signal at high intensity which
should mean the antenna pointed straight at it. After 180 degrees the signal stayed
strong, only showing minor fluctuations. She turned it through another full
circle before accepting the bad news. Mitchie pressed the intercom button for
Bing’s handcomm. “Hey. Um. We’re transmitting something.”
“What?” The first mate didn’t
want to believe it either.
“There’s a high-frequency
data transmission coming from our ship.”
Bing cursed. She’d been
napping in the hold to keep an eye on the passengers, and because she didn’t
have a bunk any more. Now she unhooked her tether and bounded over to where the
astronomers slept. Once she had a firm foothold she grabbed the nearest grad
student by the ankle and shook him hard. “Is that thing on?” she barked.
“Gah! What?” protested the
hapless academic.
“Your camera! Is it on?”
“Of course it is, it’s
collecting data continuously.”
“Is it transmitting anything?”
“What? No! That’d get us all
killed!”
“Check it.” She flung him at
the gadget. He didn’t land gracefully, just wrapped himself around the
observatory and held on enough to not bounce. One look at First Mate Bingrong
was enough to make him swallow all complaints. He turned to align himself with
the controls and started typing.
The commotion had woken up
most of the passengers. When the grad student shrieked, “Holy shit!” even Billy
woke up. A frantic flurry of keystrokes ended with a report of, “Okay, it’s off
now. Someone turned on the real-time imagery broadcast.”
Bing had already taken a
headcount. “Where’s Mr. Mussa?” she called. Uncle John launched himself at the
portable refreshers. He yanked open both doors. Empty. The astronomers all
began babbling their denials of responsibility for the disaster. Her handcomm
added to the noise with Mitchie’s confirmation that the transmitter was off. “Everybody
shut up! Who saw Mussa last?”
Bing’s victim said, “He was
in his tent, next to mine, when I went to sleep.”
“Anyone else see him go
anywhere?” demanded Bing. Headshakes all over the hold. As she scanned the
faces a drifting object caught her eye. Mussa’s dumb-reader, its back panel
open, revealing an empty compartment where a library’s worth of read-only datacrystals
should be. “Billy! Go below and look for him. Be careful.” The deckhand gave
her a vague wave and headed for the hatch. Bing pulled out her handcomm. “Guo,
what’s your status?” No answer. “Guo, report!”
The answer was Mussa’s voice.
“He’s fine, Mate Bingrong. Just going to sleep a bit longer than he planned is
all.”
Bing switched channels. “Captain!
It’s in the impeller!”
“On my way.”
She switched back to Guo’s
channel. Mussa was saying, “—so don’t bother trying to get at me. And I’ve taken
a few key pieces off the converter so we’re all staying here for a while.”
Billy gave up wrestling with
the hatch. “It’s jammed good. I can suit up and go in the lower airlock.”
Bing shook her head. She
spoke into the handcomm. “You realize you’ve locked yourself into a ship with a
lot of people who don’t like you very much now, right? But if you come back to
our side now we’ll be nice instead of making you learn how to breathe vacuum.”
Mussa laughed. “I think I’m
safer on this side. And much better paid. I suggest you find a way to hand the
girl over that doesn’t leave you all in a vacuum.”
Captain Schwartzenberger
arrived in the hold. The passengers gathered around him and Bing as she briefed
him. “When did the broadcast start?” he asked. One of the grad students went
back to the observatory to check. Five hours ago during Billy’s sample
collecting. “Billy, disconnect the lower deck air feed.” One of the teenagers
gasped in shock. The captain grinned in a not reassuring way. “They’ll still
have air. But it’ll get stale in a while. We’ll see if that makes him
should mean the antenna pointed straight at it. After 180 degrees the signal stayed
strong, only showing minor fluctuations. She turned it through another full
circle before accepting the bad news. Mitchie pressed the intercom button for
Bing’s handcomm. “Hey. Um. We’re transmitting something.”
“What?” The first mate didn’t
want to believe it either.
“There’s a high-frequency
data transmission coming from our ship.”
Bing cursed. She’d been
napping in the hold to keep an eye on the passengers, and because she didn’t
have a bunk any more. Now she unhooked her tether and bounded over to where the
astronomers slept. Once she had a firm foothold she grabbed the nearest grad
student by the ankle and shook him hard. “Is that thing on?” she barked.
“Gah! What?” protested the
hapless academic.
“Your camera! Is it on?”
“Of course it is, it’s
collecting data continuously.”
“Is it transmitting anything?”
“What? No! That’d get us all
killed!”
“Check it.” She flung him at
the gadget. He didn’t land gracefully, just wrapped himself around the
observatory and held on enough to not bounce. One look at First Mate Bingrong
was enough to make him swallow all complaints. He turned to align himself with
the controls and started typing.
The commotion had woken up
most of the passengers. When the grad student shrieked, “Holy shit!” even Billy
woke up. A frantic flurry of keystrokes ended with a report of, “Okay, it’s off
now. Someone turned on the real-time imagery broadcast.”
Bing had already taken a
headcount. “Where’s Mr. Mussa?” she called. Uncle John launched himself at the
portable refreshers. He yanked open both doors. Empty. The astronomers all
began babbling their denials of responsibility for the disaster. Her handcomm
added to the noise with Mitchie’s confirmation that the transmitter was off. “Everybody
shut up! Who saw Mussa last?”
Bing’s victim said, “He was
in his tent, next to mine, when I went to sleep.”
“Anyone else see him go
anywhere?” demanded Bing. Headshakes all over the hold. As she scanned the
faces a drifting object caught her eye. Mussa’s dumb-reader, its back panel
open, revealing an empty compartment where a library’s worth of read-only datacrystals
should be. “Billy! Go below and look for him. Be careful.” The deckhand gave
her a vague wave and headed for the hatch. Bing pulled out her handcomm. “Guo,
what’s your status?” No answer. “Guo, report!”
The answer was Mussa’s voice.
“He’s fine, Mate Bingrong. Just going to sleep a bit longer than he planned is
all.”
Bing switched channels. “Captain!
It’s in the impeller!”
“On my way.”
She switched back to Guo’s
channel. Mussa was saying, “—so don’t bother trying to get at me. And I’ve taken
a few key pieces off the converter so we’re all staying here for a while.”
Billy gave up wrestling with
the hatch. “It’s jammed good. I can suit up and go in the lower airlock.”
Bing shook her head. She
spoke into the handcomm. “You realize you’ve locked yourself into a ship with a
lot of people who don’t like you very much now, right? But if you come back to
our side now we’ll be nice instead of making you learn how to breathe vacuum.”
Mussa laughed. “I think I’m
safer on this side. And much better paid. I suggest you find a way to hand the
girl over that doesn’t leave you all in a vacuum.”
Captain Schwartzenberger
arrived in the hold. The passengers gathered around him and Bing as she briefed
him. “When did the broadcast start?” he asked. One of the grad students went
back to the observatory to check. Five hours ago during Billy’s sample
collecting. “Billy, disconnect the lower deck air feed.” One of the teenagers
gasped in shock. The captain grinned in a not reassuring way. “They’ll still
have air. But it’ll get stale in a while. We’ll see if that makes him
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