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Pathfinder

Page 9

by Gun Brooke


  Two of the young men muttered apologies, but the third, handsome and in his early twenties, sneered at them. “You sure she wasn’t coming with us voluntarily?” His innuendo was obvious.

  “Name and cube number.” Adina pushed Briar in behind her and held her hand out to stop the doors from closing, which in turn prevented the jumper from leaving the gate.

  “What’s that to you?” the young man said, but his friends nudged him.

  “You crazy? Don’t you recognize her?”

  Briar thought they’d recognized Adina and hoped they’d be intimidated enough not to face off with the Pathfinder’s chief engineer.

  “What do you mean?” the offensive man asked his friend.

  “The redhead. She’s Red Angel. Don’t mess around with them anymore.”

  Briar gasped. Again, that weird moniker. What the hell was that about?

  The young man in Adina’s sight paled. “What? You sure?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “I’m sorry, madam. Won’t happen again. Can I go now?” The man looked more like a boy now, and Briar tapped Adina’s shoulder.

  “Just let him go, Adina.”

  “Fine. For now.” Adina withdrew her hand, and turning to Briar, she shifted and used her body as a shield between Briar and the crowd around them that had begun murmuring.

  Briar heard several of the people in the jumper mention “Red Angel” and hoped they were just curious and wouldn’t assume the name referred to her. Somewhere another redhead was doing something that had earned her the title. Briar knew it couldn’t be her.

  “Twice now,” Adina said and looked down at Briar. “What are you thinking?”

  “That it’s not me. That somewhere, a redhead is being all angelic or something, and the Creator knows that can’t be me. Ask Caya. She wanted to go to a party at a friend’s quarters, but I told her it’s not a smart thing in the middle of the week. She has so much homework to catch up with, as we couldn’t teach some things at home. No parties when it’s a school day. We agreed on that.”

  “So, this is your way of telling to tell me you’re not Red Angel?” Adina tilted her head. “I got the feeling they meant something else. Those boys were even a bit intimidated by this angel.”

  Briar had to laugh. “Again. Not me. Not at all. Intimidating.” She snorted. “So not me.”

  Adina looked at Briar as if she didn’t believe her. This was interesting. In the park, Adina had regarded Briar with a mix of apprehension and something else, something basic and fervent—even passionate. Her eyes had gone from a more amber brown to something golden, like honey. From any other person, man or woman, Briar would’ve guessed it was sexual attraction, but this was Adina. Severe and standoffish, and certainly not attracted to Briar.

  For some reason, this thought depressed her. Trying to figure out why, Briar kept gazing up at Adina. There it was again. That molten, magma-like glow in Adina’s eyes. “You’re looking at me like…like a lover.” Oh, sweet Creator, did she just say that? Briar sucked her lower lip in. If she ever learned to edit herself just a tad, that’d be great. How was it that all her thoughts and what was generally on her mind just leaped out of her mouth—especially at the most inopportune moments?

  Adina’s eyes closed hard for a moment. When she opened them again, they were opaque and dark brown. Whatever emotion had brought out the gold, it was gone now. “I apologize,” Adina said. “I wasn’t aware I was making you uncomfortable.”

  Oh, no. None of that. Briar had the urgent notion she had to make this right. Now. “I’m not uncomfortable now and I wasn’t earlier either. You don’t have to put up that wall with me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Just as Adina spoke, the jumper lurched and lifted from the tracks.

  Briar cried out and hung on to the handle, wrapping her free arm around Adina. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve bounced off the track. The computer should right this problem any moment now. Hold on.” Adina mimicked Briar’s grip and held on to her.

  The cart jolted and swayed back and forth, sending people to their knees when they lost their grip or slid off the seats. Children cried for their parents, and Briar could sense their fear and anguish wash over her in wave after wave. So much fear in one small area, no wonder she could sense it. Nobody was immune to such strong emotions.

