Javin pushed a button and a smaller door opened to the interior.
The narrow prep room--more of a hallway, really--contained everything he needed for his work: the wall to the left held hundreds of small drawers filled with every size and shape of screw, bolt, or nut. An alcove in the wall served as a workbench, with an adjustable light and computer screen. On the right side of the room dozens of tools were strapped to the wall: drills and clippers, pliers and wrenches, voltmeters and electric fusers. Next to the tools were slots for two space suits; one hung there now, with battery and oxygen levels displayed on the wall above.
Javin removed his helmet and stripped his suit. Despite his weariness he took the time to empty each external pocket, returning the tools to the wall and the spare parts to their respective drawers. The new workers on the Ancillary carelessly left equipment strewn about, but Javin wouldn't suffer such disarray on his own ship.
He returned his suit to its slot, clipping the pack that held its power and oxygen into the recharging port. He eyed the backup suit, fully-powered and ready to go. The malfunctioning electroids were slowing things down. He didn't have to enter progress data into the computer to know he was behind schedule.
He shook his head. One of the gifts of old age was keen self-awareness, and Javin knew he was too tired to go back out. The electroids would have to function adequately until he got some sleep.
And he was indeed tired; after the weightlessness of space, simply walking on his feet was exhausting. Daily exercise was still mandated for all workers, but Javin had long ago reprogrammed the censors to mark his exercise as complete each day. Beth would scold him if she knew; she kept to her own routine religiously. Javin couldn't waste any more time, though. And besides, working on the solar ring was exercise enough.
His knees started stiffening. Maybe if I rested for just a few minutes...
But his feet carried him past the room that held his bed. Down the curving hallway he walked, knees aching, until he reached the end of the semicircle. There was a whir of air as the cockpit door opened.
Most ships were built with the cockpit as the prime room, but on the Carrion it was an afterthought, crammed on the end in what little space remained. A single chair faced the bubble-shaped window, clear computer screens and electronics crowding around it. Javin ducked to avoid hitting his head as he crawled into the seat. He had about as much room as he did inside his space suit.
The screen to his left showed his progress: two hundred and forty panels removed that shift, sixteen hundred since the last Ancillary pass. They needed to average three hundred per day, but the electroids were giving him trouble. Another screen displayed the progress of the other dismantling teams scattered along the ring. All of them appeared to be on schedule. One ship, Hugo's, was even ahead of his target number.
Hugo probably doesn't have to deal with shoddy Praetari electroids, Javin thought with a frown. But that excuse wouldn't appease the Emperor.
It wouldn't matter, anyways. Excuses were for the lazy, and Javin refused to make them. He had a job to do.
Chapter 2
Javin woke early, eager to get to work. He avoided the cockpit; he didn't care to be reminded that he was behind schedule. The computer in the ship's common room blinked; a message waited. He ate a quick breakfast of coffee and whatever the food station dispensed while he read:
Javin, I'm worried about you. It's not your fault the dismantling is behind schedule. You're only one man, you can't do it all yourself. And I need you here on the Ancillary. These workers are all idiots.
-Beth
He chuckled, picturing Beth screaming at the new workers and throwing equipment around the asteroid. Like Javin she hated managing people, preferring to do the work herself. And the workers that had arrived on the Ancillary to assist in the dismantling were indeed idiots. Javin had several particularly incompetent men removed when the work first began, but they were replaced with engineers that were even more helpless. It was enough to drive a man mad. Or enough to drive him to solitude along the solar ring.
In the prep room he crawled into his suit, filling the pockets with tools and spare parts. The release of gravity in the maintenance airlock was a welcome relief on his legs, still sore from the previous shift.
He collected his thoughts as his suit thrusters pushed him toward the solar ring. Dutifully, the shield electroid ran in front of him, blocking his view of Saria. They weren't very far behind schedule. If they dismantled thirty extra panels per day before the Ancillary returned he would be back on track. That was only a few extra hours of work each shift. Certainly feasible. He could even work more than that for the first few days, to build a buffer in case there were any problems.
As if in protest, a yawn escaped his chest.
Beth was right, though. He couldn't stay out here forever. As much as he enjoyed the manual work he had to admit it was exhausting. When he was younger Javin could work double shifts and never feel a thing. One time, decades ago, a panel grouping became misaligned in a solar storm. Its burst of energy clipped the Ancillary, thankfully only destroying an unused section of rock. Javin worked three days straight stopping only to switch suits and fill his stomach, to ensure its laser didn't miss the Ancillary's photovoltaic receptor again.
Now just the thought of working that long made his shoulders ache. No, as much as he enjoyed the solitude he would need to leave this to the younger workers. But he would get things back on track first. After this rotation, he decided. Then I'll return to relieve Beth.
He groaned when he reached the solar ring.
The swarm of electroids was a mess. One was missing an arm, floating in small circles above the grouping, confused. Javin spotted its appendage nearby, clamped onto a solar panel, its exposed wires dangling free. A jumbled ball of parts floated nearby. As Javin approached he realized it was three electroids tangled together, their legs bent at odd angles and their fingers clamped onto one-another. Metal components, from the electroids or panels or whatever else, drifted all around.
