“Not necessarily. This could be an isolated incident. If the Protectorate—”
“Sankta Dios,” he breathed suddenly. He’d seen the gaping, ragged holes in the station, on the entertainment and admin levels. “Is everyone—”
“No,” I said firmly. “The blast doors would have closed off the affected section; the rest of the station is safe as long as the shields hold. If there’s another breach, they’ll seal off that section, too. There are so many redundancies built into a station like this—”
“But no-one was planning on a war when they built it,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I told Bructa we were safer on Vele, but oh no, he wanted to experience the majesty of space. And now maybe—”
I put a hand on his arm. “We don’t know anything yet, and he’s probably perfectly safe,” I said, with a meaningful glance down at Neive. She gaped around the bridge with interest, and didn’t seem to be paying much attention to our conversation. With kids, though, you never knew what they were taking in. “Go on back to the galley and make yourselves comfortable until we can return to the station.”
He met my eyes and nodded, although I could read his thoughts. If there’s a station to get back to, once this is over. He didn’t say it, though. He just took Neive’s hand a little more tightly and said, “Let’s go get another cookie, karulino.” They made their way back down the corridor and I turned back to the bridge.
Rei had us moving slowly, trying to edge us away from the station without attracting undue attention. A bright flash signalled the end of another ship, but I didn’t see the explosion itself. I really hoped it was a Chron ship, and not a Protectorate one.
I managed to sit in the command chair before Baden said, “Captain, incoming message for you from Alin Sedmamin.” He turned his skimchair and raised one eyebrow at me. “You want me to ignore it? He’s a headache we don’t need.”
It was tempting, but I felt a pang of guilt. “Actually, Baden, I’ll take it. Route it to my datapad. I might as well hear what he wants.”
“If we do many more favours for the Protectorate, I’m putting in for an honourary rank and a pension,” Baden said, but he put the message through.
Sedmamin’s face filled the screen. “Captain, where are you? I need to get to your ship.”
“That’ll be a little difficult at the moment, I’m afraid.”
“I’m in the upper habitat. I’m fairly certain I can get down to docking.”
I shook my head. “You’re better off staying where you are. We had to move off from the station.”
His small, dark eyes widened. “Move off? You’ve undocked?”
“It got too dangerous when the station lost its stabilizers. Look, don’t panic. We’ll dock again as soon as things settle down.”
“You don’t understand.” He put his face closer to his own screen, and it grew to outsized proportion on mine. I didn’t enjoy getting this up close and personal with him. “Someone’s here—I think someone is looking for me. Someone from the corporation.”
Trust Sedmamin to think he was the most important person on FarView. “I expect they’ve got other things to worry about, like getting somewhere safe and staying there,” I said pointedly. “As you should. If you’re in a secure area, stay there.”
“But don’t you see? This would be the perfect time to—to eliminate me, and have it look like an accident! Just another casualty of the attack.”
As if to emphasize his words, the station took another hit. The image jittered and static overlaid Sedmamin’s next words.
“You have to come back and get me!”
I looked out at the battling ships, darting and buzzing around the station. “I can’t. You’ll have to wait.”
On my screen, his face flushed with anger. “If anything happens to me, you’ll never get—”
A bright flash surrounded FarView station, fading to the telltale red of failed shields. And the connection with Sedmamin went dead.
BY THIS TIME Rei had us turned completely away from FarView. “Baden, put the rear cameras up on the main screen, would you?” I asked. Part of me didn’t want to see what state the station was in now, but I couldn’t ignore it. I had to know what was happening.
“Aye, Captain,” he said, and the screen flashed as the station came into view. One more ship explosion flared, debris shooting out to join the already substantial amount of flotsam and jetsam the attack had produced. And with a shock of relief I realized that the Chron ships were gone.
“Broad feed message from FarView,” Baden said.
“Put it on. Bridge only,” I added, thinking of Farro and Neive in the galley. Best to wait until I knew what was going to be said.
“This is FarView Station Admin,” the voice said. “All unfriendly ships have been neutralized. I say again, all unfriendlies neutralized. FarView Station is in lockdown mode while we effect emergency repairs. If you have left your dock, please contact Station Admin to arrange for re-docking. Do not return without first contacting Station Admin. Lockdown disengage will begin shortly.”
The message began to repeat and Baden cut it off.
“Route it to the galley and let it play through once,” I said. “I expect we’ll see our guests back up here soon after that. Then contact Admin as they asked. Go wherever they ask us in the queue.”
Hirin left his weapons board and came to stand beside my chair, slipping an arm around my shoulders. “What did Sedmamin have to say?” he asked in a low voice.
I sighed and ran a hand over my face. “He was demanding that I go back and get him,” I said. “And then—the connection went dead.”
Hirin tightened his arm around me. “You couldn’t have gone back even if you wanted to.”
“I know. It was too late when he contacted me.” I looked up and into Hirin’s blue-grey eyes. “But if anything’s happened to him, we just lost any hope of accessing that information.”
“If it’s gone, it’s gone,” Hirin said philosophically. “I can’t say I was looking forward to having him on this ship.”
