by T. A. White
The ships were personal cruisers, not meant for actual space travel. Some resembled old Earth sailboats, complete with a mast and sail to catch the wind currents stirring the interior of the atrium. Air gondolas also navigated the space, carrying couples intent on a romantic tour of the beehive. Still other ships were built for speed and zipped through the air with reckless abandon.
Kira even saw a few hoverboards staying close to the terraces as hoverbikes made the journey from below to those terraces high above.
A long tram crossed from one side of the atrium to the other. It rushed over an open drop, the floor of the station far below it.
Above it all was a large dome where dozens of bright UV lights meant to imitate a miniature sun twinkled. Those lights were the reasons for the small trees and planters filled with thriving flowers and bushes that lined the walking paths which bustled with business. High-end merchants had laid claim to the physical shops set along the walls, while smaller vendors plonked their mobile carts wherever they pleased—including the middle of the walkway
In a way, it was genius, forcing tourists to stop and look as they threaded through the maze the carts turned the walkway into.
O'Riley was a shining gem of human ingenuity. Class and privilege shone from the carefully crafted engineering marvel. The station was an emphatic statement, saying this wasn't the backwater of the galaxy anymore. The war might have humbled humanity, but it hadn't broken them. They rose from the ashes to rebuild better and stronger than ever.
Kira and Jin shuffled along the terrace as Kira tried to tamp down the irritation of being surrounded by so many bodies. She’d forgotten how crazy this place was, the press of humanity almost claustrophobic.
For someone used to the quiet of a small ship, this place was a madhouse. A dizzying confusion to senses adapted to solitude and plain walls.
Chaos hammered at her. Voices, sights, sounds–everything drawing her nerves tighter and tighter.
She took a deep breath and then another before she pushed everything away, concentrating on centering herself in the here and now.
Kira spotted a kiosk and strode over to it as Jin flitted from one thing to another. He didn't have the same issues with crowded places as she did.
"Look, they're selling candy globes," he crooned. "Can we get one?"
"You don't have taste buds," she told him.
"But you do," he said hopefully.
She paused and gave him a frown. "I'm not eating that crap just so you can ride my senses. You can do that when we get to the Wanderer."
Jin was an oddity among oddities. Unique in a universe full of unique things. He was machine but not. Artificial but real.
One of the many things he had discovered over the years was an ability to tap into Kira's senses—taste, smell, touch, sight, and hearing. It allowed him to experience the world on a more human level, turning it from logical data to something tangible he could feel and almost touch.
“Please.”
"That stuff tastes like crap."
"Come on, just one thing," he pleaded.
"What happened to in and out?"
They both stopped when they reached the kiosk, each going silent as they took in the image displayed on the front—a soldier in a Hadron class combat suit riding a waveboard into the upper atmosphere. Emblazoned on the person’s uniform was the image of a bird on fire. Behind the soldier, just breaking through the clouds, were ten more in a perfect V formation. The air was filled with fire as wreckage rained down around them, ships above dying as Tsavitee ground artillery picked them off one by one.
Under the image was emblazoned, "What difference will you make?"
Kira swallowed painfully, unable to move, the sight locking her in place.
The Wave Runners were a specialized and elite military unit, bridging the gap between combat suit and aircraft. The hoverboard under their feet made them faster and more maneuverable than any ship ever could be.
They were a product of the war. Their tactics had evolved to meet the Tsavitee's superior forces head-on—the suits and board compensating for human weakness. Humans might never be as strong or fast, physically, as the Tsavitee, but they were smart and adapted even under the worst of circumstances. The Wave Runners were perhaps the best example of that.
Jin tapped the screen. The image changed, the station’s map and directory appearing.
"Let's concentrate on getting what we need," he said in a quiet voice.
Kira nodded, feeling numb, the earlier argument forgotten as she reached out and began scrolling through the directory.
She hesitated over the name of one vendor. In the description line, it said ship parts.
"Not that one," he said, seeing where she'd stopped. "Their parts have a reputation of breaking as soon as the warranty ends."
She grimaced and continued her search.
"And you can eat and walk," he offered, returning to the former topic. "No reason to stop."
Her sigh was heavy and tired. It was easier to give in. "Fine. One thing."
He let out a happy cheer.
A small smile lifted Kira's lips as she continued to swipe. A familiar name flashed by.
Vander's.
She knew that place. It had been in business when she was a soldier. Back then, they'd offered tech the military didn't provide. They were expensive as hell, but their stuff had been some of the best.
She read the description and smiled. Seemed they hadn't changed much in the years since.
"That might work." Jin leaned over her shoulder. "I wonder if Roxy still works there."
An explosion rocked their terrace from above before Kira could respond. She dropped into a crouch, her heart in her throat as she reached for a weapon she didn't have. Station policy prohibited carrying any type of projectile weapon while in dock.
Screams tore through the air around her as bits of a gondola fluttered down.
