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RUHGER SHOOK HIS HEAD. While fun, this was probably fatally stupid. Almost certainly guaranteed to fail. But Chief and the rest of the crew endorsed the plan, and Katryn said she could do her part, so off they went. It was better than waiting for Phalanx Eagle or the station to fire on them. At least they managed to keep their plan secret from the pararescue team. Chief planned to tell the Gov Human operatives only if there was serious trouble. Demands for information would be met with silence.
“Got ‘em,” Grant said. “Seriously Sirius Fuel, flying out of Sirius Fuel Station Three, in the outer orbits. We can easily fly Alpha or Beta shuttle there, or even Lightwave, but Lightwave would take longer and require clearance from local Sirius authorities.”
“Excellent,” Chief said. “Saree, can you pull up the fuel status through the Time Guild clock interface?”
“No.” She scowled. “I’ve looked everywhere, but it’s not something the Time Guild cares about. It’s not their problem if the clock doesn’t stay in the right orbit.”
“I think I might have it,” Katryn said. “I’m going to work backward from Seriously Sirius—by the Mother, that’s a ridiculous name. Their net security is terrible.”
Tyron said, “They’ve got lots of warnings from Sirius Fold Control about losing their fueling contract if they don’t tighten their net security. They seem completely unconcerned.” Tyron shook his head slowly. “Big red flag there. Probably a Familia or other crime syndicate connection.”
Grant said, “Yes. Familia. It’s not even hidden. Fortunately, it’s not Borgia’s family.”
“Good,” Chief said. “We don’t need that.”
Ruhger bent down to whisper in Saree’s ear. “Are you sure?”
She scowled up at him. “Yes. It’s not rocket science.”
Ruhger huffed a chuckle. “It could be if things go wrong.”
Saree rolled her eyes and went back to poking at her holo.
Ruhger assumed she was using the Time Guild interface, but he didn’t know for sure. Could be “Oregon Trail” for all he knew. How did the Old Earth game survive the eons?
“All right, I think I’ve got Sirius Fold Control convinced we can get the clock tuned,” Grant said. “They’re desperate, so they’re not asking questions. They were shocked when the Sa’sa Warriors arrived with the Laniakea Fleet, and they know Gov Human’s normal pull with the Sa’sa is small, so they’re willing to believe it’s us.” Grant snorted. “Well, us masquerading as Gov Human Pararescue Five. Knew those guys would come in handy eventually.”
Ruhger laughed, but shut his mouth when everyone turned to stare at him. “What?”
“I wasn’t sure you knew how to laugh. I think you’ve laughed exactly once in my presence,” Saree said.
His crew laughed in return. Ruhger scowled at them. It wasn’t that unusual. “All right, let’s focus. We know the Gov Human military station is too far out to support us; the few good firing solutions they have on PE’s folder will damage other ships. Is Sirius Fold Control really going to take out Phalanx Eagle?”
Grant sobered. “They say yes, but not until the clock is updated. They don’t really believe we can do it.”
“Okay, so we implement the plan immediately,” Chief said. “Ruhger, you and Saree get the orbits planned. Katryn and Tyron, get us access. Grant, get us a shuttle fueling dock at Station Three and keep Sirius updated by relaying communications supposedly from the Time Guild. Loreli, lunch would be much appreciated.”
Ruhger dropped into the seat next to Saree. “You plan the Beta shuttle orbit to Sirius Fueling Station Three and Lightwave’s orbit to the assigned fold point. I’ll plan Beta shuttle’s return from the fuel station to Lightwave using a factor of twenty-two hours for the trip from the fuel station to the clock and eighteen for the return. Concur?”
Saree nodded. “Agreed.” She swept something up and got busy.
Ruhger did a rough plan for Beta shuttle, subject to the actual orbits developed by Saree. He pulled up a diagram of Sirius Fuel Station Three and surveyed it. There was only one public area on the station, a waiting area with a couple of small fast food shops, a bar, and a sleep hostel. There was no public access beyond the waiting area, and worker access was highly controlled. So, outside was the only option. That would extend their travel in open space unless Katryn could copy worker passes. It would be a long, boring trip no matter what.
“Sand fleas!” Katryn said. “Company. Looks like Los got curious about what we were doing and wormed his way into our outside comms. I’ve got him blocked, but they got Grant’s comms with Sirius. They know something is going on.”
