his
helmet on and locked it in place. “Comm check, do you read?” His voice came
from the comm the professor held. “Comm check.” Bing nudged Tsugawa.
“Oh! Yes, I hear you clearly.”
“I hear you. Getting in the
lock now.”
The bodyguard took the
captain aside. “Wait—you’re broadcasting? How is that hiding?”
Schwartzenberger put on his
tolerant face. “Suit radios are very low power, Mr. Smith. If they’re close
enough to pick that up our thermal signature will be as strong as a flare to
them. It’s not adding any danger.”
“So you’re sure we’re still
safe here?”
“No. I think if that pirate
goes iceberg by iceberg looking for the warm one the odds are good he’ll still
be at it when the Navy gets here. Even if that takes a week.”
“All right.” John seemed a
bit abashed. “It’s my job to worry about her.”
“Fine. You worry about the
people. Let me worry about the ship. That’s my job.”
They turned back to the
window. It framed Billy in the center, filling a cooler with a scoop Guo had
welded up. He cut a few lengths of vacctape to seal it and hooked it back onto
his tether. Tsugawa started talking him to the next target. “Warmer-cooler” had
proved to work better than trying to agree on a common left and right in
micrograv.
The grad students pressed
against the window, debating which odd-colored chunk should be sampled next.
Mussa had drifted behind their gadget to stay out of the way. The teenagers
were unusually quiet as they watched the show.
Billy took full advantage of
his freedom to show off. Instead of carefully crawling over the ice to the next
target he kicked off it to the ship and bounced back. He picked grace over
precision. An extra couple of leaps was a chance to do more flips.
Schwartzenberger frowned at the wasted time. The professor kept a deliberately
cheerful tone as he persuaded Billy toward the next intriguing bit of ice.
Eventually all the coolers
were full. Billy placed them just inside the hold before unsuiting. Bing herded
the grad students as they took their samples to the freezer. The captain met
Billy at the suit locker. “Hydroponics maintenance.”
The deckhand’s face fell. “Isn’t
it Mitchie’s turn today?”
“She’s sleeping. We’re going
to let her sleep as long as we can. We need her rested.”
For once the captain didn’t
get any more argument. “Aye, aye, sir.”
***
Mitchie’s dreams were visited
by icebergs and cannon shells but none woke her. Eventually her bladder forced
her out of the pilot couch. The pull-out was private enough with no one else on
the bridge. She spared a paranoid look at the stars but nothing moved.
A brief chat with Bing
established that most aboard were asleep. Mitchie was too slept out to take her
suggestion to nap some more. She busied herself putting away the navigation
aids she’d strewn about while finding this hiding place. The emergency radio
channel was quiet. No Navy yet.
She moved to the full
spectrum scanner. Maybe there was another ship out there. The scanner showed nothing
on the voice channels except Kronos’ background radiation. A high frequency
channel showed a strong signal. Mitchie frowned and tuned the speakers to it.
White noise. Something out there was transmitting a lot of data.
She studied the sky. The
chasm they were hiding in was narrow but long. She opened up the communications
console and switched the scanner’s cable from the omnidirectional to a
parabolic antenna. Rotating that would show what direction the signal came
from. If a research ship was out there she might be able to hit it with a
tightbeam distress signal. Two ships cooperating might be able to keep the
pirate out of cannon range if it found them again.
The crank for the parabolic
was set into the deck. Mitchie braced herself against the console and started
turning it. Every thirty degrees or so she peeked up to see if the scanner
display had changed. It had started with the
helmet on and locked it in place. “Comm check, do you read?” His voice came
from the comm the professor held. “Comm check.” Bing nudged Tsugawa.
“Oh! Yes, I hear you clearly.”
“I hear you. Getting in the
lock now.”
The bodyguard took the
captain aside. “Wait—you’re broadcasting? How is that hiding?”
Schwartzenberger put on his
tolerant face. “Suit radios are very low power, Mr. Smith. If they’re close
enough to pick that up our thermal signature will be as strong as a flare to
them. It’s not adding any danger.”
“So you’re sure we’re still
safe here?”
“No. I think if that pirate
goes iceberg by iceberg looking for the warm one the odds are good he’ll still
be at it when the Navy gets here. Even if that takes a week.”
“All right.” John seemed a
bit abashed. “It’s my job to worry about her.”
“Fine. You worry about the
people. Let me worry about the ship. That’s my job.”
They turned back to the
window. It framed Billy in the center, filling a cooler with a scoop Guo had
welded up. He cut a few lengths of vacctape to seal it and hooked it back onto
his tether. Tsugawa started talking him to the next target. “Warmer-cooler” had
proved to work better than trying to agree on a common left and right in
micrograv.
The grad students pressed
against the window, debating which odd-colored chunk should be sampled next.
Mussa had drifted behind their gadget to stay out of the way. The teenagers
were unusually quiet as they watched the show.
Billy took full advantage of
his freedom to show off. Instead of carefully crawling over the ice to the next
target he kicked off it to the ship and bounced back. He picked grace over
precision. An extra couple of leaps was a chance to do more flips.
Schwartzenberger frowned at the wasted time. The professor kept a deliberately
cheerful tone as he persuaded Billy toward the next intriguing bit of ice.
Eventually all the coolers
were full. Billy placed them just inside the hold before unsuiting. Bing herded
the grad students as they took their samples to the freezer. The captain met
Billy at the suit locker. “Hydroponics maintenance.”
The deckhand’s face fell. “Isn’t
it Mitchie’s turn today?”
“She’s sleeping. We’re going
to let her sleep as long as we can. We need her rested.”
For once the captain didn’t
get any more argument. “Aye, aye, sir.”
***
Mitchie’s dreams were visited
by icebergs and cannon shells but none woke her. Eventually her bladder forced
her out of the pilot couch. The pull-out was private enough with no one else on
the bridge. She spared a paranoid look at the stars but nothing moved.
A brief chat with Bing
established that most aboard were asleep. Mitchie was too slept out to take her
suggestion to nap some more. She busied herself putting away the navigation
aids she’d strewn about while finding this hiding place. The emergency radio
channel was quiet. No Navy yet.
She moved to the full
spectrum scanner. Maybe there was another ship out there. The scanner showed nothing
on the voice channels except Kronos’ background radiation. A high frequency
channel showed a strong signal. Mitchie frowned and tuned the speakers to it.
White noise. Something out there was transmitting a lot of data.
She studied the sky. The
chasm they were hiding in was narrow but long. She opened up the communications
console and switched the scanner’s cable from the omnidirectional to a
parabolic antenna. Rotating that would show what direction the signal came
from. If a research ship was out there she might be able to hit it with a
tightbeam distress signal. Two ships cooperating might be able to keep the
pirate out of cannon range if it found them again.
The crank for the parabolic
was set into the deck. Mitchie braced herself against the console and started
turning it. Every thirty degrees or so she peeked up to see if the scanner
display had changed. It had started with the
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