Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [93]
During his tours aboard U.S. Navy ships, Jackson had entered some of the great ports of the world, including New York, Singapore, Sydney, Rotterdam, and Hong Kong. The experience of a first-time arrival in one of those legendary places had always been moving, even awe-inspiring, but nothing in his life had prepared him for this. A quick scan showed no fewer than three dozen spaceships in motion around the mouth of the great hangar bay. A steady stream of vessels followed one another in, while another group emerged. The little shuttle joined a queue of smaller ships, approaching slowly, and in a remarkably short time Parvik had guided them into the bright interior of the massive station. The hangar bay itself was nearly a kilometer across.
The radio crackled with instructions. A traffic controller directed the shuttle to Docking Berth 0042, and the Assarn pilot easily located their parking place, nestling his little shuttle between something that looked like a flying passenger bus and a small, speedy-looking craft that reminded Jackson of a Japanese kamikaze aircraft called the Oka of World War II vintage.
Once they were secured at an air lock, Parvik released the hatch, and the four SEALS, disguised in their common workers’ garb, debarked. Passing through the connecting tube, they emerged into a concourse that reminded Jackson of nothing so much as a bustling third world airport, albeit one with zero gravity. They pulled themselves through a throng of travelers, then took hold of handles that moved them through space toward the large plazas where transport shafts would carry new arrivals out toward the rim of the station, where the artificial gravity effect would become noticeable. Here, at the hub, of course, the zero-G state was always in effect.
They had their G15s and some other equipment in several large duffels, and Parvik showed them a bank of lockers where they could store their gear while they did their recon. Jackson wasn’t happy about moving around unarmed, but he recognized that the presence of weapons or even mysterious burdens almost certainly would be enough to draw significant and highly unwanted attention. In the end, he allowed each man to hold on to a small sidearm and Teal to take along some of his medical gear. They sealed the rest of their equipment in the locker, and Parvik slid a plastic card through the slot.
“That’ll buy you the equivalent of about an Earth week’s worth of storage.” He handed the card to Jackson. “You can use this to buy food, transport, whatever you might need,” he said. “Within reason. If you try to book passage on a space-liner, you’ll probably cause a few alarms to go off.”
“Thanks,” the LT said. “I’ll save it for emergencies.” He was beginning to feel just how keenly out of his element he was.
From the hangar bay, large transport shafts extended “down” toward the outer rim of the station. Because of the rotation of the massive installation, the gravity at the rim was equivalent to about 1.2 of Earth’s. The closer one was to the hub, of course, the weaker the pull of the artificial gravity was.
About halfway down, Parvik suggested that they exit the transport lift to perform a little reconnaissance. “I have some good contacts here,” the Assarn said. “And besides, I’d like to wet my whistle.”
Jackson was eager to get on with his own intel gathering but appreciated their guide’s familiarity with the place enough to go along with the plan. When Parvik led them into a crowded tavern, he even allowed his men and himself to share a pitcher of an alien beverage that tasted remarkably like beer. The four SEALS, in their civilian coveralls, stood at a small table, rubbing elbows with many long-haired mustachioed Assarn, and waited while Parvik went into the back to speak to some people he knew. They passed the time eavesdropping on the conversations at nearby tables, most of which involved women,