by M. D. Cooper
“How old are you?”
“You interviewing me for a job?”
“Maybe,” Cal said. “Maybe once I get to know you, it’ll be harder for me to send you to hell with this ship.”
“Where’s my crewmate Chafri?” she asked.
Cal glanced down at his holodisplay and instantly regretted looking away from her. She would know the blue-haired kid was dead. Now it wouldn’t do him any good to lie.
“He was killed during boarding,” Cal said.
Smith stared at him, clenching her jaw. “Killed during boarding,” she repeated. “That sounds like something you’d tell his mother. Were you in the TSF?”
“No,” Cal said curtly.
“You look like a spacer.”
“Like you?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yeah. Unsettled. I don’t know why you even act like you won’t kill me. Obviously we’re going after Brit. So you’re either going to use us as hostages, or wreck the ship in the process. Either option doesn’t turn out well for me.”
“Give me another option, then. Does this heap have any weapons?”
Smith shook her head. Her curly black hair moved against the wall, shiny under the overhead lights. Cal stopped himself from noticing her body, still angry with himself for the outburst with Petral in his room.
“Then what would you suggest?” he asked, rotating his seat so he faced her. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His armor flexed with him. “Brit Sykes stole Heartbridge property and I’m going to retrieve it. Fortunately for me, what she stole is highly resilient in vacuum.” That wasn’t quite true but he hadn’t decided if he cared whether Petral Dulan lived or not. The technicians had already gotten a good look at her.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Smith said. “Sounds like turning this ship into a battering ram is the most expedient way to go about it. Then you can say all the civilians died during recovery operations when you make your insurance claim.”
“That sounds pretty good,” Cal said. “I might use that.”
“Or you could tell Brit you’re going to destroy that ship she’s headed toward unless she hands over whatever she stole. I only worked with her but she seemed level-headed. Maybe you can promise jail time or something. Make it easier. You’re not trying to punish anyone here, right? Is that your job?”
“To punish people?” Cal considered the idea. “That’s a good point. If I asked the board, they might say that’s exactly what I’m here to do.”
Smith stretched her neck. “Then I guess it doesn’t matter what you do.”
Cal looked at Rina Smith. She glared back at him, her brown eyes filled with anger.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
STELLAR DATE: 09.22.2981 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Sunny Skies
REGION: Jovian L1 Hildas Asteroids, Jovian Combine, OuterSol
Cara watched her dad scowl at his display, entering requests every few minutes before sitting back and observing yet another scenario play out as a series of lines and icons. From where she was sitting, Cara couldn’t see everything that was playing out on the holodisplay, but she could read her dad’s body language well enough, as well as Fran’s serious posture at her station, to know the outcomes weren’t positive.
She tried to console herself that her mom was so close. She had heard her voice again—even recorded the last few interchanges between her mom and dad. She could play them for Tim later. She hadn’t decided if she would tell him right away. It would be better for Dad to let him know.
Finally, her dad shook his head angrily and hit the console. “They’re not going to make it,” he said. “I’ve run the simulation every way I can think of and none of them work out. Unless there’s something I’m not seeing, either the Mortal Chance is going to hit us first, or catch up to Brit’s shuttle.”
Fran didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was still fixed on the display, eyes flashing with icons and arcs. “We could tell her to move away from us,” she said. “Force Heartbridge to choose. Then once they’re committed to either of us, we can make a different decision.”
Her dad pursed his lips, nodding as he thought. “The Mortal Chance is still headed our direction, but so is the shuttle.”
“Exactly,” Fran said. “We tell Brit to break her course.”
“All they’ll do is attack us, then. We’re the greater threat. Brit is going to run out of fuel and then he can pick her up whenever he wants. We seem to be the only ship in this dance with a weapons system.”
“Well,” Fran mused. “Brit has two attack drones.”
“You think they can make any difference?”
“It depends on whether or not the patrol chasing her would split off to go after her drones.”
“Let’s run the scenario,” her dad said.
“You really want to worry about percentages?” Fran asked.
“I want to make the right decision.”
“Where’s the Mortal Chance now?”
