by K. B. Wagers
“Was avoiding the cameras,” Max finished grimly and sighed. “Okay. Send me everything you have. I’ll talk to Rosa about it.”
“You don’t seem very concerned.”
Max laughed. “To be honest, I’m not. Stalkers are kind of commonplace as far as my family’s concerned. I had three before my fifteenth birthday. My oldest sister, Ria? She gets three a month.”
“Really?” Sapphi made a face. “That sucks.”
“It’s life as a Carmichael. You get used to it. I had a bodyguard in kindergarten.”
“It sucks.” Sapphi drew the word out and then hugged her. “If I see him again I’m punching him in the nose.”
Max froze and then hugged her back with a laugh. “I appreciate the support. We’ll—”
“Rosa, Max, get down here,” Ma said over the com.
The clattering of feet echoed down from behind them, Max pulling Sapphi out of the way as Rosa took the stairs in two strides.
“What is it?”
Ma hit the internal coms. “Commander is listening, Earth Control. Repeat again?”
“Zuma’s Ghost, this is Earth Control, we’re getting a distress call from the civilian vessel Portsmith High. Their power dropped to zero and engine died. Life support is fine, but there’s a proton storm expected to sweep through the area in the next ten minutes and the tow won’t be there in time.”
“Control, Lieutenant Carmichael here. You’re talking about the CME that happened yesterday?” Max pulled up the data on the screen behind her. The path of the proton storm from the coronal mass ejection cut a swath right through their flight path—she’d noted it on their way out, but they’d be well past it by the time it hit this area of space, so she hadn’t been concerned. It was narrower than most, but the stranded ship in question was not going to clear the outer edge of the storm before it hit.
“Yes, Lieutenant. It wasn’t a big one so we didn’t completely shut down traffic in this area, especially with so many outgoing post-Games. But somebody is going to catch hell for approving that flight plan for a civilian vessel. It should have been outgoing military only. Granted, they’d have been well past it if their engines hadn’t failed, but still . . .”
“Roger that, Control,” Rosa said. “You want us to extract? Our shielding isn’t good enough to withstand a storm this close to the sun.”
“Yes, Commander. It’s a Binary JetSol, but their shielding isn’t good enough, either. Otherwise we’d have them just ride it out. But you were in the path on your way out of the system, so we thought we’d send you in.”
Binary JetSols were expensive cruisers, not meant for long-haul trips, but they could easily handle something to Mars and back. However, proton storms were bad news. LifeEx’s secondary protection against the dangers of radiation exposure in space had been a happy accident, but even it wouldn’t protect an unshielded living creature from a proton storm. And only the bigger naval carriers had shields good enough to withstand that kind of radiation blast straight from Sol.
The saving grace of this situation was only in how slowly the storms moved, comparatively that is, given the sheer amount of space they had to cross to interact with traffic around Earth and Mars. It was easy to chart their paths and easier still to avoid them. As Control said, someone was about to catch hell for something that could have easily been prevented.
And the news was about to get worse.
“Can’t hook up to that kind of ship and do a straight transfer, Commander,” she said after a glance at the schematics of the JetSol. “We’ll have to walk them out. Do they have gear?”
And training, she thought, please let them have had at least a basic spacewalk course. It was technically required for all who went out into the stars, but she also knew that people who had the kind of money to spend on a JetSol were the same subset of people who thought things like safety procedures weren’t for them.
“Confirmed, Zuma. They have gear. No training beyond a basic course.”
Max watched Rosa’s lips press together as she suppressed a curse and then nodded. “Control, advise Portsmith High to put their suits on. How many people?”
“Will do, Commander. Two adults and a nine-year-old girl. Tosh Bhatt; his wife, Constance; and their daughter, Shala. Mr. Bhatt owns Portsmith Shipping, just for your information.”
Max’s breath caught, an audible inhale, and Rosa sent her a sharp look.
“Roger, Control. We’re on it. ETA two minutes. Zuma out.” Rosa turned. “Cough it up.”
