Authors: Karl K. Gallagher
“Do I deserve to?”
“Yes. You do good things. You should stay alive and do more
good things. They did bad things. They had to be stopped.”
Guo started crying. She pulled his face into her breasts and
let the tears flow across them. She stroked his hair and whispered nothings for
a long while.
Finally he had his voice back. “Do you ever dream about it?”
“No, not dreams. Sometimes on long bridge watches when it’s
just me and the stars I think about it.”
Mostly wondering is the Job turning
me into a sociopath or was I always a sociopath and that’s how I got the Job.
“I still have that hammer. It’s on its clip in the converter
room. I haven’t used it since then. I can’t even touch it to throw it away.”
“I’ll buy you a new hammer. A solid gold hammer.” She saw
his expression change by the light of the intercom LED. “Ooh, mechanic face!
Okay, it’s too soft. How about a titanium hammer?”
“Too light.”
“I know! We’ll make it out of Vingium.”
“Good grief. That’d cause riots.” He tickled her neck to
keep her from more suggestions. She went for his ribs. Then they were too busy
to talk more.
Just before Guo fell asleep again he said, “Don’t throw the
hammer away. Might need it.”
Damn you, Alexi
, thought Mitchie.
You set him off.
You better accept the captain’s slap-down or I’ll deal with you.
Journey Day 173. Tunxi System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
2
Leaving the converter room unattended for a few hours wasn’t
a problem. If all readings were in spec and the hopper had enough fuel it could
stay empty for a full eight-hour shift. Guo just liked camping out there to
keep his finger on the ship’s pulse.
Now, well, it wasn’t the ship’s pulse he was most interested
in. He’d intended to go downbelow when Mitchie went on her bridge shift. But
she’d been running late and missed breakfast, so he’d taken a tray up to the
bridge, and kept her company while she ate. Now he hurried across the cargo
hold hoping that his fancy new converter hadn’t developed any quirks since
midnight.
The containers from comet SMX blocked the straight line to
the lower deck hatch. Guo was nearly past them when he heard the metal creak.
He’d seen Billy and Abdul working on the solid waste compactor before he came
down. He stopped and looked at the top of the treasure container.
Alexi’s head popped over the edge. “Keep moving,
mechanic-boy. Don’t touch my stuff.”
“The captain ordered you confined to quarters!”
“So you could all go through it and hide the good stuff
before we do the full inventory. Nice trick, but I’m not falling for it. Go
belowdecks.”
“You get back to your cabin or I’m calling in an all-hands,
right now.”
“I’m going nowhere.” Alexi casually waved a pistol over his
head.
Guo was too surprised to be scared. After all, he’d seen
Alexi voluntarily give his gun to the captain yesterday—he couldn’t be armed.
“Get away from what’s mine or I’m making an example of you.”
Alexi slid forward, bracing his elbows on the edge of the container. When he
brought his pistol into the cup of his left hand Guo’s paralysis broke. He
dashed behind an empty storage container.
Guo pulled out his handcomm. “All hands, all hands, our
local lunatic has escaped, he’s in the hold.” A bullet came through the sheet
metal over his shoulder and fragmented on the deck.
Idiot. Couldn’t find a
vacuum-rated container, had to hide behind a cheap one
. “And he’s shooting
at me.” He shoved the comm in his pocket and crawled toward the lower deck
hatch.
Some thumps and bongs said Alexi was moving too. Guo doubled
back to thread through the dense cluster of containers around the recycler. He
got almost to the hatch without any more shots fired at him but that last five
meters was so exposed Alexi had to be watching. He backed up to where he couldn’t
be heard and pulled out his comm. “Can we get the hold PA out of the circuit?”
“Maybe,” answered Mitchie from the bridge, “but I’ve locked
it so only I’m hearing you for now. Are you hurt?”
“No, he missed. I can’t get below without giving him another
shot at me. Can you give me ten seconds of free-fall on my cue?”
“Yes.” He could visualize her expression, tongue between her
teeth, saving questions for later.
“Good. Stand by.” He went back to the opening closest to the
hatch. “Now.” He squatted down, curling his legs as tight as he could.
“Free-fall in three, two, one,” he was weightless.