She ran to the edge of the terrace, craning her head up as she looked for the source of the explosion.
The bright lick of flame drew her eye as the sail of a small five-seater caught fire two terraces above. The rear third of it looked like a mangled mess as the boat struggled valiantly to stay afloat. Even as she watched, the forward mast snapped. Its engines gave a high-pitched whine as it slowly began to list.
"We don't have to get involved," Jin warned. "Station personnel should respond momentarily."
Kira remained motionless for an interminable moment, her focus glued to the small craft as it tilted further, the engines sputtering.
The craft's engine gave another choking roar. The boat broke loose from its mooring and began to sink. Seeing that, those around her panicked, pushing and shoving, as they fought to get out of the way in case it crashed into their terrace.
"Jin."
"I've already contacted station security. They'll be here in ten minutes."
Kira could see how it would play out.
In five minutes, probably less, the engines would cease function entirely. What was left of the sail would hold for a short time before the weight became too much and it snapped. After that, the craft would either complete its plummet, be torn apart by the winds on the interior of the honeycomb or explode when the fire reached the battery cells.
Station personnel would arrive minutes too late.
The craft rotated, giving Kira a glimpse of those inside. Two children pressed against the windows of the cabin, their mouths open in silent screams, their faces filled with terror.
"Kira."
Kira was moving before he could say more, running parallel to the craft as it began drifting, sinking as smoke billowed out of it.
"Wait for me," he called after her.
She didn't listen. She needed to time this perfectly.
The small sailboat picked up speed in its descent. It drew level with their terrace, missing it by inches as it fell.
She hit the end of the terrace and leaped, free fall and gravity pulling her down, her heart reach
ing for her throat. She didn't have time to calculate or second-guess. She hit the bow of the sailboat hard, rolling to a stop as it rocked precariously under her.
She recovered, throwing herself back to rebalance. Without the fully functioning engines and the sail, her extra weight could force it to roll.
"Sloppy," Jin chided, appearing over her shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah. Some of us don't have antigravs."
Jin made a small sniff to convey his opinion on that statement.
Kira ignored her prickly companion. "See what you can do about this thing."
He didn't answer, already heading for the engine.
She entered the main cabin.
Two children huddled behind the pilot seats, peeking over the edge at her with large, wary eyes.
Their clothes were expensive and made from a material Kira didn't recognize.
The boy was around thirteen or fourteen, his guarded expression making him seem older despite the faint remnants of baby fat around his cheeks. In a few years, when time and age had refined the lines of his features, the girls would swarm him.
His top lip trembled as he fought to project a strong front.
The other child was much younger, seven or eight. Her eyes were scared, evidence of tear tracks on her face. Her pale, white-blond hair was tied with a silver ribbon. She looked like a doll, pretty and delicate.
"Is there anyone else here?" Kira asked, making her way toward them even as the cabin bucked and swayed under her feet.
They didn't answer, holding silent and still as she examined the cabin.
A charred body was curled in on itself on the floor behind the children’s seats. Black scorch marks climbed the walls to the rear of the cabin. The poor bastard must have tried to protect the children from the fire.
Kira could tell there would be no saving that person.
No one else besides the children was present.
"Come on. We have to go."
Neither child moved.
Kira scowled at them. Time was of the essence. She didn’t have time to console them or win their trust. She reached around the boy and plucked the girl up. She sensed she was the key to getting the other one to cooperate. Kira held the girl to her chest as the boy babbled at her in a strange language, his voice high-pitched and angry.
It didn't take speaking the language to know what he was saying, to know he was demanding she put the girl down.
Kira didn't listen, heading to the front of the cabin and out the door, the boy trailing after her, the panic in his voice clear.
The girl clutched at her, fear making her cling harder, her knuckles turning white where she gripped Kira's shirt.
Kira patted her shoulder in wordless sympathy, even as she looked for a way to safety. Jumping onto one of the terraces would be impossible with two children clinging like limpets to her.
"Jin, anything?" she called.
"This engine is dead. There's no saving it. It's not capable of anything but a crash-landing," he said. The chip embedded behind her ear made it seem like he was speaking directly into it.
Kira fought the desire to curse, knowing the children would probably panic more at the sight of her frustration.
Crash-landing the craft on one of the terraces was too risky. It might work, but it also might explode on impact, killing them and innocent bystanders. Their best bet was to jump.
She looked around, noticing they’d drifted away from the terraces. Far below several platforms stretched, linked to the terraces above by a series of walkways.
They were remnants of the station’s past, some of the few that hadn’t been deconstructed when the war ended. Fleet ships might have once landed on those same platforms for repair or to offload supplies before taking off through the retractable dome above.
She exhaled heavily. One of them would have to work.
"What about the platform below us at three o'clock?" she asked.
"That jump is nearly fifty yards and at least a twenty-meter drop," he argued.
"You got a better idea?"
A small growl filled her ear. That was a no.
