“Whatever it’s made of is stronger than anything they have down here.”
Frig! Swallowed to let the anger subside. “So if we make any violent changes in altitude or heading, they won’t swear everything will hold?”
“Not with that mass, sir.”
“Then our liftoff and ascent will be very smooth.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me know when everything’s sealed up.” Patel would anyway, but I had to say something.
I replotted the power curve for the liftoff and checked the systems again. Found I was sweating. Almost never sweated. Armor and control area weren’t that hot.
“Everything’s tight and green, sir. Strapped in and ready.”
“Commencing liftoff checklist.”
Danann Base, Sherpa Tigress. Loaded and preparing for liftoff. Didn’t have to let them know, but wanted to get a reaction.
Stet, Tigress.
Some reaction.
Finished the checkoff and brought full power up in the fusactor, then eased in the drives, following the curve. Hoping nothing went wrong. Frigging little margin for error.
Navigator Control, Sherpa Tigress, lifting this time.
Stet, Tigress. Report near approach to Navigator.
Stet, Control.
Kept the shuttle on the power curve all the way out. Once I was above low orbit, I began cutting back on the drives. Began decel far earlier than I had been, but with so much mass effectively unsecured, I didn’t want it crashing through me if the gravs hiccuped, or we lost power.
Sherpa Tigress, this is Control. Interrogative early deceleration.
Clear that Morgan had been watching the screens from the time of the shuttle’s liftoff from Danann.
Control, Tigress. Mass balance requires… How the frig could I say it?… phased decel in order to avoid structural damage to shuttle. Interrogative Navigator difficulty.
That’s a negative, Tigress.
Morgan was lying, but he wouldn’t tell me why over an open link.
Checked the farscreens. Even the shuttle’s screens showed energy distortions, but too far out for me to get details. Any energy levels meant we had company, and it wouldn’t be friendly. Still wasn’t about to hurry my approach. It’d be stans, if not a day, before the “company” got close enough for action. Still…
Control, interrogative immediate turnaround for personnel recovery.
That’s affirmative. Crew standing by for service and re-installation of basic couches.
Another aspect of a bastard mission. High price for getting my masters’ certs back—especially since they’d been stolen. Shouldn’t lose a cert for uncovering graft. I snorted. The word “shouldn’t” didn’t have much applicability when male pride and egos were involved.
Checked the closure with the Magellan, eased in a touch more decel. Only wanted minimal closure near the ship. I frowned. Screens showed the main bay doors closed.
Tigress, stabilize position outside boat bay. Stand by for scan.
Stabilizing now. Frigging great. Had me lift whatever the frig the artifact was. Didn’t even know if it would blow. After I’d stuck my neck and Patel’s out—again— then… then Morgan decided on a remote scan. Another aspect of a bastard mission.
Detectors protested as the beams played across the shuttle.
“Sir… the artifact is glowing. I can see it through the plastrene.”
“We’re being scanned, chief. The glow ought to fade…” Don’t know why I said that. No reason for the artifact to glow, or for the glow to fade.
Detectors went null.
“Is it still glowing?”
“No, sir.”
Really wanted not to tell Morgan, but there were others on the Magellan.
Navigator Control, Sherpa Tigress, reporting artifact illuminated in response to scan. Scan completed, illumination ended.
Stet, Tigress. Object intensifies all forms of radiation. You’re cleared to main bay.
Another reason to throttle Morgan. He could have told me that.
“Beginning recovery, chief.”
The bay doors were open now. Took my time about easing the shuttle into the cradle. Made sure everything was perfect.
Control, Tigress. Cradled and shutting down this time. Will stand by for personnel recovery.
That’s affirmative, Tigress.
Morgan was worried. So was I.
64
Goodman/Bond
Late on threeday, I was cleaning up my work area. I was just about to head off to the mess. I’d have four stans off before I came back on the evening watch for the armory.
“Bond!” called Chief Stuval. “Ciorio!”
“Yes, chief.” We hurried forward.
“I want you two to give the sliders a full inspection and check-out. They need to be ready. Then check the transport tubes, and get the sliders ready. There’s a good chance we’ll be needing them before long,” ordered the chief.
“Needing ‘em?”
I was glad Ciorio asked.
“Ops has ordered a class-three alert.”
“Have the Sunnis come back?” I couldn’t believe that, but it was a safe question to find out more.
“No one’s saying topside, and they haven’t announced class one,” the chief replied.
“Then what are they going to send out the needles for? There’s nothing here except that planet.”
“They don’t tell us why, Bond. They tell us what to do and when.”
“They never tell us much of anything.”
“It’s called ‘need to know,’ Bond, and you’ve been around long enough to understand that.” Stuval sounded angry.
“I know, chief. But it’s different here. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Gliess says that they’re running the shuttles down to Danann and back up, shipping up the science types,” Ciorio said. “Fast as they can.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I admitted. If they were bringing everyone back from planetside, the Magellan wasn’t likely to be remaining near Danann long. That meant, somehow, I had to get the AG signaler assembled and into one of the shuttles on my evening watch. Or somewhere on one of the needles. I didn’t see how it mattered, so long as it sent out the signal clear of the Magellan. How I’d manage either was another question, but I’d have to find a way.
“It’s not good at all,” Chief Stuval said slowly. “Bond… go on and get something to eat Better be back here a good stan before your watch. That way, both you and Ciorio can square everything away.”
“I’m on my way, chief.”
I thought the chief watched my back as I headed out through the armory’s main hatch. I didn’t look to check. That would have made him suspicious. If I couldn’t get time alone, I might have to incapacitate the chief somehow. Give him a bump on the head and claim he fell.
That’d be weak, but I was stuck on the Magellan in the middle of a galactic void, with problems with anything I did—or didn’t do. I took the ramps up to the mess deck.
Alveres caught me in the mess line.
“You hear what’s happening, Bond?”
I shrugged.
“You guys in the armory always know.”
“I thought shield mechs knew.” I managed a grin.
“Nah… we just have to repair things afterward.”
“We’re on class-three alert.”