by Chris Hechtl
“They are just going to clog the port. Call them off,” she ordered.
“Ma'am?”
“I'll need to talk to the dock supervisor. You put up word on the status boards that boarding of Justica will not happen for at least forty-eight hours.”
“Yes, ma'am. Updating boards now,” the A.I. reported just as security paged her.
“I see it, Bret; I'm working on it now,” she said, opening the channel. The Neobear looked relieved and aggrieved all at once.
“I think they are just looky-loos but too many are carrying bags,” the bear grumbled. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath.
“Find the chain of command and update them. I'm getting Justica's itinerary now,” Michaela stated. “As soon as I do, we'll post it.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She pounded out the email and then hit send. “There.” She glanced at the camera feed and noted the docks were thinning out. “Echo, let them know if they want to see the ship dock where they can do it. There are some great views in different locations in the station.”
“Yes, ma’am. I'll let them know.”
“Good.”
@
Chief Bailey was wise enough not to utter a peep as he and Galiet walked to the port. He'd had a devil of a time getting the time off. He'd almost missed the docking; they'd had a wiring problem come up. He had the entire day off, in fact, the next seven shifts, but he really should …. A poke to his ribs made him gasp and turn accusing eyes to Galiet. “Pay attention.”
“I am!” he said aggrieved, rubbing his sore side. She had wicked fingers. He realized with a pang that he was going to be in for more of that soon.
“You are now. These people are all from Nuevo, right? Well, which Nuevo?” she demanded. “There are several planets there. One we barely trade with”
“Oh um …” He grimaced and then shrugged as he looked around them. There were a lot of army green around them. Some of the soldiers looked a bit put out. He wasn't certain why.
“It's okay,” Galiet said softly. “If you don't know, you don't know.”
“Sorry,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “My omnipotent thing shorted out ages ago.”
“Not your fault. We're getting there, slowly.”
“Yeah, I see that. One day at a time. Anything from Bek?” he asked.
She looked up at him in disbelief before she realized he had probably buried himself in work. He certainly hadn't showered like she'd told him to. He'd managed to get back to the suite and throw on a relatively clean coverall before they'd rushed back out. “Nary a peep or a ship. That worries me.”
“Me too,” he murmured as they got to the rope line.
“Damn that thing is cool,” he murmured as he watched the ship make her final fine adjustments as she docked with the station. She settled into the cradle arms without so much as jostling the station's buffers. Just seeing it loom ever closer like a giant thing about to hit put a thrill of terror in him he knew.
From the look of a few people around them, he wasn't the only one to feel that instinctive flight instinct kick in.
“Docking secure,” Echo said over the intercom.
“Mooring lines attaching now. It will be a few minutes before the transit tubes are secured and pressurized folks, so stay frosty,” the supervisor said, undercutting the A.I.
“Right,” the chief muttered as his wife practically danced in anticipation. He looked down at her and smiled as she looked up at him, brown eyes glittering with excitement. He wrapped his good arm around her and rubbed her shoulder as she tucked herself into his arms.
@
The return of Justica reunited the Bailey family once more. There was a tearful reunion in the processing. Chief Bailey didn't give a damn about making a scene or interrupting the flow of traffic, though he did try to keep them to one side. He could see the tentative looks from the kids that they were upset about his injuries. “My word, have you grown!” he said, ruffling some fur. The kids were excited to see the station, but that excitement was suddenly tempered after seeing their father with cybernetic limbs.
“Bad?” Sylvia asked as they got the cavalcade moving to pick up their luggage.
He limped slightly. The artificial foot was still a problem, but he flat-out refused to walk with a crutch or cane. “I'm still getting used to these things,” he muttered as Galiet gave him a worried look. He still had some swelling issues and phantom pain. He was supposed to be in ongoing rehab but had thrown himself into his work to rebuild the station. The family's arrival changed things however.
Together, he and Galiet showed the new arrivals to their quarters and helped them settle in. The kids were in awe of the size of the suite. Sylvia seemed to like the tree on the wall. “I really like what you've done with the place,” she said, bobbing a nod as she looked around the suite. “Here I thought we'd all be crammed in. You outdid yourself.”
“Thanks,” Galiet murmured. “It's still a work in progress obviously. Now that you are here, we can finish the job.”
“Thanks,” Sylvia replied with a lazy grin. Galiet smiled back, brown eyes lit with challenge. Slowly the duo turned their look on the lone adult male in the room.
Their husband just rolled his eyes. “Great. More work for me you mean,” he drawled.
“You know you love it, you old coot,” Galiet said, ruffling his fur. He snorted.
When Chief Bailey realized no one was willing to cook, he sighed and took them all out to dinner at one of the restaurants. As they made their way through the station, they noted the damage and repairs. “We're still making good on some things. Some of it was from our recent dust-up. Some is stuff from before that,” the chief stated. “Give us another year and you won't recognize this place.”
“It's like Anvil's upper decks. Are we really going to live here?” John asked eagerly.
“Until you graduate, yeah. That's the plan,” Clennie replied. “And you are going to advanced school, no argument,” she growled.