I was mildly shocked at my usually forbearing husband. “But you don’t hope something happened to him!”
He grinned crookedly. “No, not really. But stop beating yourself up about it—hey, I can tell you are,” he added, when I would have protested. “You couldn’t do anything but what you did. So, stop with the guilt.”
I reached up and squeezed his hand, then shut my mouth and watched out the front viewscreen as Rei guided us back toward the docking arm we’d left such a short time ago. All around the station, other ships began to move in the same direction, sometimes weaving through debris and wreckage. I wondered briefly how much of it was from Protectorate ships, then tried to shake that thought out of my head.
“It’s all right?” Farro’s breathless voice came from the bridge entryway, and I turned with a smile.
“Seems so,” I said. “We’re going back to the docking arm, but we might have to wait a bit for instructions to dock again. Then you can see about getting home.”
He held up a small datapad he must have had in his pocket. “I heard from Bructa,” he said, relief softening his face. “He’s all right. They were locked down in a refuge station near the restaurant.”
I closed my eyes briefly and sighed. “I’m so glad to hear that,” I told him. “There are free chairs here on the bridge, if you’d like to sit and watch while we wait to dock again.”
“Yes, patro! Please, can we?” Neive clung to her father’s hand, jumping lightly from one foot to the other. Her curls bounced with each hop. I was reminded of Maja as a little girl, full of exuberant energy.
“Okej,” he said, smiling down at her. I thought he’d probably agree to just about anything at that moment. Neive settled herself in the co-pilot’s chair, next to Rei, who gave her a quick, indulgent smile.
“Tane Ikai, this is FarView Station Admin,” said a voice over the ship’s comm. “You are queued for docking in thirty minutes. Please proceed to your previousl
y assigned dock and await further instructions.”
Baden replied in the affirmative, and Rei continued our slow return. So many ships moved around the docking arms that we couldn’t have gone faster anyway.
Farro stayed next to my chair for a moment, as if trying to make a decision.
“Captain,” he said hesitantly. “Just now—when they said the name of your ship. I realized that I’d heard a man asking about it the other day on the station.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? I was supposed to pick up another passenger here. Was he a bit shorter than you, heavier, with thin pale blond hair and brown eyes?”
Farro shook his head. “No, this man was younger, probably a little older than me, although Vigor-Us makes it harder to judge. But he had light brown hair a little long, down over his ears, and his eyes were blue, I think. He was slimmer than I am, and he had a small tattoo on the left side of his neck. I wasn’t close enough to see exactly what it was.”
I frowned. “That sounds a lot like my ex-son-in-law,” I said, “but I didn’t know he was on FarView.” What would Taso be doing on FarView station? He’d only just messaged Maja that he was thinking of coming out from Earth. Could he have made it here already? No. He’d have to have started as soon as he’d sent the message, and not waited to hear any response from her. But that didn’t make any sense. How would he know where she might be?
“I only noticed him because he looked nervous. Kept glancing back over his shoulder and fidgeting, as if he was afraid someone was going to walk into the room and see him there.”
“Where was this?”
“In the Nearspace database offices, on the Admin level,” he said. “I work there. He didn’t come to my station, but the one next to me. He was so unsettled, my colleague and I spoke about it after he’d left. But he was perfectly polite to her.”
It made a certain amount of sense. If Taso was trying to track Maja down, he’d check the nearest database office and ask them to run a search. The Nearspace database doesn’t always have the current whereabouts of every ship, but commercial vessels like traders and cargo haulers are expected to file flight plans. Not that there’s much in the way of actual enforcement of those regulations—Nearspace has simply become too big. But filing your flight plans can be beneficial in my business, since sometimes satisfied customers will look you up to see if you might be in the vicinity when they need a particular job done. I knew Baden had filed our plan for the last haul to Cengare with a tentative return to FarView Station, and our docking information would certainly have been updated by the station when we arrived back here. No-one could dock anonymously on FarView. So Taso must know we were here.
I looked up to call Maja over from the navigation board. She had her head down over the board as if she were concentrating hard on what she read there, but past the fall of her blonde hair I saw her cheeks stained with a pink flush. She might easily have overheard what Farro and I had been saying; neither of us had spoken in a particularly quiet voice. But why would our conversation have discomfited her? Was she simply worried that Baden would overhear us as well? But he was the comm officer—he had to know she’d received messages from Taso recently. I changed my mind about calling her over. Better to defer this until we could talk in private.
“Thanks for the information, Farro,” I said instead. “He might be trying to get in touch with my daughter. He’ll know we’re here now, at any rate, so I’m sure he’ll track us down.”
Farro smiled as Neive skipped over to us and tugged at her father’s sleeve. He bent low to listen as she whispered in his ear, and nodded. “Bathroom run,” he told me. “I think I noticed the head down near the galley?”
I nodded. “Third door on the left.”
“Thanks.” Farro took Neive’s hand and led her off the bridge again.
Maja had her eyes on the front viewscreen now, watching our slow approach to the docking arm, and didn’t look back at me.
