And, if they ever came to Liberty, he’d collect on that. “Nonsense, Ms Clement. Besides, if it weren’t for your husband, I’d be dead on Topside One. So, you saved my life, too.” He pursed his lips. “Speaking of that unpleasantness, how is your ankle?”
Her smile returned. Such an innocent.
“Mostly better, Mr Richardson. I still limp a little, but the doctor says that will disappear in time. We’re so glad you’re doing well. We were worried.”
He switched his gaze to Lawrence. “I heard you were asking after me – almost accused the Yrdens of murdering me.”
The boy flushed. “Um, yes, sir. You had said they hated you. And when they wouldn’t say anything after I asked, I suspected the worst.”
Good kids, both of them. He hoped they would eventually join him on Liberty Station. He considered that. He might even be able to plant a seed to get them to him even earlier.
“When are you leaving for Haida Gwaii?”
“Tomorrow. But we wanted to see you before you left.”
He made a show of pressing his lips together, as if he’d thought of something but didn’t want to say it.
“Is there something you want to tell us, Mr Richardson,” Sandra asked.
“Uh, I hate to mention it, but some of the Earth Government patrol ships turned pirate.”
“Yes,” Lawrence said. “We know. Venture destroyed one of them while you were still out.”
His eyebrows went up. That, he hadn’t heard. He wondered how they had accomplished it.
“The others will eventually return to Earth. When they find Haida Gwaii here, they might decide to take it over.”
Lawrence smiled widely. Richardson wondered what he found funny. Surely the idea of an armed patrol ship acting as a pirate shouldn’t amuse anyone.
“They wont find Haida Gwaii here, sir.”
“They won’t?”
“No, sir. The Yrdens told me. They’ve fixed her so she can travel in hyperspace.”
And that shocked him to his core. How had they done that? How had they done that without him even hearing a rumour? How was that even possible with an unfinished station?
“Didn’t you know?”
He touched the bandage that covered a fair portion of his head. “I forgot. Besides, I didn’t think they would try that until they finished the hull.”
That damned Jaswinder Saroya-Yrden. If they had their own station – one that could move from system to system – they’d have less need of his TPC than he’d thought. Once again she had dealt him a punishing blow.
“Um, we should leave now, sir,” Lawrence said. “We’re real glad that you’re alive and getting better.”
He smiled for them. “Thank you both. I’ll always remember you two. Together, we did good work.”
He watched them leave, then closed his eyes again.
“Mr Richardson.”
Oh, no. He recognized the voice.
“Yes, Angela?” He saw her looking tentatively at him.
“My father was on Topside One with you, wasn’t he?”
Shit. “On Topside One, yes. With me, no.”
“So, you don’t know what happened to him?”
He took her small hand in his large one. It felt soft and dainty. “I’m afraid not, my dear. But there’s still hope. He might have made it to a life-pod. I understand that Venture is going in to look for survivors.”
Small chance that he had survived. Those bastards from Earth had targeted life-pods. He’d seen pod after pod destroyed during his own escape. Only by playing dead had his survived.
“And my mother?” Tears came to her eyes.
“She lived in Spaceport, Angela. I’m sorry.”
The tears began to roll down her cheeks. A tall young man came up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her.
“And you are?”
“Rolf Yrden, Mr Richardson.”
Great. Another Yrden. Well, he was on their ship; what else could he expect?
“We’re going to get married, Mr Richardson,” Angela told him.
“Yes, your father mentioned something about that. He told me that both he and your mother were happy for you.”
That last wasn’t true – Darrius hadn’t mentioned any word from his wife – but let Angela think it was. Poor kid had seen more than enough for one of her age. He remembered something he’d once heard on a cheap drama. He’d laughed, and dismissed the notion as garbage. But she might find some comfort in it.
“As long as you remember them, Angela, they will live within you.”
“Thank you, Mr Richardson. I’ll come back later.”