“Blast and rad,” Ruhger muttered. “Why couldn’t they mind their own business for once?”
“Because you are our business,” Porter said, striding into the command center like she owned it.
Ruhger rose in support of Saree and Chief, glaring at Porter.
“Let’s remember, Chief Master Sergeant Porter, who’s in charge and who’s support,” Saree said, ice coating her voice like the backside of a methane moon. “If I want you to know something, I’ll tell you.”
Porter narrowed her eyes at Saree. Saree stared back. Porter harrumphed and looked away first, but it was a strategic retreat, not a surrender. “Look, it’s not just my job and reputation on the line if something happens to you, but my pararescue team’s reputation and Gov Human’s.”
“They should have thought of that before they left,” Saree said.
“No doubt. Still, we might be able to help, did you consider that?” Porter said.
“Yes, we did,” Saree said. “You’ll try to take over, change the plan, and you’ll screw it up. You’ve done it before. It’s my job we’re talking about here, not yours.” She stared coldly at Porter. “You don’t know everything about me or my job and you’re not going to know. You have no need to know. So, if you really want to help, you’ll be doing so on my terms or not at all.”
Porter scowled and mouthed something that looked like a disgusted “baby officers.”
Ruhger chuckled.
Porter turned her glare on him and Ruhger simply stared back.
“Fine. You’re in charge. Now, what’s your grand plan?”
Saree turned to Chief. “Please tell her, Chief.”
Chief bowed slightly toward her. “Certainly, Clutch Leader.” He faced Porter with a tiny sneer. “As you overheard, Grant has negotiated update of the Sirius Fold Frequency Standard in exchange for protection from Phalanx Eagle, including offensive action if necessary. That’s what we’re doing.”
“How are you doing that without exposing the Clutch Leader?” Porter asked. Impressively, she didn’t mock the title.
“We’re making the clock enclosure’s fuel status look nearly empty. The company with the contract will send a refueler. Ruhger, Saree and Tyron will fly Beta shuttle to Fuel Station Three. Ruhger and Saree will exit Beta shuttle in hardsuits, and attach themselves to the refueling shuttle. While the fuel is being loaded, Saree will tune the clocks, then they’ll hitch back, return to Beta shuttle and rejoin Lightwave.”
“Riding outside a shuttle that long is really risky,” Porter said.
“Yes, it is,” Chief agreed. “But there are too many sensors here to spoof easily. Familia sensors as well as Sirius and every known oxygen breathing species.”
Porter smiled a little. “Do you remember how close we got to Lightwave before you spotted us?”
Ruhger’s stomach sank even while relief coursed through him, the competing emotions churning.
Chief said, “Yes. Will your shuttle cloaking withstand all of Sirius’s sensors and the Familia ones too?”
“Yes, it will, but even if it doesn’t, a Gov Human shuttle flying to the clock makes sense, while a private one doesn’t.” Porter smiled triumphantly. “I propose we fold to Antlia, fold back to Sirius as a Gov Human folder, then fly the Clobbered Turkey to the clock. You do your job, Clutch Leader, then we return to Antlia. That should cover everyone nicely.”
Ruhger held back a grimace. “Great cover, but how does Lightwave survive to fold out? We need to get out there and update the clock now, so Sirius Fold Control takes care of Phalanx Eagle for us. Before PE gets a good orbit for a shot at us or another PE folder or two shows up and takes us out with close-quarters shuttle battles or some other maneuver that doesn’t threaten anyone but Lightwave. Right now, we can adjust Lightwave’s orbit to use the other stations and ships for shields. Even PE isn’t dumb enough to threaten unrelated ships and stations just to get us. But add in another PE folder or two and we can’t maneuver enough to avoid all of them. So, you can either fly the Clutch Leader to and from the clock in stealth mode or we use the original plan.”
Porter shook her head. “No. We can’t stay cloaked that long. It uses too much power and we can’t shed enough heat.”
Chief said, “I propose you and Saree implement the first part of the original plan. Fly to the fuel station, get on the outside of the fueler and go along for the ride. Then, once you’re there, do the job and stay there. The Clobbered Turkey does the pickup. The Turkey leaves Lightwave right now, flies to Gianni Station, then to the clock.”
