by C. Gockel
James continued, “Sterling, I can superimpose your view over the Ark's data.” The blur at the edge of Sterling’s vision became crisp and clear.
“Shit,” said Wren. “That visual is creepily vivid.”
“He’s a professor!” Gunny protested.
But Noa felt herself halting on the ladder. It was very vivid. Taking data from the external sensors and combining it with Sterling's poor visuals … that would take a lot of processing power. It must be Ghost's tweaking of the Ark's systems. She reached up for the next rung. But the Ark couldn't even manage to input a course over the ether. She shook her head. The damn boat was buggy. “Anything on the comm?” she asked Wren.
“No, Commander,” Wren replied. “Suggest we bring her around on pulse power—”
“Do it,” Noa said. To James alone, she cursed the Ark’s main cannons inability to fire in rear directions.
“—and hail them,” Wren finished.
As she flipped open the main hatch to the bridge, Noa’s nostrils flared. After Xo, her first impulse was to blow whatever they were out of the sky. They were so close to achieving their objective. She hissed, but said, “Of course.”
The bridge was full of the sound of static from the comm. At her appearance, Chavez exited the copilot chair and strode to the second cannon. Taking the steps up to the pilot’s chair two at a time, Noa saw Wren had already begun pulling the ship about.
“Bloody lizzar guts,” Noa hissed to James alone.
“I imagine they are bloody,” he quipped back.
It felt so good to have someone in her mind to swear at. Jaw tensing, she willed him not to die.
The comm continued to crackle as she strapped herself in. Letting Wren continue to man the ship, she tried another frequency. “Unknown ships, state your purpose.”
There was no answer.
“Ready to exit Airlock 3,” James said.
Noa’s eyes lifted to the dome. She couldn’t see anything there. She looked down at the monitors, but they weren’t as clear as Sterling’s vision. She focused again on James’s mindscape.
She could see the tick's long black limbs silhouetted against the cloud. She remembered the battle on the Ark before Adam’s Station, the men she’d wanted so desperately to blow out an airlock, and she remembered System Six, and too many encounters with “friendly” miners that turned out to be anything but. They could not risk treachery like that.
Switching frequencies, she said, “Unknown ships, unknown ships, announce your purpose or we’ll be forced to fire.”
“A little harsh, don’t you think,” Wren snapped.
“No,” Noa said.
Wren sighed. “This isn’t System Six, you know. No one out here is at war with anyone else.”
“Your friend Xo was attacking the Kanakah Disk,” Noa said, the words flowing from her lips like ice water.
“Okay, there was that,” Wren conceded. “But Xo was not my friend, and most miners are—”
“Commander Sato, Commander Sato, do you read?” The strange voice cracked over the comm.
Noa’s eyes widened at mention of her name. “I’m here.”
“My name is John Singh. Flashing my forward lights now. I, um … can’t speak for everyone, but I mean no harm. We just hoped …” His words began to come in a stammered torrent. “The Kanakah Disk is overwhelmed with refugees, and their food can't last. Libertas is shooting down all incoming ships not preauthorized, Adam’s Station and Luddeccea are the same, and none of us are able to travel through deep space anyway.”
Noa released a breath, and her shoulders sagged.
“We thought,” Singh continued. “Well, there are rumors of a hidden gate in the cloud. After we heard your discussion with Prime Minister Li … well … we're hoping that they’re true and you’ll lead us to it.”
“We are running out of food,” another voice cracked over the comm.
“Our O2 converter is dying on us. We need a new carbon filter,” said another.
“We need diapers and formula,” said another.
Wren’s hand snapped to the comm and he turned it off. Turning to Noa, he said, “Most ticks are owned by independent miners. Do you really want to blow them out of the sky? Wouldn’t that go against Fleet protocols?” He sneered. “Or does the Fleet not have protocols for civilians not officially part of the Republic?”
Noa turned to face the man who had been a double agent, ostensibly on the Fleet’s side during the System Six wars. He’d mowed down civilians on Adam’s Station … but now … she had a sickening sensation he was right.
