Ion Trail 10: Mind the Gap

“Kyle!” I shouted unnecessarily over the commlink. “Check the scan again. Anything? I need to know if the nanites are transmitting again.” A few moments passed, and I heard Clinton respond.

“Not a thing, Captain,” he said. “If they’re still operational, they’re not talking. I… think we got away clean?”

“Let’s hope,” I replied. “But let’s also verify. I want someone in the engine room at all times, monitoring. Talk to Diaz, have him set up a schedule, but I want you personally to make sure that everyone who takes a shift knows what to look for.” I slumped back in my seat as I keyed off the commlink, feeling the adrenaline still surging through my body, with nothing to do with it. After a second, I thrust myself up from my seat and stalked out of the cockpit. I needed to move. I needed to do… Nothing. There was nothing that actually needed to be done, but my body needed to do something, anything. Sitting still wasn’t an option.

When I reached the corridor where the cabins were I saw Harper coming out of her room and without pausing to consider, grabbed her in a fierce hug. She froze for a second and I realized I should have asked, but before I could pull away, she returned the hug, not as aggressively, but firmly enough. After a minute I pulled back and looked at her a little sheepishly.

“Should I be worried, or pleased?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Pleased,” I said, then, “Or worried. Both, I don’t know.” I laughed, a little too loud. “I just needed to do something. We had another close call, but nothing like last time.” She raised an eyebrow, her amusement fading just a little bit.

“What do you mean?”

“It was the black ship,” I replied tersely. “Found us again, but we jumped out in time. I think.”

“You seem,” she paused, considering, “proud of yourself.”

“I am,” I said, surprised. “I really am. I knew something was wrong before the sensors detected anything, and I acted in time. We got away clean.” The deep sense of triumph was leavened with caution, but only a little bit. “I think we did, anyway.” She smiled, her gray-blue eyes twinkling as she did.

“It’s a good look on you, Captain.” She reached out and gripped my shoulder and I didn’t flinch, even a little bit.

=+=

Telling the rest of the passengers didn’t go over as well as the last meeting, but they’d calmed down after I explained. It was a solid plan and it was also the only way we were going to get more food any time soon. The part that had really thrown them was when I’d dropped the bomb I hadn’t even dared reveal to my unofficial crew; No one was disembarking for the foreseeable future. The speed with which the black ship had arrived at our little pit stop made it very clear that they’d come from Proxima Tau; unless that thing had a hyperdrive so advanced that it could move five times faster than anything I’d ever heard of, there was no way it’d come from anywhere else including Kestrel Station. While we had to assume that anybody who had the technology to create nanites that sophisticated would be advanced in other ways, that stretched the bounds of credulity. So we would stop into the Proxima Tau mining station, avoid the main station entirely, then get the hell out of there; we’d probably head to Bekter’s Rim and I’d finally be able to turn responsibility over to the TU. I’d also need to tell them everything we knew, about Kestrel, the black ship and the nanites, all of it.

It didn’t take long to settle back in to the rhythms we’d developed during the first leg of the trip. Carla had begun her classes again, and they were as well-attended as before, with one key addition; a day after we’d jumped to hyperspace again, Shanna finally joined everyone else in the cargo bay. Harper was close at hand to ensure she didn’t overdo it, and she moved like she’d forgotten how, but she got there mostly under her own power. We ended up having a communal meal in the cargo bay as a small celebration. It was the normal, meager fare, but the boost in morale from seeing her up and around for the first time since we’d fled Kestrel made it seem like a party. She didn’t stay long, but the next day she returned, and the day after, getting steadier every day, with more color in her cheeks.

Then it was crunch time again. The nanites had remained silent for the entire trip, so we had no reason to believe that the black ship would know where we were headed. I was hoping that maybe they’d run out of juice, but I wasn’t ready to count on it; we’d maintain a watch on them indefinitely, until we’d finally found safety. On the morning of the day we were due into Proxima Tau, I had Diaz supervise a restructuring of the cargo. With very little money to my name, we’d have to use the cargo to barter for what we needed with the miners, so we’d pulled out everything we thought would be most valuable, and made room for anything we might be able to bring aboard.