Guo kicked the deck with his full strength. The turn was
almost right, he pulled in his arms to make the 180 flip just as he reached a
light bracket four meters off the deck. A hard kick off it sent him straight
through the hatch. He heard two gunshots, presumably aimed at the straight
path.
Once he was through the hatch Guo grabbed for the ladder.
His hold on a rung held as he flipped around and smashed a kneecap on a pipe.
His other hand found the ladder just as weight came back on. Two hands and his
good leg were plenty to support him as he swore at the pain.
Once his head cleared he went up the ladder and pulled the
hatch closed. Dogging and locking it wouldn’t keep Alexi out for long. The
toolbox by the lower airlock included a prybar. Wedging that into the locking
wheel made him feel more secure. If this went on long enough he could weld it.
Guo limped into the converter room and called the bridge. “I’m
okay. Hatch secure.”
Mitchie’s reply started with a long sigh. “Thank God. You scared
me. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Honestly.”
“Just bruises. What’s going on up there?”
“Billy went to the hatch and yelled down something like cut
that out or it’s the airlock. Alexi fired a shot, didn’t hit the hatch. So we
closed and secured it. Now we’re trying to figure out what to do next.”
“Let me know how that comes out. I have gauges to check.”
And
pain pills to take
.
***
“Let’s just open the cargo hatch and dump him to vacuum.”
“Michigan, I understand you feel very strongly about this,”
said Bing, “but we can’t just kill him.”
Mitchie’s reply was fortunately cut off by Billy. “Can’t.
The door locks are mechanical. Can only open from inside the hold.”
“So dump pressure some other way. We can splice the air
lines to outside.”
“Too slow. There’s so much air in the hold he can find it
and block it before he loses much.”
“Dammit.” As Mitchie pondered the problem Bing held her
peace, hoping practicality would come out on the side of mercy. “What about the
airlock? Override the interlock to open both doors.”
Billy brightened. “That’d work. We’ve got the tools to do it
from the outside.” He frowned. “My suit’s in the hold.”
“Mine’s by the upper airlock.” Mitchie started to get up but
froze when the captain cleared his throat.
Captain Schwartzenberger had put Abdul on bridge watch so
the rest of the crew could brainstorm in the galley. Clearly it was time to
broaden the solution space. “Pilot Long. Mr. Lee. There is one very big
difference between killing someone and not killing someone. With not killing
someone you can always change your mind later. So let’s talk about ways to get
Frankovitch out of the hold without killing him. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Billy.
The captain shifted his gaze to Mitchie. “Yes, sir,” she
said.
Schwartzenberger avoided meeting Bing’s eyes.
“Well, I cut off the air feed to the hold,” said Billy. “But
I can’t see him suffocating. He can get the pilgrims’ recycler up with a shift’s
work.”
“There’s a lot else he can do,” warned Mitchie. “He has
access to all the piping and wiring trunks. Whatever we do has to be fast
enough for him to not sabotage us in revenge.”
That kicked off a couple of fruitless hours creating and
discarding impractical plans. Finally Billy hit on their key advantage:
acceleration couches. “He can’t be in the pilgrim dorms if he’s playing sentry.
If we boost accel with no warning he’ll have to take it lying on the deck.
Headache, joint problems, bedsores and scalp cuts if we go long enough. When we
go back to normal thrust he’d be easy to sneak up on.”
Mitchie glared at him. “Sneak” had become a shorthand for “Michigan
sneaks up on him with a hypodermic of sedative.” She was tired of pointing out
bullets were safer and cheaper.
“I like that,” said Captain Schwartzenberger. “But we need a
break. Everybody get a snack. Mitchie, once your personal needs are taken care
of give Abdul a break on the bridge and take a position sight. I’ll bring Guo
up to speed.”
***
Going down the ladder, Mitchie mentally cursed Guo for being
a naïve idealist. He’d talked her into going with the hypodermic plan. Pointing
out that risking her life to resolve his guilt issues was unfair hadn’t stopped
him. His clincher was a practical argument. “Sooner or later people are going
to find out how we got this loot. Killing the guy who told us where to find it
will look bad no matter what our excuse is.” She’d promised him to use the
needle first. The pistol on her belt was just-in-case.
Her bare toes found the deck instead of another ladder rung.
