To The Stars (The Harry Irons Trilogy) (2 page)
Read To The Stars (The Harry Irons Trilogy) Online
Authors: Thomas Stone
"What?"
"You didn't specify what kind of trouble you were having." She looked past him. "Where are the others?"
"They didn't make it." He stepped past her and guided himself to the navigator's position.
"What do you mean they didn't make it?"
"Just that. We ran into something we couldn't handle. Povich and Carter made some poor choices and died for it."
"Povich and Carter? Dead? What happened?"
"There was some kind of alien machine. I've never seen anything like it. We landed okay and set up the equipment -- I've got plenty of data to download -- then Povich wandered off. We found her, but we also found these other things. Povich wouldn't follow orders. I don't know what happened to her. But one of those things got Carter. There was nothing I could do."
Fagen lapsed into silence. He began to punch navigational coordinates into the computer.
Collenz stared at the commander and shook her head. "That won't wash with the people at corporate. We have a directive explicitly stating no crew member, dead or alive, is to be left behind on an exploratory mission. Why didn't you consult me?"
Fagen pounded the console with his fist. "There wasn't time!"
"So, because you felt you couldn't help them, you decided to save your skin instead. Have I got this right so far?"
Fagen was silent.
"You realize, of course, that your actions have forfeited our bonuses. You sure took a lot on yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'll have to make a detailed report. Corporate is not going to be happy with how you handled things."
Fagen twisted in his chair and faced Collenz, "You think I'm glad those two are lost? What happened to the guns I stashed in the shuttle?"
"There's no need to raise your voice. You know as well as I that we aren't cleared to carry firearms on a landing party. I moved the rifles. Don't bother looking for them. I jettisoned them while you were gone. No, I don't think you're happy about Carter and Povich, but the fact remains you went outside the operational parameters by stranding two members of this expedition. It's my duty to make a full report..."
"Exonerating yourself and placing the blame on me? You weren't even there."
"It's not necessary that I was there. We've got the data from the recorders, I'm sure it'll speak for itself. I'm going to the shuttle bay and pull the disks. We'll talk more later."
Collenz paused at the hatch. "Pull yourself together, Fagen. You're a mess." She turned away and pulled herself, hand over hand, down the passage.
He ran a hand over his scalp and stared at the readouts on the navigational panel. Collenz was right about one thing: he would receive the blame. The corporation was quite specific about its mission guidelines. There were ways to get around the rules, but this time his XO was aligned against him. They'd never gotten along and now she saw her chance to get him out of the way. Corporate-climbing, back-stabbing bitch. She'd have his shares and his ship if he let her.
He punched a button and one of the monitors revealed a real-time view of the shuttle bay. Collenz kneeled at an open access cover on the shuttle. As Fagen watched, she pulled three memory disks from the shuttle recording system and re-attached the cover.
On the console to Fagen's right were the shuttle bay controls. Indicators glowed green showing adequate air pressure, sealed doors, and safe access. Almost of its own accord, Fagen's right hand crept to the airlock controls. With his forefinger he absently tapped the access switch.
*
Completing her task, Collenz stood and stashed the disks in her coverall pocket. She pushed against the shuttle's hull to launch herself toward the hatch. Ten meters away, she heard the heavy click of durasteel bars sliding from the facing into the door, locking the hatch in place.
Collenz floated in front of the door and stared at the tiny camera set above the hatch. She crossed her arms.
"Open the hatch, Fagen. This isn't going to get either of us anywhere."
She paused, waiting. The commander made no reply.
"Fagen," she said sternly, "did you hear me? Open the damn door!"
There was no reply. Collenz looked back at the access doors. More to herself than him, she muttered, "Fagen, you bastard!"
She set her feet on the hatch and pushed herself through the weightless air to one of the lockers that lined the bulkheads. Inside was a suit, if she hurried, she might just make it before Fagen...
There was the sudden sound of a hatch opening. Collenz drew in a breath and glanced at the hanger bay doors. They remained closed. Slowly, she turned her head until she looked at the locked access hatch. It was open and Fagen stood in the passage.
"We had a power glitch; hatches locked all over the place. I came straight here."
Collenz put the suit back into the locker.
"Why're you dragging that out?"
Collenz shrugged. "I didn't know what was going on." She pushed off and floated to the hatchway. Fagen moved aside and let her pass. She saw where he'd opened the hatch access panel and pulled out wires to bypass the circuitry. Pausing, she looked at the wiring. Inspecting the wires, she leaned closer and reached inside.
"Don't," Fagen cautioned, "there's s hot circuit in there."
"I know what I'm doing; besides, I'm better at this than you."
In the next instant, she jerked upright and gritted her teeth. Her eyes opened wide as the voltage flowed through her. She saw Fagen and tried to speak, but her tongue would not obey. Her contracted lungs squeezed out the last bit of air and then refused to draw another.
Her last memory was of Fagen taking a step backward just as her hair caught on fire.
Chapter 2
Rain tapped against the window pane much as it had all night. It roused Harry and he opened his eyes. "Il pleut," he said. "Das ist schade."
From the stairs, his mother's voice floated down to him, "Harrison? Time to get up. Breakfast's almost ready."
Harry swung his feet to the basement floor, stretched his twenty-five year-old frame, and pulled on his clothes. Tripping over a stack of text books, he stumbled into the bathroom, washed his face, and shaved. It was going to be a long day, a day he'd looked forward to for a long time. It was test day for all qualified applicants in the Corporation space exploration programs.