“I know them,” she said. “I should have made the connection. Portsmith ships for LifeEx. Tosh is a friend of the family.”
“Okay, that means you’re going. It should help keep them calm. Remember, we’re on a schedule and extended reunions are not part of the timetable. Jenks and Tamago, get suited up to go with her. Ma will drop you on the first pass, then get us as close as we can when he comes around, but you’re still looking at a thirty-meter spacewalk with untrained adults and a child.”
“And the clock is ticking,” Max said, nodding. Getting blasted inside the ship would be bad enough, but if they got caught in that storm while they were outside in only suits? It wouldn’t kill them immediately, maybe, but it was a one-way ticket to the dead zone for sure.
“So much for dinner,” Jenks muttered, and Max laughed.
They scrambled for their gear and were outfitted and at the airlock when Ma had them in position.
“Com check,” Max said.
“Loud and clear, Lieutenant,” Jenks replied, echoed by Tamago.
“Helmet check.” Max checked Tamago’s, turned and did the same to Jenks, and then attempted a smile when the petty officer did the same for her in turn.
“These folks going to do what we tell them?” Jenks asked.
“I think so, but let me handle them if they don’t.”
“Right—you speak their language.”
That stung, but Max didn’t have time to respond before the airlock warning cycled and Ma’s voice called the jump countdown.
Max took a deep, possibly unnecessary breath and followed Jenks out of the airlock, hitting the thrusters on her EMU as she stepped out and keeping her eyes fixed on the stranded ship ten meters in front of them.
“Nice drop, Ma!” Jenks said.
“Commander, drop successful, we’re ten meters out and closing,” Max said.
“Copy that, Lieutenant. Portsmith High, this is Commander Rosa Martín with the NeoG Interceptor team Zuma’s Ghost. I have three Neos inbound for your ship if you will open your outer airlock.”
The airlock opened, even though Max hadn’t heard a reply. It didn’t surprise her. Tosh was probably nervous enough he only replied to the ship and not the whole channel.
She floated through the opening, dropping the last few inches to the floor as the ship’s internal gravity kicked in, shifting forward as Jenks and Tamago piled in behind her. The airlock cycled, the inner door panel blinking green and then sliding open. Max unclipped her helmet, pulling it off and grabbing the edge with her left hand as she extended her right. “Tosh, how are you?”
He blinked at her for a heartbeat before a wide smile creased his face and Constance gave a little cry of surprise. “Max!” Tosh folded her into a hug. “They’d said you went to the NeoG, but I had no idea it would be you here. What a coincidence.”
“Timetable, Lieutenant,” Jenks said in her ear, and Max nodded, disengaging herself from Tosh.
She gave her most calming smile when Constance squeezed her gloved hand. “These are Petty Officers Khan and Uchida, they’re going to be right by Constance’s and Shala’s sides the whole time. Have you ever done any spacewalking?”
Tosh shook his head. “Only for the safety course, and that was more than ten years ago. I’m ashamed to admit we didn’t retake the course when Shala got her certification last year.”
“It’s fine. You’re all going to be attached and safe as can be. Jenks, you take Shala.” She closed her hand around Tosh’s
upper arm and kept her voice low as she led him back into the airlock. “Tosh, we are expecting a solar proton event in this area in the next eight minutes. We are in a race against that storm here, so I’m going to need you to do exactly what I say when I say it, okay?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Tosh was a businessman, the same rich set that her family had rubbed elbows with all her life; but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her orders.
“Helmet on for me.”
Tosh looked around for a moment, some desperation showing on his face. Max smiled again as she grabbed it off the rack and handed it over. She double-checked all his suit parameters, looking back over her shoulders as Tamago and Jenks started the same procedure with the others.
Jenks dropped to a knee in front of Tosh’s daughter, a slender child with dark curls and wide brown eyes. “Hey, Shala. I’m Jenks.”
“Hi.”
“You ready for a little fun?” Jenks glanced up at the noise that escaped from her mother and exchanged a look with Tamago, who led the woman to the airlock with an arm around her shoulders.
“Mom’s scared.”
