by Jim Rudnick
Hearing the loud horn, all launched into the vacuum like they were one, exhaling all breath at once as Tanner turned to the monitor above him, while he kept an eye on his monitor that showed each of the ten competitors in a separate individual security window. Propelled by their own strength, some moved out and into the illuminated arena with a degree of speed and some not so fast. One’s speed, Tanner knew, would propel you toward the exit force-field a full 100 yards distant, or at a lesser speed, you moved slower than others. Using an exit-pod made you able, of course, to slow or speed your progress through the arena toward the timed exit force-field, all the while watching your opponents and trying to manage the lack of oxygen and the absolute cold at the same time. Being a living breathing organism, trying to survive in negative 454 degree Fahrenheit temperature was surely a challenge, but the real part of being a vacuum jumper was not the competitors, but as Tanner understood it, the challenge of being in a vacuum. That was the true test of being a vacuum jumper … and not so much beating your competitors. At least, that’s what all the news vids said, and how far wrong could they be, Tanner wondered cynically.
Out in the arena, he saw that Jocko had taken a spot under the bright LED lights at almost dead center of the 100-by-100-by-100-yard space. He had jumped quickly to the center and floated, not yet shivering, all noted, and watching around him for those who tended to congregate in the same general area. Except, Tanner noted, for Junior, who stayed closer, much closer to the launch force-field, almost a full eighty yards from the exit field. Surely, Tanner thought, a mistake that only new-to-competition entrants made, as he crossed off this Caliphate intern mentally. Not a chance from that far away.
Above the arena on a large LED sign ran the time, now at twenty-seven seconds, Tanner noted, as the sign counted off the total time out in the vacuum. Space, of course, transmitted no sound at all, so out there he knew it was as silent as a tomb, but in here, the cheering, the catcalling, and the prompting for more stamina was a growing factor all around the launching pad. He could imagine what it would be like over in the major big Station malls and wings where thousands of fans would be cheering and jeering their choices. Here, instead of those thousands, there were only dozens, yet it still was louder, Tanner thought, than he’d ever imagined, as the clock now hit forty-one seconds.
At almost fifty seconds, the DenKoss competitor moved away from the small grouping near the arena center toward the exit force-field and was swallowed into the landing area and out of the competition. One down and nine more to go. But as Tanner and others noticed, the Eonian and the competitor from the Duchy of d'Avigdor had moved closer to the exit force-field as the LED clock now counted off a full sixty seconds. Yet Jocko still maintained the center of the arena, rotating slowly as he stared out at the multitudes that watched both here and all across the Rim via vid feeds.
At seventy seconds, the Alto’s competitor and both the Leudi and Nerian unfolded from their semi-fetal positions and moved toward the exit field slowly … looking at the remaining four competitors who still maintained their spots near the center. The Leudi looked bloated, like vacuum ebullism had begun, as his body had swelled almost by thirty percent, his abdomen footballing in the middle and his eyes almost breaching his face. All noted that he jetted quickly into the exit force-field suddenly, and Tanner hoped that he’d get the best care possible and as quickly as possible too. Bad news, he thought, for all the Leudies out there.
Now with only four competitors left, Tanner watched at eighty seconds as the vacuum began to take its toll. All of them were swelling, body-shape-wise, as they attempted to outlast each other, the chilling of absolute zero beginning to now warm the blood enough to boil though that was fought by the tightly fitting pressure stress jump suits. Only the UrPoPo humanoid looked really bad, as he now moved quickly away from the center of the arena, and all watched as he now slid through the exit force-field and out of sight. Three left, and we’re at a full ninety seconds, one and a half minutes of life in an absolute vacuum at absolute zero temperature. Time now was the deciding factor, and the winner was out there right now, one of the last three left, swelling and now beginning to show visual discomfort.
The Conclusion competitor who’d swelled now and whose face had begun to show the telltale frost that accrued around his mouth was now like the rime that gathered around a winter window, snaking out and around the man’s nose and climbing to his eyes. While he took in the same oxygen that the other competitors had, or at least he’d had the same opportunity, he was hurting more it appeared as he moved now quickly toward the exit force-field. Behind him followed the six-armed Elbonian, who appeared to also be at an end of his time too, as they both moved through the field and out. And now there were only two, Tanner realized, at 110 seconds.
Jocko, who maintained his still center of the arena holding spot, looked for all to see, in some troubles. He was swollen it looked but because he was such a smaller man, the swelling made him look huskier than normal, but not quite yet as swollen as others had.
Tanner had to look to find Junior though— and where was he … oh there still hanging back near the launching force-field. He looked too worse for wear, now having a rimed frozen face, and even that clumpy hair looked frozen and snow covered. His eyes, however, never left Jocko, and as Tanner watched, he only now used his exit-pod to move only now closer to Jocko and the middle of the arena.
