“Well then let’s split up. Not all of you have to escort me,” Mercedes objected.
“Yes we do,” Tracy said. “We can ring you and keep you shielded. So give us the guns.”
“Yeah, it’s a well-known fact that gentlemen make awesome bullet magnets,” Davin joked.
They were right and she did know it so Mercedes finally gave a reluctant nod. “This just doesn’t seem real,” she sighed.
“Probably feels pretty real to that man you killed,” Sumiko said bluntly.
The men looked at her with varying degrees of awe. They formed themselves into a rough knot and headed down the cylinder toward the academy.
With a gesture Mercedes pulled Tracy to her side. “Walk with me, Mr. Belmanor.” The formation shifted and he was next to her, his shoulder almost brushing against hers.
“I want to thank you.” He cast her a sideways glance. “For the knife,” Mercedes elaborated. “It’s what stopped that man. It cut right through his armor.”
“I… I had no idea it could do that.” He fell silent. The only sound was their boots ringing on the walkway. “How are you doing?” he added softly.
“Holding it together. Barely.” She drew in a ragged breath.
“You’ve been amazing. To get this far.” His voice trembled with suppressed emotion. Mercedes suddenly wanted to feel his arms around her again. She fought back the impulse to cry.
The radio in Tracy’s helmet went live. Because of the open faceplate she could hear Boho’s voice deep and worried. “Mercedes, are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“About halfway down the strut.”
“I’ve been trying to raise the Academy staff, but no one is responding.”
“This is a mess! What is going on?” Mercedes raged.
“I have no idea. Just get here as quickly as you can. Where you’ll be safe.”
A voice boomed out over the station’s emergency broadcast system. “Infanta.” They all froze. Mercedes had only seen this level of quivering focus from terrified horses. “I have men waiting at the Hilton. You’ll go there now.”
“Yeah. No,” she said, assuming that the man could hear her.
“I thought that might be your reaction. So I’m going to give you a bit of an incentive.” The cosmódromo gave a lurch, and they tumbled onto the tram tracks. Tracy threw his arms around her, and twisted so his body cushioned her fall, and then they were floating. Mercedes clutched him tighter, and he reciprocated.
“Those were the boosters firing. I’m sending this station directly for Ouranos. We’ll drop it on your daddy’s head if you don’t comply.”
Coiling fear filled her belly. “You’re crazy! Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Mercedes cried.
“You stole our world. Think it’s only fair if we wreck yours. Or you can avoid that by turning yourself over to us. Better hurry, Princess. In a few hours we’ll be caught in the planet’s gravity-well and won’t be able to pull out.”
There was a click as the PA clicked off then a burst of agitated voices as everyone began to talk at once.
“They’re mad!” Sumiko cried, showing far more emotion than usual. She was hanging onto Hugo’s ankle.
“Who are they?” Davin sounded plaintive.
“Based on what they’re saying they’re probably dead-enders from some Hidden World,” Ernesto said.
“You’re not going!” Boho’s voice came in her ear while his holo floated in the air in their midst.
Tracy cut through it all. “It’s a false threat.” His voice was low and grim.
“What do you mean?” Sumiko asked.
“The orbital weapons platforms will tear this station to shreds long before we enter the atmosphere.”
“They’re not going to fire on the Infanta,” Hugo argued.
“They will if it means keeping a three-hundred-and-twenty-million-kilo space station from crashing onto the capital city of the Solar League,” Tracy countered.
“Maybe we should rethink this,” Boho said.
“Now you want her to surrender?” Sumiko said. Her voice was spiraling with outrage.
“No, Boho’s right.” Mercedes shook her head. “I have a duty to my subjects on the planet, and there are civilians aboard who don’t deserve to die.” She paused, fear making her reluctant to say what had to be said. She coughed and forced the words past a sudden obstruction in her throat. “There’s no choice. I have to surrender.” Her voice sounded smaller than normal.
Seeing that objections were about to start rising from all sides she hurried to add, “Look they won’t kill me. Probably. If they did they’d have no leverage with my father.” There were reluctant nods of agreement from all around, but not from Tracy.