Her dad pointed to a red icon on the display and set it flashing. Cara couldn’t read the vector data from her station.
“Hold on,” he said, leaning close to study something new. “I’ve got a shuttle detaching from the Mortal Chance.”
“They’re about to burn,” Fran said.
“I guess we’re going to answer our question.”
“If they’re detaching, that means the Mortal Chance is about to become a missile.”
Cara had been passively scanning all the signals data in the area, including the ongoing streams between the patrol drones and the two flanking her mom’s shuttle. Now she picked up a line between the new shuttle and the Mortal Chance. She separated the spectrum and laid the signals on the near-space astrogation map, which showed as combination of waves and lines.
Some signals were stronger than others and followed direct paths, while others floated outward in widening cones, still more were omnidirectional—like Sunny Skies’ beacon. She was also picking up multiple signals from the station, now that she knew it was there, and another location that looked like empty space not far from where the Mortal Chance had been parked. That point broadcast a wave transmission that she would have thought was too weak to reach anywhere, until she noticed it was hiding a single directed broadcast shooting toward Saturn.
She didn’t want to bother her dad right now, so she recorded the transmissions. Holding her earpiece against the side of her face, she said, “Lyssa, are you there?”
The AI answered immediately. “I’m here, Cara.”
“Is my dad freaking out?”
“His heartrate has been consistently elevated ever since he heard your mom’s voice.”
“I think mine is too.”
“Are you scared of her?”
“I don’t know. She’s like a door you don’t want to open because as long as it’s closed you don’t have to worry about what might be on the other side. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Lyssa said.
“I’m picking up something strange near the Mortal Chance. Or where the ship used to be.” The ship had jumped locations. “Dad!” she shouted. “Did you see the ship move?”
“I see it,” he said, his voice in robot mode. “It’s on a vector to intercept us.”
“You’re sure?” Fran asked.
“Everything is indicating that.” He looked at Cara. “Get your Mom back on the channel.”
Cara nodded and activated the audio spectrum. She had barely sent the request when her mom said through the speakers: “They’re moving.”
Her
dad nodded. “They’ve separated a shuttle and are sending the freighter on a collision course with us. Can you do something with those drones you’ve got alongside you? That ship is going to be moving fast, but it doesn’t have any defenses. You blow it into pieces, at least we can weather that. Our cannons can take out most of the debris, and the shields will have to weather the rest of it.”
“Cannons? OK, I’m doing it now,” her mom said. She had the same robotic quality as Dad, as if they had learned it from each other. She wondered how they could talk to each other without any emotion at all. Was that the TSF training? Had they been robots before they fell in love? Maybe Mom was the real robot and Dad managed to leave it behind, but she couldn’t—
“Cara,” Lyssa said. “You could use the communications array to disrupt signals between the Heartbridge shuttle and the Mortal Chance.”
Cara stared at her display. “You’re right. I can. At least until they hop to another frequency.” She frowned. “I shouldn’t do it until Mom’s drones attack though. That way they’re committed to this course and won’t be able to shift to do anything about the attack. If I do it now, they’ll know we can affect their control.”
“They have an AI assisting them,” Lyssa said.
“How do you know?”
“The code passing between the shuttle and the Mortal Chance. The AI is on the shuttle.”
“Can you talk to them?”
“I don’t know,” Lyssa said. “I can try.”
Her dad blew out a tense breath. “She’s shifting the drones. They should be on target in thirty minutes. Which gives us about an hour. That thing is moving at full burn now.”
“I see it,” Fran said.
“I’m talking out loud,” he reminded her.
“I know,” Fran said, gaze still on her display. “And I understand why. You explained it’s a TSF thing. That still doesn’t mean it doesn’t annoy the crap out of me.”
“If I get whacked, you need to know what I was doing.”
“I know,” Fran said. “And whacked is a stupid way to say killed. And I don’t want to think about that anyway right now. It’s clouding the real thinking I need to do.”
Cara liked the way Fran talked; she wished her wit could be so fast under pressure. It seemed like a mix of deep experience and a focus on what really mattered. She seemed to always think they could die, so she didn’t even bother to think about it. Instead, she focused on the moment and task right in front of her. What came after that was another problem entirely. Cara wanted to do that.