Overhead, the sound of running feet alerted him to the fact that his younger brothers and sisters were awake. They ran back and forth overhead as he selected his only white shirt and put it on. Harry had two ties: a red, power tie his mother had purchased for him, and his father's lucky tie, an Irish plaid monstrosity. Harry selected the latter and draped it around his neck. Harry didn't really believe in luck, but it couldn't hurt to cover all bases. Slipping into his shoes, he took one last look in the mirror.
He was prepared. The thousands of hours in study, all the small sacrifices he'd made, all directed towards the opportunity to take the Corporation tests. If he performed well enough, he'd be chosen to be one of a select few who would travel into deep space.
Taking a breath, he climbed the stairs to the kitchen. Pleasant, cooking smells greeted him. As he entered, his mother turned from her old-fashioned microstove to face him. "You look nice today."
"Thanks."
She looked closer. "That's your father's old tie, isn't it?"
Harry glanced down at the worn tie. "Yeah. I thought maybe it would bring me luck."
Mrs. Irons gazed at her son for a long moment. "Just do your best and everything else will fall into place. In any case, I'm proud of you."
There were so many qualified applicants; he hoped his best was good enough. Besides, he had the added burden of not having a sponsor, somebody in one of the corporations to help him along. He opened his mouth to tell her these things but was interrupted by his siblings as they trooped into the kitchen.
"Breakfast, breakfast!" They chanted.
"All right, pipe down," Mrs. Irons commanded. "Give your older brother some peace and quiet this morning. He's got a big day ahead."
Harry's baby sister climbed into his lap. "Is Harry-Harry goin' to live with the Injuns again?"
Harry smiled. "No, honey. I'm going to take a test today. A very important test. If I do well enough, I'll get to ride a spaceship."
"Yeah, Becky," fourteen-year-old brother Jackie added, "and if he passes, we'll be rich! Right, Harry?"
"Well, maybe not rich, but we could afford a few things."
"I told you kids to leave your brother alone. He's got enough on his mind already."
"That's all right, Ma. I need to be going anyway." Harry rose from the kitchen table.
"Why, you haven't had breakfast yet."
He reached for a slice of toast and took a half moon-shaped bite. "This is all I need."
"What about lunch?"
"I'll pick up something in the cafeteria."
"Well, all right. Harry?"
Harry stopped at the door. "Yeah, Ma?"
Mrs. Irons wiped her hands on a towel. "I know how much this means to you, son. I just don't want you to be disappointed if, you know, things don't turn out the way you want."
"Don't worry. I can always get work as an interpreter." The bad part about that was the boring, plodding work. A twenty year ticket to mediocrity. On the other hand, if selected for training with one of the survey teams, he would visit other worlds and become rich in the process. They would have all the money they'd ever dreamed of and his family could move out of the miserable tenant housing in the heart of the crowded city.
It was still a long shot. The selection process was strenuous; only the best were offered positions, and there was so much competition.
He stood in the open door. "Well, I guess this is it."
His mother took him by the hand and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck, son."
"Thanks, Ma."
They all wished him luck as he stepped from the apartment onto the street. The rain still fell. Harry pulled his slicker closer and adjusted his smog-mask as he walked to the bus stop. Even at the early hour, the streets were alive with people on their way to work. Since private transportation was outlawed, public conveyances were the only way to get around other than walking. The non-polluting electric trains rumbled on their tracks while crowded air-buses constantly dropped down, unloaded passengers, loaded up and took off again. It was loud, smoky, and crowded. Harry boarded a Q-line bus and took a seat near the back.
Through the window, he watched the crowds. Today, he was just another poor student, but tomorrow he might be something else. He might be one of the privileged few to actually go to other star systems, to explore the galaxy, and to chart new worlds. It could make him rich, maybe famous. The tests he was about to take would determine his future. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he wasn't selected, but it sure wouldn't be the start of anything either.
At the next stop, Frankie and George climbed aboard the bus and joined Harry in the back.
"Lost in thought, eh, Harry?" Frankie flopped into the seat in front while George sat next to Harry. "Nothing to worry about. Why, I'll bet we're all selected and then they'll put us on the fast track to Alpha Centauri."
"Nothing's at Alpha Centauri, Frankie. We knew that ten years ago," replied George.
"Well, some other place then where the ladies are nice to me."
Harry flushed.
"If you were chosen, where would you like to go?"
Harry looked out the window. "I don't know. Maybe someplace that hasn't been discovered yet. Someplace that has something space exploration hasn't found yet."
"Like aliens, right? Somebody to talk to so you can use your language skills."
"Well, it is what I've trained for."
"Yeah, well never mind that in the forty years since the discovery of the wormhole there hasn't been any indication anything is out there besides quasars, brown dwarfs, and millions of planets that are either too hot or too cold..."
"Or too big or too small..."
"To hold any life-form at all, much less something that communicates."
Harry shrugged. "They keep accepting linguistic experts."
"And they end up as computer specialists when they can't utilize their primary skills."
"If I was picked to go, that'd be all right by me."
The bus pulled to a stop in front of the Corporation testing center. The three young men stepped from the airbus onto the sidewalk.
The building was new, and big, covering an entire city block. Over the entrance, chiseled granite proclaimed the Braithwaite name, identifying the edifice as one of the numerous Braithwaite Foundation properties. The Foundation was a corporate conglomeration, a mixed bag of industries that was controlled by a board of directors and a handful of stockholders. It was said that those who held the reins to Braithwaite also held the world at ransom. Of course, the other corporations of the era would argue the point in their favor, as well as several dozen other upstarts. In any case, Braithwaite was not only the oldest; it was also the largest and most powerful.
