Misfits

by Sharon Lee

  "That's what--about fifteen times a day?" She chewed her lip. "I'll see what we can do. Might need to add somebody to the talk list--… but if mostly you need the unit switched on, we ought to be good for that."

  A pause then, and then Brunner's voice came as if he was partly turned away from the mike.

  "Yes, we will monitor at all times, but will expect voice communication as you need, else three times per day. Perhaps you should take our tide warnings and we will set a schedule from there?"

  "I can do that. Send away!"

  * * *

  Brunner woke, his body already calling for tea and chernubia. He kept time now by the next time he was needed at the microphone, or what sort of weather was imminent. It happened that this time, his waking and first meal coincided with the day's first scheduled report from the surface, where Lizardi's Lunatics slowly moved through the smoldering remains of what had once been a vast forest toward an abandoned hilltop farmstead, hoping to find shuttles waiting to bear them to the station.

  That there would actually be shuttles--that sat between the Scout and the station master.

  He heard raised voices as he approached the weather room, one of them Boylan's, one the Scout's. Then Jack chimed in and the level rose.

  "We have to go in!"

  "There's nothing we can do."

  "The chief insists that we cannot land." That was the Scout, and it hurried Brunner's steps. Cannot land? But--

  "It's disturbing the science!" Boylan shouted. "We knew from early on there was little chance--…"

  Brunner ran, bootheels noisy against the floor.

  "What has happened?"

  His three associates fell silent. The Scout bowed, slowly, as between equals.

  "I see we need not wake you for this news."

  Jack stepped up, ushering Brunner toward his seat.

  "I slept late and had a meeting with the intern," said Boylan defensively, "and when I arrived, we were beyond range already."

  Brunner turned to face her, his stomach twisting. "What has happened?"

  She turned away from him. It was the Scout who leaned forward and touched the pad, started the recording. There was noise, bursts of sounds that once he would have mistaken for thunder.

  "Tech! Recon squad found us a nest of leftovers. Liz tried to talk to 'em but you hear what they're saying. Hold them ships till you hear from us cause it looks like they got themselves some anti-air stuff. Bastard's tried to sneak in through--… damn. Out."

  "Last orbit?" Brunner demanded, though he could see the time on the scan. "This happened and no one told me?" He spun, coming up out of the chair so quickly the Scout fell back a step.

  Boylan turned to face him. "What could you have done?" She shouted. "Nothing! There's nothing you can do for them, Brunner, and the sooner you stop pretending--and him, too!--the better, for you and for the mission! Mercenaries are paid to die!"

  Breath-caught, Brunner took a step, his hand going out of its own accord, snatching up a coffee cup left on the counter--

  Jack moved, clinks subdued, caught Brunner's shoulder and pried the cup from his hand.

  "Sorry, Tech." The hand squeezed his shoulder, perhaps meaning comfort, then Jack turned, cup yet in hand as he nodded to the planetologist.

  "Let's get some breakfast, hey? We'll be able to work better after we've had something to eat."

  Boylan looked at Jack, then at Brunner, her eyes wide and her face hard.

  "Later today," she said, and her voice was soft. "I marked it in the event file. Later today the tides will be bad. Ugly. I'm not sure they're survivable. I'm sorry, Brunner."

  He stared at her, vision spangling. He blinked and felt the tears, hot down his cheeks.

  "Right." Jack took Boylan's arm and steered her toward the door.

  "Coffee. Coffee'll help us both, and company, too--…"

  Weeping, Brunner watched them leave, then turned back to his instruments, tapping the event file up.

  "The times are there," the Scout said quietly. "I believe that the quakes are due six orbits from now. Before that, there is the enemy. With the right weather, with luck, perhaps they may sneak past to a place of safety. It would be wise of you to prepare a forecast, my friend. I go to see if calls for assistance will be answered."

  The Scout bowed, gently, and Brunner replied, "Comrade."

  * * *

  The civilians were dead; the gun took the couple the land had let live. Liz pulled what was left of the Lunatics back some, and sent scouts out, looking for a way around trouble. Joey came back, reporting no joy. Auifme didn't come back at all, which Redhead guessed amounted to the same thing.

