of space, illuminated by Dauntless’ powerful spotlight. The details of derelict ship had become a familiar sight through camera feeds to the bridge, but even from a kilometer away the substantial damage was apparent to Mandi’s naked eye. She turned to the others as the airlock light overhead turned red, acclimating their eyes to the darkness outside.
“Let’s go over the plan,” Grae said through his comm.
Mandi gently pushed off the outer airlock door to face Grae and Lieutenant Ivey.
“I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you again how bad this idea is,” Grae said.
“Nope.”
“All right,” he sighed. “Lieutenant Ivey, would you do the honors?”
Ivey nodded her helmet. “Remember what I said about the hypergols?”
“They’re what power the reaction thrusters,” Mandi replied.
“Two liquids: a fuel and an oxidizer. Remember that, if they ever touch, they spontaneously ignite?”
“Yes.”
“The good news is that if the two hypergols had occupied the same space, they’d already have taken care of each other. The bad news is that either one by itself can weaken your suit seals and cause a failure. Even without the chemical risk, the wreck of the Gaussian presents all sorts of hazards. One wrong move—one misplaced hand—is all it takes. Your suit will self-seal to a point, and your emergency kit has sealing tape and rigiplast—” Ivey glanced at Grae. “—but a large breach can evacuate your suit before you have time to react. Be on your toes. Watch what you touch. Remember that radiation levels outside the ship are high, but within suit tolerances, and as far as we’ve probed into the Gaussian they’re within limits. But you never know, so keep an eye on your readings.”