The remaining functional electroids all waited above the panel grouping, organized in a neat line.
The panel grouping itself was partially dismantled: the three panels of the left column were already removed, but the top two floated at awkward angles. Now Javin was close enough to see the problem: their frames were unscrewed from the bordering panels, but the thick wires had not been disconnected, and those were from what the panels now dangled. One panel was twisted enough that the photovoltaic receptors faced Javin instead of the sun. Jets of air fired every few seconds from the center panel, near the laser; the grouping was adjusting itself to stay in alignment, countering the flailing momentum of the loose pieces.
The list of electroids and their data filled his helmet display as he approached. One displayed a catastrophic failure--that would be the armless one, Javin thought--and three more showed a less critical malfunction. The other eight were all fine, having completed their tasks without issue. They would not proceed to the next panel until the broken electroids did their jobs.
Javin woke up expecting one hundred additional panels to be dismantled. Instead they hadn't finished ten.
So much for catching up, he thought.
He turned to the armless electroid; it probably wouldn't get in the way, but he wanted to make sure it didn't do anything unpredictable while he fixed everything else. "S-R-E-one-zero-zero-five-zero-four, full system shutdown," he spoke into his helmet, but the electroid continued to propel itself in a small circle.
A tether was coiled inside Javin's pack; he reached back to uncoil it. He would need to deactivate the electroid manually. Javin jetted to the right-center panel, still secured to the center. He clipped the end of the tether to the frame. He let out more slack from the coil, estimating the distance to the electroid, until he thought he had enough.
Softly, he jetted toward SRE-100504. Its circular path was maybe ten feet in diameter. Javin's hand moved on the control stick at his side, adjusting his
path. The closer he got the faster it seemed the electroid moved. Suddenly it seemed very unsafe. The tether would keep him from being knocked away from the grouping, but if the electroid smashed into his helmet...
It was close now. Two more circles and it would be within reach. One more.
He reached out. The electroid slammed into his outstretched arms, spinning Javin backward. His fingers tightened around something, and the electroid spun with him. There was a jolt as he reached the end of his tether, the whiplash flailing through his arm. Somehow he managed to keep his grip on the robot. The tether spun them in an arc around the grouping. Saria came into view, blinding, until his helmet tinted. Shadow returned as the shield electroid tried to follow his path.
The broken electroid thrashed in his hand now, trying to jet back to its previous place. Javin grabbed it with his other hand and pulled it to his chest. Its propulsion fired at his helmet, spraying white mist across the glass. He let go with one hand and fumbled around, feeling for the kill switch on the electroid's back. It twisted away from him like a child. He pulled it close again. His arms ached from the effort of pulling against the jets. Vaguely, he was aware of the panel grouping to his left, drifting by. Soon the tether would wrap around the panels and send them crashing into it.
A button depressed under his finger; the electroid's movement ceased. With the jets no longer firing his sight returned.
The tether had indeed carried them in a wide arc around the grouping, but he had time. After getting his bearings he fired his jets, cancelling out their momentum, leaving them floating in place. Slack returned to the tether. The grouping's center panel fired its own propulsion jets, adjusting for the pull of the tether, keeping them aligned with the rest of the solar ring.
Javin must have been holding his breath--he suddenly felt light-headed. He filled his lungs a few times until he felt more relaxed.
He let go of the armless electroid. It floated limply in front of him. He saw a brown smear on the arm that remained, and realized it was the same electroid he'd fixed yesterday. More time he'd wasted.
He shook his head. I better not tell Beth, or she'll never let me hear the end of it. He knew he would, though. The story would make her laugh. Javin would have laughed himself if he weren't so frustrated and tired.
The jumbled ball of electroids was easier to untangle; they didn't fight him, and gently returned to their work once free. Still, he didn't trust them, not until he figured out what caused the tangle in the first place. He disabled them and pulled them close, hugging all three to his chest. I'll retrieve the armless one later. He turned himself around and began jetting back to the ship.
They drifted into the maintenance airlock, but he didn't pressurize it immediately. Instead he floated the electroids to a storage alcove against the side wall, shoving them inside. Only then did he close the maintenance bay and activate internal pressure. The electroids clattered inside the alcove as the gravity engaged.
The replacement electroids hung on the opposite wall, but first Javin went to the prep room. His suit's battery was half-drained, and he wanted to go ahead and switch with the spare one so he could stay out longer. He stripped and was in the new suit within minutes. He filled his pockets with tools and spare parts, leaving the first suit crumpled on the ground.
Six spare electroids hung from the wall in the maintenance airlock. A swarm of twelve was most efficient for dismantling the panels; any more and the workers disrupted one-another, and were more likely to slow the work down than speed it up.
Javin activated four. The headless, artificial beings hummed to life and stepped forward, metal feet clanging on metal floor. Each status appeared in his helmet display. They looked fine, but they were Praetari-manufactured like the others. However, they were all he had to work with until he returned to the Ancillary. He would complain about it then.
