Hopefully it'd ball things up a bit at the Transfer Station, too, and give us a little more time.
How do you plan to—to make them all get into the module?
Leo stirred uncomfortably. Well, that's the point of no return, Silver. There are weapons all around us here, we just don't recognize them because we call them' tools'. Al aser-solderer with the safety removed is as good as a gun. There's a couple of dozen of them in the workshops. Point it at the downsiders and say' Move!'—and they'll move.
What ifthey don't?
Then you must fire it. Or choose not to, and be taken downside to a slow and sterile death. And you choose for everybody,when you make that choice, not just for yourself.
Silver was shaking her head. I don't think that's such a good idea, Leo. What if somebody panicked and actually fired one? The downsider would be horribly burned!
Well . . . yes, that's the idea.
Her face crumpled with dismay. If I have to shoot Mama Nilla, I'd rather go downside and die!
Mama Nilla was one of the quaddies' most popular creche mothers, Leo recalled vaguely, a big elderly woman—he'd barely met her, as his classes didn't involve the younger quaddies. I was thinking more in terms of shooting Bruce,Leo confessed.
I'm not sure I could even do that to Mr. Van Atta,said Silver slowly. Have you ever seen a bad burn,
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Leo?
Yes.
So have I.
A brief silence fell.
We can't bluff our teachers, said Silver finally. All Mama Nilla would have to do is say' Give that over now, Siggy!' in that
voice
of hers, and he would. It's not—it's not a
smart
scenario, Leo.
Leo's hands clenched in exasperation. But we must get the downsiders off the Habitat, or nothing else can be done! If we can't, they'll just re-take it, and you'll be worse off than when you started.
All right, all right! We've got to get rid of them. But that's not the way. She paused, looking at him more doubtfully. Could you shoot Mama Nilla? Do you really think—say—Pramod, could shoot you?
Leo sighed. Probably not. Not in cold blood. Even soldiers in battle have to be brought to a special state of mental excitement to shoot total strangers.
Silver looked relieved. All right, so what else would have to be done? Saying we could take over the Habitat.
Re-configuring the Habitat can be done with tools and supplies already aboard, though everything will have to be carefully rationed. The Habitat will have to be defended from any attempt by GalacTech to recapture it while this is going on. The high-energy-density beam welders could be quite effective discouragements to shuttles attempting to board us—if anybody could be induced to fire one, he added with a dry edge. Company inventory doesn't include armored attack ships, fortunately. A real military force would make short work of this little revolution, you realize. His imagination supplied the details,and his stomach bunched queasily. Our only real defense is to get gone before GalaTech can produce one.
That will require a Jump pilot.
He studied her anew. That's where you come in, Silver. I know a pilot who's going to be passing through the Transfer Station very soon who might be, um, easier to kidnap than most. Especially if
you
came along to lend your personal persuasion. Ti.
Ti,he confirmed. She looked dubious. Maybe. Leo fought down another and stronger wave of queasiness. Ti and Silver had a relationship predating his arrival. He wasn't really playing pimp. Logic dictated this. He realized suddenly that what he really wanted was to remove her as far from the Jump pilot as possible.
And do what? Keep her for yourself? Get serious. You're too old for her.
Ti was what—twenty-five, maybe? Perhaps violently jealous, for all Leo knew. She must prefer him. Leo tried virtuously to feel old. It wasn't hard; most of the quaddies made him feel about eighty anyway. He wrenched his mind back to business. The third thing that has to be done first, Leo thought over the wording of that, and concluded unhappily that it was all too accurate, is nail down a cargo Jumper. If we wait until we boost the Habitat all the way out to the wormhole, GalacTech will have time to figure out how to defend them. Such as Jumping them all to the Orient IV side and thumbing their noses at us until we are forced to surrender. That means, he contemplated the next logical step with some dismay, we've got to send a force out to the wormhole to hijack one. And I can't go with it,and be here to defend and reconfigure the Habitat both . . . it'll have to be a force of quaddies. I don't know... Leo ran down, maybe this isn't such a great idea after all.