  "We got no good choices," Liz said. "Weatherman upstairs says there's bad weather coming--worst we seen. Weatherman's a cheerful boyo, but he's not being cheerful about this. Wants us to get to a safe place pronto, by which I gather he means off-planet and maybe out-system.

  "In the meantime, the Scout's guaranteeing transport, but we've got to make the rendezvous point before that weather hits."

  Scandal shook her head. "Hell, Liz, that ain't no choice; it's one choice!"

  There were a few laughs from around the circle. Miri finished up her half of the last ration bar in her pack, had a drink, and passed her water jug to Skel. They'd stripped down to necessaries some while back, taking just enough to keep 'em to the rendezvous. That was before they'd run into the crazies with the Forsbo 75, o'course, not that anything they'd had left would've answered it for good.

  "There's a little obstacle between us and the rendezvous, in case you hadn't noticed," Skel said to Scandal, when Liz didn't.

  "So, we run for it," she answered, pushing her helmet up off her face with a grimy forefinger.

  "It's an option," Liz allowed. "I'd like to up our odds some, though. I'm thinking in terms of a diversion. Something to draw the gunner's fire while we're sneaking past in the direction we need to go." She looked 'round at them, taking her time.

  "I'm looking for a volunteer."

  Miri took her water jug back from Skel and snapped it onto her belt. Outside the circle, a baby wind twist swirled into being, stirred the dust, threw a couple stones and dissipated. Inside the circle, nobody said anything.

  "I'll do it," she said, and heard Skel draw in a hard breath, exhaling it on a laugh.

  "Hey, no, now. Stealing my thunder, Redhead?"

  She shook her head at him, but she was looking at Liz. Liz, whose face had gone still, eyes narrowed; who'd gotten her off of Surebleak and given her a fighting chance.

  Well, and sometimes you fought, and sometimes you lost. Even she knew that.

  And, besides, she didn't intend to lose.

  "Makes sense," she said to Liz's hooded eyes. "I'm smallest. I'm fastest. Got the best chance of getting in, doing the job and getting back out."

  Liz took a breath. "You got a distraction in mind, I take it?"

  "Yes'm." She nodded. "I do."

  * * *

  "Tech Brunner, I have news which may--… ease your burden somewhat."

  Brunner turned from his screen. The Scout was disheveled, even unkempt. He was, however, smiling. Brunner felt his own heart lift in response, which was surely not wise, but hearts were not known for wisdom.

  "What has happened?" he asked.

  "We have shuttle craft fueled and standing by, we have pilots volunteered from among the crew."

  "Ah. And the permission of Chief Thurton, you have that, as well?"

  "Pending receipt of a message from Phaetera headquarters. If the hour comes upon us and the message as yet unreceived, we go. This by the chief's own word."

  Brunner's knees wobbled. He sat abruptly on the stool.

  "This is--… an astonishing reversal," he said slowly, and took a breath.

  "Earlier, when I spoke to her--they are still pinned. Commander Lizardi had pulled back, and sent recon to seek a way around." He took another breath, remembering. "She said, this morning's count was twenty-seven. The civilians--… they di
d not survive the night."

  The Scout inclined his head. "All honor to them," he murmured, then straightened, eyes bright. "We have been in contact with others who are also making for the rendezvous point. We will take any and all who meet us, but--… I fear we will not be able to wait for those who are not there."

  "Understood," Brunner whispered. He cleared his throat. "Understood."

  * * *

  "Tech? Ichliad? You there?"

  "I am here, galandaria." As if he could--would--be anywhere else until this was over, however it came--…

  He leaned his head against edge of the monitor, the plastic cool against his skin.

  "I wanted to tell you," Miri Robertson said, her voice as clear as if she stood next to him in the weather lab. "Couple things. First, you done real good by us; we wouldn't've got this far without you helping us so much--…"

  Brunner closed his eyes, hand fisted on his lap. "Child--…"

  "No, hey, listen. And I gotta tell you--having you on the other end of this thing, talking to me, an' all? You didn't have to do that and it--I don't guess I can say out how much it helped, so you're gonna just hafta believe it did. A lot. We sit down and get that coffee, after this is all over, I'll try to 'splain it better, okay?"

