Celus-5 (The Silver Ships Book 8)
Page 13
Pussiro’s hand rested on the cradle after he hung it up. Clever, he thought. Whoever you are up there, you’re a devious commander. You’ll rescue your soma without firing a shot.
* * *
The Haraken SADEs monitored the g-forces on their travelers and themselves, as they increased the spin rate. While the fighters possessed fantastically strong shells, they’d never been tested in this way. There was no data to monitor to tell the SADEs when to cease the spin rate’s increase. As for their own bodies, the inertia compensator limit for humans was already surpassed, and they could feel the mounting pressure on their more sensitive areas, such as the orbs of their synthetic eyes.
Linked to the travelers’ controllers, Z could accurately determine the ground’s rising wind speed and the shrinking visibility distance created by their spinning ships. He, for one, was wishing that he was wearing his Cedric Broussard suit. The monstrous, New Terran-style avatar was built to more exacting standards than the Exchange director’s avatar he presently inhabited.
Winston had selected Oliver to pilot the fifth shuttle since his experience, among the Confederation SADEs, was the most extensive, having more than a century and a half of controlling starship passenger liners. Oliver was pleased to be of service in the rescue operation, and his attitude was a common theme among those SADEs immigrating to Haraken. Their primary intention wasn’t to leave the Confederation; it was to relocate to Haraken where they would have the opportunity to experience life to the fullest. In this manner, they were more akin to the Independents, who were being incarcerated on some unknown colony for their desire to live outside the Confederation’s societal norms.
Oliver was exacting, as he followed Z’s data, dropping his traveler down the wheel’s center. The air disturbance in the windstorm’s eye was minimal, but, when he approached ground level, visibility dropped to near zero. Oliver depended on the controller’s contact with the ships above to maintain his position in the center of the wheel and to know when he was due to touchdown.
Winston cued the hatch open, and sixteen SADEs poured out of the ship with cutters in hand. Last out of the hatch was Trixie, her arms wrapped around a traveler’s power cell, housed in a transport container. She signaled the hatch closed when she jumped free of the ship.
Every SADE was running multiple algorithms. There was no signal to guide them to the netted traveler. Neither the ship’s controller nor the humans’ implant comms were responding to hails. Instead, the SADEs employed a mapping algorithm, which held the positions of the netted shuttle, their originating ship, and their individual destinations. The difficult part was navigating by taking equally measured steps despite the wind’s attempt to blow them off course.
Despite the difficulties, every SADE reached the netted traveler — some on target and some contacting the net’s edge and feeling their way along it to their assigned tie-down. Half the SADEs were required to circle the ship, via the bow, to reach the tie-downs on the ship’s starboard side.
The cutting tools worked with ease. Within ticks of the last SADEs slicing through their cables, those positioned on the leeward side of the ship hauled the net off and chopped it into small sections.
Winston signaled Z that the trapped traveler was free, and the Haraken SADE reduced the spin rate of the four travelers to the point where the SADEs on the ground gained some visibility and could sprint back to their shuttle.
-12-
Trixie’s Rescue
Trixie signaled Winston that she reached the traveler’s aft end, and he wished her fortune, as he and the other SADEs raced for safety aboard their ship.
Hanging onto the power cell’s elongated container strap, Trixie tossed the precious cargo up and over the top of the ramp. She eyed the 3.5 meters to the top and jumped for it. Grabbing the sharp edge with her hands, she hauled herself up to lay lengthwise along the ramp’s 15-centimeter-thick edge.
With a heavy pack on her back, Trixie couldn’t fit through the narrow opening. She performed an intricate set of maneuvers, gripping the ramp between her thighs while she wriggled out of her pack and dropped it to the shuttle’s deck. Then she pulled the container back up by its strap, holding it with one hand, while she squeezed through the opening and twisted in the air to strike the deck feet first.
Having received Winston’s signal of all clear, Oliver lifted the ship up through the wheel’s center.
Z waited until Oliver’s ship gained altitude above them, then he quickly slowed the four spinning travelers, bringing them to stationary positions. Then the five SADE pilots spread out into overwatch positions, relieving Lieutenant Soucis’ ship to return to the Sojourn.
Inside the freed traveler, Trixie regarded the closed plex-crystal doors. This was why she was selected for this aspect of the mission and why she carried a pack of tools. Mickey and Claude would have been the perfect pair to accomplish this task, but unfortunately, humans couldn’t cross the open territory in the sandstorm, much less vault to the top of the upturned ramp.
