by Jason Letts
“For us to be together? What’s the point? With all that we’re stuck in, we’re as together as we’re likely to ever be. Do you think we’re going to have a spare moment to explore our feelings for each other or see what we’re like as a couple? And even if we did, why bother if we don’t make it through the next few days? Ask me again when we don’t have to keep our eyes glued to the scanners to make sure missiles aren’t flying at us,” she said, getting downright angry about it.
“Because even if I never leave Pluto and die on this mission, knowing I was with you before the end would be the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” he said.
“If we die, we’ll be lucky. Think about how much pain it would spare us,” she said.
She’d grown distant in only a few moments, dousing water on the spark they were so close to igniting. Rion didn’t know where this conversation was going to lead when it started, but his hopes of getting what he wanted were dimming. Lena rubbed her eyes and was probably thinking about getting back to sleep.
“We have right now,” he said, extending his hand palm out.
She held out her hand and interlaced her fingers between his and for a moment they clasped hands that way. It was a simple, innocent gesture, but it filled Rion with hope about what things could be like if only they survived. He’d spent so much time feeling like he was ready to die for his cause because he had nothing to lose, but now he had something to hope for.
The time to get up came all too soon, and Rion was groggy after an emotional night. The smile Lena gave him was so miniscule it could’ve been a muscle spasm in her check. But he knew she was right about what they’d need to focus on for the foreseeable future. They had work to do, and it started now.
Pluto was a dark speck in the distance when they’d reached the launch point for the satellites. Bailor continued to tune their systems with a tablet. If they couldn’t successfully imitate large ships as they broke into range of the Marshall Force’s scanners, there was no chance of getting through to the command center undetected.
“What gets me is that we have no way of knowing whether or not my parents were already killed because we didn’t arrive at Uranus,” Bailor said, shaking his head.
“Verche wouldn’t drop her leverage until she knew for certain that we were a lost cause. There’s no way she’ll touch your parents until she’s at least spoken with us again,” he said.
Bailor nodded hopefully and continued working.
“We’re going to get them,” Lena said, though it wasn’t clear whether she meant Bailor’s parents or those leading the Marshall Force, like Verche.
One after another the satellites headed out to their destinations in space, taking on a loose formation and beginning their crawl toward the planet under the power of their thrusters.
“The timing on this is going to be crucial,” Bailor said when they’d returned to the cockpit and started back toward a position along the standard approach to Pluto. “We want the scanners to get into range when we’re through the checkpoint and preparing to dock. That maximizes our window to get in and find my parents.”
Rion nodded, spotting the trickle of traffic up ahead.
“Are we all ready with our pass for the checkpoint?” he asked.
Lena nodded.
“You’re on board the Sunvice and we’re here to meet with one of the Pluto Project contractors to talk about getting work towing building material through the Kuiper belt. The ship’s shape and heat signature are completely anomalous to what they’ve seen before,” she said.
They merged with traffic and started toward their destination, soon reaching some of the large incomplete structures floating around the area. As before, traffic started to thicken up as they got within view of the checkpoint, agitating Rion who kept checking on the progress of the satellites.
“It’s nothing to worry about. I factored the reduced velocity and the checkpoint wait into our time table. Everything is going on schedule,” Bailor said.
Rion leaned back and tried to relax, taking his mind off things by identifying some of the nearby ships. An Espirit here, a Gravilinx there, a Voidjet there. The other ships passed through the checkpoint in an excruciatingly slow manner, but according to their readings the satellites still had a fair distance to cover before they reached the point of visibility.
The ship shook suddenly when the vessel behind them in the queue passed overhead, rushing to the checkpoint past everyone else in line.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” Lena said.
A moment later the ship in front of them also tried to jump ahead but collided with someone else who was zipping overhead from farther behind. They had a perfect view of the crash, which sent one ship into the steel barrier and the other into the ships ahead in line. Rion winced and leaned forward, shocked at what he was seeing.
“What’s gotten into everyone? You don’t think…?” Rion wondered.
“I don’t know. Let’s tune into the channels and find out,” Bailor said.
The ship kicked forward after Lena hit the accelerator to avoid getting tangled up in another crash. She yelped as they got caught up in the tide sweeping through the checkpoint, swerving this way and that as more ships bumped and scraped in the tight corridor. It was hard for Rion to make out what they heard over the communications channel because he was trying to keep an eye on their rear end, but Bailor had his ear to the speaker.
“Someone else went out wandering that way and spotted the satellites’ heat signatures, leaking into the civilian channels first and causing a panic,” he said.
“If we can make it through the checkpoint…” Rion said.
“Hold on!” Lena hollered.
She executed a sharp dive to duck under a smoldering wreck. Some of the ships were attempting to turn around and flee Pluto’s vicinity, causing head-on collisions at full speed along the entrance corridor. The checkpoint was getting closer and Rion sensed that the less-restrictive space around the dwarf planet would make for safer flying. It was a welcome thought, especially after a little toothpick coffin struck their side and bounced away into some floating construction material. Odds were the shuttle would live up to its name in there.
