by C. Gockel
She released her grip on the air lock and punched out of the station’s gravity well. The ship responded well to her tentative tests of its maneuverability and she soon felt it obey her mental commands without delay. “Tower, come in,” she said. “Lieutenant Whiteside aboard rebel cruiser. Don’t be shooting at me. Secure com link, please.”
“Heard, Whiteside,” came the reply which soon lost all formality. “Fill us in, Lieutenant, because what we just heard from the basement makes no sense. The climber is fine.”
“Negative. Please just get me an engineer. And some backup out here would be nice, too. They’ve rewired something and the brakes are offline. I’m going to try to knock the climber off the ribbon. As soon as someone tells me how to do that.”
“Got it. Good news bad news. It’s past geosync so it won’t fall to Bellac if it disengages. But that means we can’t stop it.”
“Heard, Tower. That’s kinda the part that worried me.” Nova steered the cruiser down along the tether to meet the arriving cargo pod. She reached for her seat restraint when she spun down the ship’s gravity to avoid exerting its pull on the tether or the climber.
“Lieutenant,” she heard another voice, this time the station commander.
“Yes, Colonel,” she said. “How much time do we have?”
“None. The climber will reach the station in minutes. The lower levels are sealed. We are evacuating whom we can but we just don’t have the pilots or the planes to get them all off.”
“Respectfully, sir, this just isn’t the sort of information I need right now.”
There was a babble of voices and she winced when all of it sounded panicked and none of it intelligible. She slowed when the ship’s instruments showed her the climber now approaching from below. She swung around it. This one had one open cargo platform stacked with supply containers like the ones she had seen on the station. It also carried one of the bulky, closed cargo pods designed to be transferred from the climber to a waiting ship, already processed and cleared by the Union base for forwarding shipment. “I’m there,” she said. She rolled the cruiser and carefully matched the climber’s speed, letting the ship calculate distance and velocity to its smallest increment.
“Lieut… Lieutenant?” a thin voice broke through her ear piece.
“The only one here,” she said, focusing the ship’s cameras onto the climber’s grasp on the ridiculously thin tether.
“This is Sol Josel, station engineer. I’ve confirmed that our systems were… were tampered with. I won’t be able to reset them quickly. That… that means… I mean.”
“Look, Josel. Pull up your pants and tell me how to stop this thing. Can you do that? And I mean disengage it gently. Because if this thing blows it’ll probably blow the tether, too.” She looked over her displays. “I’ll need them to shut down the upper shield network along the tether or I won’t be able to get close.”
“That… that would not be recommended. There is still some debris in orbit from the sabotage so it could possibly—”
“Colonel?” she said. “Getting a little short here.”
“Shields are coming down, Whiteside,” he replied. “Mr. Josel, if you please.”
“What do I have that’ll work?” Nova asked, having already sent the cruiser’s specs up to the station.
“There is a forward utility laser. You should be able to reach the upper clamp guard with it.”
“Heard.” Nova directed the cruiser to hover to the left and engaged the laser’s tracer to seek out the spot she needed. “Is that it?”
“No! That’s the belt guide! You don’t want to touch that.”
“How about we pretend that I’m a pilot and you’re the engineer. You can see what I see. And you can see my tracer, right?”
“Yes, to… to the left. That green hook-shape. If you can break that it’ll loosen the clamps sufficiently. It’ll take a lot of power.”
“And then what’ll happen?”
“The climber should drift away from the ribbon.”
“When you say ‘drift’, do you mean spin off and crash into my ship?”
“Possibly.”
“Going to invert, if you don’t mind, Colonel.” She moved her ship above the speeding climber and re-adjusted her gun.
“Clock’s ticking, Whiteside.”
“I can hear it from here,” she said, never actually having heard the ticking of a clock. “Wait, this won’t work. I can’t get my tracer in there.” She focused on her neural link, adjusting the ship’s position again and again to achieve a different angle but each attempt brought another obstacle between her laser emitter and the target. “I can’t get this. Is there any other way, short of making Bellac stop spinning?”
