Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [197]
Alarms continued to ring, and not many Roamers were in sight. The Soldier compies went about their programmed labors without pause. Stanna sprinted to an emergency locker and grabbed a suit, pulling it on as if it were an EDF drill from when he’d been a kleeb.
Though he was uneasy, Fitzpatrick didn’t dare try to stop the man. If Stanna did succeed in escaping, he would send a signal to the EDF and somehow bring help. Then they could all get out of here.
“Just keep an eye out, Fitz—make sure I get a chance to fly away.” Stanna clomped awkwardly forward in his environment suit. He sealed his helmet. Fitzpatrick slapped him on the back. “Good luck, Bill.”
Stanna hurried to the airlock to cycle himself through. Fitzpatrick checked to make sure that the Roamers were still studying their screens, responding to the emergency at the admin dome and the automated ore processor. The activation of the airlock would show up on their status readouts, but the Roamers would probably think it was someone on the emergency response team.
The external airlock door opened, and Stanna launched himself through space like a projectile. Fitzpatrick watched him drift toward the docked prospector scout, catch himself on the vessel, then work his way to its entry hatch.
Inside the work bay, three Roamer workers reacted curiously, as if they sensed something wrong. One of them went to the inset window screen and peered out at the small ship. They were close to noticing Stanna.
Knowing he had to do something, Fitzpatrick ran to the wall controls and activated the emergency fire signal. Since all air inside the enclosed asteroid habitats was recycled and replenished from tanks, fire was always a terrible hazard. To maintain his cover, Fitzpatrick opened the supply room door, grabbed a fire-suppression pack, and sprayed foam on several crates sitting in the corner.
As Roamers came running, he looked up at them, feigning panic. “I saw smoke in here, but I put it out!” He looked at the foamy mess on the floor.
The three Roamers looked at him, skeptical. “We’ve got other emergencies to deal with. Behave yourself.” They went back to their stations while Fitzpatrick diligently mopped up the spilled fire-suppressant.
He looked through the inset windows to see the small prospector scout streaking away, just another ship in the flurry of activity. Fitzpatrick covered a nervous but satisfied smile and returned to his task.
In the chaos of rescuing the people trapped inside the damaged admin dome and repairing the automated ore processor, it was some time before anyone sent out prospectors to map the ring field again.
It took the Roamers four full days before they even noticed that the small ship was gone.
Chapter 99 — TASIA TAMBLYN
The EDF was swollen with pride because of the “decisive blow” they had struck against the “intractable” Roamers at Hurricane Depot. Trapped between her military service and her loyalty to her heritage, Tasia found the whole idea insufferable.
When she first heard the EDF making its bold victory announcement, like an ape beating its chest, she just stared, listening to the whistles and cheers for a numb moment. Then, without a word to her fellow soldiers, she went to her quarters feeling as though she wanted to vomit. Lying on her bunk with the lights dim, while EA stood silently in a corner, Tasia squeezed her eyes shut and wrestled with her emotions, deeply disturbed, angry, and helpless.
Since they had been roundly beaten by the hydrogues, the Big Goose had decided to turn its might against an enemy they thought they could defeat. The EDF had waved their banners, stomped down hard on the clans, and then celebrated as if the destruction of an unarmed and unsuspecting Roamer transfer station proved their valor.
Tasia now understood all too clearly why her assignment had changed recently, why she’d been relieved of her Manta, though the Eddies could ill afford