by Mason Adgett
While I stared, transfixed, the others talked about games – a common topic – and I tuned out until Ruisha brought me my soviet. “Your drink, sir. You are welcome at this point to move about the cabin.”
I thanked him and stood up to stretch my legs as he and Adula disappeared into the connecting service compartment. The blue soviet was a little dry, exactly the way I preferred it.
“How long is the flight?” Charles asked.
“Two more hours,” said Mike. “But you know they don’t count hours on Asitot, they do it in quarter-turns. They keep time completely different here.”
“What’s a quarter-turn?” asked India.
“That’s a translation. They’ve got their own name for it,” Mike said. “I don’t remember what that is. But it’s like a fourth a day, you know, when the planet rotates? You divide it four times. It takes like seventy hours you know. It’s real slow.”
I happened to be the only one looking out the window at this point so I was the first to see the ship approaching us from behind. It was much larger than ours – clearly not a taxi shuttle – and moving much faster. At first I thought it was about to pass but then it turned more deliberately in our direction.
“Charles,” I interrupted, “what do you make of that?” He looked over my shoulder. There was a moment of silence as we all looked at the window screen.
“Definitely an Asitot ship,” he said. “Guvian.”
“Yeah, we don’t build them in levels like that,” I agreed. Whereas earthen space ships were sleek aerodynamic looking affairs developed from the lineage of the airplane, gobos designed theirs more like dwellings, larger metal versions of their traditional housing. The craft we were looking at was stacked four cubes high, lined with an impressive array of weaponry.
“I think that’s a battleship,” said Mike, sounding surprised. “I mean it has to be. It’s a class 4 at least, and what else would that be?”
At that point the bodyguard who had stayed in the cabin came over to take a look. “Move,” he said roughly to Mike, who shifted over immediately. The guard scowled at the window, his fingers madly pressing buttons on the side of his bi-cell.
India put a hand on his thick bicep. “Nikolo, what’s going on?”
He ignored her and spoke instead to his cell: “Of course, sir. Immediately.” He turned away from the window and grabbed India by the arm. “Miss Phoenix, please come with me. Everyone else remain still. No one move.”
“What’s going on?” demanded Mike.
Nikolo gave him an angry look. “Until I know that none of you can be trusted. Miss Phoenix, please accompany me to the security cabin.”
The door slid open and he dragged her through it. The window display remained active, and we watched the Guvian ship approach. Just the five of us were left in the cabin – Mike, Charles, myself and the two cameramen. We waited, but no one returned to tell us what was going on.
····4····
Charles was first to break the silence. “I’m not waiting,” he said. “I’m going to find out what’s up.”
He stepped toward the door but it didn’t automatically open as it should have. Instead the light above turned red – meaning the door had been secured. Charles waved his hand over the sensor then pressed the manual emergency button repeatedly to no effect.
“They’ve got us trapped in here,” said Mike, his fat forehead sliced with worry.
“Try the others,” Charles said, by which he meant the two other doors, the aft door leading back into the coach area, the other the starboard door to the service compartment that kept Adula and Ruisha. There were no other exits from the cabin. The door Charles had tried – the one Nikolo and India had disappeared through – was the forward door that led in the direction of the pilot. One of the cameraman attempted to open the coach door and I tried the service compartment but both lit red and refused to open.
“I don’t like this,” said the other cameraman, scratching furiously at his beard. “I’m calling the director.” He wore a slim glasses-style dual cell. He touched the side, wiggled his fingers, then shook his head. “I’m not getting any service at all. I don’t even have a local connection. We should at least be able to connect to our CAP.” He was most likely referring the to the director’s cell transmitter, which would have been acting as central access point for the whole video crew. My own cell was serving as CAP for the investigative crew of myself, Charles and Mike. My cell, a LashLens 4, showed no service, but I tried calling Charles using the CAP and his cell rang immediately, playing a quietly aggressive hop-core tune. He checked the ID, saw it was me, and gave me a puzzled look.
“Just checking our own service,” I explained. “I don’t have any outside connection either, but local access seems fine.” I turned back to the bearded cameraman, who seemed to be the senior of the two. I was pretty sure I had met him before on another shoot for Lewis but I couldn’t remember his name, just that it started with a J. John, Jack, Jerry, something like that. “Any reason your director would have turned her phone off?”
John Jack or Jerry raised his eyebrows and shook his head in the negative. "When she went back there she told us to call if we needed her.” He seemed angry about this, as though that minor decision of the director’s had led to our current predicament. He turned to the other cameraman. “What do you think, Jack?” This was apparently the name of the other cameraman so I decided for no particularly good reason the first must be Jerry.
Jack shook his head, indicating he had no thoughts on the matter.
“There’s a service com,” Mike said, pointing to a small unobtrusive switch and speaker panel by the service door. He flipped it on. “Hello?” he said. We waited but there was no response.
“I don’t like this at all,” said Charles. He crossed the cabin and moved Mike aside, then knocked several times on the service compartment door. It was solid metal like the others and probably soundproof but he put his ear up against it anyway. Then he pounded even harder. “They’ve got to be on the other side,” he said. “There’s no other way through the ship.”