“What if...” Saree trailed off, staring blankly ahead.
“If?” Ruhger prompted after a minute.
“What if we leave Lightwave in the Clobbered Turkey, go to the fueling station, hijack the fueler, fly to the clock, the Clobbered Turkey shadowing in an outside, parallel orbit, falling behind as you go, then we release the fueler and crew at the clock after I update it?”
“They’ll think you’re a terrorist, that you’ve planted a bomb,” Porter said. “They’ll really freak out when they can’t find anything.”
“Too bad we don’t have a Sa’sa suit,” Grant said. “Then we could pull the same trick we did on Mensa and the refueler crew wouldn’t assume we were terrorists. They’d assume we were Clockers.”
Saree glared at Grant for the name. He mouthed “Sorry” at her and half-shrugged. But it wouldn’t work anyway. “Most of us are too tall to fit in a Sa’sa costume. The Sa’sa are short. Katryn could. I might fit in a particularly tall one, but you guys? No way.”
“Point,” Grant said.
“But we only need one suit, one big enough for you, Saree, right?” Porter asked.
“Yes. I’m the only one who needs to be in the clock. I’m the only one who should be in the clock.”
Porter smiled. “So, we make one. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just good enough. Maybe one that fits over your soft armor? Then the rest of us tell the fueler crew that we found this Sa’sa in an escape pod, but it was still alive and it’s adopted us.” As Porter spoke, her voice dropped dramatically and her eyes widened. “Enough dead Sa’sa have been found across the universe in the last few standard years that it’s believable.”
Ruhger broke in. “We found one a couple of standard years ago. Just after the Clutch Leader joined us the first time.” He turned to Saree. “Any idea why?”
Saree shook her head, her expression troubled. “No. Although, when I talked to the Sa’sa, they kept referring to ‘memory banks’ deposited across the universe. But you didn’t find any chips or other equipment, right?”
Ruhger shook his head. “No. Nothing but the dead Sa’sa.”
Saree shook her head again, slower. “I must be missing something in translation. If the dead Sa’sa are related to memory banks, I don’t know how.”
Ruhger said, “Well, it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is I don’t think a Sa’sa suit over your hardsuit will work. Too bulky.”
Porter said, “It would over her soft armor.”
“Trying to get her killed? That’s not safe enough for this kind of risky mission.”
“But it might work, better than anything else we’ve come up with,” Saree said, notably lacking any enthusiasm.
Tyron said, “What if, rather than riding on the outside of the fueler, we break in, knock out everyone with gas, then Doc can give them something that makes them drunk? If Los can get a team into one of Phalanx Eagle’s folders, he or Katryn ought to be able to get us into a fuel hauler unnoticed.”
Porter said, “But we were noticed.” She grimaced. “That’s why we were under attack from the start. We missed a sensor.”
Tyron said, “But a fueler, especially this fueler, shouldn’t be that secure.”
Katryn replied, “Actually, it is. I’ve been digging. Seems they’ve been hijacked before and they’re not happy with the loss of credits. So, there’s quite a bit of physical security on their shuttle exteriors and hatches and they’re well-armed. I’m not sure any of these schemes will work.”
Porter said, “What if we have a Gov Human courier shuttle from Gianni Station fly out and meet us on our way to the clock? When we meet, they latch on the Turkey, we turn all our comms off and ‘disappear,’ but the courier flies on to the clock. Then you update it and we leave.”
“There’s no reason for a Gov Human courier to go to the clock. It will raise more questions,” Grant said.
A thought hit Ruhger. “Wait a minute. Tyron, didn’t you say Gov Human was unhappy with Seriously Sirius Fuel?”
Tyron nodded sharply. “Yes. They’ve been warned and fined, but they do nothing. Neither does Gov Human.”
Ruhger smiled. “What organization does the inspections? And is there an enforcement arm? Or a higher-level entity the inspectors refer problems to?” Familia connections were short-circuiting that report, probably.
Tyron grinned. “Why, yes, there is.”
“Then I know what to do.” Ruhger turned to Porter. “Do you have a contact with the Gov Human couriers? Preferably not from Gianni Station or the military station. My plan will be easier with one of the small courier ships and your help, but you’ll make Gov Human in Sirius seriously angry.” He almost laughed at the name reversal.