The Yrden pilot led her off. He closed his eyes once more, hoping no one else waited to see him. He could use some sleep. Not a bad day, considering. He’d made the offer to the Clements, and Angela would always look upon him as a friend. One or all of them might come to him later –with Yrden secrets to share.
But, for now, sleep.
* * *
FTL-1
Thursday 02 September
Sharon and Jill found the escape hatch not so much hidden as disguised by a wall hanging that someone had put there sometime in the past. Rank stupidity, Sharon thought, but Jill suggested that after years of nothing, some well-meaning individual had put it up. She vaguely remembered playing in the CC as a child.
“Two separate airlocks?” Sharon said, impressed.
Above the door she saw two sets of lights. One set for the outer lock – according to the Frigging Manual – which showed green/green/green/red. Both doors were shut, the lock itself aired, and vacuum existed on the far side of the outer door. The inner lock’s lights showed green/green/green/green. Both doors sealed, lock aired, and chamber between the two locks aired. What that air consisted of, no one knew. Opening the inner door of the first one attracted the attention of everyone, and the apathy suddenly faded. One of the green lights turned red.
Taking no chances, Jill put on a survival suit. She gave Sharon a thumbs-up, and closed the door behind her.
Five minutes later, she returned, disappointment on her face.
“The final door – the one leading into space – is buckled. I could get into the outer airlock, but there’s no getting the rest of the way out.”
“Why two airlocks?” Sharon asked.
“Back to the manual, I guess.”
“Here it is!” Everyone had rushed to their readers.
Sharon had found the section just as the cry went up. She read on. The outer lock resided on a detachable armoured section that protected the Catastrophe core.
“Talk about redundancy. We can eject the whole armoured section!”
Others had already circled around Jill, who had become de facto leader of the group – with her, Sharon, as Master-at-Arms. Jill entered the proper code into the Core’s computer. As soon as she activated the program the explosive bolts would go, and the outer armour would fly off into space.
“Five, four, three, two, one, now!” Jill gave the countdown.
They heard a dull clang, and the whole room shuddered. A camera in the outer door of the inner airlock showed a huge metal plate tumbling slowly off.
“Well, now we can get out if we want,” Jill said.
Faces showed excitement, but then smiles faded, and the apathy returned. Yes, they could get out, but they had nowhere to go once they did. Again, until and unless help came, they were just as trapped as before. One by one, the others returned to whatever had occupied them earlier.
“We now have a workable antenna,” Jill stated, still at the screen, looking over options. “It’s for the distress beacon, but I should be able to receive and send on it, too.”
With no little trepidation, Jill activated it.
“Signal going out.”
Nothing came back in. And once again, they could do nothing but wait.
“This is almost worse than before,” Sharon whispered to Jill as the two of them watched Gordie pacing back and forth.
“Yes.
Everyone knows we’re signalling distress, but no one is coming – that we know of. Every minute begets another disappointment.” She shook her head. “The thing is, we may have days to wait, yet. I called out the Catastrophe alert on the 29th. Plan is for someone to get back seven days later to check the rendezvous site. Now, we know that Venture would have no problem jumping out of harm’s way. I think that Sendai Maru also escaped. So, at least one of them should come back for survivors, even if every other station in the solar system has been blasted.”
“You mean Haida Gwaii,” Sharon guessed.
“I mean Haida Gwaii. I think we can assume that nothing in Earth orbit survived. So, we still have three days before we can even expect someone to hear our signal. Then they’ll have to get to us.”
Sharon frowned. “And they’ll know – or at least figure – that we’re safe, with lots of food, water, power, and air. Johannes Yrden told me that we’d easily be able to last thirty days.”
Jill looked away, studying Gordie. “I think he’s going to try it again.” She sighed. “Maybe you should have put a bullet into him – somewhere not serious, but enough to keep him down for a while.”
Sharon stared at her. “Anywhere is serious. You don’t play around with things like that. This isn’t a drama-vid.”