“Kyle,” I called over the commlink, as I settled into my seat, “I’ve released control of the ship’s primary sensors to you there in the engine room. While I’m bringing us in to the mining station, I want you scanning Proxima Tau Station as closely as you can. Clinton, I want you to stay on the diagnostics scans, in case the nanites wake up. You did get the modified scan working for the sensors, like we talked about?”

“Sure thing Captain,” Clinton replied. As soon as Kyle… Yeah, he’s got it. If any active nanites are in range, he’ll see them.”

“Everyone secured in back there?” I asked via intercom. “We’ll be dropping out into Proxima Tau in about ten minutes.”

“Cargo is secured, all personal items are put away,” replied Diaz from the cargo bay. “All passengers not otherwise engaged are in the galley or the cabins.”

“Copy,” I replied. “I’ll notify when we’re one minute from Drop Out.”

This was a routine drop, unlike the emergency drop we’d done before, so immediate hazards were unlikely to be a problem. On the other hand, given the assumption that the black ship had come from Proxima Tau, I wasn’t exactly sanguine, either. My nerves were buzzing as I rechecked everything one more time. The hyperspace timeout showed one minute, so I closed the viewscreen cover and keyed the intercom again.

“One minute to drop out. Standby.”

I watched the countdown as it approached zero, and then felt us drop out of hyperspace, the small shudder than ran through the ship as we did so. I opened the viewscreen cover immediately, visually scanning the blackness before me and checking the sensor readings. We’d come out in the expected location and there was nothing of immediate concern, so I increased throttle and made for Proxima Tau 5. Once we were moving, I checked in with Kyle.

“Anything on sensors?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said. “Station’s still there, no more than the expected debris field. If there are nanites, we’re not close enough to detect them.” I heard him clicking a few keys, then, “Huh.”

“What?”

“I tried a passive radio scan, and there’s no traffic at all.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew.

“The normal things you’d be able to detect at this range, traffic control, the local nav transponder, there’s nothing. If we were to get closer, I would also be able to detect the local drone control frequencies, but…” I’d gone cold as his words confirmed my fears. The station was either dead or had all of its comms wiped out. Either way, it pointed to only one possibility; the black ship had been there and taken steps to ensure that no information escape this time. If there were people alive aboard the station, they likely wouldn’t stay that way.

“Copy,” I said dully. “Needless to say, this is need-to-know information.”

“Understood, Captain.”

I monitored our approach to Proxima Tau 5 while I calculated the distance we’d need to be to properly effect the slingshot around it toward the mining station. I wondered what we’d find there; they were sparsely manned at the best of times. Sometimes there’d only be a single person manning the whole station for a month at a time, and at others there might be as many as a couple dozen personnel aboard. We’d find out soon enough, I supposed. Just in case, I decided I’d start calculating the navdata to Bekter’s Rim as soon as we’d made the slingshot.

Everything went smoothly from there, though the oppressive feeling persisted. Soon enough we were cruising toward the mining station. I’d had Kyle do a quick scan of the mining station as we approached and he said that he detected the normal control frequencies for the robo miners, but nothing else. Since we didn’t have our comms disc reaching out to the station wasn’t an option, so I proceeded cautiously. Once we were close enough that I could visually inspect the station I saw nothing out of the ordinary, but I did see a problem; the star dock doors were sealed; with no way to request entry, we’d have to figure something else out. I killed the throttle as we neared and coasted in, using the steering thrusters to bring the ship about into landing posture, and to slow us to a synchronous holding position.

“Clinton,” I called over the commlink. “You fancy a spacewalk?”

“Another one? Aww, Captain, you shouldn’t have.” I grinned at his bantering tone.

“I’ll meet you at the port airlock once I check in with everyone.” Then I headed for the galley, where most of the passengers were waiting anxiously. I found Diaz and called him over for a quick, whispered update before turning to the rest of the people.

