Falconi gestured. “Kira. If you wouldn’t mind?”
As the doctor struggled to calm the Entropists, Kira allowed the mask to cover her face again. The current in the airlock door appeared to her as a thick bar of bluish light, as if part of a lightning bolt had been trapped in the handle of the door. The bar was so bright and wide, she was surprised it hadn’t killed Veera outright.
Extending a pair of tendrils, she sank them into the door and—as she had in her cell—rerouted the flow of electricity through the cabled surface of the Soft Blade.
“It’s safe,” she said.
“Outstanding,” said Falconi, but he still looked wary as he reached for the airlock controls. When no shock hit him, his shoulders relaxed and he quickly activated the release.
There was a beep, and a green light appeared above the control panel. With a hiss of escaping air, the door rolled open.
Kira released her hold then, retracting the Soft Blade and allowing the electricity to resume its normal path. “No one touch the handle,” she said. “It’s still hot.” She repeated herself for Itari.
Falconi went first. He floated over to the nose of the Wallfish, punched a combination of buttons, and the ship’s own airlock popped open. Kira and the others trailed after, Vishal with one arm around Veera while Hwa-jung helped with Jorrus, as he was barely able to move on his own. Last of all was Itari, the Jelly graceful as an eel as it pulled itself through the airlock.
A thought occurred to Kira. A horrible, cynical thought. What if the UMC chose that moment to blow the docking clamps and space her and everyone else? Given everything the League and the military had done, it wasn’t something she’d put past them at that point.
However, the seal between the airlocks held, and once the last centimeter of Itari’s tentacles were inside the Wallfish, Nielsen closed the ship’s door.
“Sayonara, Orsted,” said Falconi, heading down the Wallfish’s central shaft.
The ship seemed dead. Abandoned. Most of the lights were off, and the temperature was freezing. It smelled familiar, though, and that familiarity comforted Kira.
“Morven,” said Falconi. “Initiate ignition sequence and prepare for launch. And get the damn heat back on.”
The pseudo-intelligence answered, “Sir, safety procedures specifically state that no—”
“Disable safety procedures,” he said, and rattled off a long authorization code.
“Safety procedures disabled. Beginning launch preparations.”
To Hwa-jung, Falconi said, “See if you can get Gregorovich hooked back up before we blast out of here.”
“Yessir.” The machine boss handed Jorrus off to Sparrow and then flew down the corridor, continuing deeper into the ship.
“Come now, please,” said Vishal, pulling Veera in the same direction. “Off to sickbay for you. And you too, Jorrus.”
Leaving the incapacitated Entropists with Sparrow and the doctor, Kira, Nielsen, and Falconi proceeded to Control. Itari trailed behind, and no one, not even the captain, objected.
Falconi uttered a sound of disgust as he entered the room. Dozens of small items cluttered the air: pens, two cups, a plate, several q-drives, and other pieces of random flotsam. It looked as if the UMC had ransacked every drawer, cupboard, and bin, and they hadn’t been too careful about it either.
“Get this cleared up,” said Falconi, moving to the main console.
Kira made a net with the Soft Blade and began to sweep the flotsam out of the air. Itari stayed by the pressure door, tentacles coiled close to itself.
Falconi tapped several buttons underneath the console, and around them, lights brightened and machines powered up. In the center of the room, the holo-display sprang to life.
“Okay,” said Falconi. “We’ve got full access again.” He tapped buttons along the edge of the holo, and the display switched to a map of the area surrounding Orsted Station with the locations and vectors of all nearby vessels labeled. Four red-blinking dots marked hostiles: nightmares currently skirmishing with the UMC forces around the curve of Ganymede. A fifth dot marked the nightmare ship embedded in Orsted’s inner ring.
Kira hoped Lt. Hawes and the other Marines would be safe on the station. They might have answered to the UMC and the League, but they’d been good people.
“Looks like they hit the station and flew on past,” said Nielsen.
“They’ll be back,” Falconi said with grim certainty. His eyes darted back and forth as he studied whatever his overlays were showing. He uttered a sharp bark of laughter. “Well, I’ll be…”
“Who’d have thought?” said Nielsen.
Kira hated to ask: “What?”
“The UMC actually refueled us,” said Falconi. “Can you believe it?”
“Probably planned on commandeering the Fish and using it for shuttling around supplies,” said Nielsen.
Falconi grunted. “They left us the howitzers as well. Thoughtful of them.”
Then the intercom clicked on, and Gregorovich’s distinctive voice rang out, “My, you’ve been busy, my pretty little moppets. Mmm. Kicked up the hornets’ nest, did you. Well, we’ll see what we can do about that. Yes we will. Tee-hee.… By the way, my charming infestations, I have reignited the fusion drive. You’re welcome.” A low hum sounded from the back of the ship.
“Gregorovich, yank the restrictor,” said Falconi.
An infinitesimal pause on the part of the ship mind. “Are you absolutely sure, Captain O my Captain?”
“Yes, I am. Yank it.”
“I live but to serve,” said Gregorovich, and he tittered a bit more than Kira would have liked.
She couldn’t help but worry about the ship mind as she pulled herself into the nearest seat and buckled the harness. The UMC had put Gregorovich in lockdown, which meant he’d been kept in near total sensory deprivation since they’d arrived at the station. That wouldn’t be good for anyone, but especially for an intelligence like a ship mind, and doubly so for Gregorovich, given his past experiences.
“What’s the restrictor?” she asked Falconi.
“Long story. We have a choke in the fusion drive that changes our thrust signature, makes it a hair less efficient. Take it out, bam! we look like a different ship.”
“And you didn’t pull it out back at Bughunt?” Kira asked, scandalized.
“Wouldn’t have helped. Not enough, at least. We’re talking a difference of a few hundredths of a percentage point.”
“That’s not going to hide us from—”
Falconi made an impatient gesture. “Gregorovich plants a virus in every computer we send registry info to. It creates a second entry with a different ship name, different flight path, and engine specs that match what our drive is like sans restrictor. Far as the computers go, it won’t be the Wallfish blasting off. Probably won’t fool anyone for more than a few minutes, but right now, I’ll take any advantage we can get.”
“Clever trick.”
“Unfortunately,” said Nielsen, “it’s a single-use device. At least until we can get into dock and have a new one installed.”
“So what’s the name we’re flying under now?” Kira asked.
“The Finger Pig,” said Falconi.
“You really like pigs, don’t you?”
“They’re smart animals. Speaking of which … Gregorovich, where are the pets?”
“They are again blocks of furry ice, O Captain. The UMC decided to return them to cryo rather than deal with the hassle of feeding and cleaning up.”
“How considerate of them.”