by Jim C. Hines
“Aw, damn,” said Monroe, climbing out behind her. He must have read Mops’ expression.
“If it helps at all, it looks like he died instantly when the ship jumped. He would have had no awareness of his death.”
Mops took Wong’s monocle and placed it carefully into the padded pocket of her own jumpsuit. “Doc, record Private Wong’s death. Mark him as killed in combat, and note that as acting CO, I’m recommending he receive the Medal of Sacrifice. The same for anyone else we lost in the jump. Upload that to the ship’s log, or to any EMC database, the moment you have a signal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” Monroe said quietly.
“Even if that were true, it’s still my responsibility.”
Monroe didn’t argue. Wolf started to say something, caught Mops’ expression, and clamped her jaw shut.
“It feels wrong to just leave him here,” said Kumar.
“It is.” Mops started walking. “But the best way to honor Wong is to find Azure and end this before anyone else dies.”
They reached the docking bay without finding any additional casualties. The console outside the bay was dead, but when Mops pulled out the crank to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. Wolf insisted on trying next, but she had no more luck than Mops. Even Monroe, using the enhanced strength of his mechanical arm, succeeded only in bending the crank handle.
“Can we cut through it?” asked Mops.
Kumar shook his head. “Docking bay doors act as a backup air lock, stronger and thicker than pretty much any other interior door. We’d get through eventually, but I wouldn’t want to try until we know what Azure did to jam it.”
Wolf glared at the door. “What do you mean?”
“She might have depressurized the bay,” guessed Mops.
“Or she could have welded the door shut,” said Monroe. “Or used a quick-sealant. Or broken the mechanism. Depending on how much time she had, she could have set up some kind of trap.”
“She knew we’d be up and moving before her.” Despair sank into Mops’ gut, seeking to take root. “So she made sure we couldn’t interfere.”
Mops and her team had been a step behind from the beginning. They’d tracked the Prodryans to Coacalos Station, where Mops had accidentally handed her enemies the answers they needed about their weapon’s effectiveness. They’d flown to Paxif 6 to search for a cure, and all they’d accomplished was to turn the Pufferfish into a delivery service for Azure and Squarm and their bioweapon.
Monroe popped a new cube of gum into his mouth.
“I should have stuck with cleaning toilets,” muttered Wolf. “Nobody died if we screwed that up. Usually.”
“We could try to get to Engineering,” said Kumar. “Maybe we could manually activate the engines.”
Wolf snorted. “Oh, sure. A group of sanitation workers running wild in Engineering, in a dead ship surrounded by trigger-happy Krakau. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You’re right.” Mops stepped back from the door.
“Who is?” Kumar looked around in confusion. “You mean Wolf?”
“If we do nothing, Dobranok dies. Once the Krakau realize what’s happening, they’ll destroy the Pufferfish.” She looked at each of them in turn. “That is the worst that could happen. We stand around doing nothing, and billions die.”
They listened, saying nothing. Waiting for her to tell them what to do next. She swallowed. “Find me another way into that bay.”
“We could use the outer docking bay doors,” said Kumar. “Suit up for a spacewalk and move along the hull, then come in from the outside.”
Wolf shook her head. “Those tugs are using broad-focus grav beams to tow the ship. They’d rip us right off the hull. What about explosives? There’s got to be something on this ship we can use to blow a hole through the wall.”
“Safer for the lieutenant to use those guns.” Monroe gestured toward Mops’ pistols. “Override the safety mechanism and blast your way in. There’s a good chance you’ll puncture the outer hull in the process, though.”
Kumar studied the ceiling. “Are there any maintenance hatches or passages we could use?”
“The air vents.” Mops started walking. “We move a massive amount of air in and out of the bay every time a shuttle launches or docks. We’ve all had to inspect the air tanks and clean out the hoses and filters. If we can get to those air pumps, we could crawl through the vents into the bay.”
Pump Room Two was closest. Mops cranked open the door without a problem. Emergency lights flickered on as she entered, revealing heavy blue air tanks five meters high. Metal tubes rose from the tops and disappeared into the ceiling. Dark display screens were mounted on each tank, next to analog dials and gauges. Air pressure and temperature were both normal.
Mops popped open the equipment closet and grabbed the portable ladder. It activated automatically as she removed it from its charging harness, humming in her grip. She pressed the bottom rung to the tank, where electromagnets snapped it into place. From there, she unrolled it as high as she could reach. She continued to secure rungs as she climbed, until she reached the top.
“Double-check the pressure reading on this one,” she called down.
“One atmosphere,” said Kumar. “The same as the rest of the ship.”
“Good.” Mops pulled out her cutting torch and brought the triangular flame to the tube leading from the tank through the ceiling. It was only half a meter in diameter, which meant she’d have to leave her equipment harness behind and crawl like a Glacidae, but she should be able to make it. Air sighed out from the cut, making the edges glow briefly orange. The emergency shutoff valve in the tank clunked automatically as it registered a leak. Good to know the mechanical safeguards were working, even if the electronics were dead.
It took ten minutes to cut a vertical hole wide enough for her to squeeze inside. She tossed the curved shell of hot-edged metal to the floor.
