Migrant Thrive: Thrive Space Colony Adventures Box Set Books 7-9

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Migrant Thrive: Thrive Space Colony Adventures Box Set Books 7-9 Page 61

by Ginger Booth


  She stopped abruptly when she realized he was blowing out between pursed lips. “I’m so sorry. That we reached you so late. Abel’s wife said he was distraught that night, cried himself to sleep in her arms.”

  A single tear rolled down from his eye. She’d read his records from Mahina Orbital as well. Unlike most hunters, he’d thrived as an asteroid miner, and won a promotion. Kaol lacked the arrogance of his breed. Which made him more compatible with the low-income, under-educated Mahina settlers who landed in the rings. They earned their Yang-Yang nanites with a 5-year indenture, the only route open to them.

  “You and Tikki turned into fine young men. But I’m sure that left scars.”

  “Could we not talk about this, please?” he returned huskily.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” She sighed, and regretted causing him pain. “Do you know where Tikki was just before the explosion?”

  “Out.”

  “I think you think he did it. I think that’s why you can’t sleep.”

  Kaol stared at his own muscular thighs, chest heaving. The man could break her like a twig. “I did it.”

  “What?”

  He swallowed. “I’m responsible for the explosion.” His eyes searched the overhead wildly. “I, um…”

  Sass reached a hand out and laid it on his shoulder. Worst acting job ever! “Stop. You’re trying to cover for Tikki.”

  Both his eyes brimmed over, and the muscles around his mouth ridged in bitterness. “I can’t help you, captain. I’m so sorry.”

  “Did you want to come on this expedition, Kaol?”

  “Yes. No. Tikki and I…”

  “I understand. But think about it. Kaol, you want to protect Tikki. And he’s earned your loyalty. But remember, this wasn’t the first sabotage. And this colony isn’t canceled yet. They must know we’re closing in on them, and they haven’t succeeded. Assuming that really is their aim. To prove Sylvan is an insane gamble. To make them stop.”

  Kaol nodded and relaxed microscopically, probably subconscious. He believed that, too.

  Sass continued, ever so gently. “Done is done. But is it? If even this wouldn’t persuade Tarana, what might they do next? You see, I can’t just let it go. My crew’s lives are on the line. Including yours.” That last was a whisper. Your loyalty is not reciprocated. Not by Tikki.

  Kaol exploded off the floor to standing, then paced in his Mahina-style T-short and boxers. “What if it was over? If we tell them – No, tell the patients in the hold. Spread a rumor. It’s all over. Now we’re just waiting for Ben to come back.”

  He made a vicious turn at the end of the cabin. The crew bunk rooms and bath were enormous. It took Sass years to persuade Copeland and Ben to move forward into the prestigious yet cramped officer country.

  “Sass, they’re tired and scared and beat now. If they believe the rumor, they’ll be overjoyed. Won’t they?” He stopped in entreaty, towering above her, then squatted to meet her eyes on a level. “Wouldn’t that convince Tarana?”

  Sass shrugged. “Denali politics. I can’t guess. Would it?” No. “And how would the conspirators react?”

  “They’d stop!” He dropped his gaze in anguish. “Maybe not all of them.”

  “If we didn’t use that idea, Kaol. If we kept believing Tarana won’t quit, until we’re dead. What is their next step?”

  He screwed his eyes closed. “Something worse than star drive fuel. All the star drive fuel. That’s pretty thorough.”

  “That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?” Sass whispered. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Or worse. They’ve already contaminated our medical supplies. Sabotaged ropes, damaged life support equipment.” She shook her head. “What next? I really need your help, Kaol.”

  “They’re not wrong, you know?” Kaol begged her. “About Sylvan. What is this, pretty scenery? But deadly? We got that on Denali. This is a dead end. It’ll bleed us dry.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given you the job, if I’d known you felt that way about the mission. Yet I’d be happy to have you on a Spaceways crew on any other mission.”

  Sass wasn’t sure about that. Kaol hadn’t particularly distinguished himself on this voyage. But then, Wilder still flew with Ben after decades of mediocrity, except as willing muscle in an emergency. Kaol fit the bill.

  He confessed, “I don’t know police work, like you and Clay. Can you teach me? How to watch and keep us safe?”