“Gunny,” she said over the ether. “We need to help these people. They’re in distress.”
She half-expected the other veteran from Six to say, “Claim to be,” but instead Gunny responded with a terse, “I bet they are.”
James’s thoughts exploded over the private channel. “Noa, they could be spies or worse.” And her hair stood on end. James wasn’t a double agent. He’d risked his life to save Oliver …
“I’m going to work out precautions with Gunny,” she said.
“Of course,” James said. “Let me know how I can help.”
Something loosened in her. James was just voicing the logical argument, and hadn’t she been prepared to turn the cannons on the ticks, herself? He hadn’t heard their cries of distress, that was all.
Flicking the comm back on, Noa said, “Please hold position. We will prepare to assist.” In Sterling’s mindscape, she saw the lights of reverse thrusters activate. She found herself turning to Wren.
He put a hand over his chest. “Being a father has made me a kinder, gentler person. You’d understand if you had kids of your own.”
Noa’s skin heated. Not at the observation of her childlessness—she’d developed a thick skin toward that. No, it was something else about the exchange that set her on edge.
“Commander,” said Gunny over the ether. “If we’re going to assist them, we need a plan.”
She could feel the suspicion in his thoughts. And then she realized that they had a weapon that they hadn’t had in Six. She could have Ghost scan their ether. The tiny tick computers wouldn’t be a match for the Ark’s—not since Ghost had done his magic with it. “Ghost, you ready?”
“I don’t think they mean us harm,” James said. “They might have weapons. That could be useful.”
“Agreed,” said Noa, an idea forming in her mind. She looked over at Wren, again. The leer was gone. He was wiping his face with one hand. One of his fingers was tapping nervously against the steering bars. His eyes were on the ticks off in the distance.
Maybe he had been changed by fatherhood? Ghost’s thoughts intruded hers. “I'm here, Commander.”
She didn’t have time to ponder what it was about Wren’s newfound “kinder, gentler” self that bothered her.
Nine hours later, she had to concede Wren had been right. They seemed to be mostly normal folk. They were small time prospectors, forced out of their habitats when supplies from Li’s disk had dried up, which had occurred because the disk had been swamped by refugees. She’d spent her rest cycle dealing with managing the logistics of providing assistance to six ticks in various states of repair, twenty-three adults, and seven children: determining the individual needs of the vessels and prioritizing them. Obviously, the one with the faulty carbon filter in their air recycler had to be first, next she’d tried to get a gauge of how hungry they were. She hadn’t felt comfortable letting more than one of them dock with the Ark at a time. Monica had to test them all for known diseases; Gunny had to pat them all down, and hence … no sleep. James had insisted on helping.
They had all been very well armed, as remote prospectors often were, but had handed over their weapons as they came aboard. They seemed anxious to prove their loyalty to Noa and her mission to reach Sol. With the kids, they would be. James walked beside her, squinting at the power reading of a stunner they’d acquired from one of the refugees, licking his lips.
The taste
of the insta-coffee she'd washed down her breakfast with and the stimgum she'd chased everything with were still on her tongue. Her hand beat out a staccato rhythm on her thigh. “We’re almost there,” she said to James. “We could be at Sol Gate within hours.”
James lowered the stunner. “One,” he murmured.
For a moment, Noa thought he was saying an hour, but then she realized he was referring to Time Gate 1. Referring to it by its number must be a regionalism.
Looking at a point in the ceiling, he said, “I haven’t seen One since …” He shook his head, and looked down at her. “You said the gate here was damaged. It could take some time to repair it?”
His wording was odd, his tone was slightly hopeful, and it was weird, and then she realized what he was doing. Grinning ear to ear, she nudged him with her shoulder. “Always thinking of the worst.” She nodded too quickly, and knew her movements were bordering on hyperactive. “Damn, I didn’t need that stim,” she said. “The excitement is enough.”