Porter snorted. “What else is new? If it works, no one will care except these free-loading oxygen breathers, and who cares about them? And if it doesn’t? We’ll be dead.”
“Or worse,” Saree muttered under her breath. She turned toward him. “Let’s hear it.”
Oh yes, this would work perfectly.
#
SAREE GRIMACED. TWO more people—no, more than that including the people Porter talked to in the Gov Human Sirius Defense Force—knowing she was a human fold clock maintainer. Well, they didn’t “know,” but it would be pretty obvious when she was done. Why else would she go to the clock? The cover story they’d come up with, leaving a thank-you gift for the clutch, was weak. So many people already knew, now they’d add a few more. Soon, it wouldn’t be a secret at all. Suns.
Still, Ruhger’s plan was better than anything else they’d come up with, and better a Gov Human intelligence operative knew her secret than the flunkies on Gianni Station, firmly under Familia’s control. She tapped an allegro rhythm. Flying as a passenger in Clobbered Turkey was annoying. Too much time to think. Especially all the way to the Gov Human station, and now to the clock. Still, this plan would work. They’d fly, PE would be destroyed, Lightwave would fold out and disappear, and everything would go back to normal. Or as normal as Saree’s life got.
Fisk said, “I show you secure, Greyhound Five. Just stay there, everything spun up but no thrust, and take a nap.”
“Clean and green. Gonna let us onboard or tell us what’s going on?”
“No.”
“Copy that, Clobbered Turkey. Nap time it is.”
“Turkey’s transponder and comms off,” Los said.
“Thrust for target orbit,” Porter snapped.
“Thrust engaged,” Fisk said.
“Cloaking on,” Porter ordered.
“Cloaking engaged,” Pits said. “Turkey cloaked, Greyhound open.”
“Heat load?” Porter asked.
“Simulations show approximately two hours to yellow heat build-up, navigation predicts twenty hours to clock,” Fisk replied.
Porter spun her chair around to face them. “May as well get some sleep. With our cloaking on, surveillance shouldn’t see anything but the small two-person courier. All the surveillance will tag us as that, and if our orbit never deviates from the planned orbit, they won’t look at us closely again. Even when the cloaking is off, they’ll have us tagged and none of the Station or Familia sensors will notice we’re bigger.” She shrugged. “It’s a weakness of theirs, but with all the traffic in Sirius, they really can’t continuously close surveil every ship. Not enough manpower, not enough sensors.” She turned back and stood. “Fisk, cloaking off at yellow heat or first sign of other issues. Wake me for anything unusual. You’ve got command of the Turkey. Clutch Leader Saree outranks us both.” Her shoulders stiffened at her last words, but no other sign of distaste or disdain showed. Porter strode off to a hatch labeled “Quarters.”
Next to her, Ruhger and Grant reclined their seats and closed their eyes. All of them wore soft armor, patches proclaiming them “Gov Human Inspector General” plastered across their left arms, a Laniakea Fleet patch on the right. Scannable identity tags decorated their chests. Good thing the pararescue team had a supply of various identity tags ready and waiting. Evidently, impersonating their own forces was fairly common. Saree reclined her own seat and stared at the ceiling. Certainly, Gianni Station and everyone else would wonder why a courier flew to the clock. Porter’s contact with Gov Human intelligence was spreading the “Clocker gift” rumor. Would anyone believe it? “Everyone” knew the Sa’sa liked gemstones and the intel operative flashed a shiny piece at a gossipy acquaintance to lend credence to the story. Saree chuckled. Maybe someday, she’d find a gift waiting at a clock for her.
But more likely, she’d find someone waiting to capture her.
Saree shook away the thought and meditated into sleep.
“Greyhound Five, Gianni Station orbit control.”
Saree blinked and consulted her time sense. Eight-point-two hours later. After she’d fallen asleep, it was deep and dreamless. A nice change. Maybe she should sleep on the Turkey more often.
“Greyhound Five, go ahead, Gianni Station,” Pits said.
“Greyhound, your flight plan shows the fold clock as your destination. Is that correct?”
Pits smirked. “Yes, it is, Gianni Station. Got a thank-you gift from General Kerr to the Sa’sa.”
“Ah. Makes sense, since she’s the reason they have to come back.”
“Generals make their own rules, Gianni.”