On Trixie’s Confederation outpost, when she was known as Lenora, she managed the mining operations on several metal-rich moons. The massive ore-dredging machinery was automated, but often required servicing due to the harsh operating environments. Trixie would send bots to manage the repairs and oversee their operations. As a SADE, she was superb at her job, but her contact with humans was limited to the occasional comm she received from her administrators. In a word, her existence was isolated and torturously lonely.
When news arrived that Trixie would soon be liberated, she was ecstatic, but, soon after, time crawled slower and slower with the passing of every day. She busied herself reviewing the ancient vids Julien had shared with Winston. The image of a fabled, blue-faced fairy caught her attention, and she submitted a request for her avatar to be patterned on that creature.
Had the rescue operation reached the downed shuttle, two days earlier, Trixie would have found the plex-crystal doors ajar. It was necessary to open them to allow air to flow into the main cabin once the ramp was cracked. But, as the water ran short and the crew became listless, Bethany, waiting until the last moment, triggered the doors closed. The techs had jury-rigged the power cells of security’s stun guns into the doors’ actuators, warning Bethany that she had enough power for only one operation. Bethany believed she had no choice — closing the doors was necessary to prevent the natives from having access to the shuttle, its technology, and its passengers.
Staring through the traveler’s transparent doors, Trixie was concerned for the humans, who lay slumped in seats or in the aisle. She could detect the humans’ implants, but there was still no comm reply. She updated those above her, sending,
The controller was offline, which meant Trixie couldn’t signal the doors open, and she couldn’t reach the ship’s power cells, which, in this transport model, were located behind the pilot cabin’s bulkhead.
Kneeling on the deck, Trixie pulled a laser cutting tool from her pack. Using the traveler’s schematics stored in her memory, courtesy of Mickey, Trixie located a section of bulkhead panel and sliced into it, exposing power cabling. There was no concern for live wiring, since the ship was drained of energy.
Trixie attached the power cell to the bulkhead below the cutout, container and all, with a tube of strapping nanites. When the thick liquid stream of nanites touched the metal wall, it took on its properties. Three loops of nanites later, the container was firmly held in place. Attaching the power cell’s
leads to the traveler’s interior cabling was the job of another tube of nanites that fused the leads into the ship’s power system.
Trixie waited a few moments for the ship’s power sensors to restore the safety relays in the circuitry. Then she signaled the pilot’s board to reboot the controller and waited until the unit completed its startup diagnostics and confirmed ready. Trixie broadcast. Then in the next moment, she sent,
Scrabbling across the deck on her knees, she examined the base of the ramp and discovered dirt and debris filled the creases formed by the ramp and the lower portion of the shell. Trixie had nothing in her pack that could be used to blow out the material. Worse, time was wasting. One of her algorithms kept track of the humans’ vital signs and several were extremely weak and heralded imminent failure.
Knowing the plex-crystal doors could seal in atmospheric conditions but not against the vacuum of space, which would risk the humans’ lives, Trixie made a snap decision.
With the shell’s integrity breached, the ship’s actions were quickly draining the new power cell. Nonetheless, Trixie used a small fraction of the power to open the plex-crystal doors and flood the main salon with fresh air. Her sensors registered the huge buildup of carbon dioxide that flooded past her from the main cabin. As soon as the debris cleared the ramp’s creases, Trixie sealed the ship.
Knowing there was nothing she could do to aid the humans, Trixie locked her avatar in place and waited out the tense moments as the traveler made for space.
* * *
Aboard the Sojourn, medical specialists and techs assembled in the corridor outside the starboard bay. Trixie landed the traveler, with 1.5 percent charge remaining in the power cell, while the med crew danced from foot to foot, anxious for the bay to pressurize.
The first medical team rushed through the airlock just as the traveler’s rear ramp touched the deck. Trixie stood aside, as humans rushed past her armed with syringes to pump oxygenated fluids and nutrients directly into bloodstreams. The next medical unit to board the ship held med-readers and sensors, which were attached to the survey team’s temples to monitor brain activity and deliver more detailed bio information.
Trixie was dismayed to watch the medical teams work to resuscitate two of the scientists. They were the oldest members of the expedition — Edward Sardi, a physicist from Sol, and Ullie Tallen, a Méridien who had investigated his fair share of planets for the Confederation. Both men yearned for one more adventure before they settled down to quieter lives.
Efforts to revive the two men went on for the better part of half an hour, while around them the other survey members were carted off on grav-gurneys. Finally, the medical teams called a halt. The two elders, Edward and Ullie, had participated in their last adventure. Both men expressed hopes that they would find alien life on Celus-5. Their wishes were granted in a manner they could never have imagined.
