When she came back into the cabin this time, Tech Lundin had the copilot once more concealed in his survival suit, helmet fastened on. “Here’s his ID, Admiral,” she said, handing it over.
“He mentioned his daughter when we were introduced. I will do my best to see that they learn what happened to him,” Ky said. A nine-year-old child had just lost her father. Ky had been—she thought back—twenty-three when her father was killed. She had been too shocked, too horrified, by the needles in the Commandant’s neck to feel the anger she felt now. Six men—good, competent, productive men—dead by treachery. No time for that now; she had these men and women to care for.
“Pack up any medical supplies you find,” she said. “We may need them. We’re going to be evacuating this module, getting into life rafts, as soon as possible.”
Only then did she remember that she had not collected the Commandant’s identification packet. She did that and started back down the aisle. Tech Lundin called to her.
“We can put the pilot on the same basket as the copilot, sir, and drag it, but we can’t fit any more in it.”
She could see that, and she could see the outline of the forward emergency hatch. Lifting dead bodies up and over that, to slide down and then be hauled into the rafts like so much dead—like the dead men they were—would be very difficult.
“Staff Sergeant Marek will be opening a hatch and letting the slide down, then a raft,” she said. “There should be time to move them one by one. If we’re found quickly—” And if not, they could not keep corpses in the same rafts with the living. In a separate raft? No. And the other injured man, whom she hadn’t checked on yet. “Tech Lundin, there are other injured back here. Let others move these.”
“Yes, sir.” Lundin moved quickly past her with the case of supplies.
Vispersen, she saw, was sitting down again, looking uncertain. “Staff Sergeant Vispersen,” she said. “Need something to do?”
“But I—but you’re—”
“Take another seasick pill if you need to. There’s plenty to do before we move to the life rafts.” She realized after a moment that he was either confused or scared. “Get that life raft down,” she said, pointing to the bulge in the overhead. “Move it to the aft compartment.” He got up, then, and moved to unlatch the raft hard-case.
Ky followed Lundin into the aft cabin. Marek had made his assignments; the other personnel were in two groups, with Commander Bentik off to one side. Her first impression was that all the survivors looked like good troops—not surprising, considering the selection, but they were all alert, attentive, and at least outwardly calm. Three life raft hard-cases had been propped on seats. Marek nodded to her.
“Ready to open the escape hatch, Admiral.”
“Go ahead.”
When the hatch opened, a wash of cold, wet air came in, along with the sucking and splashing of water against the inflated cushions. Despite the cold, it smelled like home to Ky. She was surprised to recognize the smell here, in a place she’d never been.
The weighted evacuation slide rolled out, inflating as it went, smacking the water hard as the module rolled toward it. Spray flew up; a little came into the shuttle; it stung like ice. Marek had already made a line fast to the raft bundle and now shoved it out the door, yanking a second, short line as he did so then letting go. With a whoosh, the raft inflated and the canopy popped up, its entrance hatch open.
“Go Team One!” Marek said. Ten orange-suited figures hurried through the hatch, one after another, skidding down the slide. They had just reached the bottom when Ky felt the module shift again as the wave passed beneath it, lifting the slide now, and the raft at the end of it. “Grab on!” Marek yelled. “Stay with the raft!”
Six were able to hang on to the raft; four rolled away, back down the slide, but managed to grab on to loops set on the inside of the slide tubes. They made it into the raft when the next wave lifted the module higher again. Marek sent a raft package after them, and they hauled it in as well. “Team One’s supposed to be checking all the equipment in the inflated raft to see what’s missing and what doesn’t work.”
“Good,” Ky said. “We’ve got six dead bodies to get aboard the second raft. The copilot died. Who checked the crash gear at the station?” Ky said.
“Bai Gassar,” Marek said. “Our dead steward. So at least we can be certain he didn’t have anything to do with the sabotage.”
“He had some kind of fit just before we landed,” someone else said. “I saw him kind of twitching in his seat, so I checked him out first when we got up.”
“Did you open his suit?”
“No, Admiral. He was dead.” Ky’s implant reminded her that this was Corporal Riyahn. “Master Sergeant opened it.”
“And found a needle.” Ky nodded.
“Is that what killed the Commandant?” Riyahn’s eyes widened.
“We think so. And the pilot and copilot.”
“Does that mean Bai was the one who sabotaged the suits?” Riyahn’s voice rose; two others looked at him.
“Unlikely.” Unless it had been suicide, but if the saboteurs had committed suicide then the pilot and copilot might have been in on the plot as well. She could not believe that, not after Sunyavarta’s mention of his daughter. “No way to be sure yet, and we can worry about that later. For now, we need to get everyone off this thing and into a raft.” She turned to Tech Lundin, who was applying a splint to Corporal Barash’s arm.
“How many injured?”
“This is the worst, sir. The rest are contusions, some abrasions. They’ll heal on their own. And the arm may not be broken; I’m splinting it as a precaution against further injury.”
“Good work,” Ky said. She started to say more but was interrupted.
“Do you want Corporal Gassar’s ID packet, sir?” That, her implant informed her, was Sergeant Chok.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Ky said. “Stick it in a pocket and keep it safe; I have the others.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The correct address is Yes, Admiral,” Jen said, her voice harsh with disapproval.
Chok looked confused. “Sorry, sir—Admiral—I mean, Commander—”
“No problem, Corporal,” Ky said. “Commander Bentik is more familiar with the protocol of the Cascadian forces.”
“And in the Space Defense Force,” Jen said, her voice still edged with disapproval.
Now they were all watching her and her aide, even Marek. This was exactly the way Jen had caused tension on that visit to Moray, criticizing Moray military usages as not being Cascadian. Ky kept her voice even.
“In an emergency such as this, sir is perfectly appropriate,” Ky said to Chok. Then, to Jen, “But, Commander, I appreciate your care for the courtesies when under such stress.” She meant it as a softening compliment, but from Jen’s expression she felt it as an insult. Jen would have to deal with it; she had no time to placate her aide.
She looked at Marek. “Time to launch the second raft?”
“Not yet, Admiral,” Marek said. “We need a report from the team in the raft on what’s missing—see if it can be replaced anywhere in this module. Then we need to arrange everything that will go into it for quick unloading. The remains, for instance, can’t be lifted into the raft with the rescue basket; it could snag the life raft fabric. They’ll have to come in by hand.” Or not, his tone said.
“I’m sure someone will be looking for us,” Ky said. “My crew tracked us into the cloud cover. If they find us in time, these bodies can be brought home to their families.” And perhaps yield clues to the saboteurs’ identities.