“Not without risking an explosion.”
“We’re already doing that.” Nova cursed and looked around the narrow cockpit. “What about guns?” She reached up to pull a laser rifle from its holder on the bulkhead. “Got a Tan-Wat rail here.”
She heard what might have been prayer over her earpiece. Resolutely, she locked the ship into a stationary position next to the climber and hurriedly dug through the storage bins near the ship’s doors. It took little time to climb into a space suit and find a helmet that would connect to her neural interface. Knocking her gloves into place, she studied the external camera displays to send her mental commands to the navigator.
“Don’t anyone breathe,” she murmured to no one in particular as she moved the ship to align its external door with the top of the cargo pod. The systems faithfully continued to match the velocity of the climber toward the station. Satisfied that she was as close as she was going to get, she locked her helmet and engaged the air supply before opening the cruiser’s small airlock chamber. An overhead compartment dropped a tether designed for exterior maintenance. She hooked the line to her harness, hooked up her gun as well, and opened the gate.
“Did I mention that I haven’t done a spacewalk in… well, a while,” she said. She peered out and down at the climber, certain that if she tried to look toward the distant planet she’d upchuck into her helmet. Somehow it didn’t look quite so dizzying when viewed from inside the orbiter. Looking up toward the station approaching much too fast would probably have the same result.
“Easy, Lieutenant,” the colonel’s suddenly very gentle voice reached her. “You want no reverb at all. We have no idea how they packed the explosive.”
She grasped the rail on the inside of the door and looked along the side of the ship. It was not one of the sleeker builds and she thought she could pull herself along without needing to touch the cargo container beneath her. She gripped the first of the planned handholds and pushed away from the door. She swung out, letting the inertia carry her forward and to the next point. “This suit is made for Caspians, by the way,” she said, fumbling when the thick stub that accommodated a Caspian’s additional thumb caught on something. It also explained the oversized boots that now bumped against the ship. “This gap looked a lot more narrow from inside the ship,” she said when suddenly confronted by a whole lot of nothing between the cruiser and the climber’s roller assembly.
“Lieutenant,” Josel began, still sounding nervous.
“Call me Nova,” she suggested. “Just in case we never meet again. Where from here?”
“There is a service rail. That red bar just ahead. You can use that to anchor yourself. You will have to push off from the ship. Softly!”
She braced a massive boot against the cruiser and shoved forward. For a breathless second she floated in space, secured only by the tether that bound her to the cruiser. The rail slipped into her hand as planned but her legs moved too far and bounced against another component of the climber which she didn’t understand any better than the one she was about to shoot. She waited a moment for the climber, the cruiser, and herself to explode in a quiet storm of spare parts. She exhaled slowly when that didn’t happen, willing her heart to return to a more reasonable pace.
“All right,” she
whispered. “I’m there.”
“Whiteside,” the colonel said. “You’re doing a fine job.”
“Always nice to hear, sir.”
“If you can’t disengage the climber, we’re out of options and out of time. Get yourself out of there.”
“I’m in place.” She wedged her foot behind the rail and reached for her gun. “Is that it, Josel? Tell me it is because I’m about to shoot it.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s it. Your tracer is placed correctly. If that springs loose the rest will follow. Is… are we sure this a secure com line? Because this information… What? Oh.”
“Can we all be quiet now?” Nova said. She steadied the gun and engaged the laser. Nothing happened for several seconds and then the color of the clamp guard changed and the unit twisted under the assault of her weapon. Briefly, she wondered if the gun carried a full charge.
“It’s gone!” she cried. “Tore loose and slipped behind that white thingie.”
“That thingie took a team of engineers five years to design,” Josel said peevishly.
“Get out of there now, Whiteside,” Colonel Thedris said. She thought she heard a smile in his voice. “If that didn’t do it nothing else will.”