“You mean the attendants?” said Mike.
“Of course the attendants,” said Charles. “Adula and the other one, the dude.” He moved next to the coach door and repeated the knocking-listening-pounding procedure with the same result. The definition of madness, I thought about telling him.
The window screen was still functioning, but most of the approaching ship was no longer in view. From what I could tell both ships had come to a complete stop. This combined with our proximity led me to conclude we were being boarded.
Charles gave up on the doors and joined me in my bleak survey of our situation. I could tell by the movement of thoughts over his face as he came to the same conclusion I had.
“Pirates,” he said grimly.
“Impossible,” said Jerry. “Not this close to Asitot.”
“You wouldn’t think so,” said Mike, his voice high-pitched when he was anxious. “This is a Civilization system with a B+ travel grade.”
“Maybe we’re just getting pulled over,” said Jack.
“That doesn’t look much like a Civilization ship to me,” said Charles. “Of course I’m not from the area. Maybe the local ones are different.”
“A Civilization ship that size would be properly marked,” I said. “It would be uncivilized not to identify your purpose. I’m afraid Charles is right. I think we’re being attacked by pirates.”
“Why won’t someone tell us what’s going on?” demanded Mike, flipping the com switch back and forth. “Miss Phoenix? Mr. Wilam? Anyone?”
“Turn it off,” Charles growled at him. “You want to lead them right to us?”
“If it is pirates this is where they’d come anyway, don’t you think?” I asked him. “You have to assume they’re looking for India Phoenix. I seriously doubt this is a random attack. They must have known she was on board. Maybe it’s a ransom?”
Jerry and Jack looked at each other. “Fo
cus!” said Jerry. “You’re responsible for catching this footage. I guess I’m acting director until we’re back online with Gina.” Jack snapped to attention, though he didn’t look very happy about it. He pressed a button or two on his cell and waggled his fingers, typical behavior for someone working through the menus of a complicated app.
“I guess this is good entertainment,” I said dryly.
“Gina would not be happy if we didn’t get all the reaction shots,” said Jerry. “Hey, I think it’s ridiculous, we need to focus on our safety. But I’m on the job, you know? Twenty-four seven. I’m still paying off two divorce settlements, you believe it? I’m only thirty-five.” He scratched at his beard again and I could tell he was nervous. He seemed the type to get worked up easily but I didn’t remember him being so chatty. “I just need to keep this job,” he said. “I’ve got two strikes already.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack interrupted, touching Charles gently on the shoulder. A dangerous move, and he pulled back when Charles scowled at him. “I’m very sorry,” he said again. “Can I just get you to pound on the service door again? I’d like to get a slightly more dramatic framing.”
“Are you kidding me?” Charles demanded.
“Well, we couldn’t really see your face,” Jack said.
“Charles, it would be helpful,” I said. “Lewis will definitely want that shot in the show.”
Charles looked at me like he couldn’t decide if I was serious or making fun of him. Finally he sighed and said, “Fine, whatever.” He moved back to the service door, knocked, listened, pounded. He went with it too, really overdoing the facial expressions, knotting his brow, clenching his jaw when his ear was pressed to the door so you could see the vein pop out in his temple. “That better?” he asked. “Or do you need another take.”
“Perfect,” said Jack. “Really good.” He looked at Jerry for approval, who nodded. “Do you mind doing one more?” Jack asked.
“I think that’s enough,” I said. I was trying not to show it but I too was aggravated and – to be honest – scared. Maybe it wasn’t pirates out there, but what seemed to me the most logical explanation was that someone – be it pirates, mercenaries, whatever – was trying to kidnap India for ransom. Where did that leave us? Criminals that would be so bold this close to Asitot would no doubt be ruthless as well. Surely they had a lot to gain – the Phoenix family was plenty rich – but our shuttle was on a schedule. If we were delayed very long it would attract notice. How long had we been stopped already?
We were trapped meanwhile in a closed space, access to which was controlled from the outside. My eyes and thoughts landed on the red security light above the door to the pilot’s cabin.
“We need to secure these doors,” I said. Charles frowned, thinking it over. Jack did a weird sidestep as he moved to zoom in on my face.
“What are you talking about?” Mike asked. “They’re already secured.” All heads turned to look at the various doors, each showing the same red light.
“I don’t mean through their system.” As I talked I climbed up onto a cabinet by the service compartment door, a sturdy wooden piece firmly affixed to the wall. “If they really have taken us hostage who do you think has access to these doors? Wilam?” I stretched as high as I could and peered closely at the wall next to the security light where I could make out the thin creases of an inset panel. “I need something thin,” I said. “Something to pry out this panel.” As Charles and Mike began searching the room I pushed against the panel and felt it give ever so slightly. “Wait, maybe I can break it.” I hit it with my fist a couple times, causing a slight dent to appear, but it didn’t give.
“Hold on,” said Charles, “I have a laser app on my cell. Switch places with me.”
