Torchship (28 page)

It was Alexi’s turn on bridge watch. “Not sure, sir,” he
replied. “Lost pressure in the hold. No further impacts. Nothing nearby on
radar. No visual contacts.”

“Maybe just a rock, then. Put us back on course, then we’ll
go to free fall to do repairs.”

***

Alexi had been bumped off the bridge to help Billy with the
welding. “I only see the one hole,” reported the deckhand. “Debris hit some of
the containers and the landing barge. Don’t see any penetrations.”

“Did we lose any passengers?” asked the captain.

“I see two,” said Alexi. “A couple of the white-robes.”

Billy shone his light on the frozen figures. They still held
onto the handle of the dorm door. “Yep, they’re crystallized now.”

“Shut up and get a patch on that hole,” said
Schwartzenberger.

While they welded the patch on Guo examined the debris from
the impact. “It all looks like hull material and raw metal,” he reported. “I’d
say we ran into a boring piece of nickel-iron.”

“An accident?” asked the captain. “In the center of the
Betrayal?”

“I’m feeling paranoid too,” said the mechanic. He poked at a
few more bits of twisted metal. “But we’ve been buying a lot of tickets for
this lottery.”

***

Schwartzenberger waived the no-contact-with-passengers rule
for the funeral. It didn’t seem likely that any of them would throw a fit about
food this close to Earth anyway. The bodies had been wrapped in tarps. Billy
and Alexi were in pressure suits. Being a pallbearer for a burial in space was
simple. Carry the body into the airlock, cycle, shove it out the other side.
The torch plume would give it a partial cremation, best they could do out here.

The captain held his prayer book. The crowd should have been
settling down but the pilgrims still jockeyed for position around the bier.
Schwartzenberger bit his tongue. A dressing-down on proper protocol wasn’t the
right way to set the mood.

The white-robes had elbowed everyone else out to surround
the bier. The captain briefly hoped he could start the ceremony. Then Crystal
One raised his hands. “Before we can say farewell to our sisters we must
consider the question of justice.”

Reed demanded, “What are you talking about?” before
Schwartzenberger could come up with a diplomatic way to ask it.

“Eight and Eleven did not die from the hull breach. They
were alive, mobile, active, able to reach safety. They did reach safety.” He
walked over to the dorm door. “They found the door closed in their face.” His
fingers traced over dents in the thin metal. “They knocked. Knocked hard. I
heard it at the other end of the dorm, but didn’t know what it meant. This door
can be opened from either side. Someone held it closed on them. Someone
murdered them. Someone held this handle as they died. I want to know who
murdered them. I want justice done.”

“Him!” shouted a white-robe, pointing. A young man had gone
pale during One’s speech. At the accusation he gasped and stepped back.

“There! You see the guilt on his face,” bellowed Crystal
One. “Seize him and put him out the airlock! Let him die like they died. Let
justice be done.”

The Crystalline Order devotees surged forward. The other
members of their target’s transhumanist cult blocked them. Captain
Schwartzenberger forced his way between them. “Settle down! There’ll be no
lynching on my ship, or Jesus help me,” he pointed at the floor to ceiling
cargo hatch, “we’ll open the big door and every God-damned one of you can suck
vacuum.”

The pilgrims backed away from the captain, splitting
themselves into pro- and anti-lynching groups, and a larger mass behind Reed. “We
need a trial,” said the pilgrim leader.

“You’re getting one,” said the captain. Crystal One opened
his mouth and was told, “You shut up, you’ve said too much already.”
Schwartzenberger turned back to the accused. “Come here, son. I’ve got some
questions for you.
And no one’s going to interrupt you
.”

He identified himself as John Wang. His one visit to the
captain’s table had left no impression on Schwartzenberger’s memory. “Mr. Wang,
were you the one holding the door closed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Well, we heard the meteor and everyone was yelling to get
in the dorms,” said Wang. “I was one of the last ones in. I looked and didn’t
see anyone coming.” Schwartzenberger snarled at the lynchers and they hushed.
Wang continued, “I looked, I swear I did. No one was there so I shut it and
shoved the lever for a full seal. Then, uh, then a couple of minutes later the
lever started moving and there was banging. Everyone shouted at me to keep it
closed or we’d die, so I pulled tight and kept it closed. A minute later it was
quiet again. They told me to keep it closed.” Some grim-faced nods marked the ‘they.’