“I’m not going to lie to you. This is a little scary,” Jenks replied, taking the helmet Max handed her.
“We did our certification inside,” Shala said. “I’ve never been in space for real.”
“Space is kinda overwhelming the first time you get out there, but it’s beautiful, too. We’re going for a little walk in it. I’ll be right with you the whole time and we will be fine. You’ll be clipped to my suit right here, see?”
“How many times have you done this?”
“More than I can count, kiddo, so you do what I say and we’ll be all golden. I’m going to put this on you. Here’s the rules. Breathe easy. No crying. No puking. Just breathe.” Jenks’s smile was reassuring as she slipped the helmet over Shala’s head. She snapped it down and checked the seals. “There, all cozy.”
“You clip her on both sides,” Max said over the team com and Jenks lifted a thumb in acknowledgment.
The airlock was big enough to fit them all, barely, and Max slid her own helmet on, spending a few precious seconds letting Jenks check the seals before she tapped the panel.
The airlock slid open and Tamago stepped out into the black, Constance glued to their side. Jenks followed her out.
“Wow.” Shala’s breathy exhale slid across the main channel and Max muffled a chuckle at the awe contained in that single word as she stepped through the airlock with Tosh slightly in front of her, the bright orange of the safety strap a reassuring spot of color in the darkness.
Zuma’s Ghost glowed against the backdrop of black velvet, Earth on one side of her and the sun burning fiercely on the other. Max’s helmet kicked the filter in automatically, but she still closed her eyes to the brightness for just a second. She turned and pressed the button, watching as the door slid shut.
“Airlock is closed,” she said. Max closed her hand around Tosh’s arm again and hit the thruster on her EMU, the jets pushing them closer to Zuma’s Ghost. The clock in the corner of her vision was steadily ticking down to the expected storm.
Tamago and Constance were within two meters of the ship with Max and Tosh ten behind them when she heard Jenks curse from the middle of their group and watched her smooth forward progress jerk slightly. “Jenks?”
“EMU’s being pissy,” she replied. “It’s fine, though, I—”
The bright flame shooting from Jenks’s EMU was stark against the emptiness, streaking out past Jenks’s shoulder and into space. All Max could do was watch Jenks lock her arms around Shala as the unexpected thrust sent them both spinning away in a twisting arc.
“Close your eyes, kiddo. Squeeze ’em tight. No puking, remember.” Jenks’s voice was impressively calm over the com as her EMU sent them on an ugly carnival ride.
“Jenks!” Had she been alone, Max would have turned right then and gone after them, but the civilian on her arm reminded her of his presence when he pulled free with his daughter’s name ringing across the main com. “Shit! Tosh, I need you to hold still. Commander, Jenks’s EMU just went haywire.”
“Copy that, Lieutenant.” Rosa’s voice was clipped and cut through the chaos.
“My daughter!”
“Yeah, I see it,” Max muttered, finally getting a hold of him again and hitting the boost on her thrusters, propelling them away from Jenks and closer to the ship.
“Mr. Bhatt, I need you to remain calm,” Rosa said. “Get him in the ship, Max,” she continued on the team com. “That’s an order.”
“Yes, Commander.” Max gritted her teeth as they sped toward Zuma’s Ghost. “Jenks, hang in there.”
“Not much else to do, Lieutenant,” she replied. “EMU just stopped, but we’re in spin. Going to try to stabilize us, or I’m going to throw up. Kid seems to be okay, though. She is professionally calm.”
“I’ve got you on radar, Jenks,” Sapphi replied, and the image appeared across Max’s vision.
“Sapphi, overlay the expected proton storm for me,” she ordered.
“Fuck, LT, they’re still in the blast zone.”
“I see it.” Max was already doing the calculations at lightning speed in her head. It was insane, but it would maybe work. “Commander, I can—”
“Get your ass in the ship, Max.” Rosa’s voice was tight. “They might make it outside the range before the storm.”
“Negative on that, Commander,” Jenks said. “I’m dead in the water here, so to speak.”