“There is another option,” he said in that intense way he had.
They were at once eye to eye, matching challenges with a look. “So tell me,” Mercedes ordered.
28
BIGGER PROBLEMS
“We’ve never done this.” Sumiko’s voice had lost its usual flat intonation and was jumping with tension.
“I know,” Tracy said.
Space, too large and too empty, hung before them. Suddenly his confident statement that they could “take back the hub” sounded like insane hubris. Tracy clutched a handgrip in the airlock and noticed that his palm felt clammy inside his glove. With the station on a trajectory toward the planet and no longer spinning, the gravity was gone. He wondered how the civilians aboard, especially those kids, were coping. Badly was his guess. He and his little gang needed to get control of the station and fast. Unfortunately he was having trouble taking that first step out of the lock and onto the skin of the ring because he was gazing out at eternity. An insignificant human could get lost in the vastness of space, die, and an uncaring universe wouldn’t give a damn. He tried to figure out how to twist around to allow his boot to grip for that first step. In this moment he understood the utility of Donnel’s multiple arms and legs. He wished the alien was with him now.
He shook off the fear and went on. “We’ve got magnetized boots and jet packs. We’re not going to float off into space.”
“We can’t use the packs until Mercedes neutralizes that ship. Otherwise they’ll burn us like ants under a magnifying glass,” Ernesto pointed out.
“You really are just Mr. Fucking Sunshine, aren’t you?” Davin said.
Ernesto shrugged. In the bulky suit it was an exaggerated movement. “Just pointing out the reality.”
“Not looking forward to walking along those spokes. That’s gonna be scary,” Hugo said.
“They’re huge.” Realizing that might have sounded argumentative rather than reassuring Tracy added, “I know they don’t seem like it when we see them from a shuttle, but we’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“Trust me. Why does that always feel like famous last words,” Davin muttered.
It couldn’t be delayed any longer. Tracy stretched out a leg and felt his boot clamp onto the skin of the ring.
“You know you sent the heir to the Solar League off to fight an armed ship filled with terrorists,” Ernesto said conversationally as he stepped out onto the skin of the cosmódromo.
“She’s the best pilot in the class, and if things get hairy she can boot for the planet.” Tracy knew he sounded defensive because he was defensive, but it had been the right call. Well, he hoped it had been the right call.
“She also wasn’t accepting any argument about it, and she is the heir to the Solar League,” Sumiko offered. Her voice had returned to its usual placid range now they were actually walking up the curving side of the station.
“Deber, Honor, Fidelidad.” Ernesto intoned the motto of the Arangos.
“We need a motto too,” Davin said as they made their way past the anchor for one of the massive cables that linked the ring to the hub. “I’d like to propose bolas a la pared.”
“First, I don’t have balls,” Sumiko said. “And second, ovarios h
asta la pared or útero para la pared just doesn’t have the same ring.”
“Not to mention I’m getting visual of a uterus plastered on a wall and it’s really gross.” Davin did sound disgusted.
“Let’s cut the chatter,” Tracy snapped. “We may be on tight beam, but they might be sweeping for radio communications.” He actually heard teeth snapping shut.
After a few minutes he wished he hadn’t issued that order. The only sound was his own harsh breath inside the helmet, and a sensation as each boot pulled free and clicked back onto the skin of the cosmódromo. Time dragged. They seemed to be inching their way across the ring, heading for the nearest of the five massive spokes. Against the backdrop of stars and nebula Tracy did indeed feel like the ant that Ernesto had evoked. He was also wearing just a standard station spacesuit filched from an emergency decompression locker. He’d given his battle armor to Mercedes so she could jack into the Infierno. Sumiko was wearing the same type of unarmored suit.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the girl, moving like Frankenstein’s monster, closed the gap with Tracy. “I wonder if we’ll see when Mercedes engages that ship,” Sumiko said.
“Depends. Our view might be blocked by the station.”
“I kind of hope it is… blocked I mean. I only have so much fear and worry to go around,” Sumiko muttered. A thin thread of hysteria ran like a leitmotif through the words.