“I know. I just wish we could justify using drugs to put him out, or something.”
“It may come to that. Anyway, as I was saying, they’ll expect us to be able to last thirty days.”
“Right. Others may take priority. Rescuers may arrive in three days, but may not get to us for a couple more weeks – if ever. Who knows what kind of debris field they may have to go through to get to us.”
Jill started to move.
“Oh, shit. He’s headed for the airlock!”
CHAPTER 34
Haida Gwaii
Friday 03 September
“We’ve driven them back, but they’ve adjusted to fighting in zero-g, Johannes,” Hank Lowe reported. “We’ve taken more casualties than I’m comfortable with. But, thanks to Jensen and his soldiers, the Germans, and Colonel Jacoby’s people, the station isn’t in any imminent danger.”
“That’s good news, Hank.” Johannes looked down to his screen. It seemed the more he did, the more new items came up to fill his attention, to take his time. Had Matt experienced this? And for months on end? No wonder it had worn him down.
“We have survivors from the stations, from Maid Marion, and some of the TPC ships following our life-pods to the rendezvous point. We’re going to have to screen them all – the passengers I mean.”
Hank sighed. “I know. But we can load a bunch of the not-Family survivors onto Kobe Maru. She can head for Liberty or whichever station most of them belong to. From there, let the TPC’s – or our other ships – carry them to their planets. I’d prefer to not have them wandering around Haida Gwaii.”
“Do it. Let Kobe Maru’s security deal with them.” Johannes typed in a remark. “Now, we also have some survivor pods and lifeboats from the Lunar Colonies drifting our way. That’s more of a problem. They’re begging us to let them board immediately.”
Hank raised an eyebrow. “Can’t we deal with them the same way?”
“Unfortunately, no. You’ve been so involved with our internal problem, you may not have heard of the external ones.”
Hank obviously didn’t like that. “Which ones in particular?”
“Moon Colonies, before their transmitting stations were destroyed, reported that chemical and biological weapons had been unleashed.”
“Jesus!”
“Right. And if those biological weapons include some sort of man-made plague that doesn’t show up immediately, we could doom this whole station if we let them board.”
“Quarantine?”
“They won’t like it, but we’ll have to have them wait out some time in their pods or boats. I’m not having them on board until we’re sure.”
“Venture’s nearly back, right?”
“I don’t want them on Venture, either.”
Hank laughed, though it hardly seemed a laughing matter.
“No, I didn’t mean that. She’s brought the German shuttle-fighters back. Use them and Colonel Jacoby’s to maintain a cordon around Haida Gwaii. We take daily reports – or hourly, or whatever you think necessary – from each survival craft. Any that try to dock with us, though, we fire on – after due warnings, of course.”
Len Harding walked into the office. “What is it Len?”
“I can wait.”
Hank shrugged, but said, “I’m about done. Go ahead.”
“We have fifteen personnel who are demanding transport back to Earth. They have families there, and wish to return to aid them. I’ve put them into Conference Room 2.” He licked at his lips. “I don’t want them infecting anyone else. They want to talk with someone in charge.”
Johannes closed his eyes tightly. “I’m not sending a valuable shuttle or an even more valuable pilot through that debris to land on a radioactive, possibly plague-infested planet. They’ll have to stay, Len.”
Len shook his head. “You don’t want them on board, Johannes. You’ll have to lock them up. And, if you do, others will hear about it, and come to the wrong conclusions.”
“What wrong conclusions? It’s death to return to Earth.”
“They won’t believe you. They’ll think you’re keeping them – basically as slaves – to finish building your station. Lock them up, and you’ll have everyone wanting to leave.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Len, you can’t be serious.”
“You have to see them.”
Johannes ran his hand over his face. He stood. “Okay. I’ll go see them.”
“Not without security, you won’t,” Hank said. “I’ll assign a couple of Jensen’s men to you.”
