Back | Next
Contents

Station Day 9
Administrative Tower


Jen Sin hit the chair, slapping up the screens with one hand, and unlocking the weapons board with the other.

The incoming ship was smaller than a Scout ship, podless, sleek, and—

He worked with the screen, sharpening details.

Not an ordinary tradeship, he thought; there were no cargo pods. Rather it looked like a purpose-built freight tug designed to carry a special module—or perhaps it was modules—that could be detached at need. There was no obvious central power core. Instead, the in-system engines were distributed radially on six pylons, so that the ship could haul the module and release it at need. The module’s construction made it look a building block of a station or habitat meant for airless situations; the ship itself was not at all aerodynamic so it, too, was meant only for airless situations.

The module, though, looked fresh and new built. Purpose built and large enough to carry…what? There seemed to be a core to it. A core of what?

It is a bomb, he thought, which he was obliged to do, being the station’s defender.

Granted, it was a large bomb, indeed, but if one intended to destroy Tinsori Light rather than merely breach it—

He flicked the comm switch.

“This is Jen Sin yos’Phelium, light keeper at Tinsori Station, to incoming vessel. State your purpose, and moderate your approach.”

Minutes passed, while he upped the magnification, and plotted the approach.

Yes. Unless something altered very quickly, the incoming vessel would impact on the bay section Seignur Veeoni had taken for her pop-up laboratory and working space.

He touched another switch.

“This is Light Keeper yos’Phelium. We have a questionable vessel on a nonstandard approach. If it continues, it will strike your section of the station. Evacuate now!”

He took a deep breath. Seignur Veeoni would still be on the recovery deck. Her bodyguard might not be in the lab. Or—

“Acknowledge!” he snapped.

“Acknowledge, Light Keeper,” came the voice of the bodyguard—Traven, it was—and Jen Sin sighed out the breath he had been holding, his attention on the screen; his fingers resting lightly on the weapons switches.

“I’ve broadcast on all the bands,” Tocohl said. “No response.”

It was in range. He should fire now, to prevent a collision. Yet, there was something about the approach—something that bothered his pilot-brain. An attack run ought either to be stealthy or bold, and this—was neither. Merely, the ship came on, as if its arrival were the veriest commonplace.

He hesitated, watching.

The vessel began to rhythmically fire basic control jets, executing a sweeping change of course that convinced him there could be no human crew aboard it to suffer such g-stress.

Apparent forward motion ceased, and it rotated slightly, matching a portion of the light’s rotation, a kind of station-keeping of its own, centered on Seignur Veeoni’s lab.

Jen Sin took his fingers off of the weapons pad.

“A drone,” he said aloud, for Tocohl’s benefit, and started, when he received an answer from the open comm.

“Yes, a quiet drone from Andreth at the research station,” Traven said. “Seignur Veeoni had sent for more supplies for her work. We received word last station-day to expect delivery at this time.”

The drone was now settled some meters from the station, still emitting no signal to the command center.

One portion of the drone’s module moved sharply toward the station, followed by a second. Jen Sin recognized lock-links, high-tensile lash-lines such as might be used in a station’s satellite yard. He only imagined he heard the connection as they found lock ports.

“Did she not tell you this, Light Keeper?” Traven asked.

Jen Sin briefly closed his eyes.

“She did not,” he said moderately. The module, now released from the little ship, began reeling itself in toward the lab.

“Light Keeper, please forgive me,” Traven said. “She said that she had something to speak with you about, and I—assumed—that she would mention the delivery in the course of your conversation. I have been some time in Seignur Veeoni’s service, and I know better than to make such an assumption. In future, I will inform you of any incoming that concerns us.” Another pause.

“That is, if you agree that perhaps being told twice is better than not being told at all.”

“I agree with the principle,” Jen Sin said.

“Good. I thank you for holding your fire.”

Jen Sin glanced at the comm.

“Did I?” he murmured. “Hold my fire?”

The comm emitted a small sigh.

“We have the original station schematics,” Traven said.

Jen Sin waited.

“I’ll send you a copy, sir, shall I?”

“Thank you,” Jen Sin said. “That would be very helpful.”

He looked at his fingers. He’d have to check that weapons switch panel eventually, and ask Tocohl to check his check. It would be good to know what he actually controlled. His whole purpose in blocking the Old Light’s access to these weapons had been to deprive it of a tool that it might use against the universe. Given his situation, he had not been able to do anything more. Certainly, he had never expected to be required to defend the station from the universe.

He took a deliberate breath, sighed it out, and leaned back in the control chair, eyes closed. He was, he noted, shivering. Adrenaline, horror—that, too. Lorith—gods! And himself—the decision to restore Lorith—not a decision at all, but instinct. It had been the central fact of their existence on Tinsori Light—that they would die, violently more often than not. And that they would wake as themselves, recalling the moment of their death in every detail, but alive.

“Cousin Tocohl,” he said. His voice not steady, but never mind that. There was a larger game in play.

“Cousin Jen Sin?”

“I am under the impression that the delm wishes this station to reflect Korval’s ongoing commitment to the realities governing the universe that received the diaspora. Am I correct in this assumption?”

“Are you asking if I am privy to the delm’s necessities?”

“An impertinence. Forgive me. What I wish to know is if Korval prefers tools which are untainted by the Old Technology.”

“The delm prefers efficiency. It is noted that the Old Technology has degraded to the point where it is neither efficient nor safe. The delm values safety, and does not willingly spend lives.”

“Having so few to hand,” Jen Sin murmured. “Understood. I shall lay out the case, Cousin, and ask you to advise me. Are you willing?”

“I am.”

“Thank you. The case is that I have been corrupted by an agent of the Great Enemy. I am not, in a word, safe, even for those values of safe that may be applied to my Line and clan. I wonder if it were not—best—to step aside as light keeper, in favor of Cousin Theo, who expects to arrive very soon. She will have good guides and allies in you, Mentor Jones, and Seignur Veeoni. One of the House’s own guards stands ready to serve her, should her crew for some reason not be able. It seems to me that this configuration would accomplish the delm’s purpose for Tinsori Station and those it would serve.”

“Why,” Tocohl said, “would Theo not have an ally and guide in yourself?”

“Because it is my intention to embrace my last duty, Cousin, and free the station of a known source of contamination. Pray do not argue that the delm would not so spend my life—I have been dead to the clan for two hundred Standards. My presence in the current ledger is a fluke, and the lives the delm must care for are those who are untainted.”

There was a brief silence. When Tocohl spoke again, her voice was tart.

“I believe that any proposed changes in station administration must be placed before the delm. The station is directly under Korval’s eye.”

Jen Sin blinked.

“So, you counsel me to write my resignation to the delm, listing out my reasons, and my proposed successor?”

“Exactly,” Tocohl said. “That would be proper.”

And, he thought, it was proper. One did not wish to surprise the delm in these matters.

“Very well, then,” he said, tapping up a screen and pulling the keypad to him. “I will wish to send this via pinbeam.”


Back | Next
Framed