  Brunner swallowed. "Okay--…"

  "Good," she said. "That's good. Now, the other thing I got to tell you? We're gonna be moving real soon. Gonna strike for the rendezvous point--run like hell, that's the plan. Good one, huh?"

  "Indeed. A most excellent plan."

  "It's got a lot going for it, mostly being the only plan we got," she said, sounding amused. "But, see, the Stubbs here. I'm gonna--"

  "Leave it!" he said violently. That she should worry over mere equipment when--He took a breath.

  "Galandaria, listen to me. Set the unit to automatic and leave it. I will gather what data I may, while it functions. Promise me that you will do this."

  "No--… can't. I--Brunner. Look, I need this thing, okay? What I wanted to tell is--you're prolly gonna lose the signal. Don't worry 'bout that, right? Promise."

  Gods, Gods. He took another deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was calm, never hinting at the tears running from closed eyes.

  "Of course, you will do as you deem wise," he told her. "You have never given me cause to doubt your judgment. Now," he said, more briskly. "You should know that the Scout has just recently assured me that there will be ships at the rendezvous point. They will board any who come, but they will not wait, galandaria. Do you understand me?"

  "Got it," she said cheerfully. "Right in line with the plan, huh?"

  "Yes," he murmured. "Run like hell."

  * * *

  "Get 'im?" Skel hunkered down next to her and held out a square of chocolate.

  "Did. Told me to get my ass to the rendezvous point or else." She nodded at the chocolate. "You better have that."

  "Already did," he said, and if he was lying--which he prolly was--he was good. "Saved this out for you. Least I can do, huh?"

  "Thanks." She took it and gnawed on a corner while she pulled up the Stubbs' manual, ran the search and pulled up the page.

  "You tell 'im it ain't likely you'll be with us to meet the pilots?" Skel asked harshly.

  She looked up at him, shaking her head. "Not planning on getting done just yet. You?"

  "What are you planning, then, if you don't mind sharing with a friend?"

  She nodded at the screen, gnawing on her chocolate. "This thing here? It's got a power supply capable of powering a pinbeam."

  Skel sat back on his heels, face attentive. "Does it, now?"

  "That's what it says here." She tapped the screen. "An' if I was to do a series of something stupids, like it warns me here in this manual never to do? Then it might give up all its power at once."

  Skel didn't say anything. She gave him a look and a grin. "Want your chocolate back now, don't you?"

  "You got everything you need to pull this off?"

  She nodded, and reached 'round with her free hand to pull the grubby cord up over her head. The key was right where she'd put it, nestled next to the enamel disk her mother'd given her. She palmed it and let Skel put the string back over her head, and tuck the pouch away.

  "You tell 'im up there you was gonna blow up his equipment?"

  "Told him he was gonna lose the signal, and not to think anything 'bout it."

  "That'll be a comfort," Skel said dryly, and Miri sighed.

  "I'll make it up to him. Now, gimme a minute to read this part again, right?"

  * * *

  The door opened and Jack strode in, tool belts clanking.

  "Tech," he said, nodding, and wandered over to the supply cupboard, belt clanking, casually opening a hatch that was coded to Brunner's thumbprint, and placing something within it.

  "I see that I am wise to lock important items away," Brunner said.

  The big man shot a grin over one shoulder. "Little testy? Well, you got a right, I guess. We all do. Just gotta remember that I hold the overrides. You're safe from everybody but me." He closed the hatch and walked over to the monitor shelf, hitching himself up on the stool.

  Brunner sighed and turned back to his screen. "If you are here for a purpose--… ?"

  "Come down to see how the work was going, is all. Heard from that girl of yours lately?"

  "Indeed. She informs me that they intend to make rendezvous. I have assured her that the ships will be there."

  "Did you, now," Jack murmured, and Brunner threw him a sharp look.

  "Will the ships be there?" he demanded.

  "Said so, didn't you? Now, you might be interested in knowing that the chief, he got his answer from the company. And--following the letter of his instructions, y'know, just like he ought--he's had the Scout arrested and thrown in the brig. I expect to be--yeah, here it is, now."