Stopping before the access tunnel, she took a long breath and willed herself to calm. She met James’s eyes. “But you’re right, I shouldn’t get too excited. There may be a lot of work to be done.” Over the ether, she sent a bouncing white ball of light in his direction.
He exhaled. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Looking away too quickly, he opened the hatch and motioned for her to go first.
She was about to slip through when she looked down at the stunner he was holding. “That thing is ancient,” Noa said. “It’ll be too strong, might do more than just stun a man.”
“Really?” he said, looking down at it. His tongue darted out between his lips.
Noa tilted her head. “Someone you’d like to do more than stun, James?”
“Ahh …” he said.
From down the hall came the sound of a crash. Noa sucked in a breath. The door to the galley, where all the tick kids were, whooshed open and a thin man wearing Luddeccean Green stepped out of it. Noa wasn’t dreaming, though she wished she were. Her skin heated.
“Actually, yes, there are some people I’d like to do more than stun,” James drawled out over the ether.
Over the ether, Noa cursed, “Infected pustule on the nasal gland of a dung mole!”
She felt the connection between her and James go dark and then light again. “That was inspired,” he said over the ether. He nudged the stunner in her direction so she could grab the handle. “Maybe you’d rather do the honors?”
“Commander!” Snyder said. “I want you to know that this situation is unacceptable. Those … children … may carry disease. Half of them are unsupervised, they were all apparently raised in a barn, and we’re expending precious rations on them.”
Noa’s hands balled into fists at her side. She was afraid to look down at James’s stunner for fear of taking him up on his offer. There was another whoosh, and Raif, Wren’s son, came dashing out. Dressed in Ark togs, sporting a military high-and-tight haircut that Gunny had given him, he’d put on weight since coming aboard. He stood a little straighter, too, usually, but at the moment, he was bent over, bolting forward at full tilt. He stopped when he saw James and Noa, nodded at them both, and looked up at James a little too long. He was doubtlessly communicating across the ether, but more than communication, Noa saw adoration there. James stepped aside and Raif darted between them. James brushed a hand through the kid’s hair as he did. It made Noa’s stomach do funny things.
Snyder hissed in disapproval. Shaking his head at Raif’s retreating form, he said, “One of those children threw a plate on the floor.”
James’s head jerked back. “No, he didn’t. He dropped his food in his excitement to eat.” Across the ether, he said privately to Noa, “According to Raif, and I trust him more than Snyder.”
Noa trusted Raif more, too. She crossed her arms.
Snyder sputtered.
Noa raised an eyebrow and smiled tightly. “Go back to your quarters, Snyder. You’ll be safest from our hos … guests … there.”
James didn’t exactly step toward Snyder, he just straightened in a way that made the other man step back, quickly look away, and then step down the hall toward the lift.
Noa rubbed the bridge of her nose, and her lip curled up, but not at disgust at Snyder. Over the ether, she said to James, “Lizzar guts, I almost called them hostages.” Because that was what they were, though she suspected only James, and maybe Gunny, appreciated that. She had armed ticks “escorting them” to the hidden gate. She couldn’t afford for there to be any unexpected hostilities … keeping the kids on board while their parents operated the ticks was part of Noa’s insurance policy.
Touching her shoulder, James whispered, “Whatever they are, they’re better off on board.” Inclining his head, he steered her to the open hatch to the access ladder and gave her a nudge. “Come on.”
Her chronometer app said they still had plenty of time, but she took the hint. Slipping into the access tunnel, she tamped down the urge to take the rungs three at a time, and kept her eyes on her hands, lest she slip in stimgum, adrenaline, and excitement-fueled haste. She was only six rungs up when she heard a sound that she hadn’t heard since the Antique Weapons Firing Seminar she’d taken in Fleet.
“James?” she cried, looking down. She saw just the top of his blond head and one of his arms on the rungs. His sleeves had fallen back, and his tattoos were blooming across his arms.
From down below her, she heard Raif’s voice. “James, are you all right?”
Shaking his head, he said, “I’m fine. I think the safety on this thing doesn’t work.”