I stepped down and he climbed up onto the cabinet, his titanium knee making a dull thud as he used it to brace himself. He was about fifteen centimeters taller than me and twenty-five kilograms more massive, so he didn’t get up there as easily, but once he was standing he was eye-level with the panel so his cell was only centimeters from it. He pushed against it as I had, then waved his fingers in the air, app-menu style. A thin beam of red light appeared from his cell, creating a slight trail of smoke where it seared the panel. Charles moved his head with care, cutting carefully around the edges. He cut about halfway, enough that he could bend the panel out and expose the circuitry behind it.
“I don’t really know what I’m looking at,” he said. “You can hack it to open the door?” The others all exchanged looks at the word hacking, as even suggesting it was probably uncivilized.
“There’s no way you can hack it without a terminal,” I said. “I’m just hoping we can disable it. I doubt that will open the door but it may keep our attackers from opening it either.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “You’re not going to get us trapped in here permanently, are you?”
I shook my head like the idea was ridiculous. “We’d have to disable all of the doors for that to even be remotely possible. Trade me places again.”
He climbed down and I climbed up. I didn’t know much about what I was seeing but at least it was earthen. Behind the panel was a blue circuit board, larger than the panel, so that I couldn’t see the edges. Two spots glowed with dark green light and beneath these was a small crevice that I recognized as a QOI port. So I could maybe hack it using my cell but since I was hardly an expert on door security I didn’t risk it.
Above the green spots was a small white circle and this looked more like what I needed. I couldn’t be sure but I suspected this was the relay nexus – basically where the processor from the door connected to the main computer.
“Hand me your cell,” I said to Charles. “Or can you zap me that laser app on the local network?”
“Hold on,” he said. He waggled his finger and a moment later I received a notification – “You have received an app from Charles Thomas. Install?”
I said yes and clicked through several warnings about the app’s age rating, safety rating, and legal usage. It wasn’t legal, either on Earth or on a transport shuttle, which was probably why I didn’t already have it installed. I wondered how he had acquired it and how much it had cost him.
“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I said, but he just shrugged. It didn’t look like the idea bothered him.
The app had a targeting system, which was nice, and I calibrated it to my vision, focused my eye on the relay nexus, and turned the laser on. It was set to a low intensity by default so I raised it until I could see the nexus start to smoke and smell it burning. A second later it popped, causing us all to jump and me to nearly fall off the cabinet.
Luckily the laser app had a safety feature that turned it off immediately when it sensed sudden movement.
“It looks like it worked,” Charles said. He pointed above the door where the red light had turned black.
“But it didn’t open the door,” Mike said.
“That’s what I expected,” I said. “That door was just a test.”
“You’ve trapped the stewards,” he objected.
“Possibly,” I said. “But unless pirates somehow got through to that compartment at least they’re entirely safe until we figure this out.”
“I don’t like this,” said Jack, but Jerry waved him to silence.
“Now what?” asked Charles. “Cockpit?”
I took a second to think it through. The window feed, uninterrupted, showed the attacking ship behind us in the direction of the coach cabins. This was also the direction Nikolo had taken India, to the security cabin, he had said, no doubt to meet up with the rest of the security team.
If the pirates knew what they were doing – and I was assuming they did as they clearly knew we were carrying an expensive celebrity – they probably had anticipated this move.
“How could they have entered the ship?” I asked this question aloud but no one answered. I didn’t expect anyone to. I continued. “The only entrance to the shuttle is from the front, cor
rect? Did they park behind us and make their way around? I doubt it. Don’t we have to assume they’ve somehow cut their way into the cabin behind?”
“We don’t know for sure anyone’s entered the ship at all,” said Mike. “I should try the com again.”
“Don’t touch that switch,” Charles said.
It would only take three or four prepared assailants to overcome the security guards, I thought. “What will they do when they’ve acquired their target?” I continued my internal monologue aloud. “How have they disabled the pilot?”
“We need to get control of the ship,” Charles said. “If they came in through the back they’ve already got India or they’d be retreating.”
It was the same conclusion I had come to. “I will disable the door to the back,” I said. “We can’t count on security to come save us. If anybody comes through there they are probably not our friends.” I climbed up to look for the panel above the coach door. It took me a few seconds to find it but once I did I was able to cut through and disable it quickly, preparing myself for the explosive pop this time so I didn’t nearly kill myself.
“We still need to get through this door,” said Charles, putting his hands against the surface of our only way through to the cockpit.
“What about the pilot?” said Mike. “Why hasn’t he come back here?”
“Hard to say,” I said. “But it was probably Wilam who disabled the doors. I could be wrong. I don’t know enough about these shuttles to know whether that would be done by the pilot or from the security cabin.”
“You think he’s part of this?” Charles asked.
“The pilot?” Charles nodded, and I shrugged. “Why did he stop? He could have received any kind of communication or threat that we don’t know about.” I turned to Mike. “Now that we’ve gotten our backs secured go ahead and turn that com on.”
Mike frowned but flipped the switch as I had asked him to.