Jocko, however, was appearing to suffer some distress at a full 125 seconds; he moved slowly now away from Junior, who trailed him by a dozen feet or so, toward the exit force-field. He spun slowly as he manipulated the exit-pod spray and faced away from his movement vector, now staring at what would soon be the only competitor left … and then he sped up to motor through the exit force-field and out of the arena, leaving the winner, Junior, out there all alone, as he stopped then only a few feet short of that exit and he spun back toward the arena center. He floated there, holding his position, and he looked like the Champion that he appeared to be, Tanner imagined. He held that position, stopped in front of the exit field, for a full ten more seconds as the crowds all over the station roared with delight at his winning jump. Then, as Junior went through the exit force-field and out of the arena as the new Open Pro Class Jump Champion, the competition ended with a new champion…
CHAPTER TEN
The bull ensign spoke with a clear emphasis on what he'd just learned from the screen in front of him.
"Sir, permission to page the captain, incoming from Juno marked EYES ONLY, Sir," Lieutenant Whiteside said with a curt interruption to the conversation on the Bridge of the Marwick.
"Permission granted, Lieutenant, go ahead," said Lieutenant Rizzo, as he turned to face the lieutenant JG. "Any ideas on that one?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Not a glimmer, Sir," the bull said, "but it's gotta be important." He swept a ship-wide survey and found the captain in the gym down on Deck Twenty-three. He spoke quickly to him using his throat mic and nodded back even though the captain couldn't see him.
"Says he's on his way up to his ready room chop-chop, Sir." He turned back to face the Bridge officer of the day, and Lieutenant Rizzo smiled back at him.
"Doesn't happen often, Lieutenant. Not a big deal though … last one I remember was about three years ago on the Henderson under Captain Farias. Seems the DenKoss merchants had some issues with a string of Leudi trades and were planning on getting their revenge via what could only be called a dust-up of the first order." He shook his head and then chuckled.
"Interestingly enough, the one trade that they were most upset about they couldn't get rescinded, even though we tried to work on their behalf. Seems someone pulled a fast one with those industrial diamonds they discovered over on Eons, you know the ones that the Issians make all their credits on? Anyways, the Leudies got screwed on that one big time … and the DenKoss made out just fine!"
Lieutenant Rizzo filled his mug once more with what was called coffee, even though he suspected that term was not a
s appropriate as it could have been and returned to the captain's chair. Working his rear end into the chair, he half-turned to place his mug on the arm of the chair and was interrupted by the captain who walked onto the Bridge quickly.
"Captain on the Bridge," he announced in a loud voice and rose as did the rest of the crew on duty. His hand was rock steady though as he held that full mug firmly and didn't spill a drop.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Tanner said as he strode through the Bridge on his way to the ready room doors on the port side of the Bridge.
"Back to your duties, crew … Lieutenant Whiteside, please plug that EYES ONLY into the console and seal off the room," he said as he left the Bridge.
Within his ready room, small as it was, there was a console on the desk and it faced the Bridge wall while the outer wall was all windows pointing out at the Rim. Within a short jaunt of only a couple of light-years away, Tillion lay just to starboard, and while he couldn't see the capital, Mancerat, he knew it was as many race homes, totally un-visitable to humans. No one he'd ever met could say that they'd been allowed off the landing site there, and rumors were that there was an issue with Tillion women—no one had ever seen one, met one, or talked to one even on Ansible he'd learned. Of all the RIM Confederacy members, the Tillion were the most closed-off society except for the Issians though for all purposes that was a cult really not so much a whole race.
On the desk, the console suddenly lit up—the splash screen for the RIM Navy came on followed by the notice that EYES ONLY meant just that … and Tanner sat very still as the console aperture suddenly went red as the beam shot into his right eye to verify his retinal pattern.
Two seconds later, the screen showed AUTHORIZED and went dark for a further moment and then on screen came Admiral McQueen's face.
"Captain, we have some—uh—well some interesting news. Off Roor, an Academy ship, the CS Valiant, was taken over by what appears to be a group of cadets. Mutiny, is what I'm talking about here …"
The admiral stopped, shook his head, and sighed.
"Wait, I know, never been a mutiny ever on any RIM Navy ship nor for that matter on any RIM member ship either. Unheard of. And the Academy officers were all simply stunned, loaded into a shuttle, and then auto-programmed to go to the Roor station. Were all fine after medicals and they all to a man report that there was NO issues on board before the mutiny. No arguments, no confrontations … nothing, Captain. Any ideas?" the admiral said, his head cocked to one side.
Tanner sat for a moment … mutiny on an Academy training ship? No reason for same? What might be the best way to handle this … and thank God, he'd thought this through earlier.
"I've no idea, Admiral, as you said this is unheard of. Not a single clue as to the reason for this? No affairs? No poor marks? No slights or religious issues?" Tanner knew the answers to the questions but held out hope the admiral would have an inkling that the mutiny could at least be attributed to something …
The admiral shook his head.
"Not as far as we can determine. The officers were tried and true, and the students were all at or near the best we've got in this year's graduating cohort! Not a hint of a rationale."
The admiral looked off screen for a moment and then returned his attention to the console at his offices on Juno.
"We have tracked them though … and they're right now scurrying through the Free Channel if we can believe our scans. They know we can see them, and they know we're coming—the reason I'm EYES ONLY with you today."