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Send Ti with them, suggested Silver reasonably. He knows more about the cargo Jumpers than any of us.
Mm, said Leo, drawn back to optimism. If he was going to pay attention to the odds against this escapade succeeding, he might as well give up now and avoid the rush. Screw the odds. He would believe in Ti. If necessary, he would believe in elves, angels, and the tooth fairy.
That makes, um, suborning Ti step one in the flow chart, Leo reasoned aloud. From the moment he's missed we're out in the open, racing the clock. That means all the advance planning for moving the Habitat had better be done—in advance. And—oh. Oh, my. Leo's eyes lit.
What?
I just had a
brilliant
idea to buy us a head start . . .
Leo timed his entrance carefully, waiting until Van Atta had been holed up in his Habitat office nearly the first two hours of the shift. The project chief would be starting to think about his coffee break by now, and reaching the degree of frustration that always attended the first attack on a new problem, in this case dismantling the Habitat. Leo could picture the entangled stage of his planning precisely; he'd gone through it himself about eight hours previously, locked in his own quarters, brainstorming on his computer console after a brief pause to render his programs inaccessible to snoops. The leftover military security clearance from the Argus cruiser project worked wonders. Leo was quite sure no one in the Habitat, not Van Atta and certainly not Yei, possessed a higher key.
Van Atta frowned at him from the clutter of printouts, his computervi d scintillating multi-screened and colorful with assorted Habitat schematics. Now what, Leo? I'm busy. Those who can, do; those who can
't, teach.
And
those who can't teach,
Leo finished silently,
go into administration.
He maintained his usual bland smile, not letting the edged thought show by any careless gleam or reflection. I've been thinking, Brace,Leo purred. I'd like to volunteer for the job of dismantling the Habitat.
You would? Van Atta's brows rose in astonishment, lowered in suspicion. Why?
Van Atta would hardly believe it was out of the goodness of his heart. Leo was prepared. Because as much as I hate to admit it, you were right again. I've been thinking about what I'm going to bring away from this assignment. Counting travel time, I've shot four months of my life—more, before this is done—a nd I've got nothing to show for it but some black marks on my record.
You did it to yourself.Van Atta, reminded, rubbed his chin upon which the bruise was fading to a green shadow, and glowered.
I lost my perspective for a little while,it's true, Leo admitted. I've got it back.
A bit late, sneered Van Atta.
But I could do a good job,argued Leo, wondering how one could achieve the effect of a hangdog shuffle in free fall. Better not overdo it. I really need a commendation,something to counterweight those reprimands. I've had some ideas that could result in an unusually high salvage ratio, cut the losses. It would take all the scut work off your hands and leave you free to administer.
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Hm,said Van Atta, clearly enticed by a vision of his office returning to its former pristine serenity. He studied Leo, his eyes slitting. Very well—take it. There's my notes, they're all yours. Ah, just send the plans and reports through my office, I'll send' em on. That's my real job, after all, administration.
Certainly. Leo swept up the clutter. Y
es, send
'
em through yo
u—s
o you can replace my name with
your own.
Leo could almost see the wheels turn, in the smug light of Van Atta's eyes. Let Leo do the work, and Van Atta siphon off the credit.
Oh, you'll get the credit for how this project ends all right,
B
ruci
e-bab
y—a
ll of it.
I'll need a few other things, Leo requested humbly. I want all the quaddie pusher crews that can be spared from their regular duties, in addition to my own classes. These useless children are going to learn to work like they never worked before. Supplies, equipment, authorization to sign out pushers and fue l—gotta start some on-site surveying—and I need to be able to commandeer other quaddie spot labor as needed. All right?
Oh, are you volunteering for the hands-on part too?A fleeting vindictive greediness crossed Van Atta's face, followed by doubt. What about keeping this under wraps till the last minute?
I can present the pre-planning as a theoretical class exercise, at first. Buy a week or two. They'll have to be told eventually, you know.
Not too soon. I'll hold you responsible for keeping the chimps under control, you copy?
I copy. Do I have my authorization? Oh—and I'll need to get an extension against my downside gravity leave.
HQ doesn't like that. Liability.