“And then?”
“And then you'll head off to trade school, college, or wherever,” his father said gruffly.
“That's his way of saying get out and make room for the next one in line,” John said in sotto voce to the other kids. That turned into a pushing and then tussling match of tag until the adults called them back to order.
After dinner, they had ice cream cones and walked through the concourse. The ladies window shopped as the older residents pointed out this or that feature and showed off the station. The kids were intrigued by the various play areas.
“As I said, this station is still a work in progress. “That means you kids stay out of areas marked as off limits. I mean it. The station A.I. will be watching you,” he shook a finger at them as the kids looked around. “He's not all gooey like Smithy is. If you get out of line, I'll tan your ass after station security is done with you. I don't care who you are or how old you think you are,” he warned them each sternly, shaking a finger at them.
“I mean it,” he said sternly, fur rising in implied threat. The kids nodded dutifully. Only one of the brat pack was brave enough to look at his finger cross-eyed when she thought he wasn't looking.
“I mean it,” he growled as the kids exchanged knowing looks. He sighed internally. Each was wearing an ID bracelet and had basic ID implants, so theoretically the new station A.I. should be able to keep them out of the secure areas.
Theoretically, his troop he wasn't so certain about. With them, all bets were off. There was a reason they had been forced to add extra fire alarms and sprinklers from time to time.
“Not that it will do them much good to put the fear of you in them. Not for long. In one ear, out the other,” he said under his breath after he dismissed the kids. He turned a chair and then sat down heavily in it. He didn't want to admit it, but he was tired. Even with an artificial foot, the kids were wearing him out.
“You'd be surprised,” Clennie murmured, wrapping her
arms around him.
“They are good kids,” Sylvia said with a nod. She inhaled and then exhaled. “Lords of space, how I've missed them!”
“Yeah, I know. And with regular doses, maybe they'll survive this station.”
Clennie snorted and wrapped her long arms around his neck and shoulders. She kissed an ear. “You mean the station will hopefully survive them.”
He snorted. “Yeah, that too.”
“I hope our insurance is paid up.”
“Yeah,” he drawled. “I knew I was meaning to look into something.”
“We'll go check on that,” Galiet said, poking Clennie and then taking off, holding her hand. She grinned at Sylvia and Bailey and then waved. “That and the stuff to remodel the suite. And while we're at it, we'll check on the kids,” she said.
Her husband watched them go suspiciously and then turned to Sylvia. She just shrugged at him, but she looked smug. His suspicions were instantly raised.
“They sure cleared out in a hurry. Wanna bet they are off to do battle with my credit card?” he growled in mock disgust. He was fairly confident they'd pick up something thin and frilly that will make his heart want to stop or beat wildly just to appease him.
“You mean our credit card?” Sylvia corrected him as she poked him in the ribs. He grunted and then chuffed as she nipped a lobe and then kissed him again, pulling his chin around to do it properly.
“You better hope you survive Clennie. She's been waiting a long time to see you boy and made it clear we've had you long enough. Tonight is going to get interesting,” she said with a wicked grin.
“Well, it's a tough job,” he drawled, hitching his shoulders as she hugged him from behind.
“Braggart,” she murmured, nipping his ear again.
He snorted.
“I don't suppose I can't warm you up first?” she laughingly teased in his ear.
He felt a sudden feeling south of his belt line. “Sure,” he said, suddenly reaching back and grabbing her. She squealed as he took her up on her offer, giggling and laughing as he hauled her over his shoulder and into his lap.
@
With Justica's resupply in hand, Commander Lafleur talked to the Admiralty through the ansible about future plans. Eventually her requests for a mission plan breakdown was bucked up through channels.
She waited impatiently when she was put on hold. “Commander Lafleur, this is Admiral Irons,” a familiar voice said, rocking her out of her chair. She shot to her feet and came to attention instinctively.
“Admiral, Sir!” she replied.
“What is going on with Bek? I just scanned your latest report. Still no word?” he demanded.
“No, sir. We don't know if they made it. They could have run into a problem. Anything is possible,” she admitted. “Sir, I am unsure what to do in that regard.”
“We wait a little longer. A ship is coming with Admiral Sienkov and a team on board,” Admiral Irons stated.
“Yes, sir, I saw that report.”
“Then I assume you also know about the ansible mission?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I've got a cruiser coming your way as well, the Rolling Thunder. She's got a double helm team and supplies on board. In fact, I know that you know she's overdue from your reports.”
“Sir? I thought she was going on to Bek from here?” the commander ventured.
“No, no she isn't. You were misinformed, Commander. She's going to picket your star system. Just a little insurance, though I'm sorely tempted to send her into Bek.”
“Sir, I can say with some certainty that it is a relief to hear you say that.” the commander said as she cleared her throat. “As far as Bek is concerned, we can send a ship there.”
“Not if they've turned it into some sort of black hole. I noted none of the ships you folks salvaged made it back, did they?”
“No, sir. That is true. We don't know if the virus was on board and they were lost in hyper or what.”
“That's a disturbing thought.”
