by R. M. Olson
She shook her head. “No. The heat from the filaments superheats the round seam around the centre of the tank, so when they burst it usually already has a hairline crack.”
He nodded, eyes moving slightly as if scanning some information in his head.
“Alright, listen,” he said at last. “I’m going to step away. Can you hold this?”
“For the moment, yes,” she grunted.
“I’ll be right back.” Carefully, he removed his weight from the panel she was holding. The pressure on her shoulder increased, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t hold, at least for a few moments. He ducked around her and into the main compartment, and returned a moment later with a long tube of internal sealant. She frowned.
“Alright,” he said. “Listen. When I tell you, let go of the panel and jump back, alright?”
She frowned at him. “You can’t—”
“Listen to me! Neither of us can hold that closed forever. I’m going to spray sealant into the system at the same time you let the panel open,” he said, slightly breathless. “The pressure should suck it into the cracks and seal them.”
“I’ve never heard of something like that,” she grunted.
“I haven’t either.” His voice was tight. “But I think it should work.”
Reluctantly, she nodded. He slipped in behind her and reached his hand through the access port, his fingers running delicately across the seams. Then he wedged himself into the small space between her and the ship wall and shoved the tip of the tube into the crack where the air was escaping. He braced himself against the back wall and put his hand on the plunger.
“Alright, Ysbel,” he said. His voice was calm, but she could hear the strain under it. “On my count, please. Three. Two. One. Now.”
He shoved down on the plunger as she leapt back. For a moment, there was a sucking, splattering sound, and then, finally, silence. She glanced up cautiously. Lev leaned back against the wall, face drawn, sweat standing out on his forehead. They listened for a tense moment, but the hissing noise had stopped.
“I think we did it,” he said softly, a smile of relief spreading over his face, and for a moment she grinned back at him.
Then she turned away abruptly.
Damn that idiot boy. Damn him to hell.
She turned back to the oxygen converter, checking all the places where more cracks might have appeared in the explosion. Lev stood back, giving her specs when she asked for them, never speaking unless she spoke to him first.
She’d never seen him so subdued.
It could be that he was afraid of her. But then, she’d never known him to be afraid of much of anything.
Of course he wasn’t. Because he’d never take a risk unless he’d thought it through from every angle and considered every possible outcome. Which meant, when he’d called her onto the main deck to talk with her, before everything exploded, either he was certain she wasn’t going to kill him—or he knew she was, and he didn’t care.
The thought choked off her breath for a moment.
There were a hundred ways he could have told her. He could have left the ship and slipped a note into her com, he could have waited until she was back on her home planet with her family and gambled that she wouldn’t leave it again to come after him. He’d probably have been right.
But he hadn’t done that. He’d either believed that she cared enough for him that their friendship would keep him alive, or he’d known it wouldn’t, and told her anyways, and been prepared to die for it.
She wasn’t entirely certain which of the two options was worse.
When they finished, she tapped her com and said brusquely, “We’re done down here.”
“Let’s meet in the mess hall, then,” said Masha. She sounded weary, and when Ysbel looked at her com, she realized why.
“It’s 0300 standard time,” said Lev from behind her. “We were down here longer than I thought.”
She turned her glare on him. “I have a com, you idiot.”
“I’m sorry.”
She could kill him, right now. Jez wasn’t here.
Instead, she gestured him ahead of her up the ladder. He stepped around her without meeting her gaze and started up towards the corridor that led to the mess hall.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hour 8, Ysbel
She glanced back at the oxygen converter as they left. It was an older model, a type she hadn’t seen in years.
That date on her tag.
She tried to push back her unease.
She couldn’t be certain, of course. She’d been very young, far too young to remember dates.
But it was possible. The timing would have been close, anyways.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
It was the suffocating, thick air she remembered the most, the way the heavy fabric had caught against her mouth when she tried to breathe. She’d tried to pull it off once, but her mother had caught her hand.
“Not now, Ysi,” she said, and there was something in the tone of her voice that had made Ysbel obey.
It was early, so early that it was closer to night than morning, and the streets of Prasvishoni were chill and deserted. She was wrapped in a heavy jacket, one of her father’s scarves pulled up over her face and head, but the chilly morning air wound itself through her clothing, making her shiver. Or maybe it wasn’t the chill at all.
Her mother, too, was covered in a bulky coat, face obscured by a scarf, and her father, walking slightly ahead of them, was a shapeless dark mass in the dim of the flickering streetlights.
She glanced around her as they walked. Through the small slit where the scarf had been bundled over her face, she could make out the walls of the buildings, looming dark over the narrow alleys they made their way along. There was something tight in her throat, and she squeezed her hands into fists in the pockets of her coat.
“Where are we going, Mamochka?” she whispered. Her mother looked down at her and shook her head slightly, her posture tense.
She’d heard her parents talking, long into the night, for over a week now. She’d laid awake and listened, but she couldn’t make out the words, and what words she could hear didn’t make sense.
But the tone in their voices had been unmistakable.
