No Surrender - Jeff Mariotte [6]
“I’ll have sickbay ready to receive whatever we can take,” Elizabeth Lense said, watching the station spin and flop in space. “Hopefully there’ll be some medical staff there as well, and if their infirmary is in any kind of shape at all, we might decide to bring staff over. Casualties are likely to be in the hundred percent range.”
“One would have to be strapped in pretty tight in order to not be injured,” Sonya agreed. “And even then, we’re likely to see the most extreme cases of motion sickness in the history of the universe.”
“Is it too late to back out of this one?” Fabian Stevens asked, a half-smile on his face. “Because seeing that much vomit is bound to upset my stomach.”
“Much too late, Fabian,” Sonya replied. “Just bring a scented hankie. And an entrenching tool.”
Stevens made a face, but kept his mouth shut, which was the result Sonya had been aiming for.
“What about getting onto the station?” Vance Hawkins asked. “Given all the difficulties you’ve outlined for us.”
Sonya turned to Kieran, sitting beside her in spite of Captain Gold’s recommendation. “Mr. Duffy and I have been working on that, and we’ve come up with a plan.”
Kieran had been waiting for his cue. “Here’s what we’ll do….”
* * *
Fabian Stevens had only been half-joking in the meeting. Now, floating through space in an environmental suit, watching the surface of the prison platform slip past the windows of his helmet, he felt his stomach lurch. Conventional wisdom said to focus on a fixed point when in zero-g conditions to avoid space sickness, but the way the platform spun, there were no fixed points to be had.
He had to admit that the plan Duffy and Gomez had thought of was a good one—simple, like the best ideas were, and, so far at least, effective. The away team had been transported, in environmental suits, into space near the runaway station. The theory was that individuals would be too small to set off the automated defense mechanisms, and could make their way to access hatches and get inside. The transporter had dispersed them across a fairly wide range so that the automated systems didn’t read the lot of them as one object, which meant some would have to travel farther than others across the platform’s surface. But with the magnetic boots of their environmental suits, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.
He was currently less than three meters from the platform, and closing. It was the closing part that was a little intimidating—the platform hurtled past his face at an incredible speed. Making contact was going to be somewhat like jumping out of a moving vehicle at top speed, earthside. Which, he thought, isn’t something I’d ordinarily do by choice.
As he rushed toward impact, he heard Corsi’s voice, via communicator. She didn’t sound happy. “Ooof! Watch out for the—”
Then he was there, reaching out with his gloved hands for a protrusion that looked like a good handhold. It rose past his helmet, but he managed to get a grip on it with one hand. With his other, he touched the button on the control panel on his left thigh to activate the magnetic boots. His body rammed into the station, the shock absorbed only partly by his suit and mostly by his own skeleton, which would, he was sure, ache in the morning. But his magnetized feet came into solid contact with the platform’s skin, and he let go of the protrusion, the purpose of which was still uncertain. Standing, he felt somewhat better. He knew that he was still spinning and flipping around in space, but he was moving with his main visual reference instead of in opposition to it.
“—the landing,” Corsi continued.
A little late, Fabian thought.
But no later than he remembered what that protrusion he’d been clinging to had to be. A panel slid back, and he realized he was looking into