Mitchie sighed—silently—and put her other foot down on the deck. She froze,
listening to the sounds of the cargo hold. The dull roar of the torch, back at
ten gravs acceleration instead of forty-five. The air circulation fans were
silent. Water gurgled as it went to the nose of the ship to even the thermal
load. A faint snoring.
She stepped toward the treasure containers, placing her feet
flat. The hold lights were at the one-tenth dimness they’d been set to when
they upped thrust. Alexi wasn’t anywhere she could see from the ladder, so
probably on their far side.
Alexi lay behind the second container. He was in his
underwear. His pants and shirt were wadded into a pillow under his head. A
little blood on the deck showed skin had split on heels and elbows. Twelve
hours at high acceleration had hurt.
She pulled the hypodermic out, popped off the needle cap,
and pocketed the cap. Alexi’s pistol was on the deck by his right hand. She
held her breath for the last two meters of the sneak. A quick stab in the thigh,
thumb pushing the plunger.
“Gah!” Alexi sat up, reaching for his leg. She kicked his
gun away then turned and ran. Once past the pilgrim dorm she stopped. Mitchie
dropped into her favorite kneeling stance and held her pistol on the corner,
ready for him to come after her.
Instead of seeing him she listened to low-voiced cursing.
One high-pitched obscenity was probably the needle being yanked out. An
exultant “Ha!” ended the babble.
He found his gun
. Footsteps came toward
her. Alexi lurched around the corner of the dorm, waving his pistol. She lined
her sights up on his chest.
As soon as he points it at me I fire
. The
blurry figure beyond her front sight waved its gun left, right, up, and fell
over.
Crap
.
Mitchie pulled out her handcomm. “He’s out. You clean him
up. I’m going belowdecks.”
Journey Day 174. Tunxi System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
2
Guo had welded a deadbolt on the outside of the eighth
stateroom’s hatch while Mitchie cleared it of everything she thought could be
used as a weapon. This turned out to be everything not welded to a bulkhead
except the mattress. They wouldn’t let her strip Alexi before putting him in
there.
“He’s not going to kill anyone with his underwear,” said
Billy.
“I could kill you with your underwear,” countered Mitchie.
“While I’m wearing them?”
“That just buys you two minutes.”
“Enough, people,” said the captain. Bing injected Alexi with
the antagonist. They withdrew to the hatch. In a minute the prisoner woke up,
looked around, and sat on the edge of the bed. He studied the three drawn
pistols. “I gave you a second chance once,” said Captain Schwartzenberger, “and
it nearly got some of us killed. The plumbing in your foldaway is working.
Bollix it up and we let you drown. This hatch will open once a day for you to
get a meal delivered. Come near it and you’ll be shot. Figure out any other way
to make our lives more difficult and we’ll just kill you.”
The prisoner said nothing. Schwartzenberger waved his crew
out then backed through the hatch. Guo slammed and bolted it as soon as he was
clear.
The odd maneuvering to harass Alexi had put them well outsystem
from their planned course. A few torchships had come out from Tunxi to
investigate. Evading them was easy enough with unlimited fuel. It did stress
the ship enough for Guo to demand a twelve hour coast with the cooling wings
out before they made the run for the gate.
Crossing the Swakop system was even more boring. The crew
started making plans for their arrival in Demeter in a week.
Journey Day 186. Swakop System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
2
Mitchie settled into the reading chair to await the next
chapter. Guo was fiddling about with some stuff. “We finished the inventory
today,” he said.
“About time. Y’all must’ve been fondling every bit as you
looked it over.”
“The jewelry box was interesting. Some of the pieces had
names on them. Might have historical value.” He chuckled. “No diamond rings
though.”
Mitchie cocked her head. “I can’t see you wearing a diamond.
Maybe one in your ear.”
Guo put down the cups he’d filled with plum wine and walked
to the chair. “I’m not an earring guy.” He knelt in front of the chair. Not the
first time he’d been in that pose, but she was fully clothed, so she didn’t see
the point. “Michigan,” he said as he took her hands. “These past few months,
even with the danger and hunger and tension, have been the happiest time of my
life. You make me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. Where ever we go from
here, however long our lives last, I want to be with you. Will you marry me?”