The admiral squared his shoulders, faced Tanner, and nodded his head up and down as he now spoke.
"Orders to follow by regular channels, Tanner … but I want you to follow them through the Free Channel or wherever the hell they're aiming at, and take them into custody. We want to know why more than anything else, I'd think … though the RIM Council will probably want as much info as you can find out. No one is to be hurt if possible, Captain, but a reminder that mutiny out here on the RIM is the same as everywhere else … a crime punishable by military court action and yes, death."
He shook his head then, and his epaulets fluttered on his shoulders, the four gold stars shimmering in the console light.
"Tanner … take them and bring them in, try to not hurt a soul … but your judgment in this matter is most important. They need to be tried for this, but to do that, you need to bring them in … alive. Follow me here?"
Tanner knew he was being charged with the job of finding the mutineers, taking them into custody, and then returning them to face charges on Juno. He also knew that the whole mutiny was a made-up event, aimed only at getting him the ability to land on ITO to find the Pirates as per the Issian plan. But he also knew that the admiral knew nothing about the plan … and felt badly that the strength of the plan relied on his keeping the plan a secret. From the man to whom he really owed his life.
He nodded back to the admiral and ended with what he hoped was the right way to accept just such an EYES ONLY order, and moments later, the screen went black.
Right, he thought, if they're in the Free Channel, then they'd made good time from Roor and were aiming at getting to ITO in about six more days … time to tell the crew and to make some plans. He looked out the view-port and watched as the hard stars out there seemed to be etched in black steel. Most were older G stars of yellow and orange, and there were a couple of red dwarfs he could find if he looked hard enough, but most were main sequence stars … not a single blue giant out here on the RIM. He stood and moved closer, wondering why the mutineers hadn't even come up with a "plausible raison d'être" for their taking over the ship. It didn't matter, he knew, as all would be forthcoming to the admiral when it was over … yet still it would have been just a bit more solid. Beyond the view-port, the stars still shone and he turned to give the new orders to his crew. Only Bram his Adept would get the true story, but that was as needed, he realized as he left his ready room and returned to the Bridge.
# # # # #
In the mines near Emmanuel on ITO, the miners worked later than usual as the days were growing seasonally longer. Below ground near the second level tunnel, the cage was hoisting up the latest goats filled with ore, and as it moved up vertically in the main shaft, it scraped as usual against the shaft barrel.
In the cage holding the goat, Roison searched the faces in the facing tunnel. She found her aunt, half-smiled, and received a jolting channeled thought in response. Her smile dissolved and she looked up and up at the head-frame and the light from above and waited for them to hit the surface. She swallowed and swallowed again and counted the hours left before the day was over. And she waited.
Once the cage hit the surface and the shaft collar, the cage stopped and the crew on board manhandled the three goats out on the collar floor and maneuvered them to line up the wheels beneath onto the tracks and pushed them down to the trolley cart.
Turning as the surface crew took over the goats and their precious cargo of ore, they moved over laterally to again manhandle three empty carts, or goats, back onto the cage and take the trip down again to the fourth level where the ore vein was especially thick. There, the room and pillar mining was going full tilt as there were over 490 hostage miners who were working the face cut that sloped so very gently down, and the ore was coming out easily. Pained by the underground heat and humidity, the miners were not the best at doing the various tasks but knew that should anyone not follow directions, the mine guards were quick to point out their mistakes with a needler to the leg. Falling on the rough uneven tunnel floor was tough enough, and almost every single miner had scrapes and lacerations from their own clumsiness. But adding a leg that suddenly gave out meant that many fell harder and even against the tunnel walls that were much rougher. Most had scrapes along their temples and a shift without a bloody scrape was a good one!
But hard as the work was, they knew, as did their captors, that every day ore must come out of the ground and their lives depended upon it. Few had resisted and they had simply disappe
ared from the miners’ dorms. Still others had become sick, no one knowing why or how, and they too had disappeared. No one had ever gotten any type of answer to any queries about the missing miners from the captor guards. No one ever would, Roison knew … and as one of the dozen or so Adepts in the group of hostages, she knew why. Not a single consciousness of any of the missing had she ever seen with her mind's eye after they disappeared, which she knew could mean only one thing.
Throwing off that memory, Roison pulled and tugged the final goat off the cage and somehow misaligned the goat wheels on the tracks and it jammed solid. Like an anchor, it held up the string of goats from being moved forward to connect with the trolley cart, and the rolling cart train stopped cold.
The guard was quickly on her and cursed as he reached for the needler at his hip, and Roison clenched both eyes shut as she froze and dove into his consciousness. A mess of thoughts and half-made wants drifted by, and she still moved down and within … trying to interrupt the draw of his weapon … trying to interrupt his instinct.
The guard shuddered and then kicked the goat. He slid his hand off the needler to put his back into trying to move the goat ahead on the tracks as Roison kept drilling down and down pushing the phrase “jammed wheels … jammed wheels … jammed wheels" over and over into the mind mess below. The guard heaved and heaved once more as the congested wheels began to turn, and the string of goats suddenly sprung into movement and chugged off toward the refinery.
