Governor
asked.
“We’re not going to crash.”
“What if something hits the window? I mean, all that
debris…”
“This ship was built to deal with a little debris. The
gravity field will protect us from anything substantial the comet spits out.
Unless it’s firing bullets at us I think we’ll be fine.”
“You know what little pieces of rock zooming along at high
speeds remind me of? Bullets.”
The view of the planet lurched as Silver gripped the ship’s
wheel and eased them free of the station’s dock. He smirked and turned his head
to look back at Bee.
“You don’t get spacesick, do you?”
She made no reply, just leaned her head against the wall,
closed her eyes, and clenched the muscles in her abdomen. Breathe in deep
through the nose, out through the mouth, she told herself. Don’t think about
where “up” is—just sit back, keep steady, and don’t puke.
***
Two fully suited pilots sat in the cabin of Tuggernaut #7 ,
one a bald-headed young man laced with glowing neon tattoos and piercings, the
other a lanky grizzle-bearded man. The Beard was monitoring the temperature
gauges while Tattoos kept his eyes on a timer than counted down in red block
numbers. Three minutes, twenty-two seconds.
“She ready to pull again, bud?” Tattoos asked.
“Nah man, still too hot,” the Beard said.
“Boss Hawk won’t like waiting, yo.”
“Too hot man, like it or not.”
“You tell him, then.”
The Beard shook his head. “Spine like a wet noodle, bud.”
“Freeze you, man. Dude ain’t level.”
“Careful who you trashin’ man. He don’t tolerate.”
The Beard flicked a switch on the console and a projected
window of the bridge on Starhawk’s flagship appeared in front of them.
Immediately upon seeing the two pilots, Starhawk, dressed in his elaborate
golden battle suit, leaped to his feet from the captain’s chair. His ink-black
hair was slicked back flat, and cutting blue eyes stood out stark against pale
skin.
“Report,” he snapped.
“Gravvy gens still cooling, Boss,” the Beard said. “Another
thirty seconds we good.”
“I need you to move that comet another two point three
degrees west,” Starhawk said. “If you can’t do that we won’t make an optimal
approach. Hell, we could miss altogether. You see how important this is?”
The Beard exchanged glances with Tattoos.
“Boss, we get too hot and she gonna blow. Rock’s too big—”
“We’ve got a schedule to keep. You get me another two point
three degrees at the end of that countdown or I send some grubs to execute you
both. Best start 'em back up, boys.”
The display went dead.
***
Silver followed the blue thread of the navigational guide
toward the orbital station’s launching platform where Wanderlust was
waiting for them. It felt good to steer without correction from Myra. Sure, his
wouldn’t be the most efficient flight possible, but there was nothing like
being in full control of a ship with his own two hands.
Own two hands. His prosthetic twitched involuntarily.
The station was all white metal and soft curves—a relic from
before the rebellion designed and built by the planet’s first settlers. Strump
seemed to be content to bury his nose in watching news videos on his pad while
the girl sat in the back, every once in a while peering over Silver’s shoulder
at the view.
Before they left the dock Silver had let Wanderlust know they were on the way back so the crew could prepare for immediate
departure. Although with the hold on traffic Silver wasn’t sure how they were
going to launch from the station.
With any luck, the Captain would have taken care of that
snag in the plan already; securing the launch was his job, and he seemed to
have connections with nearly every officer of note in every port from the Core
to the edge planets. Silver was sure the Captain was getting an earful from
Tower back on Wanderlust .
That was the reason he requested departure before they left
in the shuttle,
asked.
“We’re not going to crash.”
“What if something hits the window? I mean, all that
debris…”
“This ship was built to deal with a little debris. The
gravity field will protect us from anything substantial the comet spits out.
Unless it’s firing bullets at us I think we’ll be fine.”
“You know what little pieces of rock zooming along at high
speeds remind me of? Bullets.”
The view of the planet lurched as Silver gripped the ship’s
wheel and eased them free of the station’s dock. He smirked and turned his head
to look back at Bee.
“You don’t get spacesick, do you?”
She made no reply, just leaned her head against the wall,
closed her eyes, and clenched the muscles in her abdomen. Breathe in deep
through the nose, out through the mouth, she told herself. Don’t think about
where “up” is—just sit back, keep steady, and don’t puke.
***
Two fully suited pilots sat in the cabin of Tuggernaut #7 ,
one a bald-headed young man laced with glowing neon tattoos and piercings, the
other a lanky grizzle-bearded man. The Beard was monitoring the temperature
gauges while Tattoos kept his eyes on a timer than counted down in red block
numbers. Three minutes, twenty-two seconds.
“She ready to pull again, bud?” Tattoos asked.
“Nah man, still too hot,” the Beard said.
“Boss Hawk won’t like waiting, yo.”
“Too hot man, like it or not.”
“You tell him, then.”
The Beard shook his head. “Spine like a wet noodle, bud.”
“Freeze you, man. Dude ain’t level.”
“Careful who you trashin’ man. He don’t tolerate.”
The Beard flicked a switch on the console and a projected
window of the bridge on Starhawk’s flagship appeared in front of them.
Immediately upon seeing the two pilots, Starhawk, dressed in his elaborate
golden battle suit, leaped to his feet from the captain’s chair. His ink-black
hair was slicked back flat, and cutting blue eyes stood out stark against pale
skin.
“Report,” he snapped.
“Gravvy gens still cooling, Boss,” the Beard said. “Another
thirty seconds we good.”
“I need you to move that comet another two point three
degrees west,” Starhawk said. “If you can’t do that we won’t make an optimal
approach. Hell, we could miss altogether. You see how important this is?”
The Beard exchanged glances with Tattoos.
“Boss, we get too hot and she gonna blow. Rock’s too big—”
“We’ve got a schedule to keep. You get me another two point
three degrees at the end of that countdown or I send some grubs to execute you
both. Best start 'em back up, boys.”
The display went dead.
***
Silver followed the blue thread of the navigational guide
toward the orbital station’s launching platform where Wanderlust was
waiting for them. It felt good to steer without correction from Myra. Sure, his
wouldn’t be the most efficient flight possible, but there was nothing like
being in full control of a ship with his own two hands.
Own two hands. His prosthetic twitched involuntarily.
The station was all white metal and soft curves—a relic from
before the rebellion designed and built by the planet’s first settlers. Strump
seemed to be content to bury his nose in watching news videos on his pad while
the girl sat in the back, every once in a while peering over Silver’s shoulder
at the view.
Before they left the dock Silver had let Wanderlust know they were on the way back so the crew could prepare for immediate
departure. Although with the hold on traffic Silver wasn’t sure how they were
going to launch from the station.
With any luck, the Captain would have taken care of that
snag in the plan already; securing the launch was his job, and he seemed to
have connections with nearly every officer of note in every port from the Core
to the edge planets. Silver was sure the Captain was getting an earful from
Tower back on Wanderlust .
That was the reason he requested departure before they left
in the shuttle,
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