Stepping Up (28 page)

When Aria asks for comments, I pose a question: “I’m sure
someone has already thought of this, but do we want to stock up here before we
head home? Between you and me, I think BaineRa’ah IV would be the better
choice.  Kretor has me spooked a bit.”

“We already have, but it was not much. We are in nominal
rather than optimal condition.  We topped off the fresh water tanks and
gathered a few tons of fruit and vegetables.  The restriction is more in case
of another journey mishap.”

After the meeting, but before her broadcast, I corner Aria. 
“I just realized, in one of my last interviews with the Captain, he said he
wants to die at home.  Are we afraid that’s coming?”

“Possibly, who can say? From the moment you organics are
born, death is a possibility.”
Well aren’t you just a little ray of
sunshine?

Later I brief the entire Engineering Department: “Here’s
our situation:  We’re going to be pushing the ship long and hard.  As I
understand the plan, we will have two weeks of down time between Transits. 
Hear me now:  I am not promising that during those two weeks we will not all—I
say again ‘all’—be down here up to our elbows in conduit, plasteel and uronium
dust.  What I want to know right now is what can we expect to go wrong on these
extra-long Transits? We are not accustomed to pushing our girl that hard for
that long.”

Viggo has lots of ideas of things that can go wrong.  He’s
not just being pessimistic; they are valid concerns, and we get out the white
boards to plan for them.  Everyone seems confident, but not overly so, that we
will be able to handle whatever can come our way.  Except for the Very Very Bad
Things.  We generate some new protocols and inspection schedules to deal with
mishaps before they can become catastrophes. Then Ginny raises a very good
point:  “If we’re down here splitting our asses sideways, while everyone else is
passed out drunk at the beach, I tell you now I’m going to develop a
significant
attitude problem.”  Several others nod in agreement.

“I have it on good authority that when we need some ‘here
hold this’ or ‘pass me that’ hands, they will be provided.  I have also padded
my estimates, so if we finish on schedule, we should all be able to get out of
the ship for at least two days.”   That lifts the mood a little bit. 

My teams assure me things are as solid as they can be made. 
Ginny reminds me that interstellar travel is filled with long boring periods. 
I agree. It’s the moments of mind-numbing terror I’m hoping to avoid.  At the
appropriate time the Transit engines roar to life propelling
Night Searcher
towards Yorktown and eventually home.

On the morning of our third day in Transit, Gwen and I
are playing Cat’s Cradle when I get a call from Aria. “Sonia, come to the
conference room please. Bring Gwen.”

There wasn’t anything in her tone to suggest something
wrong, so we show up in our comfortable clothes.  Aria tells us that the disk
we found is giving off some new and odd vibrations. Normal scanning reveals
nothing other than the irregular patterns, so she wants Gwen to see if she can
sense anything. I look to Gwen, she shrugs, and we turn to go. “The Captain has
been transferred to TMOD. He had a stroke last night,” Aria says behind me.

That will stop anyone in her footsteps. I turn back to Aria
and say, “Unfortunate.” 
There’s a shoe that hasn’t fallen yet.
  “What
are you not telling me?”

Aria does something I’ve never seen an android do before or
since: she stalls. “There are…legalities being considered.  Such information
will be published as it is defined.”

My inner voices says, “Lass, ye won’t like the outcome.”

Gwen and I walk to the cargo bay where the disk is being
stored.  When we get there I tell her, “I don’t know if there’s anything I can
do to help you, but if you can think of anything, let me know.”

Gwen walks around the disk, her eyes oriented on the central
glowing ball.  “Someone is calling from inside, but not from inside.”  I start
to ask her what she means, when her eyes suddenly turn a shade of green,
chartreuse. She turns and looks at me— square on. She shoots her hand at me,
palm outward.  Unseen hands throw me against the wall.  A deep voice rasps from
her mouth, “I am Azazeel. I do not care who you are, but this object is mine.
Bring it to the pyramid on the planet. Then you may have this child back.” Her
voice sounds like gravel on plywood.

I can’t move.  I’m a rabbit staring at a python.
Please
don’t hurt her!
“I need to know where the pyramid is.  Give me the
coordinates.  I will do everything in my power to get the disk to you.”

