Bechimo
Arriving
Tinsori Light hung in the main screen, an insult to the clean space around it. There were no outyards, or cargo holding areas. There was no traffic, only an angular, sharp-edged shape, brooding in its own shadows. A tower rose from its craggy center, angular in its turn, a white light burning steady at its apex, like a particularly surly candle.
The mood on the bridge was—silent.
Even Hevelin, who was sitting on Theo’s lap, had nothing to offer, though he did pat her wrist, twice.
“There has been a breach,” Bechimo said, magnifying the area and throwing the magnified image up on the main screen.
The material of the station looked like it had…melted through a section at the mid-level. Theo squinted and reached to up the mag more, but Clarence was ahead of her.
“Seals in place,” he said, “and they look to be holding. Whatever happened, it was a good long time ago.”
Right.
Theo frowned at the screens. There was something—something that required her attention in the bond-space she shared with Bechimo.
What is it? she asked—then, as she integrated more fully into Bechimo’s systems—Another space station?
“A mobile manufactory,” Bechimo replied. “It is moored and maintaining itself as an entity separate from the station.”
Theo considered the input, which included a name.
Ren Stryker, she said. Should we hail?
“There is no need; we are station-bound, after all.”
Let me know if we get a hail. Or a threat, Theo said, and blinked wholly back to first chair and her board.
She took a breath.
“Joyita, hail the station, please.”
“Yes, Captain.”
In the screen, he spun to the console to his left, depressed a switch, and spoke, his voice filling the silent bridge.
“Tinsori Light, this is Bechimo, out of Waymart. Do you hear us?”
Silence, no longer than could be accounted for by lag, before a warm female voice replied.
“I hear you, Bechimo.”
Theo nodded, and opened her own comm.
“Bechimo, out of Waymart, under contract to Tree-and-Dragon Family, Theo Waitley, captain and pilot in charge. Request docking.”
The answering voice this time was male, neither warm nor cool, speaking Trade with a marked Liaden accent.
“Tinsori Station, Light Keeper Jen Sin yos’Phelium on deck. Welcome, Bechimo. You are cleared to dock at A Level, direct access. Station will guide you in. Do you desire support?”
Theo eyed the monstrous thing in the screens, thought of systems powered by dying timonium.
“We’ll keep our own air for now,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
“As you will,” Jen Sin yos’Phelium answered. “I will meet you at dockside.”
“Looking forward,” Theo said. “Waitley out.”
She closed her eyes, then, feeling a niggle at the back of her head. Of course, she thought, timing was everything.
“Clarence, take us in,” she said, fingers flicking over the board. “Joyita, take second.”
“Yes, Captain Theo,” Joyita said.
“O’Berin, PIC,” Clarence said. “File change o’pilot with the station, laddie.”
“Yes, Pilot.”
Theo rose.
“Short break,” she said, and left the bridge.