Home Run

by Nathan Lowell

  “But you’re here now.”

  “They beat the shit out of you, Tom. What was I supposed to do? Join you?” Her voice broke, her face looked pale in the light of Madigan’s torch.

  Madigan looked down at Natalya and Reverri, still frozen on the deck. “What now?” he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

  “Anybody else with a needler?” Natalya asked, raising her voice but staring at Reverri.

  “Plass,” Ann said.

  “Where’s Plass?” Tom asked.

  Nobody at the top of the ladder seemed to have an answer.

  “How many people here besides us?” Natalya asked.

  “A couple more. Plass, Harrell,” Madigan said.

  “Kremer’s in the galley,” one of the men said. “Dinner mess.”

  Natalya’s brain ratcheted through too many facts too fast. “Am I going to have to kill you right here or will you behave yourself?” she asked Reverri.

  “You haven’t the guts,” he said, his eyes hardening at the edges.

  Natalya felt his body tense under the fist she had wrapped in the collar of his shipsuit. “Maybe so, maybe no,” she said. “You willing to gamble that I’m not stone cold and still pissed that you tried to hijack my ship?”

  “Your ship?” he said. “I thought it was Usoko’s.”

  “You thought wrong and it wouldn’t matter.”

  He seemed to think that over for a few heartbeats and he nodded. “All right. You’ve got the cards.” His body relaxed under her fist.

  Natalya sighed. “Tom, we need to tape this guy.”

  Madigan lowered his light to the deck and brought up the roll of tape. “I’m ready for you.”

  Natalya pulled on Reverri’s shipsuit, bringing him up to sit flat on the deck. “Arms back.”

  He complied and Madigan peeled half a meter of the tough tape off the roll.

  Natalya leaned back to make room and Reverri struck, swinging a fist from behind his hip and into her gun hand. The needler skittered across the deck and Reverri swung with the back of his fist toward Natalya’s face.

  She caught his arm, locked the elbow, and broke his forearm in one smooth movement.

  Reverri screamed and tried to pull away.

  She released his useless arm and grabbed him by the suit. Rolling back, she pulled him up and over, bringing her knees up under his rib cage and throwing him over her head as she rolled onto her back. He slammed into the cast metal casing of the fusactor with an audible crunch before falling to the deck like a bundle of hoses—loose and rubbery, flailing everywhere.

  “That will make it easier,” Madigan said.

  “We’ll need to put him in the autodoc,” Natalya said.

  “Do we?” Madigan asked.

  “He’s scum. I’m not.”

  Madigan paused and looked at her. “All right, then.” He leaned over and started working on Reverri.

  Natalya clambered up from the deck, picking up the needler on the way to the breaker box. She used her own mini-light to reset all the breakers, saving the main for last. When she threw it, the ship’s lights all came back up, and she blinked in the brightness. She raised her head at the group huddled at the top of the ladder. “Did anybody run to warn what’s his name? Plass?”

  They looked at each other for a moment before shaking their heads.

  “Well, let’s go see where he is.”

  “Can I get a hand here?” Madigan said, dragging the taped-up Reverri by his collar. “I can probably drag him up the ladder but not quickly.”

  One of the burlier men from the back of the group stepped forward and picked his way around the body at the foot of the ladder. “What about him?” he asked, pointing at the corpse at the foot of the ladder.

  “Get a couple of people and get him up to the boat deck. That’s the closest lock,” Natalya said. “We need to get Zoya in this loop before we do too much.”

  The burly guy pulled a fold-up stretcher from the first aid kit and laid it on the deck beside Reverri. He helped Madigan slide him onto it, then tightened the straps to hold him on the device. He grabbed one end, twisted the handle, and the stretcher rose on its own grav field.

  Madigan grinned. “That’ll make it easier.”

  The burly man chuckled, a short rumble deep in his chest. “Grab the front and steer,” he said.

  Natalya led the way forward. She got to the ladder down to the berthing areas and slid down the handrails to the lower deck. She walked to engineering berthing and peeked around the hatch combing.