“You want us to follow you?” asked Wolf.
“Not yet. If this doesn’t work, it’s going to be hard enough for me to squirm back out.” She slipped off her harness, then removed the braces on her legs. She flexed each leg, testing the muscles and joints. “What tools do I need to remove the valve and grating on the other end?”
“Two-point-five–centimeter mag wrench,” Kumar called up. “Your torch should get you through the grate.”
“Thanks.” She tucked wrench and torch inside her jumpsuit. One pistol followed, just in case. Everything else she left atop the tank.
“Those vents are fifteen meters high,” Kumar reminded her. “You’ll probably want a line or rope to lower yourself down.”
“Check the closet for me?”
Kumar climbed up a moment later with a spool of sealant tape. “Best I could find, but it has a tensile strength of a hundred kilos. Twist it up, so it doesn’t stick to your hands. Otherwise, you’ll lose some skin.”
She pushed the spool over her forearm like a bracelet. “Thanks, Kumar.”
“Be careful, sir,” he said quietly. “Shoot off every one of her tentacles if you have to.”
The anger in his words startled her. Kumar was usually the unflappable one. Half the time, he was unflappable because he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around him, but still. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to let them infect anyone else. Human or Krakau.”
She squeezed her head and shoulders into the opening and pushed higher with her legs. “Azure’s likely to have secured her shuttle, too. I need you three to put your heads together and figure out the best way to break into her ship. I expect an answer by the time I reach the bay.”
That should also keep them too busy to worry about the crew, the Krakau, the Prodryans, or the hundred other things they’d have to deal with when and if they managed to stop Azure.
Doc
pushed her vision as high as it would go, letting her see the curved surface of the pipe’s interior. She pressed her knees and feet against one side, her back against the other, and used her arms to scooch higher, a few centimeters at a time. The pipe was perfectly smooth, to help with airflow. It wasn’t long before her shoulder was stiff and popping again, and her legs had begun to throb. “How long is this thing, anyway?”
“Another meter and a half straight up, after which it curves to a horizontal crawl for three meters.”
She’d just pulled herself onto the flat section when Monroe’s voice echoed from her speaker. “We’ve got noises coming from the hallway. I think some of the crew are starting to come to.”
“Lock the door and keep quiet,” she ordered. “Doc, if we assume Azure’s physiology works the same as a typical Krakau, how long until she wakes up from the jump?”
“A minimum of three and a half hours. Probably closer to five.”
The vent’s valve mechanism was meant to be serviced from the other side. It took half an hour of fighting to find a decent angle with the wrench and remove the bolts. She finally managed to tug it loose, at which point she had to spend another twenty minutes using her torch to cut the damned thing into smaller pieces so she could get it out of her way.
“Status report,” she called back.
“Unchanged,” said Monroe. “We’ve heard at least three people stumble past outside.”
“Or the same person going back and forth three times,” added Kumar.
With the valve destroyed, Mops could see the literal and figurative light at the end of the tunnel. “I’m almost through. All that’s left is the grate.”
Her torch swiftly cut through the hexagonal grating, sending it to the bay floor with a loud clatter. She left a few hexagons intact at the top to serve as an anchor for her makeshift rope. Next up was the sealing tape. She peeled a length free and wrapped it several times through her anchor. She unrolled another meter, twisted it into thin black rope, and repeated the process until she had roughly fifteen meters. “You’re sure this tape is strong enough to hold my weight?”
“In theory? Absolutely,” said Kumar.
She had to crawl out headfirst. The edges of the grate caught at her suit and scraped the skin beneath, reopening at least two scabs. She got her upper torso free, stretched her back and shoulders, and then wrapped her tape rope around both hands. Hoping Kumar was right, she wriggled free of the vent.
The tape held. Her grip strength was another matter. She clung to the thin rope as well as she could, but ended up sliding down in a barely controlled fall, squeezing with all her strength to keep from breaking her legs on the floor. She hit hard and fell onto her back.
“Did it work?” asked Kumar.
She took a slow breath and unclenched her hands. “Nope. I’m dead. It was incredibly painful and heroic. Someone else will have to try.”
“I nominate Wolf,” Kumar said without missing a beat.
“Huh?” said Wolf. “Sorry, I was reading Frankenstein. Am I supposed to be rooting for the monster?”
“I always do.” Mops pulled herself up and looked around. “Azure shot up the controls to the door. Blasted open the wall to destroy the mechanism, too. I don’t think anyone’s getting in that way.”
“Want us to follow you through the vent?” asked Monroe.
“Not yet.” Mops removed her gun and switched off the safety. “Let me check the shuttle and make sure everything’s clear.”
Docking clamps still secured the shuttle in place. Mops approached cautiously. She didn’t want to damage anything if she could avoid it. With everything else on the ship shut down, including the Pufferfish’s remaining shuttles, Azure’s shuttle might be their only way out. Assuming they could overcome its preprogrammed instructions to fly to Dobranok and explode.
Both the shuttle and the bay were silent. She pressed a hand against the shuttle’s hull, but felt nothing. For the moment, it appeared to be as dead as the Pufferfish.