Max knew that already. There was less than a minute left and Jenks was floating aimlessly within the storm blast zone with a nine-year-old held to her chest. The only thing that would get them out was a hard enough hit to knock them clear.
Max landed on the side of the ship, turning her thrusters off at the very last second as Tosh’s momentum carried him into the airlock, where Tamago caught him.
She unclipped Tosh from her belt as soon as Tamago gave her a thumbs-up, watching him stumble to his wife and embrace her. Constance was weeping, shoulders heaving with sobs, and Max could see her face wet with tears even past the glare of the helmet.
“Not on my goddamned watch,” Max muttered. Bracing herself on the side of the ship, she took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about this, Commander,” she said over the team com, and pushed off the ship with all the strength in her legs, hitting her thrusters to maximum at the same time.
The shouted protests faded to nothing as Max soared through the black, her eyes fixed on Jenks and the girl.
“Everyone quiet!” Rosa snapped the order and silence fell.
Then Ma’s calm voice was on the com. “Max, you’ve got fifteen seconds until the storm hits. I am bringing the ship around to catch you all on the backside. Counting down. Fourteen.”
Max locked her elbows to her sides, hands ready to wrap around Jenks, who had managed to turn so that Max would hit her in the back rather than crushing Shala between them. Space seemed to well in an endless black wash between them and Max coaxed the last little bit out of her EMU’s thrusters with a muttered plea to anything listening.
This was going to be close.
“Five. Zuma is clear of the storm zone.”
She could see the ship coming in on her right side.
You did the math, it’s solid. You’re right on the edge of the storm’s path. Just hit them square and it will knock all three of you into the safety zone. Throw the shield for extra protection, you’ll all be fine.
“Four.”
Max could hear Jenks on the com, talking calmly to Shala. “We are good to go, you and I, kiddo. I want you to keep your eyes on me. Right here. Squeeze tight if you need to, but I’ve got you, you’re not going anywhere. You breathe in, breathe out, and you keep your eyes on me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Max braced herself, but the shock of hitting Jenks’s back still rocked through her. Jenks grunted, and Max could feel her arms tightening around the girl as they were all
propelled forward.
“Three. Two.”
“Come on, be enough, damn it,” Max muttered, throwing the extra blast shield up across her back.
“One. Brace for storm. Brace for storm.”
Max braced, as much good as that was going to do—
“Clear, they’re fucking clear!” Sapphi called. “She did it!”
Jenks’s whoop rang through the coms. “That’s a hell of a ride. You okay, kiddo?”
“I’m fine,” Shala replied. Her voice was trembling, but then she laughed. “Are we safe?”
“As can be,” Max replied, surprised her own words were thick with emotion. “Storm has passed, radiation levels nominal on my end, Commander.”
Cheers erupted across the com.
“Ma, let’s pick up our crew.” Rosa’s clipped order cut through the celebration.
“You are in so much trouble,” Jenks chuckled, patting Max’s arm. “‘I’m sorry about this, Commander.’” She mimicked Max’s voice, laughter dancing on each word. “You fucking apologized before doing something reckless. Who does that?”
“Me, apparently.” Max squeezed her tight before fumbling for the clip at her belt and attaching it to Jenks’s loop. The adrenaline was draining, leaving her shaking, and she blinked twice at the smear of soot arcing across the back of Jenks’s EMU before it registered. “You’re lucky this thing didn’t blow.”
“What is it? Felt like a sledgehammer hit me in the back when it went haywire.”
“Had a short or something. I saw the flame from all the way across.”
“Impossible, we did maintenance on these a week ago.”
“I know what I’m looking at,” Max said. “But I want to pull it apart when we get on ship and take a closer look.”
“Get your asses on board first, Lieutenant,” Rosa ordered.
Jenks chuckled again. “You are in so much trouble.”
Max swallowed as they closed the distance to Zuma’s Ghost. The airlock was empty and she pushed Jenks through the opening first before stepping in and hitting the panel behind her. The cycle was mercilessly short and Shala’s excited voice was the first thing to greet her ears when she pulled off her helmet.