  The cart slowly righted itself and came to a stop at the next gate. A computerized voice stopped them and told all the people aboard the jumper to disembark. Briar gripped Adina’s hand without really considering if this was all right with her companion. At this point, Adina was already in chief-engineer mode and barking orders into her communicator that she had produced from the small case attached to her belt.

  “I’ll make sure you’re escorted home. I’ve been called back in to engineering.” She leaned closer. “There’s been another incident.”

  “Damn.” Gazing around at the shocked people, some bleeding from minor cuts, Briar knew she couldn’t go home yet. “Go do your thing, Adina. I’ll stick around here for a bit and do mine.”

  “I see. Be safe.” Adina hesitated and her ears colored a faint pink. “It might get intense out in the public areas when the rumors of the origin of this start to fly. Please let me know when you’re safe at home?”

  “Sure.” She was beaming now, despite the somber nature of the issue at hand. “And you too, please.” She rose on her toes and kissed Adina’s cheek. “Bye.”

  Adina blinked, looking astonished. Then she pivoted and moved toward the area where Briar knew they kept the two- and four-seat military jumpers. Briar watched in awe how deftly Adina maneuvered the small jumper onto the other set of magnetic tracks. She moved with such control and agility it was hard to imagine Adina could ever come across as rigid.

  Briar tore her gaze from Adina and assessed the situation around her. No one seemed to have any serious physical injuries, but the air was thick with fear and frayed nerves. Practically at her feet, a young woman and a girl around eight held on to each other. The woman’s legs buckled underneath her. “Hey,” she said and knelt beside them. “I’m Briar and I’m a nurse. Let me help you and all will be fine.”

  The little girl looked up at Briar, who could easily read the fear in her eyes. “Can you help my mother?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Briar lifted the little girl up on a bench over by the bulkhead. Returning to the mother, she managed to get her on her feet. “One step at a time. Let’s join your daughter over there.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said, her voice broken. “You’re such an angel.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Sir, we have had yet another white-garnet explosion,” Lieutenant Dodgmer said as soon as Adina entered engineering, still dressed in her civilian clothes. Located two cubes away from the one she’d just left, the vast area of pipes, manifolds, propulsion guiding systems, and computers was more familiar to her than her own quarters. In fact, Korrian and she had designed these bright-white walls, light-gray floor, light-blue pipes and manifolds, and every single computer console consisting of glass-aluminum and super-conductive metal alloy. This was what Adina considered her true home.

  “I know,” she now growled and took her station. The enormous computer console surrounded her on all sides, with only a narrow gap for her to enter and take her seat. The chair was more a stool with a narrow, low backrest. Never was she more comfortable than when she had the ship at her fingertips. “Have we located it?” If it was the hospital again, she was going to demand the beheading of the security officers in charge.

  “Yes. Cube Sixteen. The main gate.”

  “Oh, Creator,” Adina whispered. “Casualties?”

  “No deaths reported, but some burns and contusions. I’m getting updates continuously. Seems the garnet took out something in the tunnel rather than exactly at the gate. That probably saved some lives.”

  “Unless this was just a warning and they’ve added more of that shit somewhere else.” Adi
na punched in commands, making her screens come to life. Dodgmer always said she played this like an instrument, and he wasn’t wrong. The twelve screens surrounding her with information and video feeds would’ve made most people dizzy, but Adina was used to this console, having been in on the design with Korrian Heigel. She obtained a few more readings and slapped her communicator.

  “Commander Vantressa to Admiral Heigel.”

  “Heigel here. Report.” Korrian’s stern face appeared on the center screen.

  Adina told her what they knew. “I’ve deployed my teams, as have security and law enforcement. If anyone there looks dodgy, or if they’ve left traces, we’ll find them.”

  “White garnet again? Where the hell do they get the stuff? You can’t exactly carry it around in your pocket.”

  “Do we need to set up checkpoints to have people’s bags searched? This is starting to look like Oconodos—creating suspects out of just about anyone.” Adina shook her head.

