Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [65]
‘Yeah. But not enough for everyone. We got a ton of bodies sardined into a Savvy rated for thirty. My ventilators are crapping themselves while we stand here flapping our gums suckin’ air.’ The Captain sounded cool enough but tension played around his mouth.
Jo-Jo thought about it. He couldn’t see many options either. ‘Tough call, though, Loker. Might lose some.”
The Captain shrugged. ‘I figured you’d seen a bit. You got anything better?’
‘Can you distribute people onto the other craft:’ asked Bethany.
Loker ran his fingers along his com-sleeve and a low-resolution image of Dowl res-space flickered into life in front of them. It reminded Jo-Jo of acid hour at the Vega swap meet. ‘Each ship is in the same situation, only they can’t do a scrapshift—their ships aren’t built for it.’
‘Maybe we could take a vote. Those who don’t want to risk it can get off,’ suggested Beth.
Loker’s face seemed to expand with annoyance. ‘This ain’t a frikkin’ election, lady. I’m betting we’ve got an hour before life-support craps itself completely. Which will at least spare us death by starvation. Every damn ship out there is in the same situation. Either we put down on Araldis or we risk an unattended scrapshift.’
Beth blushed but she didn’t back down. ‘I see the dilemma, Captain, but you’re making a decision that might kill people. I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.’
‘So it’s better if we all die, then?’ said Loker hotly.
Yet Jo-Jo could see that Beth had rattled him. He was a Savvy captain. Life-and-death responsibility didn’t come in the job description.
‘I think we should put down on Araldis,’ Beth insisted.
The Captain gave her an incredulous stare. ‘The place is burning. We can see it from our sats.’ He tapped the sleeve again and a primitive slide-show of images replaced the shift-space representation.
Beth sagged when she saw the grainy pictures of billowing smoke. ‘Araldis has a high oxygen quotient. The fires will take a long time to burn out,’ she whispered.
‘What’s not burned is desert,’ said Loker.
Mau put his arm around Beth’s shoulder and squeezed her gently. ‘Scrapshift best.’
Jo-Jo nodded agreement. ‘Where’s the nearest station?’
‘Jandowae.’
Loker lifted his sleeve and spoke into it. ‘Get everyone into the buffer cans.’
‘Captain?’ replied a crew member from somewhere on the ship. ‘There ain’t enough roo—’
‘I know. We’re scrapping in eight minutes.’
The virtual representation of their position vanished and reappeared in the air above the H-M’s sink, flashing between schematic and sectioned real-time views.
Loker muttered into his sleeve, his eyes half-closed as he became absorbed in interface. The H-M was slack-jawed as well; spit bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
Jo-Jo felt a tightening hand on his guts. Could the kid handle this?
A third crew member entered the bridge and grudgingly handed out antispasmodics. ‘Scrapshift is rougher than most—even in the cans. Need two of these normally but there ain’t enough to go around. Should save you from the worst, though,’ he said.
Jo-Jo slipped his into Beth’s hand. She frowned at him and shook her head.
‘Mothershit!’ cried the H-M.
Jo-Jo didn’t have to ask what was wrong. The schematic showed another ship crossing ahead of their shiftspace trajectory. Not a Savvy. Something bigger, creating an uncommon energy signature.
‘Where are they going?’ cried Jo-Jo. ‘I thought normal res-shift was buggered.’
‘H-M?’ Loker’s voice quavered.
‘Must have entered at the same time as us, Captain. It’s an organic. A ‘zoon or a biobe,’ said the young kid. ‘They don’t need working res. They just need the—’
‘Coordinates. I know,’ finished Jo-Jo. Was it Salacious?
‘They’re going to squirt.’ Loker lifted his sleeve.