“All right, that’s what I thought happened. Go on back, son.
Now let me make a couple of things clear. One, no one is ever required to open
a door to death pressure. You can’t be sure you can close it again. Two, it
looks like our late friends were in the hygiene when the strike happened. That
exact scenario is why there’s a dozen survival bubbles clipped to the ceiling
of the hygiene. If those two had remembered their safety briefings they’d still
be alive.”

Crystal One broke his silence. “Are you saying they died
from their own stupidity?”

“No. Saying that would be rude.”
Crap. I said that out
loud
. “Justice has already been served. Mr. Wang took the correct action.
Now we have a funeral to do.”

As a ritual the funeral was a disaster. The congregation was
itching to riot. Schwartzenberger read out the prayers while wishing he hadn’t
left his gun behind. The deckhands handled the bodies with the brisk efficiency
of trash disposal.

When they were back in the galley Bing served
Schwartzenberger coffee with a shot of whiskey in it. “Damn it,” he burst out, “one
of the perks of being a captain is doing weddings. I’ve never married anyone on
my ship. I just do funerals.”

“Don’t give up hope,” said Bing. “When we get back let’s
grab a load of emigrants for the Disconnect. They’re always getting married.”

Journey Day 139. Solar System. Acceleration: 0 m/s
²

Using a keyboard was always jarring for Mitchie after a long
time on an analog ship. This cruise had been the longest she’d ever gone
without using a computer. Fortunately the landing barge’s control system was
designed for inexpert users. The guidance system had spun up error-free. Typing
in the vectors for
Fives Full
and Old Earth had been tedious, especially
the third time.

Mitchie was nervous about the planetary vector. Getting
angles on Earth had been hard. A ring had grown out around the world, obscuring
the planet’s limb. She’d taken readings off the ring. Assuming it was centered
on the geostationary belt, and really it had to be, her calculations should get
the pilgrims safely to the ground.

Finding their sacred-compromise landing spot was a problem
for the barge. She’d never gotten a clear enough look through ring and clouds
to estimate a longitude.

Time to the let the passengers have their craft back.
Mitchie unbuckled and pushed off toward the barge’s hatch. Reed hung off its
handle. His other hand nervously tapped on the rim. “Sir, your vehicle is ready
for landing operations,” said the pilot. “You may board when ready.”

“Thank you,” said the pilgrim leader. She kicked off to
perch next to Alexi, who’d found a handhold with clear lines of fire to all the
hatches. They watched the captain inspect the cables rigged to fling the barge
overboard. The noise from the pilgrims reached a peak as Reed gave up enforcing
the bidding order for boarding. They reformed in their ship-board cliques and
lined up quietly.

The captain had finished with the cables and gone to talk to
Reed when the argument broke out. One of the religious groups was at the end of
the line. Now they shouted at each other as the line moved on without them. “No!
I won’t go! You can’t make me!”

“Who’s that?” asked Alexi.

“Abdul, the imam’s kid,” said Mitchie. His father poured out
abuse on him, about half of it in English. Schwartzenberger and Reed drifted
over to investigate. The volume dropped as Abdul appealed to the captain for
permission to stay and Majead demanded Reed enforce the pilgrim agreement.
Malak hung back and kept her eyes averted. The rest of the pilgrims filed into
the landing barge.

“Wait, he wants to stay?” said Alexi. “We can’t let him
stay.”

“Why not? I’m surprised he’s the only one having an attack
of common sense.”

“We can’t let him find out the secret.” Alexi hopped to a
container closer to the argument.

Mitchie followed. She remembered the fistfight at dinner,
and the boy putting his body between his mother and the brawlers. “He’s a good
kid. He’ll be okay.”

“If we can’t trust him he might have to go out the airlock.”

“If he goes out the airlock he won’t go alone.” Free-fall
was wonderful. She could get in someone’s face and he’d back off instead of
giggling.