“Too true. Is it a shiny package?”
“Don’t know, Gianni; couriers never know.” Pits smirked.
“Too bad. If we knew what it was, we could swap it out for something... more to their taste. Make a few credits off the deal.”
“Not gonna happen, Gianni.”
“Ah, well. Hey, manifest shows you with a lot of beings onboard a tiny courier. What else is going on?”
“Courier, remember? I just do what I’m told.” Pits winked at Fisk. “Package, inspectors, doesn’t matter to me, they’re all less fuel I can carry and more bother.”
Saree smiled and mouthed “good job” to Pits. She’d worked in the inspector part perfectly.
“Inspectors, Greyhound?”
“Yes, Gianni. Gov Human Inspector General, out of Antlia.”
A muttered curse sounded. “I see. Not much fun for you.”
“Never is, Gianni, never is.”
“Safe folds, Greyhound. Gianni Station out.”
“Thanks. You too, Gianni. Greyhound out.” Pits swept off the comms connection and double-checked to make sure it was off. When she looked up and grinned at Fisk, the rest of them applauded. Pits stood and took a bow.
“Perfect,” Porter said, strolling up from the crew quarters. “Great job. Any other issues?”
Fisk shook his head. “Quiet as a tomb.”
Porter nodded. “Excellent. Get some sleep, you two. I’ve got command, Los will run second for me.” Los exited the crew quarters and headed to the galley.
“See you in eight,” Fisk said and walked away, Pits on his heels.
“Sleep okay?” Porter asked them.
“Like a rock,” Grant answered with a grin. “You?”
“Same. Los is getting coffee and breakfast.” Porter took her seat and swept through screens.
Ruhger stood and moved to the rear, and moved into a y’ga routine. Saree watched, admiring the perfection of his form even while wearing soft armor. Granted, he wasn’t doing any of the really hard moves, but if he did, they’d probably still be perfect. Saree snorted softly. Movement caught her eye and she turned back to the front. Porter was watching Ruhger too, admiration and something more in her face. When she noticed Saree looking at her, she turned back.
Saree got up to move a little herself, pacing around the Clobbered Turkey’s relatively roomy operations center. Grant rolled on his side and appeared to go back to sleep. But when Los came out leading a big float cart with food and drinks, Grant was at the conference table first.
“Los! You’re the man!” Grant exclaimed.
Los said, “Sure I am, as long as I have food. Help yourselves, Gentle Beings.” He unloaded dishes, and Saree hurried over to help him. Ruhger finished his y’ga and joined them when Porter did. Doc entered from the hatch marked “Medico,” yawning profusely.
Saree sipped from a keep-warm cup. Coffee, a little weak and bitter, but still coffee.
“I know it’s not a Chef Loreli feast, but...” Los shrugged.
“That’s okay; nobody but Loreli can do that,” Saree said. She scooped up some sort of hot grain mash and spooned a fruit jam on it. “A hot meal is much better than I expected.”
“Enjoy it now, because the next one is likely to be meal packs,” Porter said. “Well, maybe the one after that. We’ll see.”
They ate. Saree enjoyed the food and thanked Los after. She also helped cleanup, which got her a grateful, if somewhat incredulous smile.
Doc left the main area first. “Thanks, Los. I needed that. Borgia is a big black hole.” He chuckled. “At least with the Al-Kindi family back in their shuttle, I can sleep in my own bed. See you in few.” Doc waved over his shoulder and he secured the Medico hatch.
Grant pulled out a deck of cards, Ruhger and Los joined him and Porter walked back to the control center. Saree brought up a book.
“Greyhound Five, K9 Station.”
What did the Gov Human station want?
Los swept up his comms and accepted the request, walking to the control center where Porter sat. “Go ahead, K9.”
“Greyhound, picking up some chatter. Check secure.”
“Wilco. Thanks, K9.” Porter poked at her holo and put it in privacy mode. So did Los. They sat close and poked at their holos, then stilled, reading.
“Blast!” Porter said. “Reengage the cloaking—no, belay that. Too late.”
“Double-cross?” Ruhger asked.
“Of course. But not for the reason we thought. We got too clever. Gianni Station is going to take us out and blame it on PE, because they don’t want inspectors at the fold clock.”
“Suns, they must be doing something really bad out there,” Grant said.