When he walked into Conference Room 2, he found out immediately that Hank had not over-reacted. Harsh, angry voices came from every side, and questions tumbled one on top of another. And there weren’t the fifteen that Len had told him; it looked more like twenty-five.
“Quiet!” he yelled. Slowly the noise died. “I’ll get to everyone’s concern, but we’ll do it in a reasonable and orderly manner. Sit down!”
To his surprise, they sat without protest.
“Now, I understand you want to return to Earth. I don’t think that’s wise,” he held up his hand to forestall any rebuttal, “but that’s your decision.” That stopped them.
“Then you’ll return us?” a burly man said.
“Name?”
“Lincoln Holmes.”
“Yes, Mr Holmes, we’ll return you.” Nods and smiles greeted that. “However, we can’t do that right away.”
“Why not?”
Johannes turned on the wall screen. “What you are seeing is a recorded image of a detector screen. This came from before the war. As you can see, there’s plenty of room between the stations, above and below the equator, at the poles, and elsewhere for a shuttle to safely transport you to Earth.”
He punched in a new order. “This,” he said, pointing at the confusing array of icons and detector wave returns, “is what it looks like now.”
Gasps came from some of those present.
“Now, it’s actually much worse than it looks, because these returns come from Haida Gwaii’s detectors, and we’re over a half-million kilometers away. We can’t pick up the really small stuff – and there’s going to be lots of really small stuff. I can’t order a pilot to fly through that, so we’ll have to wait for a volunteer.”
“And if no one volunteers?”
“If no one volunteers, we’ll place you in life-pods – which can make re-entry on their own. But they aren’t as manoeuvrable as a shuttle, and your chances go down considerably. Nonetheless, we will make every effort to get you as close as possible to Earth first, and then find the area of lowest debris density before sending you off.”
No one liked that.
“That’s a worst c
ase scenario.” And the one he would use, because no pilot in his right mind would volunteer to go down to what remained of the Earth they had known. “Before that, however, we have work rescuing survivors from the stations, from the wrecked ships. Surely you can’t be so selfish as to ask us to use our resources to drop you off when there are people running out of air even as we speak. That would be murder.”
And that shut them down. No one wanted to be thought so heartless that he or she would allow people to die so as to not be delayed.
“Nonetheless, we will get you down. I don’t guarantee you’ll get down in one piece, or even alive, but we’ll do our damnedest.” He looked from face to face. “Now, while we’re doing this, we would appreciate it if you continued to work.” He held up his hand again, to stop the sudden protests. “I said, we would appreciate it. We do not ask it, nor do we demand it. That choice is completely up to you. Show up for work or don’t. Just don’t get in the way of those who do. Also, we know that we have injured inbound from various stations and ships. So, don’t get in the way of our rescue duties.”
“That’s my say. Now it’s time for yours. Have you any questions?”
The few questions that came up consisted of trivialities. It seemed that he had answered most of their important ones. Finally, the meeting wound down.
“Okay. I have a lot of work awaiting me. However, either myself or one of my staff will report to you in ... uh ... Lounge 2 every four hours telling of our progress or lack thereof. First report in four hours from now.”
He walked out.
“You did well, sir,” a man with corporal’s stripes told him.
He read the man’s name off his uniform. “Thank you, Corporal Tieff.”
“Want some advice, Captain Yrden?”
And what advice could a soldier offer? But best to not aggravate the man.
“I’d appreciate it.”
“As you get survivors on board, people who were closer to the action, send them in with your rep – well, actually ahead of your rep. Let them mingle and tell their stories. I’m sure some of them have heard stuff from Earth that we haven’t. Horror stories. By the time you have to send them down,” Tieff said, grinning, “I’ll bet that you won’t have twenty-seven. And as each one gives up the notion, the others will become less sure. You may not have to send anyone down at all.”
Not With A Whimper: Survivors Page 39