DURING THE RE-DOCKING process, the station admin asked if everyone on ships or in habitats could remain there for the next three hours, while the casualties were assessed, the station ran through safety checks, and the maintenance teams secured the damaged areas. That would also allow time to get people out of the cramped refuge stations first. After that time, the rest of us could move about the station as well. Since Farro and Neive hadn’t returned to the bridge, I went looking for them and found them back in the galley. They’d curled up in one of the big armchairs, her head on his shoulder as he read to her from a book on his datapad.
“You’ll have to remain our guests for a little longer yet,” I said, crossing the room to pull off a glass of water since I was here. “We’re safely docked, but they don’t want the corridors too busy while they check for damage. If you’d like, you can have the use of one of the passenger cabins while you wait. Take a nap, or use the computer there.”
Farro looked up and smiled. “I think we’ll be fine here,” he whispered.
I glanced over and saw that Neive had begun to doze, eyelids drooping even as she fought to stay focused on the story. I winked at him and whispered, “That’s fine. Let me know if there’s anything you need, and don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Emerging from the galley, I nearly ran into Maja. She stood with arms crossed next to the door, her eyes worried. “Can we talk?” she asked.
“Let’s go to my quarters,” I said, and she followed me in. When the door closed behind us, I asked, “What’s up?”
She stood behind the big armchair, resting her hands on its back. “I overheard what Farro said. He’s right, Taso is on FarView.”
“I knew he’d messaged you a second time when we were on Cengare. He must be trying to catch up with you?”
Maja shrugged. “He wanted my help with something—but I told him no. I didn’t see any reason to bother you with it. It’s no big deal.”
“I thought it was kind of a big deal when he first messaged you. You were unsettled by it.”
For some reason, she wasn’t meeting my eyes, although her voice was neutral. Her fingers kneaded the back of the armchair lightly. “I was just worried that Baden might take it the wrong way. But I wanted you to know that it’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”
Maja and I had been a long time with only minimal communication, but we’d grown close over the last months. I was sure there was more that she wasn’t telling me. The problem was, I didn’t want to risk a return to those days of estrangement by pushing her too hard. “Okej,” I said easily. “If it’s not a big deal, it’s not a big deal. Just let me know if anything changes, all right? I’ll help out if I can.”
“Captain?” Baden’s voice came over the comm. “Incoming message for you on the bridge. And the caller is rather . . . insistent.”
“Duty calls,” I said, and Maja turned to leave with me. I caught her hand and squeezed it. “I mean it, though. Let me know if you need my help.”
She squeezed back and smiled at me. “I will. Thanks.”
But something hung in the air between us, something that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t much like the space it filled, but neither of us spoke as we hurried back down the corridor to the bridge.
When we arrived, Baden rolled his eyes at me. “Your old pal Alin Sedmamin,” he said. “Just as cheerful as ever.”
I felt a brief flash of relief that our information source was still intact, but it battled with irritation at the man’s demands. “Put him on my screen,” I said, and sat in my skimchair, swiveling the screen over in front of me. In a second it was filled with the former PrimeCorp Chairman’s face.
“Captain, I need to get to your ship immediately,” he said. His face glistened with an unpleasant-looking sheen of sweat and his eyes had sunk deeply in their sockets.
“I believe there’s a three-hour moratorium on movement around the station,” I said. “Well, a little less than that now. As soon as those restrictions are lifted, you’re welcome to join us.”
Hir
in caught my eye and grimaced at the word welcome, but I kept my face neutral for Sedmamin.
“That’s outrageous!” he huffed. “I could be in danger here, and they want to keep me locked down—”
“I can’t change the station restrictions,” I interrupted him, holding up a hand. “And the operative word there is locked. If you’re in your quarters with the door secured, you should be perfectly safe.”
He almost pouted. “I thought I could slip onto your ship while it was quiet, with not too many people about. In three hours it will be bedlam all over the station. Anyone could sneak up on me in a crowd and—”
I interrupted again. The man still got my back up, even when I was trying to help him. “If you want, I’ll have someone come and collect you when we’re allowed to move around the station again,” I offered. “Just tell me your habitat number and we’ll get you to the Tane Ikai safely.”
He looked for a moment as if he would protest some more, but he must have realized it was futile. Moving around the station when it was in lockdown might make him even more noticeable, and he didn’t want to end up in the custody of security. “I’ll message you again when the lockdown is lifted,” he said, and closed the connection without saying goodbye.
“Such a pleasant man. I’m so looking forward to having him as a guest,” Hirin drawled. “Do we have to put him in a guest cabin? I could put a sleeping mat in one of the cargo bays and we could lower meals to him on a rope from the catwalk.”
“It’ll be one of those ‘grin and bear it’ jobs,” I agreed. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to just close your eyes and think of Nearspace.”
ONCE FARVIEW ADMIN announced an end to the lockdown, I sent Baden to collect Alin Sedmamin. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how spectacularly uncomfortable it was likely to be, having Sedmamin aboard. Hirin hated the man. He had duped Maja, leading me into a trap. Sedmamin and Jahelia had each used the other for their own ends. Baden disliked him by association, but at least they’d had no direct dealings, so he seemed like the best one to send.
Nearspace Trilogy Page 86