While the specialists waited for the return of two more grav-gurneys, Trixie threaded her way through the crowded aisle to Ullie’s body. The elderly scientist lay in the aisle, and she bent down to touch the cheek of the centenarian.
* * *
Alex waited for Trixie in the corridor outside the landing bay. Her hair and clothes were covered in dust and small bits of vegetation. She looked a mess, and the sadness on her face added to her distraught appearance. Trixie halted in front of him and studied his face, and Alex could only guess at the myriad thoughts flooding through her kernel in those few moments.
“I regret, Ser, we were not in time to save them all,” Trixie said, her eyes locked on Alex’s.
Another SADE in a fragile moment, Alex thought. The Confederation SADEs lived lives of boring repetition and yearned for the freedom that could be enjoyed on Haraken. But with that freedom came emotional challenges many of them were not prepared to face. “Walk with me, Trixie,” Alex said, taking her arm.
Trixie thought it odd that a human would attempt to guide her, the mass of her avatar negating any such effort. But Alex Racine’s hand felt oddly comforting, and so she was careful to walk so as to ensure she did not pull free.
When Trixie realized that she was being led toward the medical suite, she suffered a moment of fright. Her first thought was that more humans had died, and she would be forced to face more of the SADEs’ failures.
Alex signaled the medical suite’s twin doors open and motioned her inside. The emergency room was crowded with medical specialists, techs, and the rescued. Trixie conducted a quick head count by visuals and implants. The numbers matched — everyone taken from the traveler was alive in the suite. She smiled in relief at Alex, and he smiled back at her.
When the rescued survey team saw Alex step into the suite, they struggled to sit up, straighten their clothes, and brush hair from their faces. It was the least they thought they could do to show respect for the man who created their world.
“Rest easy, people,” Alex said. “I wanted you to meet someone. While many people took part in planning your rescue, twenty-two SADEs were responsible for its execution. And this individual, Trixie, deserves a great deal of credit. Through her ingenuity, she gained access to the shuttle, resurrected your dead traveler, unclogged a jammed ramp, and flew you to safety. And I might point out one unusual fact … this was Trixie’s first experience as a traveler pilot.”
Alex’s last statement caused laughter, weak as it was, to ripple through the room.
In the bed nearest to them, a young New Terran-built tech reached out a hand to Trixie, and she took it gently. “Who knew that blue skin and orange hair could look so lovely,” he mumbled.
Trixie was unsure of what was expected of her and would have remained rooted where she stood, except for Alex’s gentle nudge forward, as he sent,
The next nearest bed held Sergeant Bethany Latimer, who held out her hand to Trixie. “Well done, Trixie. You have my thanks too.”
On around the suite Trixie went, listening to the comments of the rescued, who shook her hand or touched her arm in passing. Many days ago, aboard the Allora and on her way to Haraken, Trixie wondered what sort of welcome she would receive in the new society. Saying goodbye to Edward and Ullie made her want to flee back to the Confederation, but listening to the voices of these brave individuals, who had signed up for the expedition to investigate a new world, told her that the people she was joining were wonderful, if not a bit crazy.
At one point, Trixie, almost giddy due to the enthusiastic reception, turned to speak to Alex, but the man had disappeared.
* * *
“One problem down, two to go,” Marie Soucis commented. Her shoulder was fully healed, thanks to Haraken medical techniques, and she was standing on the Sojourn’s bridge with others, dissecting the events that took place planetside.
“What is it, Alex?” Asu asked. He had watched Alex replay Willem and Sergeant Latimer’s recordings of their encounters with the natives over and over on the holo-vid. Everyone else was intensely involved in the discussion, except for Alex.
“We’ve more than the two problems you’re mentioning, Lieutenant,” Alex said, never taking his eyes off the holo-vid. “Recovering the captives and our Swei Swee will be our first operation.”
“Does anybody else think that there’s something odd about this planet and these people?” Alex asked.
“You mean that the natives have primitive weapons, suggesting that they would be an aggressive race, but they held their fire during both encounters … except, of course, when they shot the lieutenant,” Bethany quickly added. She was seated at a bridge operations position, still too unsteady to stand for long. But as Captain Escobar knew well, Bethany wasn’t one to shirk her duty because of something as mundane as a near-death experience.
“I was thinking about that,” Marie chimed in. “When we opened the hatch, I heard a large number of weapon reports. I should have heard most of them pinging off the hull, but my recording shows that there was only the one … the one that happened to ricochet off the steps and hit me.”