  Sass trained her tone to be sympathetic, and regretful. “Not while you’re loyal to Tikki, at the expense of your shipmates. No.” She rose. “Get some sleep, Kaol.” She let herself out softly.

  Sleep was the last thing he’d do. She’d made sure of that. The question was whether – or when – he’d explode into Tikki’s cabin and throttle the truth out of him.

  39

  Nico gazed up at the fuel depot platform anxiously, his helmet light tracking along the mismatched containers full of deadly explosive fuel. A few drops of water and KABOOM! He slept next to the stuff every night. Though he planned to sleep a lot less soundly from now on. Dad, how do you do this?

  “Found any yttrium yet?” he asked his companion, Eli, hunched over a meter. Floki wasn’t especially rich in the rare earth metal – nothing was. But they hadn’t detected a single peep from that element on Sylvan. The world’s entire supply lay in the comms and processors the colonists brought here. And Floki would light up like the mother lode.

  “Of course I have,” Eli murmured. “Your comm. My comm. Every container lock has a processor.” He looked up with a frown. “I think I’m range-limited. Walk away from me would you?”

  “You remember the deer and the smurfs, right?” Nico took a few reluctant steps, growing slower. He looked back. He glanced up. The container locks were farther from the botanist than he was.

  “Buck up, young buddy,” Eli murmured. “Any time. I have nothing to do but fall asleep on my feet.” Nico’s steps accelerated to a jog as the sarcasm deepened. “Stop! Yeah, that’s what, only fifteen meters. Huh.” That established, he hopped up to the platform. Then he cautiously tilted to peek into the corridor between his container and the next, then repeated on the other side. “Can smurfs climb a platform?”

  “Now who’s the coward?” Nico countered, hopping up beside him. “Yes, smurfs live in trees. And deer can reach the platform with their front feet and gouge you with their horns.” He’d only intended to pay Eli back, but on second thought, he drew his sonic pistol.

  “Put that away,” Eli grumbled at him. “Use grav to evade wildlife. A sonic popgun would just piss him off. You know, the vog dissipated.” He stared out over the colony.

  Nico turned to look with him. Creepy wraiths of vog snaked along the ground through a general mist, so it was less noticeable until they reached the platform. Eli reached into his carrier bag of science magic tricks. Nico backhanded him. “Floki first.”

  Eli sighed theatrically. “Nico, I’m deeply sorry for your loss. But we believe Floki is beyond caring.”

  “Give me the meter then.” Nico held out his glove to demand the scientist hand it over. “You can measure vog density while I check the containers.”

  Eli shrugged and complied. He sat on the platform edge to deploy other instruments.

  Nico continued on in the direction Eli had already checked, though there were fewer containers on that side. He paused in the pitch dark at every corridor between to check for wildlife, and glanced up to the tops, too. At the last container, he stepped into a wrench. It clanged loud, and skittered to sail off the edge. Which set his heart pounding.

  How does Dad Ben do scary stuff like this? He even claimed to be an adrenaline junkie, that he lived for the terror runs. But not Dad Cope. He admitted he still froze every time it hit the fan, and that he’d suck as a captain because of it. Surprise! I take after my birth dad. Which wasn’t a bad thing. But he sure wished he was brave like Ben right now.

  That direction having failed to yield anything but door locks, he hastened
back to Eli and tried the other way.

  “AHH!” he screamed at the next corridor. Behind him, Eli vaulted to his feet, then grav-hopped to the top of a container. “Oh. Just a squirrel. Sorry.”

  “You want me to walk the platform for you, Nico? I don’t mind. Might save me heart failure!” Eli hopped back to his seat in disgust and resumed his fog analysis.

  Two containers later, Nico caught a strong bleep. He stepped forward more systematically now.

  “Your squirrel is following you,” Eli noted. “Are you sure that’s a squirrel?”

  Nico shared his dad Cope’s focus, too. “I’ve found it, Eli! Lots of yttrium.”

  “It’s a rather smurf-shaped squirrel,” Eli said evenly, calmly. “Nico…”

  Eye on his meter, Nico barely saw Mama Smurf before she lurched out from between the beckoning yttrium container and the preceding one. She swiped an enormous clawed paw at him and screeched imprecations. Granted, he didn’t speak smurf, but her intent was clear.