“Alright,” I said, “We’re here at the mining station, but the doors are closed. With no comms we can’t request entry, so Clinton and I are going to go see if we can get the doors open. Just sit tight a little longer, okay?” Once I was done, I headed to the airlock. I hadn’t done a spacewalk since training, but at this point it was hardly the most stressful thing I’d ever done. Clinton was already suited up and I quickly did the same before stepping into the airlock. Clinton joined me and I cycled the airlock, holding my breath as the air was pulled out of the tiny room; it was silly, but I hadn’t ever been able to break the habit. Once the indicator had turned the dull red that indicated it had reached full vacuum, Clinton opened the outer door and we stepped out into space.

The absence of gravity immediately triggered a sense of vertigo as I left the artificial gravity of the ship, but my training took over and after several controlled breaths I was fine again. Clinton waited until I nodded to him, then we both kicked away from the ship toward the station, ten meters away. Once we reached the hull of the station, we both latched on to one of the ubiquitous hand-holds designed to help maintenance workers move around, and hooked an arm around each other.

“Lanyard away,” he said when I had a firm grip on him, and then began hauling in the half-inch thick plas-weave rope as it detached from the ship. I held him steady until he could fasten the magnetic end of his lanyard to the station, then we switched and I did the same, pulling it in hand over hand until my lanyard was solidly attached next to his.

“Now what?” I asked. “This is your area of expertise, right?”

“Yup,” he said. “Follow me.” He turned himself about so he could plant his boots on the hull, where they stuck; I always expected to hear the click, but of course space didn’t transmit sound. I followed suit and soon we were walking across the hull toward an access panel on near the bay doors. He knelt and pulled a multi-tool from his belt and worked at the panel for several minutes before it came open. Another tool came out next, looking like a bulky datapad, which he plugged into a port inside the panel. He examined the screen for a moment, then nodded. “Good news is, power’s on, so I can get this open without resorting to manual force. Life support is likely running, too.”

“Good to hear it,” I said, and waited as he started tapping complex sequences into the datapad. He muttered under his breath, the commlink conveying the general sense if not the specifics of his words until finally he gave an exaggerated tap on the device, grunting in satisfaction. The massive shackles on the bay doors unlocked and they started to slide open. “Great job. Let’s head back to the ship, so we can get her inside.”

“You go ahead,” he demurred. “I’m gonna go on in and scope the place out. I’ll see you when you get in there.”

“Suit yourself,” I replied, and kicked off toward the ship. I smacked into the side only a couple meters from the airlock, detached my lanyard from the station, and in I went. I skipped suiting down, only removing my helmet before I headed for the cockpit. Clinton, meanwhile, was playing tour guide, confirming the air quality was within acceptable standards and describing the inside of the star dock. It sounded fairly typical although much, much smaller than a standard station; it’d fit my ship though, and that’s what mattered. I nudged the reverse maneuvering thrusters and started to guide the ship back into the bay. Intent as I was on guiding the ship, I lost track of Clinton’s rambling descriptions.

“Woo!” I said out loud as I felt the gentle impact on set down. I threw myself out of my seat and headed for the cargo bay, which was already filling up with people eager to get off the ship. “Clinton, we’re coming out to you,” I called over the commlink as I stepped up to the cargo door controls. I raised my hand with a flourish, looking over the excited faces of my passengers, and then pushed the button. “Clinton, you there? We’re coming out.” As the door began to open I realized I hadn’t heard him in several minutes.

“Clinton?”

“He’s doing what I told him to,” a new voice said, ugly with menace. “And unless you want new holes where there were none before, I’d suggest you do the same.”

As the ramp settled to the ground, I saw Clinton standing about 5 meters behind the ship, facing me with an abashed expression on his face, his helmet off and his arms raised. The man behind him looked like he wasn’t interested in games and the large gun he leveled at me made me inclined to take him seriously.