They take positions at the door, Lana in the lead. At least the comms should work better in Bel’s shadow. As long as they stick near each other, they’ll be able to talk.
“When you’re ready,” Stetson says, “pull that lever. Get clear as fast as you can. We’ll be right behind you.”
Last time she pulled this lever, it was to seal the hydra out. It feels insane that her hand is about to reach for it again, this time to open it. The hydra is out there, on their hull, waiting for them. They tried telling Hunter to shoot it with the Homunculus’s cannon, but the solar wind crippled the targeting system, so they’d have to aim manually. As in, by looking out of the window. It’s a risky shot even with the computer. Flat-out homicidal otherwise.
She peers around Dino into Stetson’s visor. He sweats heavily, struggling to maneuver with Dino and his EM-pack. Lana says, “If I lose control of this thing, promise you’ll come and get me. Don’t let me drift alone out there.”
He actually laughs. Static shrieks in her ears. “You’ll do fine.”
“I hate space, Stetson.”
“Everything’s in space. That’s like saying you hate oxygen.”
“Just promise me.”
“If you start to drift, you won’t get far. You pass out of Bel’s shadow, you’re toast.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Does it?”
She turns to face the door.
“I promise,” Stetson says.
She pulls the lever.
Chapter 46
Dandy salvaged fifteen blue opals. Less than Jack expected. They’re big as chicken eggs, maybe a pound each. They are merely minerals. Pretty colors. The same as we use to decorate our monuments and furniture. This is what Dandy risked his life for. Jack leaves them.
He releases a single shover from its tie-down straps, hops into the machine and drives it so the forks press against the outer door. According to Gregorian, the Homunculus’s airlock opening is contractible to fit different ports, with a maximum height of seven feet and a width of ten, and it is roughly twelve deep. There should be plenty of room for the shover to squeeze inside.
There are no EVA suits down here. Terrible contingent planning in retrospect, but the cargo ramp was never meant to open into the void. It’s meant to form an umbilicus, docking to another ship’s airlock, and that is also why the shover’s controls are unenclosed, for working in a breathable atmosphere. So Jack digs through the storage lockers searching for anything useful. He doesn’t find much. Mostly hardware he forgot to put back in suspension storage. A soldering iron that’s bent into an almost unrecognizable shape, squashed dust masks, shredded duct tape, an exploded bottle of dried superglue, gloves that have been so forcefully compacted into balls that they tear when he attempts to flatten them out. He also discovers a tarp, a couple of tie-down straps, razor blades inside a broken case, and a remarkable amount of dust. Minus the lattermost, he sets these items aside.
Hunter should hail him soon. He asks Bel for updates.
“They are preparing for crew transfer. Judging by the data, there have been one or two serious complications.”
“Don’t tell me. Not yet.” He can’t handle more bad news.
“Okay.”
The hydra keeps on giving the airlock door a workout, much stronger now with its improved size. Until the Homunculus gets into position, he and Dandy are stuck. Sitting ducks. He busies himself by slicing the tarp into strips. Dandy coughs and rolls over, awake. He touches his nose and hisses through his teeth. Jack glances at him, then back to his work.
“The hell are you doing?” Dandy says.
Jack ignores him.
Dandy stands, moans, and notices the prearranged shover and Jack’s handiwork with the tarp.
“Wait just a fucking second here. You’re not planning what I think you’re planning.”
Jack says nothing.
“Without suits?”
“Do you have a better idea, Jim?”
“Don’t call me that, you son of a bitch.”
Jack shrugs.
“Oh God,” Dandy moans. He leans against the wall. “This is it.”
Jack lets him have this moment of crisis. It’s not supposed to be pleasant to witness, unless you’re a sadist, but in this particular case, Jack anticipates the show. Dandy rocks back and forth and mutters how unfair it all is (true), that he deserves better (false), that he will be remembered (in infamy, no doubt), and that everyone responsible will pay (probable, since Dandy is mostly at fault). He runs through the stages of grief in fast-forward, circling back to anger, which he directs squarely at the one man trying to save him. “You were so easy to play, Jackie. Do you know that? How predictable you are? You’re just a good dog, that’s all.”
“Keep talking, hero.”
“I’m serious. You’re just a sad little man. Though I will say I was surprised when I saw you holding that old rifle. I should’ve let Greggy take your head off. But I wanted you to see the sphere. I wanted whatever was inside to kill you slow and painful.”
“Charming.”
“You keep on thinking you’re untouchable, Jackie. Pretend these words don’t matter. Deep down, you know. I played you from start to finish. It’s what I do best. And you can look at me and think I’m this despicable man who lies and kills to stay at the top, and that may be true, but at least I’m honest about it. When I took power, the people knew what they were getting. They were sick of corporate cronies providing the illusion of freedom. Every choice preselected. I gave them the truth the old fashioned way. By standing up and declaring that I am the meanest motherfucker they’d ever lay eyes on. And if you don’t submit, I will rip your head off without laying a finger on you. That’s power. That’s what the people wanted. And I brought it to them.”
Jack sets down the razor. The menace this man is capable of. It cuts through him, makes his palms sweat. Suddenly the revolver inside his jacket feels very heavy.
“Then there’s you,” Dandy spits. “You disgust me. All your self-loathing. Grow a pair and be proud of what you did in that camp. Once upon a time you had what it took to survive. Now look at you. All I had to do was say the word family and you curl into a useless ball. A whimpering dog who forgot how to bite.”
Jack’s spine goes stiff. Did Dandy just admit it? Could he be so stupid?
Dandy throws his head against the hull and screams at the inner airlock. “Cut it out or kill us already!”
Amazingly, the hydra goes quiet. As if even it obeys this psychopath.
As for Jack, he has removed the revolver from its holster. Now he stands.
“It was a bluff,” he says. His voice unsteady, betraying his emotions. “The whole time.”
“Oh, fuck off! Of course it was a bluff! Like my associates don’t have better things to do than stalk two of your idiot relatives!” He spots the handgun, rolls his eyes. “Oh, what, you’re gonna shoot me now? Like you even have the—”
The revolver bucks.
Chapter 47
She stands in the open doorway, looking out. The Homunculus blinks in the distance, a barely discernible network of lights against the stars. Everything is huge and tiny out here, no sense of scale to gauge with. She wastes no time easing herself forward with a nudge at the right control stick.
Something grabs her foot.
She falls. The stars rush upward.
She misjudged. Falling into the sun.
“You’re alright,” Stetson says. “Your boot hit the doorway. Calm down and correct it.”
Not falling. Rotating.
She taps the controls on the left arm of her pack. Gas sprays frontward from shoulder-height. She finds herself facing the pod. A stark white rectangular vehicle with the edges molded soft. Too bulky to be aerodynamic. Stetson hovers upside down in the doorway.