"Give me time to get on the outside. I may be able to nudge this thing's death spiral, so it takes you directly over it," Jin said. "You won't have much time. Drop one of the kids onto it first; otherwise, you'll never make it."
Kira grinned.
"So much for going unnoticed," he muttered as he maneuvered into position.
Kira ignored the comment, knowing he didn't really mean it. Neither one of them were the type to regret saving a pair of children.
She crouched and looked the boy in the eye. "Can you understand me?"
He seemed hesitant, his nod slow, the suspicion in his gaze slightly dimmed.
Kira felt a sense of relief at the fact he could speak her language. Explaining what she needed of him and the girl would have been much more difficult otherwise.
"I have to throw one of you off," she told him.
He started shaking his head before she finished. She set the girl down and kneeled in front of him, making sure he could see her eyes. She needed him to trust her.
"I can’t make this jump holding both of you. One of us needs to go first. I'll drop one onto the platform and then jump with the other one."
Timing was crucial. The platform was a good size but it wasn’t huge. The sailboat was drifting faster than she’d like while attempting this maneuver. If she missed her window during the second jump, she and the other child would fall to their deaths as the ship opened the distance between it and safety.
He glanced at the platform, his solemn frown out of place in a face so young.
"She goes first." His accent made his words almost lyrical.
Kira hesitated. She'd planned to drop the boy first, then jump with the girl. He was heavier, and his size might slow her.
His stubborn expression told her he wasn't budging on this point. They'd lose valuable time if she continued to press.
She nodded, feeling resigned. In his place, she'd probably do the same.
"Alright, we're moving into position now, Jin," Kira said out loud, holding the boy's gaze as she did so.
Brief curiosity filled his face, but he remained quiet, watching as she took the girl and moved to the edge.
"Commencing maneuver. Brace for impact."
Kira gestured for the boy to take a knee, doing the same and huddling around the girl.
The craft jolted. For a long scary second, Kira wasn't sure Jin's tactic had worked, then they began a slow glide toward the platform.
Adrenaline coursed through Kira. She took the girl's hands and dangled her over the side, watching carefully for her moment. Timing was everything.
For a long second, she worried about what would happen to the girl once she landed. She didn't have the training Kira did. She didn't know how to land properly, and while broken bones were preferable to death, it bothered her to be the cause.
Briefly, she considered softening the girl's landing, tapping into some of her innate abilities. It wouldn't take much, a simple rearranging of the density of the air molecules between the girl and the platform.
One thing stopped her. She hadn't used that power in all the time since she'd left the service. It was chancy; the power unpredictable. Furthermore, it could take a toll that cost her and the boy their lives. It also might bring Kira to the attention of people she had spent the time since the war avoiding.
The platform loomed closer. Twenty meters. Ten. The boy leaned over the edge, his words frantic as he barked instructions.
Kira ignored it all, waiting, her breathing slowing as she concentrated.
There.
She tossed the girl, aiming carefully. The girl plummeted.
Kira didn't wait to see if she landed. The ship was already picking up momentum as it glided over the platform. Delaying would mean death. She vaulted to her feet as she grabbed the boy up and powered for the opposite side of the sailboat. She hit the edge and leaped, the platform ra
cing by under her.
She dropped. This landing was going to be brutal. She flipped midair, curling around the boy.
Together they hit. Pain from the impact shot through Kira's body. She didn't have time to be grateful before they rolled. The station careened around them. The edge dropped from under them. Kira's hand shot out, grasping at anything in reach, desperation lending her strength.
The sharp edges from the underside of the platform cut into her skin, ripping it open.
She caught a pipe, holding on with all her strength as they came to an abrupt stop. Her shoulder wrenched in protest as the boy slipped out of her grip. She clutched at him desperately, barely catching his shirt.
He stayed quiet as they dangled there, his back to her as he stared at the very long drop beneath them, only the thin fabric of his shirt standing between it and him.
"Don't move," Kira told him. "Don't breathe."
He remained very still, the only sign he'd heard and understood.
Kira looked around, noting their position. The edge of the platform was nearly a meter above them. Looked like swinging him to safety was out.
A small, white-blond head appeared above them, the little girl peering down with eyes of the deepest blue.
Kira gave her a small, reassuring smile—at least one thing had gone right.
"Jin, I could use a little help," Kira said, her voice utterly calm, no hint of stress in it.
"Of course, you can, but I'm a little busy right now," he said. "Someone has to push this thing to where it won't endanger the station or human lives."
"You gonna be done soon?"
"A few minutes." There was a brief crackle of silence. "Are you in immediate danger?"
"Not immediate," Kira said. At least not yet.
She didn't bother explaining her predicament. If Jin had taken it upon himself to redirect the sailboat, it meant it carried the potential to cause significant harm to the station, resulting in a high loss of life. She knew he'd drop what he was doing if he got one whiff of how dire her situation was. To him, their friendship trumped everything else. She couldn't risk so many others paying the price.