Indeed, when she looked up she saw a space appear between the roller mount and the actual tether although a protective shield hid most of the attachment points. The elevator’s graphene cable seemed to tilt away and she realized that the crawler itself was moving away from it. “Uh, I think it’s loose but it’s not moving anywhere fast.”
Her comment was met only with silence.
“Hello? Could use a little help here. Something tells me that ranch is getting awfully close.”
“Heard, Whiteside,” the colonel said, now sounding all business. “Climber is not abandoning its trajectory. At this angle it will still hit the station.”
“Hell, no,” Nova muttered. She let the gun spin away and bent awkwardly to detach the clasp holding her line to the ship, her movements made clumsy by the six-fingered gloves. Gripping the service rail with one hand, she snapped the fastener onto it. A bead of sweat coursed its way into her eye and she blinked it away. The Caspian who usually wore this suit had set the controls far too high for her liking. “Why do they have fur, anyway?”
“Nova?”
“Busy. Call back later.” Completely untethered now, she turned slowly and groped for the gently undulating line leading back to the cruiser. For a giddy instance she considered what might happen if she missed. Would they ever find her among the skyranch shrapnel before she ran out of air? Muttering about things she’d rather being doing right now, she pulled herself hand over hand to the ship and bumped awkwardly into the open air lock chamber.
“If you’re attempting what I think you are…” Josel said.
“I am.” She unsnapped the tether from the interior of the ship and clapped it onto the outside before punching the controls to pressurize the space. “I’m guessing a pull is better than a push right now.”
“May the Gods find us all,” he whispered.
She pulled off gloves and helmet and floated into the cabin to resume manual control of the ship. With infinite care, she rolled the ship, watching the main screen to see if the climber would pull away, or decide to swing into the tether itself. “Am I doing this right? I’m looking at all this upside down.”
“Fall off a little more now,” the colonel said. “The cable is taut. No sudden jerks.”
She braced her feet against the cockpit ceiling and squeezed a little burst of power from the engines. Again, the elevator ribbon seemed to tilt before she understood that she, and her captive crawler, were veering away. Dimly, she became aware of the sound of several voices shouting with excitement and even one or two jubilant hoots. She wondered if that was the colonel hooting like that.
“Whiteside,” she heard his voice only moments later. “That was some damn fine precision.”
She smiled tiredly and boosted the ship again to tow the freefalling crawler to a safer distance. “Thank you, sir.” She reached down to set a course away from the elevator and then turned to climb out of the pressure suit. “What do you want me to do with this thing?”
“Take it up to graveyard orbit. We’re sending a salvage team to defuse it. Two of the rebels are still alive and are being questioned.”
“What are their names?”
“Who? The rebels?”
Nova shook her head. “Never mind.” She had seen Djari go down. And she had seen the look on the faces of Beryl’s men. He would not be among the survivors. There was a tight, bothersome feeling somewhere in the center of her chest and she was unsure if it was grief or anger or a bit of both. Whatever it was, she wanted it gone.
How many had died here today? How many might have died if the rebels had succeeded? What battles were still raging at Siolet and the jumpsite? Did this have to happen?
“Sir, permission to join the engagement on Bellac?”
“Are you sure? You’ve done your share for the day.”
“Positive. This ship is fully equipped.”
“All right. Drop off the climber and be on your way. Make sure they know that you’re on a cruiser.” He paused for a moment. “Targon would be mad to deny your Hunter Class, I think.”
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Hours passed before Nova brought her ship down onto the landing apron of Skyranch Twelve and slipped into the clutch of the air lock pogs. Her eyes felt gritty for lack of sleep, her bruised ankle throbbed, she was hungry and wished for nothing more than a hot bath and a soft bed, neither of which was available on this station. Perhaps she could sneak into the therapy pool in the med station.