Alexi tried a different tack. “We’re low on food. How many
kilos do you want to lose to bring a coward along?”

“There’s plenty of algae crackers to go around.” She even
said it without gagging. “Doesn’t matter what we think, anyway. Captain’s made
up his mind.”

Schwartzenberger’s comment that Abdul hadn’t bought a return
ticket extracted a passionate promise to work hard for his passage. The captain
accepted it.

Majead cried, “Apostate! You’ll burn in Jahannam for
refusing the Hajj!” He turned to his wife. “Can’t you talk some sense into him?”

Malak came forward, gave Abdul a hug and a kiss, and
whispered in his ear. Then she pushed off him and floated to the hatch to wait.
Majead let out a string of non-English words and went into the barge.

“Well, that’s settled,” said Reed. “Good luck, Abdul.” The
boy nodded. “Captain. Thank you for getting us here. I hope you have a safe
trip home.” They shook hands.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” said
Schwartzenberger. “Flash the running lights when you’re ready to go.” Reed
disappeared into the barge. Billy had taken his helmet off to listen to the
commotion. The captain waved him over. “Meet your new apprentice. Abdul, this
is Billy. He’s the one who’ll decide when you’ve worked enough to have another
meal.”

The new recruit gave the deckhand an apprehensive smile.

“How much of my work can I give him?”

“All of it, if he can do it competently.” That put a real
grin on Billy’s face. “But for now you’re on the crane.” The captain turned to
Mitchie and Alexi. “You two get Abdul strapped down for the separation
maneuvers.”

Mitchie took charge of the ex-pilgrim. He looked like he
could use some privacy for a good cry so she put him in an unused stateroom.
The bunk was covered with empty food boxes but it only took a few minutes to
secure them elsewhere. She strapped in Abdul and said, “You just relax. It’ll
be a few hours until we’re back on steady acceleration. Then Billy will put you
to work.”

“Thanks.”

She headed up to the bridge. The captain asked, “He okay?”

“I think so,” Mitchie answered.

Bing gave her the pilot couch and switched to the commo
seat. Billy was on the intercom from the hold. “We’re pumped down. Their hatch
isn’t leaking.”

“Roger,” said the captain. “Opening cargo hatch.”

“I love that view. Ready on the crane.”

“Clear to move cargo.”

“Moving.” The crane on the hold’s ceiling began winding up
the cable. On the bridge they could feel the ship shift in reaction. “Cargo
clear of the hatch,” reported Billy.

“Closing hatch.” In a few minutes the landing barge was
visible from the bridge. With his mike off, Schwartzenberger asked, “Did you
get that delay programmed in?”

“Yes,” answered Mitchie. “We’ve got plenty of time to get
away before they can plume us.”

“Good. Get us headed for Eden Gate.”

“I wonder what’ll happen to them when they land,” said Bing.

“Likely nothing good,” said Mitchie.

“Not our problem,” said Schwartzenberger.

Journey Day 140. Solar System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
²

The captain kept Abdul for a private chat in the galley
after breakfast. “Think you can handle life as a spacer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You probably noticed this was a dangerous journey.”

“We were afraid we’d die a few times.”

“Which is why we charged so much to take the pilgrims,” said
Schwartzenberger.

“My father complained about that. Called you extortionists.”

“Now. How are you at keeping secrets?”

“I decided to stay on the ship two months ago and didn’t
tell anyone,” said Abdul.

“That’s good. Good. How are you at keeping other people’s
secrets?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had one. Secrets are rare in the Fusion.”

“You’re going to hear a secret now. Those millions of keys
weren’t enough to make us take this trip. We have word of some valuable
materials to be found in another system. Very valuable. That’s why we took the
risk to come here.”

“I won’t tell anyone about it.”

“Good. Once we’ve sold some of it you will receive two
hundred and fifty thousand keys.”

Abdul’s face went slack. He’d been expecting to live on the
stipend.

“Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Now go get started on that manual Billy gave you.”
The boy scampered off. The captain refilled his coffee cup. “Michigan, you
should spend some time reading manuals. Then you’d know the intercom panels all
have indicator lights to show when a circuit is open.” The ‘bridge’ light on
the panel went out. He took a sip.