Falling Free (32 page)

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A beeping from Chalopin's desk console interrupted Van Atta; aco mmtech's face appeared in the vid.

Administrator Chalopin? Comm Center here. You asked us to advise you of any change in the status of the Habitat or the D-620. They, um—appear to be preparing to leave orbit.

Put it on up here, Chalopin ordered.

The comm tech produced the flat view from the satellite again. He upped the magnification, and the Habitat-D-620 configuration half-filled the vid. The D-620's two normal-spacethru ster arms had been augmented by four of the big thruster units the quaddies used to break cargo bundles out of orbit. Even as Van Atta watched in horror, the array of engines flared into life. Stirring a glittering wake of space trash, the monstrous vehicle began to move.

Dr. Yei stood staring open-mouthed, her hands clapped to her chest, her eyes glistening strangely. Van Atta felt like weeping with rage himself.

You see—he pointed, his voice cracking, you see what all this interminable dithering has resulted in?

They're getting awa
y!

Oh, not yet,purred Dr. Yei. It will be at least a couple of days before they can possibly arrive at thew o rmhole. There is no just cause for panic. She blinked at Van Atta, went on in an almost hypnotically cloying voice, You are extremely fatigued, of course, as are we all. Fatigue invites mistakes in judgment.

You should rest—get some sleep....

His hands twitched; he burned to strangle her on the spot. The shuttleport administrator and that idiotB a nnerji were nodding, reasonable agreement. A choked growl steamed from Van Atta's throat. Every minute you wait is going to complicate our logistics—increase the range—increase the risk—

They all had the same bland stare on their faces. Van Atta didn't need his nose rubbed in it—he could recognize concerted non-cooperation when he smelled it. Damn, damn, damn! He glowered suspiciously at Yei. But his hands were tied, his authority undercut by her sweet reason. If Yei and all her ilk had their way, nobody would ever shoot anybody, and chaos would rule the universe.

He snarled inarticulately, wheeled on his heel, and stalked out.

Claire woke without yet opening her eyes, snugged in her sleep sack. The exhaustion that had drenched her at the end of last shift was slow to ebb from her limbs. She could not hear Andy stirring yet; good, a brief respite before diaper change. In ten minutes she would wake him, and they would exchange services; he relieving her tingling breasts of milk, the milk relieving his hungry tummy—moms need babes, she thought sleepily,as much as babes need moms, an interlocking design, two individuals sharing one biological system... so the quaddies shared the technological system of the Habitat, each dependent on all the others. . . .

Dependent on her work, too. What was next?

Germination boxes, grow tubes—no, she could not yank grow tubes around today, today was Acceleration Day—her eyes sprang open. And widened in joy-Tony! she breathed. How long have you been here?

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Been watching you abou' fifteen minutes. You sleep pretty. Can I come in? He hung in air, dressed again in his familiar, comfortable red T-shirt and shorts, watching her in the half-light of her chamber. Gotta tie down anyway, acceleration's about to start.

Already . . . ?She wriggled aside and made room for him, entwining all their arms, touching his face and the alarming bandage still wrapping his torso. Are you all right?

All right now, he sighed happily. Lying there, in that hospital—well, I didn't expect anyone to come after me. Horrible risk to you—not worth it! He nuzzled her hair.

We talked about it, the risk. But we couldn't leave you. Us quaddies—we've got to stick together. She was fully awake now, reveling in his physical reality, muscled hands, bright eyes, fuzzy blond brows.

Losing you would have diminished us, Leo said, and not just genetically. We have to be a people now, not just Claire and Tony and Silver and Siggy—and Andy—Iguess it's what Leo calls 'synergistic.' We're something synergistic now.

A strange vibration purred through the walls of her chamber. She hitched around to scoop Andy out of his sleep restraints beside her, and fold him to her with her upper hands while still holding Tony's lowers with her lowers, under the sleep sack's cover. Andy squeaked, lips smacking, and fell back to sleep.

Slowly, gently, her shoulderblades began to press against the wall.

We're on our way, she whispered. It's starting. . ..

It's holding together, Tony observed in wonder. They clung to each other. Wanted to be with you, at this moment....