  Nico leapt sideways in terror, and barely cut in his grav in time to avoid breaking his neck, which he landed awkwardly upon. He sat up and spotted Eli, calmly standing about 20 meters away, gazing up at Mama Smurf, whose tongue-lashing continued unabated.

  Nico heard hissing. “I think I ruptured my airline.”

  “Duct tape works a treat,” Eli murmured absently. “How do I get… Hm.”

  Nico fumbled out his duct tape and halted, at a loss. “Where do I put this?”

  “Up yours,” Eli said cordially. “Shuttle if you need it. Well, hell. I can’t let her have my instruments.” He tried lunging forward – on the ground, meters below the half-ton smurf – and giving his best hunter war cry, learned with the eleven-year-olds in a creche at Waterfalls years ago. He’d forgotten to turn on his external speakers, so he backed up and tried that again, with raised fists menacing.

  Mama Smurf snatched up her baby then returned his ‘Up yours!’ with interest, and a more intimidating fist.

  Nico watched his air levels nervously. They weren’t falling very fast. Maybe they weren’t falling at all. So what’s hissing? He turned his head and screeched again. A…something…clung to his shoulder. He batted it off, leaving behind a smear of faint pink. But he couldn’t spot the tiny critter among the ropes of ground mist. “Dammit!” He leapt back onto the platform, astonishing Mama Smurf, then jumped again onto a container top.

  “That’s a bad idea,” Eli critiqued. “What if she claws at the container? A little water gets through its seals and BOOM!”

  However, Mama Smurf did not appreciate Nico’s shenanigans. She couldn’t see the problem bubble-head below and the one above at the same time. Both made inexplicable and threatening moves. She bellowed in frustration and retreated to the far end of the platform to brood and mutter at her kid.

  Eli glowered at her for a few more seconds, then jumped back up to the platform to resume his work, this time facing the smurfs. “You know, hunters create songs and poems about how to deal with each sort of wildlife. I’m pretty sure we failed every guideline.”

  Nico bashfully hopped down. “Why do you treat me so mean, Uncle Eli?”

  “Do I? Guess you look like a grad student these days. Speaking of, did they grant you a bachelor’s degree?”

  “Dr. Sinclair said it was a moot point. No one cares about your inferior degrees once you have your doctorate. Besides, I didn’t finish the requirements. Couple senior-level courses short. Data structures and algorithms. Graph theory. Comparative computer languages. I don’t need any of that for artificial intelligence.”

  “Dr. Sinclair wanted slave labor early,” Eli advised. “Take the courses. And demand the degree. Your master’s, too, and don’t skip required courses. I have taken all three of those, and consider them highly relevant.”

  “But you’re a botanist,” Nico protested in surprise.

  “Yes, I am,” Eli agreed. “And I found each of those courses useful. Well, perhaps not combinatorics, but it was fun. As for the doctorate, you don’t have one of those yet. Life is uncertain. What if the university shuttered tomorrow? Or if you were exiled from Mahina? Complete your credentials in order. No shortcuts.”

  “Huh.” Nico stole another nervous glance at Mama Smurf, who yelled at him for shining his helmet at her. He truly didn’t like turning his back on her, but at least Eli was in the way. She’d kill him first.

  He pulled out his yttrium sensor again and kept his eye on his surroundings. His ear told him plenty about where the large deposit was, though he couldn’t tell which container from the front. The signal seemed to be strongest from the corridor. Feeling like a rat trapped in a dark maze, he slipped between the looming boxes and walked about two thirds of the way to the far end. There. On the left.

  Was it better to repeat this in another corridor? No. He had all the information he needed. He headed back to the front. A quick glance reported that the smurfs had moved on. “Did you see where the smurfs went?”

  “I didn’t see them leave,” Eli reported. “We could probably move back here by tomorrow. Vog-wise.”

  “Congrats.” Nico keyed the access code into the container lock, but it wouldn’t open, corroded shut. True son of John Copeland, he always carried a screwdriver on his belt, though. He wedged it in and managed to chip the bolt loose. The door moaned on its hinges, startlingly loud across the empty clearing.