  “I don’t think we need to go that far. I’ve been working on some changes we can make to internal sensors. I’ll join you. If we engage your entire team, we should be able to implement the changes shortly.”

  “All right, sir. We’re ready for you.” Disconnecting, Adina stood, raising her voice. “Listen up. Admiral Heigel is on her way, and she’s going to need all hands on deck. Ready your stations and get rid of anything that’s got nothing to do with this particular mayhem. I want to see ready stations in five.”

  Fifty stations resembling Adina’s, but semicircular in shape, created a full circle around her elevated console. Fifty engineers now tapped away at their computers, the idea of Korrian relying on them igniting even the most exhausted among them. Adina had trained them, gotten them acquainted with the cutting-edge technology Pathfinder possessed, and now they would need their collective knowledge to get them through this latest crisis.

  Korrian strode into engineering, her assistant in tow along with security officers. Meija wasn’t with her; no doubt the chief social-anthropologist was busy at her own headquarters, trying to figure out what was going on from the angle of her expertise.

  “Admiral on deck.” A young ensign stood, hand to chin, saluting the admiral arriving with her assistant and a security officer.

  “As you were,” Korrian said briskly. “Commander Vantressa.” She motioned toward the security officer. “This is Lieutenant Toplan. My assistant you already know. May I use your station?” It was a polite question but none Adina would ever consider saying no to. She would only surrender her station to the officer in charge when she wasn’t there. To stand idly by when someone else sat in her chair wasn’t something she enjoyed.

  “Don’t worry, Commander, I won’t be there for more than a minute or two. I just need to start a cascade effect down to your crew’s stations.”

  “Certainly, sir.” Adina stepped out from her console but remained on the dais. She could tell Korrian’s assistant had planned to be the one standing there, but he just had to remain where he was on the floor below. Next to the assistant, Lieutenant Toplan stood ramrod straight and followed everything they did while waiting for updates.

  “I’ve come up with a few algorithms to search for and detect any known explosive, including the six different colors garnet comes in. Red garnet reacts with fluid, even pure water, as the Gemosians found out the hard way when their moon blew up. Green garnet pulverizes everything it comes into contact with, except carbon-threaded lead. Blue garnet is harmless to humanoids but lethal to any cold-blooded creature, as well as insects. Yellow garnet dissolves and goes airborne as soon as it’s released into oxygen-hydrate atmosphere. White, we know, is also of the explosive and corroding kind. These are all difficult to deal with. Now, that said, if anyone was foolish to bring black garnet into the ship, we’re all dead. We can scan for that until we’re shriveled up and turned to space dust. Not a sensor I can think of is able to pick up on it.”

  “Until it’s too late. I know.” Adina somberly thought of the substance Korrian had mentioned. As bad as red and white garnet could be, black garnet was considered a weapon of mass destruction. A pea-sized amount of the substance, which could be contained in an anaerobic environment for centuries and not change, move, or hurt anyone, would be disastrous if exposed to oxygen.

  “I’ve seen samples in an electron scanner,” Korrian said. She shook her head and her face was somber. “Even then, it was a laboratory on a space station where the entire part of the lab was anaerobic. They wouldn’t risk any of those particles escaping into an oxygenized part of the station.”

  “What did it look like when magnified that much?” Adina watched Korrian’s hands move swiftly over her console, amazed how the woman could carry on a conversation at the same time.

  “Like long, narrow tubes, each of those tubes smaller than a strand of hair split ten thousand times. It’s also so black that it doesn’t reflect any light. You know what that means, right?”

  “It means you can’t really see it, even if there’s a lot of it. Against a white surface, it might look like a perforation, but that’s it.”

  “Exactly, so pray no mad scientist brought that along for the ride.”

  Adina shuddered at the thought of what some fanatics could dream up. She stood behind Korrian and followed her progress with avid attention, knowing she’d be the one responsible for this new system once it was up and running. Beneath them, her subordinates punched in commands and did their best to work at Korrian’s furious pace. Adina wasn’t worried; she’d trained them well. They were the best in their respective fields. The Oconodian people would expect each of them to perform technical miracles every day on their way to P-105.