She let the acceleration have her, laying her head against the wall, cushioning Andy on her chest.

Something went
clunk
in her cupboard; she'd check it later.

This is the way to travel, sighed Tony. Beats stowing away....

It's going to be strange, without GalacTech,said Claire after a while. Just us quaddies . . . what will Andy's world be like, I wonder?

That'll be up to us, I guess, said Tony soberly. That's almost scarier than downsiders with guns, y'know?

Freedom. Huh. He shook his head. Not like I'd pictured it.

Yei's suggested sleep was out of the question. Morosely, Van Atta returned not to his living quarters, but to his own downside office. He had not checked in there for a couple of weeks. It was about midnight now, ShuttleportThree time; his downside secretary was off-shift. It suited his foul humor to sulk alone.

After about twenty minutes spent muttering to himself in the dim light, he decided to scan his accumulated electronic mail. His usual office routine had gone to pot these last few weeks anyway, and of course the events of the last two days had blown it entirely to hell. Perhaps a dose of boring routine would calm him enough to consider sleep after all.

Obsoletem emos, out-of-date requests for instructions, irrelevant progress reports—the quaddie downside barracks, he noted with a grim snort, was advertised as ready for occupancy at fifteen percent
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over budget. If he could catch any quaddies to put in them. Instructions from HQviz wrapping up the Cay Project, unsolicited advice upon salvage and disposal of its various parts . . .

Van Atta stopped abruptly, and backed up two screens on his vid. What had that said again?

Item: Post-fetal experimental tissue cultures.Quantity: 1000.Disposition: cremation byI GS StandardBiol ab Rules.

He checked the source of the order. No, it hadn't come through Apmad's office, as he'd first guessed. It came from General Accounting Inventory Control, part of a long computer-generated list including a variety of lab stores. The order was signed by a human, though, some unknown middle manager in the GAI C back on Earth.

By damn, Van Atta swore softly, I don't think this twit even knows what quaddies
are.
The order had been signed some weeks before.

He read the opening paragraph again.
The Project Chief will oversee the termination of this project
with all due speed. The quick release of personnel for other assignments is particularly desirabl
e.

You
are authorized to make whatever temporary requisitions of material or personnel from
adjacent divisions you require to complete this termination by 6/1.

After another minute his lips drew back in a furious grin. Carefully, he pulled the precious message disc from the machine, pocketed it, and left to go find Chalopin. He hoped he might rout her out of bed.

Aren't you about done out there yet? Ti's taut voice crackled through Leo's worksuit comm.

One last weld, Ti,Leo answered. Check that alignment one more time, Tony.

Tony waved a gloved hand in acknowledgement and ran the optical laser check up the line that the electron beam welder would shortly follow. You're clear, Pramod,he called, and moved aside.

The welder advanced in its tracks across the work-piece, stitching a flange for the last clamp to hold the new vortex mirror in place in its housing. A light on the beam welder's top flashed from red to green, it shut itself off, and Pramod moved in to detach it. Bobbi floated up immediately behind to check the weld with a sonic scan. It's good, Leo. It'll hold.

All right. Clear the stuff out and bring the mirror in.

His quaddies movedf ast. Within minutes the vortex mirror was fitted into its insulated clamps, its alignment checked. All right, gang. Let's move back and let Ti run the smoke test.

Smoke test? Ti's voice came over the comm. What's that? I thought you wanted a ten-percent power-up.

It's an ancient and honorable term for the final step in any engineering project,Leo explained. Turn it on, see if it smokes.

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I should have guessed, Ti choked. How very scientific.

Use is always the ultimate test. But power-up slowly, eh? Gently does it. We've got a delicate lady here.

You've said that about eight or ten times, Leo. Is that sucker in spec or out?

In. On the surface, anyway. But the internal crystalline structure of the titanium—well, it just isn't as controlled as it would have been in a normal fabrication.

Is it
in
spec or
out? I'm
not going to Jump a thousand people to their deaths, dammit. Especially if I'm included.

In, in, Leo spoke through his teeth. But just—don't horse it around, huh? For the sake of my blood pressure, if nothing else.