They were afraid.
Her legs ached and her feet were sore with walking, but her father had refused to take the skybikes.
And then, ahead of them, as the grey of early, early dawn began to lighten the sky, she saw the loading docks.
She could see her father’s posture tense as they stepped out of the alley. He turned slightly, and whispered, “Keep your head down, Ysi. Don’t look up, whatever happens, alright?”
She nodded, something tightening around her chest and choking off her breath. Her mother pulled at her hand, and she followed them out of the alley.
Even at this hour, the loading docks were busy. Ysbel had never liked people all that much, but she’d never been afraid of them. Now it seemed that every shadowy form they passed was watching them, weighing them, out to hurt her, to hurt her father and mother.
She kept her eyes on the dirty concrete and tried to swallow down her fear.
At last she stood shivering on the loading dock of a ship she’d never seen before in her life. Her mother had gone ahead to talk with the ship’s captain, but her father must have seen the tension in her posture, because knelt beside her, and pulled down his scarf just enough that she could make out his face in the harsh shadows of the ship’s outer deck.
“Ysi,” he’d said in his quiet, gruff voice. “Don’t worry. We’ll be going somewhere that’s much better than this. No more of this cold, forever.”
“I like the cold,” she said, her voice sounding small and frightened in the impersonal bustle of the loading docks.
“I know,” he said, face creasing in understanding. “But you’ll find something you like better. I’m sure of it.”
She turned to him, his familiar worn coat and high brown boots, an
d his soft beard that was starting to grey.
“I’m scared, Papachka,” she whispered. “Why are we leaving? I don’t want to leave.”
He’d sighed, and his face was cut with worry. “It’s a long story, Ysbel. But believe me, it’s for the best.” He paused. “Ysi. Look over there. You see, on that crane? The converter?”
She turned, glancing at the huge black cylinder suspended by a mag-beam just above the dock.
“Yes,” she said, without interest.
“Pay attention to it. When we get to our new home, your mother told me she would start teaching you explosives. And I will let you help me with my weapons design, if you want. You think you can do that?”
She turned back to him, eyes wide. “Yes.”
“Well then. You want to watch the oxygen converter. Learn as much about it as you can. Because have I ever shown you my heat-pistol designs?”
“Yes.”
“The heat-sink runs on a similar principle. And if you ask your mamochka about the explosives she uses, you’ll understand them better if you understand the chemical conversion that happens in the filaments. Alright, my Ysi?”
“Yes.” She was staring wide-eyed at the oxygen converter now.
“That’s an old one. But I want you to keep your eyes on it, alright?”
“Yes Papachka.”
He straightened, and she noticed, absently, the dark figure shoving their way through the crowd, brushing up against the converter for a moment before hurrying away, but she wasn’t paying attention to anything but the converter itself. She watched it as the crane lifted it from the dock and swung it towards the hole in the upper deck of their ship, squinting and concentrating with all her ten-year-old might.
If she hadn’t, she might not have even noticed.
“Papa,” she said urgently, tugging on his trousers. He was speaking to the captain now, who’d followed her mamochka back.
“Papa!”
He looked down in faint irritation. “Ysi—”
“Mamochka, look!”
Her mother turned at the tone in her voice, and it only took her a moment to see what Ysbel had seen. She snatched Ysbel up and shoved her husband and the captain to the ground as the slight bulge Ysbel had noted, right in the place where her papa had pointed out where the filaments would be, expanded, turning from black to a dull red. And then a dull explosion shook the ship’s dock, and pieces of red-hot shrapnel rained down on the ship’s hull and the docking-bay around them. There was shouting and screaming from outside the ship, and a high, shrill shriek of pain.
And for a moment, Ysbel caught the look that passed between her mother and father—terror.
And that was the instant she’d realized that this was for real, and forever. That she and her mamochka and papachka were never coming back to Prasvishoni.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hour 8, Lev
Lev stepped into the mess hall, his shoulders slumping with relief, even though he fought to hide it.
The walk up the corridor, with Ysbel behind him, it had taken every bit of willpower in his body to keep from spinning around to see if she was about to kill him.
Masha was there, of course, and Tanya, her face exhausted. The children had joined her, and they had the pale, drawn look of too much stress and too little sleep on faces too young to hide it.
Olya brightened slightly at his entrance, but he couldn’t bear to look at her, so he avoided her gaze.
Tae stepped into the room a moment later, followed by Jez. She looked almost as bad as the kids, her face still bearing traces of the stunned disbelief of earlier, the circles under her eyes apparent even under the gruesome colours of her bruises, and his chest constricted a little at the sight, like it always did.
Her eyes went to Ysbel behind him, and her expression grew slightly dangerous.
“Masha,” she said softly, “did you send Lev with Ysbel?”
“Yes, Jez,” Masha said, her voice sharp and clearly discouraging questions.
Jez ignored it, as usual. “I always knew you were an idiot, Masha, but I didn’t realize—”
“Jez,” he said tiredly. “Leave it. It’s fine.”