  Inside, all looked as it should. Barrels marched neatly down either side of an off-center access aisle, with retaining webbing to keep them from jostling around when the container moved. Sashaying sideways, he worked his way to the spot the meter reported from outside, then enabled it again to fine-tune exactly which barrel. This turned out to be the odd one, standing on the floor without another stacked above. The cans were sealed like a paint can, and opened with a screwdriver chiseling around the edge the same way. Someone had hammered it on rather more enthusiastically than usual, but finally it came loose. He set it aside. And finally he pointed his helmet light within.

  “Floki.” The robot emu was rammed into the empty barrel. Nico reached in to stroke his neck, but found it hard instead of resilient. He pressed up an eyelid, which resisted in a crusty way, as though scraping the large eyeball beneath. Clearly his friend was powered off, but the damage seemed worse than that.

  “You found him?” Eli asked. “Need help?”

  “Yeah.” Nico had to repeat that a couple times before his voice worked. “We’ll need a grav lifter. Or something.” The robot weighed a ton. Nico couldn’t budge the barrel, couldn’t access his power switch.

  And he couldn’t tear himself away from Floki’s side. But everywhere he petted, he found the same corrosion. “You shouldn’t have been left out in the vog!”

  “Found the grav gear,” Eli reported gently. “On my way.” He’d gone back to the shuttle for that.

  No one ever sent Eli out on EVA to collect fuel barrels. Nico had done it, but now he was upset. He had to stop a few times as emotion overcame him. But eventually they worked the barrel out and carefully re-sealed the fuel container. Out on the platform with more room to work and nothing dangerous at their elbows, they carefully laid the barrel on its side. Nico pulled out the seized form with hand grav grapples while Eli pulled the barrel away. Floki lay stiffer than rigor mortis could ever accomplish. Corrosion seeped through his pretty grey feathers and hardened like barnacles.

  Nico could finally reach his power switch. But it didn’t work. He opened the access panel to the batteries, and found them crustiest of all. “He won’t power on.”

  “We’ll get him back, Nico,” Eli assured him. “We’ll put him in the shuttle, then collect the other gear. You with me?”

  “Crying in a space suit sucks.”

  “It surely does.”

  Eli reported back to Sass while they manhandled the frozen bot aboard. Nico took a moment inside with atmo to mop his face and pull himself together.

  And then they retrieved the similarly corroded chainsaws
and axes, air and water extractors, and a power generator. Not a one was usable in its current state.

  But they could be salvaged. They finished filling the single pallet the shuttle could carry, and flew home in the night to sleep. Nico parked the pallet on the roof. At Sass’s orders, they kept the robot on the shuttle. Zan was on duty by the time they got back. But they woke Sass to authorize a lock on the shuttle.

  “Why?” Zan demanded. It was 03:30 and he was officer of the watch. Of course he met them at the bay.

  “Sass’s orders.” Eli belligerently slipped in front of Nico, blocking him from the third officer and sometime Spaceways captain. “On my recommendation. It will wait til morning. We’re exhausted.”

  “Open that shuttle!”

  “It’s already sealed.”

  “And what exactly is on the pallet on the roof?”

  Eli stared him down. “I suggest you call the captain and pester her. She won’t appreciate it any more than I do.” Senior Mahina University faculty had verbal intimidation and one-upmanship down to an art form. Zan’s fists clenched a few times – hunters were not easily intimidated.

  Eli beat him to the appeal. “Sass! Please convey your order to Third Officer Zan.”

  Nico was hazy on who outranked whom here, but suspected Zan was perfectly within his rights to overrule the chief science officer.

  Sass’s muzzy voice returned, “Zan, leave them alone and let me sleep.” An audible yawn punctuated her views. “Leave their stuff alone, too. That’s an order. Unfinished business from my shift. G’night.”

  Eyes flashing fury, Zan stalked away toward officer country.

  Sass gave it a moment, possibly observing internal cameras, then spoke into Nico and Eli’s comms alone. “Stay put. Time to bring them down.”

  40

  Sass grimly picked up her stunner in her cabin, and yawned again. Dammit! She shouldn’t have yawned to mislead Zan. Now her body wanted to keep doing it, and lie down for real. But she’d caught a nap. She could function fine.

 

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