It's either me or you, Bruce.
True... Van Atta waved a hand, already sinking back gratefully from harried to languid mode. All right.
You got it.
A blank check. Leo tamped a wolfish grin into a fawning smile. You'll remember this, won't you Bruc e—later?
Van Atta's lips too drew back. I guarantee,Leo, I'll remember
everything.
Leo bowed himself out, mumbling gratitude.
Silver poked her head through the door to the creche mother's private sleep cubicle. Mama Nilla?
Sh!Mama Nilla held her finger to her lips and nodded toward Andy, asleep in a sack on the wall with his face peeping out. She whispered, For heaven's sake don't wake the baby. He's been so fussy—Ithink the formula disagrees with him. I wish Dr. Minchenko were back. Here, I'll come out in the corridor.
The airsealdoors swished shut behind her. In preparation for sleep Mama Nilla had exchanged her pink working coveralls for a set of flowered pajamas cinched in around her ample waist. Silver suppressed an urge to clamp herself to that soft torso as she had in desperate moments when she was little—she was much too grown-up to be cuddled anymore, she told herself sternly. How's Andy doing? she asked instead, with a nod toward the closed doors.
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Hm. All right, said Mama Nilla. Though I hope I can get this formula problem straightened out soon.
And . . . well . . . I'm not sure you could call it depression, exactly, but his attention span seems shorter, and he fusses—don't tell Claire that, though, poor dear, she has enough troubles. Tell her he's all right.
Silver nodded. I understand.
Mama Nilla frowned introspectively. I wrote up a protest, but my supervisor blocked it. Ill-timed, she said. Ha. More like Mr. Van Atta has her spooked. I could just . . . ahem. Anyway, I've been turning in overtime chits like crazy, and I requested an extra assistant be assigned to my creche unit. Maybe when they realize that this foolishness is costing them money, they'll give in. You can tell Claire that, I think.
Yes, said Silver, she could use a little hope.
Mama Nilla sighed. I feel so badly about this. Whatever possessed those children to try and run off, anyway? I could just shake Tony. And as for that stupid Security guard, I could just.. . well...she shook her head.
Have you heard any more about Tony, that I could pass on to Claire?
Ah. Yes. Mama Nilla glanced up and down the corridor, to assure herself of their privacy. Dr.
Minchenko called me last night on the personal channel. He assures me Tony's out of danger now, they got that infection under control. But he's still very weak. Dr. Minchenko means to bring him back up to the Habitat when he finishes his own gravity leave. He thinks Tony will complete his recovery faster up here. So that's a bit of good news you can pass on to Claire.
Silver calculated, her lower fingers tapping out the days unobtrusively below Mama Nilla's line of sight, and breathed relief. That was one massive problem she could report to Leo as solved. Tony would be back before their revolt broke into the open. His safe return might even become the signal for it. A smile lit her face. Thanks, Mama Nilla. That is good news.
Revolution 101 for the Bewildered,Leo decided grimly, should be his course title. Or worse; 050.
R
emedia
l
Re
v
olution . . .
The shell of floating quaddies hovering expectantly around him in the lecture module had been officially augmented by both the off-duty pusher crews, and loaded with all the off-shift older quaddies Silver had been able to contact covertly. Sixty or seventy altogether. The lecture module was jammed, causing Leo to jump ahead mentally and think about oxygen consumption and regeneration plans for the reconfigured Habitat. There was tension, as well as carbon dioxide, in the air. Rumors were afloat already, Leo realized, God knew in what mutant forms. It was time to replace rumors with facts.
Silver waved all clear from the airsealdoors, turning all four thumbs up and grinning at Leo, as one last T-shirted quaddie scurried within. The airseal doors slid shut, eclipsing her as she turned to take up guard duty in the corridor.
Leo took up his lecture station in the center. The center, the hub of the wheel, where stresses are most concentrated. After some initial whispering, poking, and prodding, they hushed for him, to an almost frightening attentiveness. He could hear them breathing.
We would need you even if you weren't an
engineer, Leo,
Silver had remarked.
We're a
l
l too used to takin
g
orders from people with legs.