“Only fear? I’m at flat-out bowel-loosening terror,” Tracy said, hoping he’d infused some humor into the words. Behind the distorting faceplate he saw her smile so it must have worked.
Sumiko whispered, “I don’t want to die…”
“Hugo’s not going to let that happen,” Tracy said and realized he’d said exactly the wrong thing.
“And I’m not going to let Hugo die,” she snapped.
“Of… of course not.” Tracy cut the link.
He found himself pondering the delicate dance between the genders that was taking place. How would they resolve centuries of training that said men protected women—not the other way around? Of course Mercedes was doing that for him right now, and he wasn’t having a big problem with it. So maybe it wasn’t going to be a thing.
They reached the spoke. The hub hung like an exclamation point at the center of the five converging spokes and the ten cables running from the top and the bottom of the ring and attaching at the end points of the hub. Though with the wing-like solar panels the hub had the look of a hapless insect trapped in a web of steel.
“Long walk,” Hugo grunted.
“Then we better get started,” Tracy said.
* * *
Boho beamed the coordinates of the mystery ship to her console. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. You?”
“Someone is trying to get through the door and into computer ops. I’m doing what I can to prevent that. With luck I’ll force them to have to get cutters. Still, we better hurry.”
“I can’t just blaze right at them,” Mercedes argued. “I’m using the cosmódromo for cover, trying to get around where the sun will be behind me.”
“They’ll still read you.”
“Which is why I’m going to fire chaff the minute I begin my approach.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything, my dear,” he said softly.
“I hope.”
“I sent off a tight beam warning to the planet,” Boho added.
“Good thought. Though I expect the satellites will have noted the station moving,” Mercedes said. “Where are the others?”
“On the spoke now moving toward the hub. Do you want me to patch you through to your father?”
The suggestion brought a surge of memory—warm embraces, the rasp of stubble from his cheek at the end of the day, the smell of whisky on his breath, his basso hum as he sang her to sleep after a particularly bad nightmare. It was a fist to the gut and tears tightened her throat.
“No. I need to concentrate so I need you to go away now too.”
“All right. Te adoro, Mercedes,” he said softly.
The click had a finality that left her shaking. It affected the trim of her fighter, and she had to struggle to get it under control. The sensitivity of the coach controls had a downside when you were actually scared. She was good against simulators. Good against drones. This time she would be matching wits with actual human minds. If she succeeded they would die. If she failed she would die.
The hijackers were burning the trim rockets on the station. Mercedes used their brilliant flare to hide the boosters on her fighter. She worked with the computer to calculate the best route to place her with the sun behind her Infierno. She burned as long as she could then abruptly changed trajectory and cut the engines. Inertia would have to do the rest. She just hoped the station and its escort wouldn’t move too fast for her to get situated for maximum effect.
Apart from her breaths the silence in the cockpit was total. “Te adoro, Mercedes.” Boho’s voice throbbing with suppressed emotion. “Go get ’em, girl.” Tracy’s voice as he jacked her helmet into the Infierno, and gave her a slap on the top of her head to show she was secure. One a voice of fervency and passion. The other a voice of admiration and confidence.
She flicked a finger to bring up her weapons load. Not at full capacity with either missiles or slugs. Well it was what she had. It would have to do. She longed to know what she was up against, but didn’t dare paint the enemy ship with her radar or lidar. If she did it would be like lighting a flare and screaming, Here I am!
Silence. She knew she was moving only because of the pressure of her body against the restraints and the acceleration couch. The distances were just too vast and objects too small for her to see any real appreciable movement. She knew from her display that she was closing the distance with the other ship, but it didn’t feel real. She had to figure out when to light the engines again and start firing. She couldn’t just spray and pray. She needed her limited shots to count.
The minutes dragged, the silence filled with her heartbeats and breaths. She keyed her radio on a tight beam to Tracy. “Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey yourself.”
“Where are you?”
“Little over halfway to the hub,” he replied. “It’s slow going.”
“I’m a bit closer than that.”
“You’ll be fine. You’re the best among us.”