  A stocky man in a dirty shipsuit sat at the common table, leaned back as far as the chair could tilt, with his filthy boots on the table, arms crossed over his chest. He looked to be asleep but his fingers toyed with a needler, the match to the one Natalya carried. Natalya ducked back into the passage.

  Madigan and the burly guy walked past. Their footsteps echoed in the quiet ship.

  The rest of the crews huddled at the foot of the ladder, watching.

  Natalya snorted quietly. They weren’t on her side yet, but at least they didn’t seem to be working against her.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” The grating voice came from inside the berthing area and footsteps grew near.

  Natalya put the needler in a pocket and stood back from the hatch.

  Plass came through the door, needler first.

  Natalya grabbed the gun and wrist, bashing Plass’s arm against the hatch combing until he released the weapon into her grasp. She turned the weapon back on him and pushed him back into the berthing area with the needler in his nose.

  “Who the hell are you?” Plass asked, cradling his arm.

  “I’m the woman who’s looking for my friend. Name’s Usoko. Tattoos. Black hair. About this tall?” She held her free hand up at Zoya’s approximate height without taking her eyes off Plass. “Seen her?”

  Plass swallowed once. He glanced to the side and then looked straight at Natalya. “Maybe.” He straightened his spine and stopped retreating. “Who wants to know?”

  A scuff on the deck alerted her and Natalya stepped back half a step just in time to dodge a broom aimed at her head.

  She let the broom sweep past before grabbing the hand that held it and pulling the woman out of the quad. A twist of the wrist made the woman drop the broom, and Natalya yanked her around, levering her arm between her shoulder blades and pressing the needler against the back of her skull. “Not nice.”

  The woman struggled briefly but Natalya applied a little more leverage to the arm. The woman stopped struggling. “David?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

  Plass put his hand up, palm out, at chest height. “Me? What do you expect me to do? You’re the one that’s caught, not me.” His lips parted in a greasy smile.

  “You shit,” the woman said. “Help me.”

  “Tell you what,” Natalya said. “Why don’t you help me, lady? I just want my friend back.” She pulled the needler back from the woman’s skull and loosened a little of the tension from her arm. “We can skin this pig later.”

  The woman craned her head back to look at Natalya through the corners of her eyes. “Zoya?”

  “That’s her. You know where she is?”

  “In the head. She’s cuffed to one of the partitions.”

  “Got the key?” Natalya asked.

  “He does. Right shoulder pocket.”

  “Well, let’s go get her out, shall we?”

  “I’m not doing nothing until I hear from Reverri,” Plass said, a bit of bravado returning.

  “Fair enough,” Natalya said. She slipped the needler over the woman’s shoulder and shot him in the shoulder.

  He screamed and grabbed the wound with his off hand. “What the hell? Why’d you shoot me in the shoulder?”

  “I’m a really bad shot,” Natalya said. “I was aiming for your head. Should I try again or do you want to wait for Reverri to get out of the autodoc?”

  Plass stiffened at that. “The autodoc?”


  “I broke his arm. It’ll heal.” She worked her grip on the needler. “Not for a while and I could use the target practice.”

  Plass held up his hands, for real this time. “Key. I have it. I can get it.”

  “Slowly. Give it to her.”

  He started to reach with his injured arm, winced, and folded his good arm up to pull a key from his pocket. His hand shook when he held it out, his blood stark against the white skin on his hands.

  Natalya loosened the woman’s arm a bit more, giving her enough slack to reach forward with her other hand. “If I let you go, are you going to behave?” Natalya asked.

  The woman nodded several times.

  Natalya released her arm and stepped back. “Well, then, why don’t you run in there and get my friend while Mr. Plass and I have a little quiet time until the rest of the crew gets here.”

  The woman scurried through the door to the head and brought Zoya out a few moments later.

  Zoya looked a bit worse for wear. Her hair was a mess and she had a bruise under her left eye. Her shipsuit looked like she’d slept in it for a week and sported a couple of wet spots on the knees. Her eyes flashed above a makeshift gag, which she worked off as soon as the woman freed her hands.