Ti muttered something; it might have been,
Screw your blood pressure,
but Leo wasn't sure. He didn't ask for a repeat.

Leo and his quaddie work gang gathered their equipment and jetted a safe distance from the Necklin rod arm. They hung a hundred meters or so above Home. The light of Rodeo's sun was pale and sharp here within an hour of the wormhole Jump point; more than a bright star, but far less than the nuclear furnace that had warmed the Habitat in Rodeo orbit. Leo seized the moment to gaze upon their cobbled-together colony ship from this rare exterior vantage. Over a hundred modules had finally been bundled together along the ship's axis, all carrying on—more or less—their previous functions. Damned if the design didn't look almost intended, in a lunatic-functional sort of way. It reminded Leo a bit of the thrilling ugliness ofthe early space probes of the Twentieth and Twenty-first Centuries.

Miraculously, it had held together under two days' steady acceleration and deceleration. Inevitably items here and there Inside had been found to have been overlooked. The younger quaddies had crawled about bravely, cleaning up; Nutrition had managed to get everyone fed something, though the menu was a trifle random; thanks to yeoman efforts on the part of the young airsystems maintenance supervisor who had stayed on and his quaddie work gang, they no longer had to cease accelerating periodically for the plumbing to work. For a while Leo had been convinced the potty stops were going to be the death of them all, not that he hadn't grabbed the opportunities himself for the final touching-up on their vortex mirror.

See any smoke? Ti's voice inquired in his ear.

Nope.

That's it, then. You people better get your asses Inside. And as soon as you've got everything nailed down, Leo, I'd appreciate it if you'd come up to Nav and Com.

Something in the timbre of Ti's voice chilled Leo. Oh? What's up?

There's a Security shuttle closing on us from Rodeo. Your old buddy Van Atta's aboard,and ordering us to halt and desist. I don't think there's much time left.

You're still maintainingco mmsilence, I trust?

Oh, yeah, sure. But that doesn't prevent me from listening, eh? There's a lot of chatter from the Jump
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Station—but that doesn't worry me as much as what's coming up from behind. I, um . . . don't think Van Atta handles frustration too well.

On edge, is he?

Over the edge, I think. Those Security shuttles are armed, y'know. And a lot faster than this monster in normal space. Just' cause their lasers are classed as' light weaponry'doesn't mean it's exactly healthy to stand around in front of' em. I'd just as soon Jump
before
they got in range.

I read you.Leo waved his work gang toward the entry hatch to the worksuit locker module.

So it was coming at last. Leo had devised a dozen defenses in his mind, upended beam welders, explosive mines, for the long-anticipated physical confrontation with GalacTech employees trying to retake the Habitat. But all his time had been gobbled up by the vortex mirror, and as a result only the most instant of weapons, such as the beam welders, were now available, and even they would have no use Indoors in a boarding battle. He could just picture one missing its target and slicing through a wall into an adjoining creche module. Hand-to-hand in free fell the quaddies might have some advantage; weapons cancelled that, being more dangerous to the defenders than the attackers. It all depended on what kind of attack Van Atta launched. And Leo hated depending on Van Atta.

Van Atta swore into the commone last time, then dealt theoff key an angry blow. He had run out of fresh invective hours before, and was conscious of repeating himself. He turned from the comm console and glowered around the Security shuttle's control compartment.

The pilot and co-pilot, up front, were busy about their work. Bannerji, commanding the force, and Dr.

Yei—and how had she inserted herself into this expedition, anyway?—were strapped to their accelerati on couches, Yei in the engineer's seat, Bannerji holding down the weapons console across the aisle from Van Atta.

That's it, then, snapped Van Atta. Are we in range for the lasers yet?

Bannerji checked a readout. Not quite.

Please, said Dr. Yei, let me try to talk to them just once more—

If they're half as sick of the sound of your voice as I am, they're not going to answer, growled Van Atta.

You've spent hours talking to them. Face it—they're not
listening
any more, Yei. So much for psychology.

The Security sergeant, Fors, stuck his head through from the rear compartment where he rode with his twenty-six fellow GalacTech guards. What's the word, Captain Bannerji? Should we suit up for boarding yet?