“I have taken this vessel out of Transit.  Bring my disk to
the planet below.  As you measure such things, seventy degrees, fifty-one
minutes south, one hundred-sixty-six degrees, forty minutes east. It is in the
southern polar region. Dress warmly.” I’ve never heard a demon laugh, but I can
imagine what it probably sounds like after the noise that spews from Gwen’s
mouth. “This child will accompany you, so you can receive my instructions.” 
The sound stops, Gwen’s head falls forward, but she remains standing.  The
invisible hands release me. I reach for my perCom to call Aria. 
Mommy! Help
me!
Did I just hear that? 

I surprise myself by how calm I am.  I tell Aria everything
that has happened. “I’m going on that mission.  I want Landers to fly, and
Troopers Watson and Jones with me.  I’d like Anya to go also.  I need the disk
and Gwen moved to the shuttle. When do we get into orbit?”

“Forty-five minutes. Your crew assignments are acknowledged.
HAZBOTs are being dispatched to move the disk. I was curious why we were out of
Transit.”

As I’m running for my stateroom, on the ship-wide intercom I
hear, “Prepare Mission Launch two for departure. Pilot Landers, Troopers Jones
and Watson, crewmember Anya, report to the small craft bay, Report to…Chief
MacTaggert.”

I call Viggo. “How many suits of the new armor do you have?”

“I have the one you used when we met and two others right
now, so three ready. In an hour I can have a fourth.”

“You have thirty minutes.  Have them all moved to the small
craft bay.  MacTaggert out.”

My perCom bleeps with a call from Sherri.  I’m preparing to
answer it when I get another from Jonesy.  I ignore both voice calls and tap
out a textCom to the pair of them:
Pack cold weather gear just in case. The
new armor should keep you plenty warm.
  In the stateroom, I dash through
grabbing my own inner suit and a hat and snowsuit for Gwen.  I didn’t think to
check her for mobility.  I grab my weapons duffle and sling it over the other
shoulder, then run to supply and grab a parka for her just in case.  I call
Anya. “I’m guessing it’s outside your expertise, but if you have a favored
weapon, I’d recommend bringing it.”

“I took Basic Pistol Marksmanship. I’ll bring my 9mm, how
many bullets should I bring?”

How would Freddie answer that? Oh, yeah: “All of them.”

In the small craft bay, I see the HAZBOTs loading the disk
into the launch’s cargo section.  Aria is discussing something with Shawna when
I walk up. “Aria, I’d like to take a WARBOT or two for backup.”  Gwen is
standing beside the landing craft, motionless.  Even though she isn’t moving,
the disdain coming from her is almost palpable.

“Take one WARBOT and the two HAZBOTs. That will be all the
mission launch can handle. The WARBOT has a fusion powered directed energy
weapon and rapid-fire cannon. If you run into more than it can handle, call for
a nuclear missile strike.”  A Mission Launch is larger than the typical
launch.  It also has a larger fuel tank and hence a longer range.  But physics
still rears its head if we try to push the engines too hard.  Overloading the
launch will cost us fuel and that will cost us range.

Shawna and Anya give each other a wink as Anya boards the
launch. 
Puppy love, how cute.
  But I put a hand on their shoulders and
try to keep a low volume. “What you do on your time is your business.  Once
we’ve delivered the disk and have Gwen back, you can spend the rest of your
lives in the yin-yang posture.  I don’t care.  But until we’re headed back to
Night
Searcher
, mission accomplished, please keep your heads in the game.  Okay?
Okay.”

“Roger, Chief.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gwen is catatonic, so I can put the snowsuit on her
before we strap her into a bench couch for the ride down.  Moments later, the
launch leaves
Night Searcher
for the planet below.  I leave the command
chair on the bridge and call Sherri, Jonesy, and Anya to the forward area of
the cargo compartment.  I don’t have time for niceties and leaders must lead. 
“Strip.  Completely. Put these on.”  I hand each of them the unisex
undergarment.  They stare blankly at me until Sherri and I begin shedding our
own coveralls, then underwear. We break into pairs.  Sherri helps Anya and I
help Jones.  I give them a brief class on operation of the armor.  Sherri is a
great assistant instructor.  We don’t have time for full training, for Sherri
and Jones I’m not concerned.  But truthfully, Anya is more likely to hurt
herself as she is anyone else.

We are finishing when Shawna flashes the “fasten seat belts
sign.”  I call Shawna on the headset. “I can’t fit through that door now so
I’ll finish the ride back here.  One more thing; click to the private channel.”

