Space Stations

The shuttle's alarm covered any unprofessional outcries, profane or terrified. Linda locked her helmet into place as others did the same, cutting off ambient sound. Pettersen had put his on earlier, and now she knew why, hearing his voice, not the captain's, in her ear.

“…stop the shuttle,” he was saying, no trace of emotion in his soft, quick voice. “Those are suits. They aren't just bodies. They're mines! Stop all your ships.”

The captain: “How can you know—”

Leland's voice crashed over both: “Because we never had enough suits, Captain. No one would jettison one without damned good reason, let alone this many.” Emotion in plenty there, all of it dark. “Stop the ships! Now! Before we lose anyone else.”

“Too late—” someone shouted.

Lights were half power—on emerg, probably. Nothing new, Dave told himself, refusing to think about what was new about their situation.

“Don't panic on me now,” Annette said, reading his state of mind with the accuracy of practice. She'd switched their corns to privacy—it hadn't taken her long to puzzle out the helmet controls and take advantage of them. “You heard Pettersen and Sammie. The Earthers lost three shuttles—” a thickness to her voice the only acknowledgment of what else had been lost. Thankfully, station caution had insisted on several small ships, rather than the single large transport TerraCor had offered. “—ours stayed intact. Solid ship; smart flying. Gotta give the Earthers some credit. Dave. Are you listening?”

He nodded, exaggerating the motion through neck and shoulders so she could see it.

“Good,” she snapped. More gently. “Counting on you, husband.”

“I'll do my part,” he said gruffly. “If they get us into the station. Better switch us back to the general com.”

Her gloved hand rested on his, then his helmet filled with other voices again, this time in debate.

The captain's: “The docking ring is undamaged. At least fifteen ports show green and available. Tell me again, Mr. Leland, why we're not to use them?”

“It's another trap.”

“And you know this how?” the question courteous despite the tension.

The stationer didn't hesitate. “Because we did the same on Thromberg.”

Open coms had their disadvantages. Linda listened to Leland's revelation and felt her stomach twist itself into a tighter knot. Docking ports were sacrosanct—the first rule of space was to give unquestioned access to air and safety. Arguments could be resolved later, if need be.

Thromberg's actions had been against those who became the 'siders, yet Linda heard Pettersen's gentle voice supporting Sammie: “Hamilton doesn't want visitors. Why would she leave her doors open and the welcome mat out?”

“So what can we do? Three shuttles are gone, Mr. Leland. Seven are incapable of translight without repair—two are bleeding air. We can't just sit here and wait for help.”

“Your shuttles have ore grapples,” Pettersen said. “They can be fired into the outer hull and used to winch us tight. Then we'll make our own door if necessary.”

“'Sider methods.” If there was a note of horror in the captain's voice, Linda was sure every Earther listening could echo it.

“I can attest they work, Captain,” this from Leland.

Grapples. Linda stared at the suited figures, all but one in pristine Earther suits. So. It was by no coincidence they were in a mining shuttle. The stationers had anticipated trouble docking with Hamilton all along, and had come prepared to do things their way.

It put the “gear” in cargo into an entirely new light. And her passengers—who were now anything but useless weight.

She unstrapped and stood, staggering a little as circulation returned to limbs tensed in one position too long. “Captain Maazel.”

“I'm busy, Gulliver—”

“I've had training in emergency hookups,” Linda interrupted. “I'd like to go back and help.”

“Beats sitting here,” came from Pavel. Linda felt more than saw Lili join them.

Pettersen turned. His battered helmet was lit a garish red from within, turning his face to that of some demigod. “Can you take orders from us, Earther?” he challenged.

“Mr. Leland said you were the experts in dealing with disaster, sir,” Linda refused to back down. “Looks to be what we have here.”

A noise from Leland, loud and rude, filled their helmets. “Got you there, Torbjxrn. Go ahead, girl. If your captain has no objection.”

“I object to everything except heading back to Thromberg,” Captain Maazel muttered darkly. “Gulliver—take these two and see if you can lend a hand.”

Earthers had helped. Side by side in the holds; out there, on the hulls of ship and station, drilling in feeds to tap air, power, and water from Hamilton's mains. Dave didn't know what to make of it. It was happening on the other shuttles as well, reports said. It took exhausting hours, but eventually the ships were declared snug and secure. For now.