“What I'm proposing is sending Sweet Revenge there once she returns from her latest run. We are saturating trade with Nuevo for the moment; a little time to recover might be good. Also, both Nuevos have a serious Grabboid infestation. Apparently, they need the boots on the ground and we've been thinning them out a little too well. We've got a peevish missive from Governor Tribek to that effect. He's not going to be happy at seeing Sweet Revenge return after sending that out.”
“I see.”
“Part of the problem is that they don't have any means to detect the bastards underground. They put in an order for ground penetrating radar, sir. I understand concrete and proper footings are also in the works. Unfortunately, the worms can chew through concrete over time; they've got some sort of acidic saliva. So, the radar is the best method to detect them.”
“I think I saw that on the trade list. That and thumpers. It makes sense now.”
“Thumpers … oh, yes, the explosives and subwoofers to drive the things away from habitation. Yes, sir.” She nodded as she brought up her own copy of the request.
“I'm wondering if we should be sending personnel in the other direction if this is an emergency. We can send experts, if any exist, plus the equipment they need. What is the status of the industrial replicators?”
“They are working full tilt to get our damage sorted out, sir,” the commander replied. “Unfortunately, we only have a couple and lack some keys. To be honest, without Admiral Logan on hand our progress has slowed there.”
“Ah.”
“I wish we had Ilmarinen on hand for the extra capacity. Unfortunately, we don't. I'd recommend the order be passed on to Bek if they would respond to it. It seems up their alley, to sell the Nuevans the equipment and stuff to use and maintain it.”
“An excellent point,” Admiral Irons replied.
“The Nuevans are still trading internally, though our shuttle repairs have allowed them to resume trade between the two planets in their star system. Still, they are agricultural worlds primarily. They've got plenty of food to trade but little of other goods. I authorized Captain Bites Hard to use Sweet Revenge to haul cargo between the two colonies to help them.”
“Good call, Commander.”
“Yes, sir. The herds of Centaurians have relocated to base rock and stone lands but are not comfortable there.”
“I'm looking them up now. I'm both amused and appalled by the life cycle I have to admit. Convoluted. They go from something that small as eggs, something the Centaurians eat but can't digest, hatch in their dung, then grow into underground monsters. I think I'm glad I haven't set foot on that planet.”
“Me too, sir. They kill a lot of people when they become adults. I've read the reports of concert goers getting sucked down. The last time they had that with an outdoor rave thousands died, some from the panic and stampede.”
“Ouch. Okay, so it is definitely a serious problem. I don't think it is a matter for the Marines though; they have army personnel on hand as you mentioned. They just need better tools.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Doubling the length of time between visits might ease things up a bit and allow both ends to build up a stockpile of cargo and personnel, sir,” the commander suggested. “Once the tech kicks in, we should see improvements.”
“You are back on the idea of sending Sweet Revenge to Bek?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The mission is possible, but I'd want that ship back.”
“Me too, sir.” Michaela said as she thought hard fast about the problem. After a moment, she shrugged and decided to make her pitch. “What I'd like to do is send both ships, sir, Justica and Sweet Revenge. Have one stop just outside of Bek and then wait there for a brief time. The other ship can continue into Bek. If they don't return, we know something hinky is going on in Bek. If they do, then we have our answer there. Along the way, they can look for ion trails and record any sightings. The second ship can bring all that data back withou
t ever exposing herself.”
“And they can lay a daisy chain of recon satellites too or tap the ones Caroline left behind. If they are still there,” Admiral Irons stated.
“Sir?” She frowned and then nodded when her memory kicked in. “Yes, sir,” she said, bobbing an unseen nod.
“Mission approved, Commander. Write it up and send it to me personally.”
Michaela's shoulders straightened. “Yes, sir.” She couldn't quite suppress a smile from breaking out.
“Good work.”
“I'm just the idea woman, sir. It's up to the crews to make it happen … and get back safely.”
“Agreed. But don't sell yourself short. You came up with the idea as you said. Get on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Antigua out.”
@
Three days after Justica's return, a second ship exited the rapids. This one did so ingloriously, but at least she had survived the transit more or less intact. She pitched end over end before managing to right herself and then orient on the station.
A bit less than more when Michaela got a transmission from Rolling Thunder. Her face was grave as she absorbed the news of the crippled heavy cruiser. She got the initial damage assessment immediately.
“We took it too high. The helm team has admitted their error. My error,” Commander Sharp Wit stated. “We pushed the envelope, and it hurt us.”
“How bad is the damage?” Michaela asked. She had to wait a few minutes for the response.
“Bad. We caught the edge of a string. The helm team says they should have zigged instead of zagged. It came in a tangle; honestly, I don't see how they got us out at all. We took it on the starboard bow. We lost all of our emitters there, and there is major frame and hull damage. Most of the bow is a wreck. There is a line going past the midships to the stern; we lost one of our nacelles on the starboard side and half of our engines too,” the T'clock captain admitted.
Michaela sucked in a breath as she got video of the ship. “We're sending you an image from one of our remotes now. Can you see it?” the captain asked.
“Yes, sir. Damn,” she said softly.