  “How was Mel’s?” she asked as soon as her mouth was clear. Her voice sounded thick and raspy, like she hadn’t used it in a while.

  “Passable. Did I miss anything?” Natalya glanced at Plass.

  “Not much. A few disgruntled employees. A couple of murders. Some assaults. A battery or two.”

  “So? Quiet day?”

  “More or less. Where’s Ahokas?”

  “I hope she’s still in the Peregrine and that it’s still a couple hundred meters off to port.”

  Zoya frowned. “You walked over?”

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Thanks,” Zoya said.

  “You’d have done the same for me,” Natalya said. “Now? What do we do with this piece of work?”

  “Did I hear you had Reverri in the auto-doc?”

  “I bruised his ego.” Natalya sighed. “Killed one of them. Karros.”

  Plass’s eyes widened. “Killed him?”

  “He tripped on the ladder,” Natalya said. “It was quick.”

  Zoya’s eyes narrowed as she examined Natalya. “Anybody else dead?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Zoya nodded. “We can fix that. Where’s the rest of the gang?”

  “Last I saw the ambulatory ones were hanging back in the passageway until things settled out here.”

  Zoya’s eyebrows rose. “Ambulatory?”

  “I might have roughed up a few of them.” Natalya shrugged. “I hope they’re still taped up in the spares locker.”

  “Taped up?” Zoya asked. “As in?”

  Madigan stepped into the berthing area and held up what was left of his roll of tape. “Strong stuff. Sticky as hell. Impossible to get out of without something to cut it with.”

  Zoya eyed him. “You’re ... ?”

  “Tom Madigan. I was in the spares locker by the time you came aboard.”

  “Voluntarily?”

  Madigan gave her a wry grin and shook his head. “Not exactly.”

  Zoya stared at his face. “You didn’t run into a door, I take it?”

  He shook his head.

  “All right,” Zoya said. “Well, our first mutiny.”

  Plass flinched at the word.

  “What?” Zoya asked. “You thought I wouldn’t take this as a mutiny?”

  Plass swallowed and shook his head.

  “Mr. Plass, you were a crewman on one of my family’s ships.” Zoya’s voice carried a carbon steel edge. She used that edge. “You and your associates plotted to steal from this company, from all the hardworking, honest spacers who work for Usoko Mining. You took over this vessel, crippled though it might be, and used me as a bargaining chip, believing you could skate away into the Deep Dark unscathed. You kept me tied up in that head for three days. I haven’t slept worth a damn in all that time. I want a bath, a fresh shipsuit, something to eat, and a nap before I decide how I’m going to execute you and your associates.”

  “Execute?” Plass said, his eyes wide, the color draining from his face.

  “Yes, Mr. Plass. Execute. That’s the traditional punishment for mutiny in deep space, isn’t it? The punishment for murder?”

  Plass stared. His jaw worked but no sounds emerged.

  “Well, Mr. Plass? Isn’t it?” She paused, her glare burning into him.

  “But—but—but I didn’t kill anyone,” Plass said, his voice a croak.

  “Really?” Zoya said.

  “Ruth Houston. Joan Myers.” Madigan’s voice sounded loud in the silence.

  Zoya didn’t take her eyes of Plass. “Thank you ... What was your name again?”

  “Madigan. Tom Madigan.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Madigan. I’m not tracking very well right now.” She stared at Plass for a few more moments. “While I’m getting my feet back under me, Mr. Plass, I suggest you compile a list of your colleagues in crime. The people who were in on your little scheme from the beginning. Who went along with it because they didn’t want to wind up like Houston or Ayers.”

  “Myers,” Madigan said, quietly.

  Zoya coughed up a small laugh. “Thank you again, Mr. Madigan. Would you do me one more favor and tape up this sorry excuse for a spacer?”

  “Of course.” He stepped forward and began pulling tape off the roll.

  Zoya nodded and looked at Natalya. “Gotta few ticks?”

  Natalya nodded and offered Zoya her arm.

  Zoya took it. Natalya led her out of the berthing area into the passageway beyond.