“Next time we may not be the bigger fish,” Rion said.
“It’s hard to keep track of them all,” Lena growled.
A Star Yacht came up alongside them, hogging a substantial portion of the corridor and leaving them squeezed against the side. If it swerved, they’d be crunched.
“Slow down!” Bailor said.
“Speed up!” Rion said at the same time.
Gritting her teeth, Lena pulled the ship over and struck the side of the Star Yacht, buying them a little room and putting a dent in the ludicrously expensive ship. Eventually, the Star Yacht slipped behind them where other ships were jostling for position.
The checkpoint was up ahead and a few of the Marshall Force’s military vessels were trying in vain to block the flow of traffic without getting themselves mashed.
“Wait, what are they doing?” Lena asked, squinting and leaning forward.
Rion almost didn’t notice at first that the corridor was getting smaller near the checkpoint.
“They’re shifting the walls to stop people from getting in!” he said.
Being stuck in what was essentially a large tube flying fast with dozens of other ships nearby was hard enough. Now it was going to be sealed off at the far end, ensuring a deadly pile up of epic proportions.
“Go faster, Lena!” Bailor called. His knuckles gripping the console were white.
The opening at the checkpoint continued to diminish in size as the military vessels nudged the ends closed. All of the gaps around them were narrowing as well. There was no getting out. Up ahead, one ship smacked the shifting corner and sprawled into the space around Pluto, spinning out of control. To make matters worse, the ships around the checkpoint were encroaching on the space as well.
“We’re going to need some help,” Rion said, judging the
gap. He heated up the compressed matter rounds and began firing at the ends of the walls, hoping to nudge them back out a little.
In an instant, the checkpoint whizzed by them, but they found that the space beyond was no less hectic. Ships were flying in every direction, some trying to get out and some trying to get in. Dozens of wrecks floated around, waiting for something else to run into them. Some large bays around the command center were opening, giving them a peek at hundreds of fighters inside waiting to be released.
“This is what we’re going to have to deal with when they find out the invasion is a hoax,” Bailor said.
Lena turned toward their destination but wasn’t able to go straight for long before the trajectories of other ships forced her to swerve and climb. As another collision took place in front of them, the Assailing Face shook hard, spun, and emitted an earsplitting screech as they were struck.
“What is it?” Rion asked, trying to access a technical readout of the damage they’d sustained while struggling to keep his seat. Somehow they were still moving forward, mostly, but the bottom of the ship was in dire straits.
“There, you have to dive,” Bailor said, pointing to one of the giant bays that was now launching a swarm of fighters, each with a shape similar to a set of claws.
“I see it,” Lena said, annoyed. The ship dipped in time to avoid the rapidly accelerating fighters but put them in the path of a cloud of small debris that made them feel like they were inside a tin can being beaten with a drumstick.
“We have to get out of this,” Rion said, wondering how long it would be until they ate something that crashed through the windshield.
“There’s a problem with the docking bay,” Lena said. The Assailing Face’s arc brought their usual docking area into better visibility. The long row of airlocks they expected to see had all been covered over with some protective shielding. Rion closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself for not expecting this kind of defensive measure.
“What else can we do?” he asked. They needed to think of something quickly or else they’d be stuck hanging around the area without a way in.
“I say we aim for the windows of Verche’s office and crash right in,” Lena proposed.
“We wouldn’t need to crash. Is there any way we could dock right against the window?” Bailor asked.
Rion took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Yes, there is. We can dock straight against the windows using spray foam to create a seal. There’s one catch. Without an airlock to latch onto, we’re going to have to continue running the engines to keep us from floating away and breaking the seal. Someone’s going to have to stay on board to make sure there isn’t a pressure loss that kills everyone in the room.”
He looked at his two comrades, ready to volunteer to stay back if it made the most sense. At least the elaborate windows to Verche’s office made it stand out from the others in the towering structure.
“Go ahead, boys,” Lena said. “I’m sure Bailor will have a better nose for sniffing out his parents than I will. But hurry back or I might get tempted to Brain Candy myself.”
Nodding to Bailor, they got up and left the cockpit to get the necessary supplies and prepare for their maneuver. They were going to need to suit up, masks and all, in order to pull this off. A few minutes of waiting passed while Lena backed the ship into the proper position and gave them the all clear.
They closed the interior door behind them and slid open the hatch, revealing the thick pane of the window and an empty but lit office beyond. Finding Bailor’s parents wasn’t going to be as easy as just walking in and pulling them out.
Applying the foam in the vacuum of space wasn’t easy either, as it didn’t spread as evenly as it did in air. Rion squeezed the material out of a tube and Bailor struggled to coat the edges, but even after they’d made it all the way around with all of their foam, they were unsure if they’d adequately gotten every spot. There was nothing left to do but hope it would suffice, so they went ahead and began cutting into the window.