Raif said, “But I saw you—”
“No, you didn’t, because if you had seen that I would be dead,” James snapped.
“Oh,” said Raif.
Seen what? He must have thought he’d seen the muzzle pointed in James’s direction … maybe because the thing was old, and awkwardly shaped. If James had even been clipped by the thing, he would have lost consciousness and dropped like a stone.
“Did it damage any of the exposed circuits?” Noa said, her eyes scanning the sides of the tunnel.
“No,” said James. “Everything is fine.”
Noa blinked. “But if it didn’t hit you, it would have hit something.” There should at least be the smell of burning plastic.
“Must be faulty,” James said, looking up at her. Licking his lips, he said, “Come on, let’s move.”
“If that thing is misfiring, we should get out and get rid of it,” Noa said.
James sighed. “It’s spent, Noa. Let’s just move. We can hand it off to Sterling or Chavez on the bridge.”
Noa didn’t budge. He was technically right, but they had plenty of time, and Noa didn’t like waiting to fix or ditch malfunctioning weaponry.
Scowling at her, James said, “Raif has to get to the bridge. His father is getting impatient. Let’s move, Noa.”
From down below, she heard a muffled gulp from Raif.
Noa put two and two together. Raif was the ship's errand boy, Wren had asked for something on the bridge, and Wren scared Raif a bit … she thought sometimes the kid was more comfortable around James.
She resumed her climb and minutes later climbed out onto the bridge, James at her heels. Raif scrambled out behind them and bolted to the helm.
“It’s about time!” Wren snarled as Raif handed him a small portable recharger. One of Wren’s hands was a cheap augment that sucked up a lot of power.
“I …” Raif started to stammer.
Wren twisted in his seat and Noa could see his face contorted with rage. His eyes slipped to Noa, and then to James, and then he said tersely, “Just give it here.” As Noa slid into her seat, she heard a soft zip as Wren recharged his hand and handed the charger back to Raif.
Noa’s brow constricted. “Wren said being a parent had made him a kinder, gentler person,” she said across the ether.
“I wouldn’t have liked to meet him before,” James quipped.
“We need him,” James said.
“Not much longer,” Noa said, looking up at the planetoid cluster that hid the gate.
“You intend to push him out an airlock?” James asked in his deadpan way.
Noa’s eyes slid to Raif. He was standing beside his father, looking out the dome to the cluster. She could see the wonder in the boy’s eyes.
“Of course not,” she said across the channel. “Couldn’t push him out of the airlock in front of his son.” She meant it as a joke, but it came out too serious.
Shaking herself, she focused on the read-outs.
“Five minutes until we see what kind of damage we’re dealing with,” Wren muttered, hand fluttering on the steering bars.
Noa didn’t answer, busily surveying the read-outs for any sign of dust interfering with the equipment.
In the corner of her eye, she saw James move closer. She looked up at the huge bulk of a larger planetoid, and tuned into the dotted line in her visual cortex that was the Ark’s intended course. She willed her heartbeat to slow. They rounded the pockmarked curve of the object, and the rim of the time gate appeared. The lights within the gate should have been on, but it was dark. Still, it looked whole. Undamaged. Noa held her breath as more and more came into view.
She heard Wren take a deep gasp. They could see half of the ring. It looked fine. She heard James shift and his hand grasp her seat.
“This might just—” Wren abruptly stopped, and then he cursed. “Shit!”
Noa released the breath she was holding. A huge chunk of the last quarter of the ring was missing.
Chapter Seven
James leaned against the wall in the darkened galley, his mood light. He briefly tuned into the ether and checked the ship's external monitors. To hide the Kanakah Gate, the Fleet had blown a hole in a roughly spherical cluster of space rocks to form a bowl shape. The gate was at the center of the bowl. Noa had situated the Ark so the relatively poorly defended aft section was covered by the bowl, while the heavy plasma cannons that could incapacitate a cruiser faced outward into the black. In that direction, there were only a few scattered planetoids at the edge of the cloud.