Why was Mom back? She hadn’t even thought it was possible, and now it represented a whole new set of problems. She had started to imagine a future where Fran was there to teach her, or Petral. If Mom came back, all these new people would disappear and they would be an insulated little cell again.
“You’ve got an idea?” her dad asked.
“We could brake,” Fran said.
Her dad scowled. “That drone patrol is still out there.”
“I’ll take the drone patrol with the point defense cannons any day. It’s the mass of that freighter we can’t deal with.”
“True,” he said. He switched over to the audio channel. “Brit? You there? Maintain course. We’re going to get you.”
Cara didn’t understand. She thought he had just agreed to the braking maneuver. Why would he tell Mom to maintain her course? She would overshoot them. Staring at Fran and her dad, she realized they were talking via their links. She hadn’t thought to use her hack to listen in.
“Lyssa,” she said. “What are they talking about?”
“They think Heartbridge is monitoring the audio channel with your mom.”
“It would be nice if they’d tell me.”
“Holy crap,” her dad said. “The freighter just completely opened its engines. I hope there wasn’t anything left alive on the Mortal Chance.”
Cara watched her dad run a shaking hand through his hair before addressing her mother over the comms.
“Brit,” he said. “Look out. They’re coming.”
“Copy,” her mom answered, voice bathed in static.
From across the room, Cara watched the flashing red icon approach their blue dot. Her dad didn’t move his gaze from the display. Fran was also staring with rapt attention at her controls. The command deck was silent for nearly five minutes except for the crumbling sounds of the signal spectrum in Cara’s headset.
Finally, her dad said, “There is it. Burnout. They’re committed—though they’ll have a reserve to match any maneuvers we make—let’s just hope they didn’t expect this.” He quickly entered commands into his console, calculating a course correction for Sunny Skies. He looked over at Fran. “Look good?” he asked.
Fran nodded without taking her attention off her engine controls.
“Wait,” her dad said suddenly. Over the shipwide channel, he announced, “Emergency braking procedure. Everyone buckle in. You’ve got one minute.”
“Damn crew,” Fran said.
“I was worried about the dog,” her dad said. “I doubt Tim can keep him in one place for long.”
“Tim,” Cara called over the intercom to his room. “Are you strapped in?”
“I’m strapped in,” he said in an irritated voice.
“Is Em?”
“I have a strap wrapped around him and tied to me. I think it’s enough.”
Cara couldn’t leave her station to check. Her own harness held her to her seat. “Check again,” she said. “We’re about to get a lot of g-force. You don’t want him to get hurt.”
“I take care of him,” Tim said.
“I know. I’m just checking. I take care of you, too.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“You’re my brother.”
Tim made a sound like he was sticking his tongue out at her.
“All right,” her dad said. “Do it. Initiate braking burn.”
“Yes, Captain,” Fran said.
A roaring sound filled the ship, followed by creaking in the bulkhead, and Cara felt a weight like an elephant sitting on her chest as Sunny Skies reversed its course.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
STELLAR DATE: 09.22.2981 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Heartbridge shuttle
REGION: Jovian L1 Hildas Asteroids, Jovian Combine, OuterSol
For a beat-up freighter, the Mortal Chance still had some kick in her. Cal watched the velocity jump in his display as the ship practically leapt away. He gave Sandra the order to follow with the shuttle, then turned to glance down the bay behind him at the squad checking their equipment.
At the back of the shuttle, Rina Smith and Captain Harm sat on the deck against the storage cabinets, bound at wrists and ankles with plas strips. Harm’s head was on her chest, snoring. When he had first looked, Cal thought Smith was staring at him with those brown eyes, then realized she was only glaring at the middle distance, not looking anywhere. Cal glanced at Gibbs, who was fastidiously cleaning one of her pistols.
Gibbs had moved the prisoners despite Cal’s order to clear the Mortal Chance. Even though he had given orders to leave them. Gibbs didn’t want to take the blame for letting them die; she was right about that.