She sat with that for a moment, forced into unnatural stillness by the sensitivity of the couch. Once again the difference between the two men was evident. “How do you always know what to say?”
“I don’t. Most times and with most people. I only know with you.” It was said humbly, almost apologetically.
“Tracy, I want to ask—”
“Shit! Shit! Oh God, no!”
“What’s wrong? Tracy? Tracy?” But the connection had been broken.
* * *
“Tracy, I want to ask—”
It was again sensation not sound that gave him a millisecond of warning. A shifting beneath his boots that told him something had changed. Sumiko’s helmeted head swung around, and he saw her face behind layers of plexicrystal. He watched as her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a scream.
Tracy tried to spin around, and wrenched his back as his boots refused to release. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a snake writhing across a backdrop of stars. It took a moment before his mind resolved what he was seeing. One of the massive cables that connected the ring to the hub had broken loose and was snapping like a silent whip.
“Shit! Shit! Oh God, no!” He broke the connection to Mercedes and went on open band to his companions. “Down, down! Everybody down!”
Against the stars the cable had seemed a thread. Hugo was directly in the path of the massive braid of metal. Tracy lunged toward his friend, hand outstretched. Too late. With the speed of a falling blade the cable sliced Hugo in half at the waist. It was grotesque. From the hips down the legs remained upright, held in place by the m
agnetized boots. A halo of blood crystals sparkled around the body. The upper torso was floating away from the station following the trajectory of the cable that had killed him. Tracy had a glimpse of Hugo’s slack face before the body spun away, blood crystals and dangling intestines like the tail of some monstrous comet. As he watched the battle armor tried to seal the massive tear in a futile attempt to save a dead man.
Bile, hot and sour, rose through his throat. Tracy fought it down. Vomiting in the suit could doom him. But Hugo! His mind was screaming. His friend. Perhaps his closest friend. I killed him. God forgive me.
Sumiko’s screams clawed at his ears, pulling him out of his panic and grief. Davin was also screaming. He had been next to Hugo. Tracy yanked his horrified gaze from Hugo’s body, searching for Davin. He too had been torn loose from the spoke and was tumbling wildly in space. As Davin spun around Tracy was able to see that his right arm was missing. The screaming stopped. This time the suit did its job and sealed the tear. Shock, blood loss, and a sedative applied by the suit had knocked Davin unconscious. Which meant he couldn’t fire his maneuvering jets and return to the station. Someone was going to have to go after him. Which would alert the lurking ship.
Sumiko was sobbing, a heartbreaking sound in the darkness. “Hugo, Hugo, Hugo. No. No. Please. Hugo. No.”
“What’s happening?” Cullen’s voice ringing in his ear. Tracy ignored him.
Ernesto grabbed Tracy by the shoulders. “What do we do?” His voice was cracking with fear.
Tracy chinned on the radio. “Mercedes. Take out that ship. NOW!”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it!”
“How dare you address—” Cullen began.
“SHUT UP!” Tracy bellowed. There was a flare of light against the darkness. An answering flare from the mystery ship. Please God, keep Mercedes safe. Let her save us all.
“You piece of shit—” Cullen began again.
“Boho, SHUT UP.” It was the soft-spoken Ernesto and Tracy stared at him in surprise. It also seemed to surprise Cullen into silence. “Hugo is dead and Davin’s hurt.”
“And we’ve got to get Davin,” Tracy added. He stared at the rapidly receding bodies. He kicked loose from the skin of the spoke and fired his maneuvering jets. And immediately put himself into a tumble. He fought back panic and nausea and tried to analyze what he’d done wrong. He worked out the amount of force needed to produce thrust in the proper direction and thumbed the jets again. This time he shot straight to Davin’s body. He braked a foot away and analyzed the wild tumbling. If he just grabbed he’d be pulled into the same giddy whirl. He worked out the direction, fired the left jet, and grabbed Davin’s utility belt. Davin stabilized. Tracy cut the jet, tethered a line to Davin’s suit and towed him back to the spoke. Ernesto had recovered his composure enough to catch Davin and pull him down.
The High Ground Page 28