With Doc translating the labels, it was simple enough to figure out the loading ramp controls and lower the ramp. Mops stepped back, gun ready, as the pneumatics hissed to life.
Mops had taken only one step onto the ramp when a small compartment in the ceiling popped open and the barrel of a gun swiveled to point at her head.
“Damn,” she whispered. Yet again, Azure had been one step ahead.
“Lieutenant Adamopoulos.” Azure’s voice seemed to come from everywhere in the darkness. “Why do you have to make this so difficult?”
“It’s human nature.” Mops started to raise her weapon. The shuttle’s gun fired a low-power plasma burst that seared a line across her bicep. Computer-controlled, from the speed and precision, which meant it would kill her before she lined up a shot. “I didn’t expect you to be awake yet.”
“I bypassed normal A-ring precautions and programmed the shuttle to wake me as quickly as possible. Why worry about brain damage and other complications when we’ll all be dead within hours? Now toss your gun away behind you and enter.”
“We’ll be right there, sir,” Monroe’s voice came over her comm.
“Belay that,” she whispered. “Doc—”
“I’m sending a live feed to the rest of the team.”
Mops dropped her gun onto the floor. The ramp immediately started to rise, lifting her into the shuttle. She ducked forward to avoid banging her head. The ramp closed and sealed with another hiss.
Azure emerged from the back of the cargo area—the same hidden compartment she’d used before. As the interior lights came on, Mops saw that the Rokkau appeared to be weeping inky fluid from beneath the shell plates of her armor.
“Now what?” asked Mops.
“I don’t know!” Azure flung her tentacles out in distress and paced feverishly, in the confined space.
Mops had been with the EMC long enough to see crewmates fall apart. Whether it was a soldier mourning lost friends after a mission or Kumar screaming after a sewage pipe backfired on him, Mops had learned to recognize the signs of someone trying desperately—and failing—to hold it all together. Krakau weren’t human, and Rokkau weren’t Krakau, but Azure acted like she was about to shatter.
After thirty seconds, Mops started to feel uncomfortable. After a minute, she cleared her throat and asked, “Are . . . are you all right?”
At Mops’ words, the terrorist who’d helped develop a bioweapon to kill an entire planet sagged to the floor, whistling with each breath: the human equivalent to dissolving in sobs.
Accelerator Ring Effects on Human Subjects,
Part 4
The human brain (humans have only one, which explains a great deal about them) is a surprisingly primitive but resilient organ, composed of roughly one-third fat. Humans’ thick skulls and a layer of cushioning fluid protect their brains from impact. It’s possible these physiological defenses evolved in part due to an odd human ritual known as the “head butt.”1
Twenty-five humans were subjected to a series of ten short-range A-ring jumps. Cognitive skills were assessed before and after each jump, and brain activity was monitored during the jump itself. Brain measurements revealed significant bruising and swelling. (See fig. 1). Remarkably, the majority of subjects were able to heal and recover from this damage within nine days.
Where Krakau and other races require medical augmentation and other preparation to endure an A-ring jump, humans appear capable of unaided jumps with minimal long-term effects. Of the twenty-five subjects, only three showed signs of long-term cognitive impairment after completing ten jumps. As cognition was not humanity’s primary strength to begin with, we consider these results highly encouraging.
Since most humans are to be used as soldiers, it is unlikely most would survive long enough to suffer any noticeable effects.2
Additional research is needed to examine the effec
ts of acceleration chambers in further reducing human brain damage.
—
Updated from previous edition to correct mistranslation of “skull anus.”
This researcher recommends not warning humans of the potential side effects, as they may not take the news well.
MOPS CHECKED HER SURROUNDINGS for potential weapons or cover, but as long as that gun was tracking her, she didn’t dare try anything. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined this would go.”
Azure weakly snapped a tentacle in Mops’ direction. “Heart of Glass had no contingency plans for . . . for you. For humans who chase after us with the relentless determination of daggerfish tracking a blood scent. I assume you’ve already killed my partner.”
“Not yet,” said Mops. “They’re locked up, sleeping off the effects of the jump.”
“Oh, of course. You want Squarm alive, so you can force them to cure your crew.” Azure slumped against the ridged brown wall of the shuttle.
Mops studied Azure’s face, the sheen of the skin around beak and eyes. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen years.”
Mops started to do the conversion in her head, but as always, Doc was faster. “That’s equivalent to sixteen-point-two Earth years. Krakau have an average lifespan of seventy Earth years. Assuming Rokkau are similar, she’s basically a teenager.”
Mops shook her head. “You’re too damn young to be trying to commit genocide.”
“It’s bad enough you made such a desiccated husk of our plans,” Azure wailed. “Now you mock me?”
“I’m not mocking you.” Mops sat cross-legged on the floor. The gun continued to track her. “How did you end up working for Heart of Glass in the first place? The truth this time, since we’re probably all going to die anyway.”
“My family’s lifeship has been in hiding since we fled Dobranok, but we monitor galactic events as much as possible. The elders learned of Heart of Glass’ death sentence, how he fled Yan for suggesting cooperation with other species against the Krakau. They saw him as a potential ally. They reached out.”