She glared at him. “Not your damn business, genius-boy. I’m having a conversation with Masha right now.”
“Yes, and we all remember how well your last conversation with Masha went,” said Tae through his teeth. Lev glanced at him, startled. Tae’s face was tight with strain.
“Listen, tech-head,” Jez snapped.
“Jez—” Lev began again.
“You’re all a bunch of dirty plaguers!” Misko shouted over the noise, then started crying loudly.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Ysbel growled, and finally Tanya held up her hands.
“Please. Everyone. It’s been a long day. Why don’t we get some food. The children need to eat, anyways.”
They glared at each other for a moment longer, and then reluctantly, everyone turned back to the table. Tanya handed out rations packs, and they ate in icy silence. Lev hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he bit into the food, and then his stomach pinched in protest.
He gave a wry smile. To be honest, he hadn’t felt much like eating ever since he’d decided to talk to Ysbel.
He glanced over at Jez again. She was glaring at everyone, and when she caught his eye, she narrowed her eyes further. Still, behind her glare, he could see a sort of empty hopelessness.
He shook his head. He probably would never understand exactly how she felt about this ship, but he’d seen the look on her face when she was flying it—an almost transcendent joy. It was the only place she ever seemed at peace.
Now she looked like someone she loved had been murdered, and she was staring at their corpse.
Once everyone was eating, Masha stood.
“What’s everyone’s status?” she asked quietly. “Ysbel?”
Ysbel shook her head. “We still have forty or so hours’ worth of oxygen, but no way of getting more until the thrusters are back online.”
“Thrusters are in bad shape, but we might be able to limp back to a planet,” said Tae. His face was blackened with soot. “It won’t be quick, but if we get them running, it should pull the emergency oxygen generator online. Keep us alive, at least.”
“How long to fix it?”
He shrugged. “Five or ten hours?”
There was a moment’s silence.
“With that in mind,” said Masha, “I’d advise that everyone get a few hours of sleep.”
“We can’t afford to plaguing sleep,” snapped Tae. “We have maybe forty hours of oxygen left. I’d love to spend it sleeping, but somehow I don’t think that will fix this.”
“I understand that, Tae,” said Masha. “However, nor can we afford a mistake because we’re too tired to think straight. I’ll wake you in three hours’ time. That should at least be enough that we’re not falling over from exhaustion.”
She paused a moment and looked around the table. “Have any of you made any progress on the dates on your tracking chips? I need every scrap of information I can gather if we want to survive our trip back to shallow space”
“Assuming we make it that far,” Tae grumbled.
Lev frowned in slight unease.
The date had been niggling at the back of his mind since he’d seen it pop up on his com. It was back from his days in university, and he wasn’t likely to ever forget it, but he also had no idea what importance it would have to a smuggler like Lena.
Across the table from him, Ysbel shifted slightly. “I don’t remember the exact date. But that would have been around the time I left Prasvishoni with my father and mother. I don’t know what sort of meaning it would have to anyone else.”
Tanya smiled and laid her head on Ysbel’s shoulder. “Besides me,” she murmured, and for the first time in a long time, he saw Ysbel smile.
“Tae?” asked Masha. Tae was frowning.
“I—that was a week or so before I got thrown in jail. That
’s all.”
Masha nodded thoughtfully and turned to Lev. “And you?”
“I—would have to think about it,” he said carefully, tapping his com off.
He wasn’t entirely certain what significance the date had for anyone but him, but he’d rather have time to consider it before he put it in front of anyone else here.
Masha studied him for a moment, but at last she nodded.
“Very well. We’ll sleep and get back to work in a few hours. Tae, you can tell us what you need, since it appears getting the thrusters back online is our first priority.”
Tae nodded.
For a moment no one moved, seeming too weary for the effort. A wave of exhaustion hit Lev, and for the first time he realized exactly how long it had been since he’d last slept.
First the zestava, then Jez’s fight with Masha, and then his conversation with Ysbel, then the explosion—it felt like it had been at least three days.
He shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. Jez looked up, glaring at him, and Ysbel pointedly ignored him. Tae was scowling at everyone.
He supposed he couldn’t blame them, really.
“I’ll see you in three hours, Masha,” he said, with a faint, rueful smile. Then he turned and made his way down the hallway to his cabin.
He fell into his cot, but for some reason he couldn’t sleep. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he saw Ysbel’s face when he told her what he’d done, Jez’s face when he’d stepped into the cockpit after she’d somehow managed to save them, and killed her ship.
Finally, he sighed wearily and stood.
It was a bad idea, but then that seemed to be his specialty these days.
He opened the door to his cabin and made his way down the hallway. At the door to Jez’s cabin, he hesitated.
This was stupid.
Still, they were all likely to die in forty hours or so, so if there was a time for doing stupid things—
He tapped lightly at her door. For a moment there was no answer, and he thought maybe he’d guessed wrong and that she was asleep. Finally, though, she said, “Who is it?”