While she’s doing so, I lean into Anya, putting her helmet
in contact with mine.  I switch her communicator to “off.”  Sound vibrations
will travel through solid objects.  She and I will be able to speak as long as
our helmets maintain physical contact, but no one else—other than Shawna—will
be able to hear us. “I apologize if I came off brusque and unfeeling.  But my
daughter is at stake.  My priorities are a little different than yours.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Anya sounds like she is afraid of being
beaten.

“No worries, Boss,” Shawna says, “Anya bit my ass harder
than you chewed on it.”  I see Anya blush.

I switch Anya’s coms back on and settle back for the
landing.  Shawna and I go back to the public channel.

The launch lands at the specified coordinates. It is a vast
polar region, a bare frozen landscape broken by a twenty-meter high three-sided
pyramid covering about a square hectare of land. We can see an entrance.  It
doesn’t look larger than a one-meter square.

Gwen stands.  The seat belts holding her in place snap as
Azazeel speaks: “Bring the disk inside the structure. Only Sonia and Gwendolyn
will enter the pyramid.”  Everyone shudders at the prospect. We’re still on the
launch, so helmet visors aren’t in place.  Jones is stoic. Anya looks terrified
for Gwen. Sherri’s expression says, “I don’t think so.”

We need some maneuvering room.  “I need you to amend that,”
I tell Azazeel.  “It is not possible for Gwendolyn and me to carry that disk
standing upright much less through a hole that small.  At a minimum, we will
need the HAZBOTs.  And if you have scanned Gwen’s memories, then you know my
friends and me.  I can give the order for them to stay out here. But if we do
not return quickly, they
will
come in after us.  That isn’t out of a
sense of disobedience, but out of loyalty.  Each knows that I would do the same
for them.  I don’t know what that disk is or what it does, nor do I care.  You
are welcome to it. I just want my daughter back.”

“Very well; you may use the robots, but no one else. If your
friends follow us, they will die. If you do anything to prevent the disk being
moved, you will die. You are not this child’s mother sow; don’t speak to me as
if I am ignorant. Now shut up and get moving.”

I start pointing, making things happen.  Shawna has shut the
pilot area off from the cargo compartment.  The cargo door seal breaks.  Helmet
visors snap shut. It’s not just the wind, the sun is punishing in its
brilliance. Jones starts tapping commands into a command tablet for the HAZBOTs. 
The clumsy rascal ‘accidentally’ kicks the switch locking the WARBOT into
place.  “My friends will not come with us.  Very well, we will use the robots. 
I haven’t said or done anything to imply you are ignorant.  But right here
right now, I’m the closest thing to a mother she has.”  The door opens.  The
cold wind is very sharp.  The cargo area is immediately rimed in frost.  The
heaters in our armor keep us warm…but Gwen’s flesh?…how much of this onslaught
can she withstand?

Jones has programmed the robots to bring the disk. We all go
out in the blistering cold and begin the walk to the pyramid. The HAZBOTs and
Gwen are already doing so.  I feel a hand on my arm.  Sherri’s helmet touches
mine. She turns my coms off as Jones presses the HAZBOT control tablet into my
hand.

“How long is too long?”

“Ten minutes.  You know she-he-they-whatever can read our
thoughts, right? We have no secrets or expectation of privacy.”

“Habit.  Ten minutes from…now.  Go.” She taps the starter
switch on a watch. I switch my coms back on and hurry to catch up.

As we move towards the pyramid, the wind pummels us.  Frost
is quickly forming on the HAZBOTs, the disk, our visors, and the edge of Gwen’s
hood.  Almost halfway to the pyramid, Gwen stops and turns.  The wind blows snow
and ice into her face.  She squints against it.  I turn to follow her gaze.  I
click through my various filters until I see what she’s looking at.  The WARBOT
is about two hundred feet behind us.  Lightning flashes from Gwen’s eyes to the
robot.  The combat automaton explodes. 

Azazeel says, “That was stupid.”  Gwen turns and resumes her
march to the pyramid.

It’s a long walk, but we arrive at the base of the pyramid. 
Any time I try to hold Gwen’s hand, Azazeel snatches it back. 

At the entrance of the pyramid, I realize that unless it can
levitate the rest of the way in, one of the robots will have to back in. “Does
it make a difference which order we enter in?” I ask Azazeel.