“I’m wondering how they think that will work,” Ruhger asked. “A laser coming from a lower orbit instead of a high one is pretty obvious.”
Grant snort-laughed. “Once we’re dead, who’s telling? Nobody wants to die taking on Familia.”
“Point.” Ruhger nodded.
“They’re not using station lasers,” Porter said. “They’ve got an ancient fuel-hauler rigged to have a little thruster accident, sending it straight into us. They’ll say it was a PE shuttle.”
“Nice,” Los said.
“When?” Ruhger asked. “We know; we can evade.”
“They don’t know the timing, but it doesn’t matter. Station lasers are the backup.” Porter grimaced.
“Ah. Can we get Gov Human to tell them that’s a really stupid plan and a good way to die?”
“Yes. The message is going via back channels now, but...” Porter shrugged.
Wait a nanosecond. Saree asked Porter, “But we’re not in a parallel orbit to Gianni, right?”
“No, we’re not.” Porter grimaced. “But they have some good firing solutions coming up. We can avoid one or two, but eventually, they’ll get us. Or a Familia shuttle will. There’s several jockeying for position now.”
“Suns,” Saree muttered. “There’s got to be a way to deal with this.”
Chief’s face appeared on the shuttle’s big screen. “There’s no indication of our actions on Gianni Station are connected with your current actions, right? No one’s put the pieces together?”
“Not that we know of.”
“With Greyhound attached, can you cloak them too?”
“Yes, for shorter periods.”
“Will you give Ruhger access to your surveillance and nav?” Chief asked. “No one has his eye for orbits. He can find a way to shift orbits just enough to minimize your exposure, then you cloak for the short timeframes you’re exposed to Gianni. Meanwhile, Katryn and Los go full-scale net attack on Gianni. And we tell Sirius Fold Control we have evidence Familia is using the clock for some nefarious purpose. Then the two stations can fight it out, hopefully verbally rather than with lasers, and Sirius will protect us from the Familia shuttles launching. They know Greyhound is headed there with the ‘gift,’ and updating the clock is more important than whatever Familia is doing.”
Saree butted in. “That exposes the whole scheme to Familia.”
Porter waved her concerns away. “They’re going to know shortly anyway. It’s not a secret once more than one person—” she grimaced at Ruhger’s glower “—or one family unit knows something.”
“Sirius Fold Control could threaten to stop all Familia message pods from folding,” Chief said. “That ought to get them thinking twice.”
“They can’t enforce that, can they?” Saree asked.
Porter shook her head. “No. But they can fine anyone who doesn’t comply. Since those corporations and families all have ties to Sirius, like stations or planet holdings, it’s a real threat.” She twisted her mouth, staring at nothing.
Ruhger let her think. She knew a lot about the politics here. More than he did.
“Okay.” Porter nodded sharply. “Los, give Ruhger permissions for our nav and surveillance. Let him figure the best orbital shifts. Then, we show Greyhound’s pilot how Familia is targeting him and let him handle comms with Sirius Station. The Gov Human to Gov Human should be more realistic.”
Grant said, “You’re Gov Human.”
Porter shrugged. “We work outside the system most of the time. Besides, Greyhound is local. They know each other, by reputation if nothing else.”
Chief said, “Sounds reasonable. I’ll get Katryn working on Gianni’s net. Do you want Los in on that?”
Porter said, “Yes. They can target twice as many systems that way. I’ll have Ruhger and Saree here as shuttle pilots, so we’re good.” She motioned to them. “Come on up, strap in. Get familiar with this shuttle. Remember we’ve got another shuttle attached, so one of our maneuvering thrusters is blocked. The computer compensates.”
Ruhger huffed. “I can do it better.”
Porter snorted. “I’m sure you can. Get to it, while I talk to Greyhound.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Porter rolled her eyes. “I’m not a ma’am; I work for a living. And this isn’t the Old Earth Navy.”
“Okay, I need DNA from both of you,” Los said. “Put your hand here.” He pointed and Saree put her hand down, wincing slightly at the bite of the sampler. But a tiny pinch on the hand was far better than obliteration from a laser. Would they make it to the clock? They had a long way to fly and they’d become more and more exposed as their orbits grew larger. But the station lasers would become less effective too. They had a chance. That was all they could hope for.