  Footsteps rang in the corridor outside; the door opened and three people in Phaetera security colors entered the room. One stood by the door, stunrod held ready, the other two advanced on Jack, who docilely held out his hands to accept the restraints.

  "Phaetera Company orders Jacumbra Edgil removed from his position and the company payroll. His access to the station is restricted and he will be removed from the station at the earliest opportunity." The security guard looked up from the portable from which she had been reading, and looked hard into Jack's face. "Phaetera Company also wishes you to know that there will be no involvement in the situation on the planet below. Promises of rescue or succor made by Scout Commander Kon Rad yo'Lazne and/or Jacumbra Edgil are not binding on Phaetera Company."

  What? "But--" Jack's shoulder lifted minutely and Brunner stopped himself, biting his lip. Jack rose at the prompting of his guard, bound hands held awkwardly in front of him. The other guard looked to Brunner.

  "We apologize for disturbing your work, Technician Brunner."

  "Jack--"

  "See you, Brunner! Hey, it's about time I got a vacation. Don't expect the Scout to be such good company, though--…"

  He passed through the door on the heels of his guard, the others following.

  The door closed, leaving Brunner alone with the equipment.

  * * *

  Getting in close enough to kill the gun, Redhead thought, as she rested behind the scant cover of a charred bush, that was gonna be tricky.

  But not half as tricky as getting back out before the Stubbs blew.

  Liz, she'd laid down the law, and it was the scariest thing Miri had heard so far in her life.

  "Soon's Redhead's diversion goes off, we're running, and it's every hand for themselves, you hear me? If your partner falls and don't get up, run. If I fall--run. If you get hit and fall and it ain't fatal--get up, damn you, and run!"

  Miri figured she'd be a little behind the general race, what with having to set the Stubbs and all. She had the route to the rendezvous set in her mind, so that was okay. Skel, he'd wanted to stick with her, but she'd told him to look out for himself, like Liz'd sa
id, and she'd see him at the shuttles, or for sure on the station, after.

  Time to move. She took a breath in, deep, got her feet under her, and moved.

  * * *

  Brunner locked the lab door, went to the cupboard, set his thumb in the lock and pulled the door open.

  Calmly, and not at all surprised, he removed the non-station communication device and a data stick.

  Returning to the monitors, he cleared one, inserted the stick, and touched the "talk" button on the communicator.

  "Jack?" Cautious. Low.

  "Brunner," he answered serenely. "I am the meteorologist of record. You and your compatriots are in place and willing?"

  "We're willing, sir, but the dock's locked up."

  "Security?"

  "Not now."

  A schematic blossomed on the screen as the feed from the datastick kicked in. Brunner looked at it, understood what he was to do, and spoke into the communicator.

  "You can move at once."

  "Yessir, but--"

  "I will take care of the airlock and the bay door. If anyone should ask, you do this on my orders, which you believe I am able to issue. You understand this?"

  "Yessir."

  "Good. The airlock will cycle in three minutes from my mark. Mark. What is your name?"

  "Jamin Fowler, sir."

  "Jamin Fowler, fly well. The weather will be unsettling on planet, bear in mind that it will soon be worse. Be quick, and bring everyone you can."

  "We aim to do just that, sir."

  "Good," Brunner said. "Good."

  He glanced over at the weather screen, saw the window for the Stubbs open, and data begin to flow. Surely not! he thought, suddenly not calm at all. There was no time now to stop and--

  The data continued to flow, he reached out, touched the speaker plate--

  Static from the speaker was abruptly cut off. On the screen, the data flow ceased, and the window reformed, displaying the legend:

  NO SIGNAL. CACHING HISTORY. ARCHIVING. DONE.

  * * *

  Day 57, Standard Year 1393

  Solcintra, Liad

  "We had managed," the Delm Lysta said, "to quiet the problems you have caused. We brought you home to the clanhouse, fed you, clothed you, kept you from prying eyes and wagging tongues. You have, in return, tended our inner gardens, and for the most part you have been respectful."