She had placed a call to Captain Dakad after finally leaving Bellac and heard that Beryl had survived the skirmish at the elevator hub. Apparently he was entirely made of leather and nanotubes or something. It didn’t matter. What mattered was to finish this before his people caught her. And that meant staying out of their way for a little while longer.
She powered down and sat quietly for a moment, eyes closed. She wanted to cry. The head menders down on Bellac would approve of that. It was probably encouraged after shooting one’s lover.
“Lieutenant?” a hesitant voice called out from behind her.
“Yes, yes, I’m awake. Welcome to Skyranch Twelve.” She released the exit doors of the cruiser. The little cruiser was a fine piece of machinery and she had grown fond of it over these past few hours. Groaning, she pulled herself up, hid a gun behind the open flap of her flight suit, and stepped out of the ship.
The deck seemed abandoned when she and her passengers exited the lock. Banks of tranquil ceiling tiles illuminated the main concourse but the corridors leading to other parts of the orbiter were shadowed tunnels set to night shift power conservation.
“The lifts are this way,” she said.
They headed to the left and she was not surprised when she found their way barred by a security detail. Not just any, of course, but Beryl’s squad. She turned to see more of them step up from behind. They stood silently and looked about as menacing as she had ever seen them.
Sergeant Rafe stepped forward, gun in hand although not quite aimed at her. He glowered at her and then at the five people that had traveled with her from Bellac. Slowly, recognition seemed to come to him.
“Sergeant,” Nova said politely. “You may remember some of these good folks.” She turned to the huddle of pale-faced visitors who were unable to take their eyes from the soldiers’ guns. “You know Doctor Soren, of course. You’ll recall meeting Doctor Luca Vidarron. And here is Sergeant Daphine Hayden, Specialist Abrana, and Specialist Gosen.”
“What is this?” Rafe growled.
“They’ve come to visit with the colonel. Isn’t that nice of them?”
“Giving you a choice, Whiteside. You can turn around and get off this station with these people, never to return, or you’re coming below with us. What’s it going to be?”
“Below? Oh, you mean down where you’ve got all that mince stashed?”
“Somewhere there, yeah. I was thinking you’ll boil down into a fine soup for the grow rings, like the rest of the garbage.”
Lights came on in the corridor spaces, removing every last shadow with its unwavering glare. Beryl’s men looked around themselves when armed soldiers and some of the station’s pilots moved in to surround the group, weapons ready.
From the direction of the lifts came a curious collection of mechanics, two pilots, and several of the surviving workers from the loading dock. Nova recognized the nervous Bellac she had tackled in the stairwell and gave him a glad smile. Captain Dakad hovered protectively near them but his eyes were on Rafe and his expression seemed grimmer than usual.
Colonel Thedris stepped forward. “Lieutenant Whiteside, I’m pleased to see you in one piece, I have to say.”
“Thank you, sir.” She nodded to Dakad. “Is the shipping level still sealed off, Captain?”
“It is,” he replied. “Except for the bomb squad and medics no one’s been down there.”
Rafe grunted something and shifted his gun. Immediately, several security personnel moved forward and disarmed him and his companions.
“Colonel, these people, along with those Captain Dakad assembled, will offer a deposition in support of my charges. You will find a number of blue bins labeled as food stuffs and destined for Magra on the docks. Each of those bins was cleared for customs by Captain Beryl and his men under the direct guidance of Major Trakkas. The bins contain mince in various forms, brought into Shon Gat by caravan and from there to the elevator depot.”
“Trakkas? That’s quite the accusation, Lieutenant.”
“The deck hands that survived will corroborate, as will the crew members from Rim Station where similar smuggling took place. Captain Beryl used a systematic method of intimidation and blackmail to gain cooperation from those not directly involved. Doctors Soren and Vidarron are able to share enough information for you to investigate patient files showing evidence of physical assaults and at least one murder. These things probably also happened down at the Shon Gat base.”