  Adina’s communicator hummed. She tapped it, still with her eyes on Korrian’s hands. “Vantressa here.”

  “Are you aware of some explosion, Adina? Honestly, if this keeps happening, I’ll have to complain to the captain. I’d just settled some of the grandchildren when the whole ship shook. This is such a large vessel that the least one could expect is it would behave like the tiniest little canoe.” Shabina Vantressa spoke regally, as if to a servant. Well, that was hardly a new development.

  “We’re handing it, Mother,” Adina murmured, stepping off the dais. “You’re not in any danger if you remain calm and—”

  “Don’t you give me the official line you’ve rehearsed to reassure the masses, young lady. I’m your mother, and as such, I deserve to know, before anyone else, what’s going on. You’re supposedly responsible for this vessel. Your family should be your top priority when something’s going wrong.”

  “My first responsibility is to the ship and all its passengers. I don’t have time to chat now, Mother. Put the emergency broadcast on the screen in your quarters. Any information you need to know will be displayed there. Bye.” She disconnected the call and ripped the communicator off her lapel. Tapping on its display, she rerouted any transmissions from her family members to their local emergency quarters. She felt a tad sorry for the crew in charge there, but she had no time for her mother’s nonsense and power games.

  “Family upset?” Korrian didn’t turn to look at her, but her voice was sympathetic. She’d witnessed the Vantressas’ methods during the years Adina had been on her team. Korrian was one of the few people who knew the truth about this family of hers.

  “Family dealt with,” Adina said darkly.

  “Good. Now look here. I’ve implemented the basic algorithm to work its way through the system in a spiral formation, starting at the two blast sites. This will give us a pattern as well as an advance warning if the internal scanners find any color garnet.”

  “Except black,” Adina said.

  “Right.”

  “It’s a brilliant algorithm, and I can’t believe how your brain works as you can write these programs so fast.” Adina knew she was starstruck when it came to Korrian. It wasn’t just about saving their people, but also how she’d gone from being a hard-to-like and lonely person to allowing the wo
man she’d ended up marrying into her life just as she was under the most pressure.

  Adina hadn’t known Korrian then, obviously, but she’d been privy to Meija’s recollections and even Korrian’s own memories. After long hours in the space dock, watching the massive ship take its final form, they’d shared things about themselves and their lives. Adina had been hesitant, but when faced with such unconditional empathy, she’d told them about her upbringing. Meija had cried, but Korrian’s outrage had been just as healing to some degree.

  “I’m just using what the Creator gave me, Adina.” Korrian spoke in a low voice, as this comment was private. “As are you.”

  Adina wasn’t sure she had any special gifts other than tenacity and the ambition to be the best in her field. People talked about her as Korrian’s heiress, but that was a presumptuous thought. There could be only one Korrian Heigel.

  “Anything on the scanners yet?” Adina asked, ready to get back to ship’s business. “We need to know fast, and also, we need something to report back to Admiral Vayand and President Tylio. They’ll string me up in the center of Caydoc Park if I come up empty.”

  “And me right beside you. I know.” A muted beep, getting louder and faster, made them both turn to the console. “Going to voice command.” Adina didn’t intend to waste time punching in commands by hand. “Show scans on main screen.”

  The largest of the screens filled with charts and diagrams, numbers rolling fast to the left of them.

  “Computer. Show the trace from the site of the last explosion. Create holographic three-dimensional map of the Pathfinder.”

  The center of engineering lit up as ink-lasers sent their rays from the ceiling. Painting in real time, they created a semi-transparent blueprint of the vessel, marking the residual trace of white garnet from the jumper tunnel toward the outer perimeter.

  “It’s the Gemosian cube,” one of the junior engineers said where he stood among his colleagues in a circle around the three-dimensional map.

 

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