Back at the solar ring the new electroids fell into alignment easily; two began unfastening bolts, one collected the loose bolts and parts that drifted around the grouping, and the last one grabbed a floating panel and jetted it back to the ship. The remaining eight resumed their work. The swarm programming was thorough when there were no mechanical problems. He watched them in their dance, jetting back and forth along the panels.
There was an insect back on Melisao that fed on dead animals; the small, hard-shelled things would arrive at a dead body in a swarm, picking every bit of flesh off of an animal until only clean bones remained. The electroids reminded him of that insect, picking apart the panels piece by piece. Everything was orderly, every electroid had its job. It was satisfying to see. Javin liked when things worked the way they should.
He frowned at SRE-100504, the armless electroid floating off to the side. One malfunction out of a thousand was normal by Melisao standards, but several in one swarm? The Empire isn't what it was, he thought. Precision and efficiency were valued above all else when Javin was young. The Empire was a machine, finely-crafted and oiled to perfection. It thrived on such efficiency for thousands of years.
Now everyone was sloppy in their rush to leave the system. If simple electroids here at the solar ring were having problems, how did the Exodus Fleet fare? It occurred to him that it might be a good thing he was too old for an Exodus permit.
Suddenly, a man's voice echoed hollow in his helmet.
"Custodian Javin. Hello."
For a long moment Javin did not move. The Ancillary should be out of communications range, the line-of-sight passing too close to Saria. His sensors would have notified him if a ship was near. Was it a prank from Beth, some recording sent to his ship and programmed to play after they were gone? He strained his ears. He wondered if he'd imagined it.
"Javin, let me know if you can hear me, please." The man was formal, polite.
"Who is this?"
"Ahh, good," the man said, "Elliot told me I had the right channel. Javin, we would like you to come with us, please."
It still sounded too unnatural, like some programmed recording. "Beth, I don't know what this is but--"
The voice cut him off. "Beth cannot help you now. We want to speak with you, nothing more. My men will come to you presently, but first I want to make sure you will not resist."
He turned and looked away from the ring, but saw nothing except his own ship among the black. It didn't make sense. The communication was on a short-range channel, but there was nothing around. His proximity sensor would have--
The proximity alarm was off. He'd turned it off when the Ancillary went by.
"Proximity alarm, enable."
His helmet display went red. The list of electroids was replaced by a list of ships and their distance; his own Carrion showed at the top, but now there were three more below it, flashing: a Melisao frigate, and two smaller Needle craft. They had no official Empire credentials.
Their distances ticked down--they were coming closer.
He looked around again, and a glint of sunlight drew his attention: there they were, back behind his own ship in the distance. They were flying around the Carrion, one Needle on either side. He didn't see the third ship.
"Javin, we only want to speak with you."
He knew that was a lie. There was only one reason three ships would travel so close to Saria, in the vast emptiness of the inner system. The same reason the Empire was dismantling the solar ring instead of leaving it behind.
These men are pirates, here to take my ship and the panels inside.
His hand went to the thrust control at his side. The stars blurred as Javin shot toward his ship.
"My men are going to come outside to meet you. Please acknowledge my request."
Javin ignored the voice. He had eyes only for his own ship, which was now flanked by the two smaller craft. The velocity warning blinked in his helmet, but he flew faster, still pushing the joystick forward. If they wanted to speak with him it was only to disable the ship's defenses. But Javin had not activated any of them.
His ship grew larger. The two Needles
were stopped. A pair of men in shabby-looking space suits exited the left, jetting toward the Carrion. He couldn't see if they were armed.
He was close, but didn't slow. He spoke a command and the maintenance airlock opened ahead of him. The men to his left were still far away but he didn't want to take any chances. He used his suit to twist himself around, until he was flying backwards. He couldn't see where he was going, but it was the only way. His heart pounded. He waited, resisting the urge to slow down.
When the doorway of the airlock appeared at the edges of his vision he fired his thrusters. "Maintenance airlock, close!" he screamed.
The jets slowed him but he still slammed into the inner wall, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He heard a crack, and his vision blurred. When it returned he saw more alerts in his helmet. He ignored them. It sounded like the man was speaking in his helmet. He wasn't sure because of the pressure building in his ears. His skin tingled. He couldn't catch his breath enough to speak commands.
He grabbed the wall and turned himself. There was the computer, next to the door. His vision was starting to darken at the edges. He needed to type the code twice before the room finally pressurized, crumpling him to the floor as gravity engaged. His helmet came off and rolled away. He laid there with his cheek against the metal, sucking in the cool air.
Chapter 3
"Why would you do that, Javin?" The voice echoed out of his helmet a few feet away. "I don't think you understand..."
Javin pulled himself to his feet with a groan. Motion inside the airlock made him whirl. It was just the shield electroid, marching over to its corner. It had made it back with him.
He ran into the prep room, stripping his suit until he wore only his thin underclothes. His battery pack was cracked, and the suit was torn near the neck.
The Ancillary (Tales of a Dying Star Book 2) Page 2