The torch made short work of the window, but pushing in the large round slab turned out to be difficult and time consuming. Only after they’d cut it into several more manageable pieces could they get through. When everything didn’t start flying off of the desks and tables did they accept that they’d done a good enough job with the foam.
It was quiet and calm inside Verche’s office, possibly because she’d been called away to respond to the emergency. Rion put away the torch in favor of the taser, glad they didn’t have to fight their way through the docking bay and over to the lift, which was positioned to the right of their ship. Several doors hinted at the other rooms on the floor, any one of which could’ve contained Mr. and Mrs. Pu.
Bailor pulled his mask off and listened to one before pulling it open, air gun at the ready. It contained a supply closet full of office and computer equipment. The next was a bathroom. Against the opposite wall they heard a thump that put a look of panic into Bailor’s eyes.
They rushed over quickly and tried to open the door. Something was blocking it from the inside, but together they were able to muscle it open. A sterile looking conference room with blinding white lights shining down had plates of half-eaten food lying around. Sections of the walling still appeared to be under construction, and one section looked like it had been clawed at and was jutting open, but that wasn’t what had made the thudding sound.
“They were here, but they’re attempting to escape,” Rion said.
Bailor went to the dark gap and shouted.
“Sandor, Liss!” he called as loudly as he could, but there was no response.
Rion noticed bits of thin plastic tubing on the floor by some of the chairs. They’d been used as binds and were chewed or cut through. Whatever had happened, they were gone now and the only way to get them back was to hike through the innards of the center.
Bailor had squeezed through the hole and was eagerly scouting around in the darkness by the time Rion made it over to the wall. He peeked inside, catching only hints of steel supports holding up the ceiling on the other side. He scraped through and attempted to catch up to his friend.
“We have to hurry. It won’t be long until someone pauses to find out why a ship had docked against a window,” Rion said.
“I’m more worried what’ll happen if my parents are caught by any of the Marshall Force soldiers,” Bailor said, leading the way.
As they pressed on, Rion’s eyes began to adjust to his dim surroundings. Eventually he was able to make out the size of the large space, which previously seemed like it could’ve stretched all the way around Pluto. More importantly, there were more incomplete walls where light was shining through, indicating it would be possible to get back into other finished areas.
“They could be anywhere,” Rion said.
“Might be…”
Bailor’s words were cut short when he collided with something on the floor that went rolling and clattering away, a drum or canister that had quite a reverberating sound to it. He didn’t have to tell Rion what he was thinking. That’s what they heard from Verche’s office. Bailor tried calling again before breaking into a run and going for the nearest light source a hundred or so meters away.
The dusty air put a bad taste in Rion’s mouth, and he was glad to get back into the light on the other side. They’d entered into a large storage room filled with black boxes stacked on racks. Each had a pair of green lights that looked at them like eyes.
“These are fuel cells. We must be close to one of the bays that the fighters were exiting from,” he said.
Bailor turned back to look at him, a worried look on his face.
“One of the things I remember about my father is that he fancies himself a better pilot than he is.”
Their likely course of action was becoming clear. They’d try to steal a ship and escape, a dangerous proposition with all of the fighters being scrambled.
Racing to the door and entering the hallw
ay, they noticed lights flashing red on the floor. The wide hallway contained a lot of equipment for ships and pilots. Enough suits were hanging around that taking one in an attempt to look like a member of the Marshall Force would’ve been a cinch. Empty hooks could’ve been because the Pu’s liberated a pair.
“Do you remember what they look like? I mean, their faces? If they have one of these jumpsuits on you won’t even be able to tell if they have hair like yours,” Rion said.
Bailor tilted his head and set his jaw, showing plenty of consternation.
“I’ll be able to spot them,” he said more confidently than Rion could’ve. The only way he’d know what his father looked like was if he had his name stamped on his forehead.
The sound of voices led them to a large archway beckoning them into the great bay, where fighters were flying through a bubble into space beyond. They kept their eyes low, hid their weapons, and walked past a pair of pilots. Bailor shook his head and they ducked behind long, rectangular storage containers set against the sides of the bay. Behind them were large racks with hoses, tools, and other gear.
Dozens of pilots had congregated in the middle of the bay for some kind of lecture, complete with a chalk board. They were some distance away, and Bailor struggled to see if his parents were in the group. Another ship flew away that very easily could’ve had them on it.
Suddenly, Rion felt something close around his arm and cover his mouth. He jerked to see that someone had hold of Bailor as well, a middle-aged woman with dark brown skin and grey strands of hair poking out from under the tight cap of a pilot’s uniform. Relieved, Rion ceased struggling. Somehow they’d been hiding among the racks.
“We found you,” Bailor said, breaking into the biggest smile Rion had ever seen. The celebration had to be kept quiet because they were in the least safe place they could be.
“We’re getting out of here,” Bailor’s dad whispered once he’d let go of Rion. He pointed to a set of stairs leading up to a landing platform for a row of fighters.