  “What do you want first?” Natalya asked, holding Zoya up without making it too obvious to the crew waiting in the passage.

  “Food, if we have any. Then a nap. At least a couple of hours.”

  “We can arrange that.”

  “How are you going to get Ahokas and the Peregrine back?” Zoya asked.

  Natalya gave a short laugh. “I have no idea. I still have my suit. I could probably walk.”

  “They set up the radio in the mess deck. You can call her. Let her know what’s happening while I sleep.”

  Natalya got Zoya down the ladder and into the wardroom, letting her plop into a chair.

  “What do you want to eat?” Natalya asked.

  “Anything. Toast, sandwich. I don’t care. Something warm would be good. A cup of coffee.”

  Natalya nodded and headed for the mess deck. She paused at the door of the wardroom. “You’re not going to toss them out the lock, are you?”

  Zoya leaned forward and laid her cheek against the table. “That’s what they deserve.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Zoya’s eyes closed as her lips formed a sideways smile. “They’ll wish I had before they’re done.”

  Natalya paused, staring at Zoya for a long moment.

  “S-O-S,” Zoya said. “S-O-S.”

  Natalya grinned and went in search of hot food.

  Chapter 42

  Smelter Seventeen:

  2368, March 2

  Zoya looked up from her sandwich and swallowed the bite. “We need to get Ahokas and Bean.”

  “She’s safe enough on the Peregrine, but I’d like to get the ship secured somewhere. Bean’s going to be a challenge.”

  “I need to talk to Madigan before we go too much farther.”

  “You need more sleep,” Natalya said. “A half a stan’s worth isn’t going to stand up very long.”

  Zoya shrugged and took another big bite. “Once we get everybody rounded up, I can sack out in my stateroom for a bit while we wait.”

  “You’re going to call in Port Lumineux again?”

  “Some of these people knew this extortion attempt was going down well in advance. We can’t do much with them except toss them out an airlock.” She washed down the sandwich
with a swig of coffee and made a face. “As nice as it is to have hot coffee, you’ve spoiled me.”

  “Would you?” Natalya asked.

  “What? Toss them out an airlock? In a heartbeat.”

  Natalya swallowed, remembering the snapping sound when Karros broke his neck.

  “You seemed ready to skin Plass alive,” Zoya said.

  “Well, yeah. He had you tied up somewhere and I needed to get you back.”

  Zoya raised an eyebrow. “How’s that different? This assholes killed a couple hundred people who worked for Usoko Mining. Just because I didn’t know them personally doesn’t mean they don’t matter.”

  Natalya rolled that idea around in her mind.

  Zoya popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth. “Have you talked to Ahokas yet?”

  “Radio silence,” Natalya said. “Didn’t want to tip off the people who have Bean.”

  Zoya drained her cup and snapped it down on the wardroom table. “First things first. Let’s get the Peregrine and Ahokas. I can send a message to Dr. Stevens and get that ball rolling while we deal with the Sagittarius.” She stood. “Any idea how we’ll get the Peregrine back? Besides another untethered walk in the dark?”

  “One, but it seems kinda silly.”

  “Shuttle?” Zoya asked.

  Natalya nodded. “Your softsuit is still on the Peregrine, but if we grab an emergency suit from here?”

  Zoya nodded. “We need to find somebody else to fly you over. I need to stay aboard.”

  “Because otherwise we have nobody to watch over them?” Natalya asked.

  “Because I’m the one in charge. It’s mostly symbolic but symbols matter.” She headed for the wardroom door. “Let’s see if Madigan can fly a shuttle.”

  They found Madigan sitting alone on the mess deck. He looked up when they joined him. “How’re you doing?” he asked, looking at Zoya.

  “Making plans. We need a shuttle pilot. Thought you might be able to help us.”

  “Nancy Fries,” he said. “Mining specialist on Dusty Sky but she did the shuttle runs whenever we needed one.”

  “Trust her?” Zoya asked.

  His head bobbed once. “She’s no friend of Reverri. This latest stunt broke the back on whatever respect she might have had.”