Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

Then watch carefully, if you want to see how this works.

Legroeder grunted. In the keel and top gun, the two Narseil were stirring anxiously. Now was the time when any reasonable scenario would have them bringing the ship out of the Flux into normal-space. Deutsch had told them it wouldn’t happen that way, but hearing it described wasn’t the same as experiencing it.

As they moved inward toward the surreal column-structures, a few tiny blips of traffic became visible in the distance. Deutsch steered them toward the extreme left opening between dark pillars. Legroeder’s augments were abuzz, seething with interpretations of what he was seeing. As their destination grew before them like some glowing, mythical gateway, he finally realized that those columns were not just channel markers; they were physical foundations of the outpost, anchored right in the Flux.

We are docking in the Flux, he whispered.

I told you that.

Yes, but… He hadn’t quite believed it. Is the whole damn city embedded in the Flux?

It was one thing to have vessels floating in the Flux, but he couldn’t imagine the power it would take, and the coordination of riggers, to maintain a city in the Flux. It was inconceivable.

Now you understand, said Deutsch.

I don’t understand anything, Legroeder said. How—?

There are maintainers who keep it anchored. Like riggers… but… don’t worry, they won’t notice us. Deutsch banked farther to the left. Time to send the second set of codes.

Cantha reported the codes sent.

Legroeder saw the glint of other ships moving past the strange structures. He worried for a moment about being seen—but they were flying a raider ship, with a pirate rigger in the lead. There were still plenty of ways for them to die; but probably they would be okay on the approach, if the codes passed muster. (Are you following all this?) he asked his implants.

// We are recording. We are also initializing routines for contact and impersonation, for when we get there. //

(Thinking ahead. Good.)

The structure grew until it displayed a hundred entry points to a strange, fabulous city, each entry point marked by a set of pillars glowing a pumpkin orange. At the left edge, the pattern was more distended, with wider dark patches in between. The orange gates there were disconnected from the larger structure. That was where captured ships, and damaged ships, came in—ships that might, for example, explode without warning. Deutsch pointed to the last gate on the left. That’s where we’re going . He hesitated visibly, then glanced back at his rigger-mates. Gentlemen, if you haven’t heard yet from your underground, this might be a good time for your commander to set his alternate plans in motion .

Legroeder swallowed hard as Palagren passed the word.

The entire Flux seemed to vibrate around the net as they approached the fiery pillars marking the last dock. Deutsch called for one last set of codes to be sent—and then made a com-call directly from the net. This is Freem’n Deutsch, lead rigger and acting commander of Flechette, requesting clearance to dock .

Legroeder held his breath.

The pillar of light somehow softened, and opened; and within it, Legroeder could see a tunnel of indeterminate dimensions, and… a docking cradle. I don’t believe it, he whispered. He and the Narseil silently withdrew to the innermost part of the net, making themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

The ship was soon surrounded by a hazy orange glow, as if they had floated into the interior of a wood-burning stove. Deutsch guided them smoothly into the docking cradle, peering one way and another as snakelike arms of the cradle emerged to grapple the ship. Finally he said softly, Time to shut down the net .

Palagren spoke to the commander, and the order came.

The net darkened, and Legroeder rubbed his eyes as he climbed out of the rigger-station.` He gazed around the bridge, his heart pounding so loudly he could scarcely hear what was being said around him. They were now squarely in the grip of the pirate empire, and the next few minutes could determine whether they would succeed or fail.

The Narseil commandos were already on the move.

The riggers stayed on the bridge, watching on monitors as two commando groups deployed, in full armor. The first group marshaled in the regular airlock, to confront the Kyber docking crew. The second team was already outside the hull of the ship, splitting up to make their way to the station’s fore and aft emergency access ports.

Deutsch had his implants connected to the bridge console and was doing something that none of them could follow—including Legroeder, who was connected right beside him. Deutsch was linking somehow to the intelnet on the station, but all Legroeder could pick up was flashes of input—a flicker of bitter-red and sour-orange, then a quick, sweet taste of lemon. He didn’t know what it meant and didn’t dare interrupt Deutsch to ask.

Deutsch turned to Fre’geel. “There are thirty-seven crewmen stationed on the docks. I have informed the intelnet that Flechette has battle damage, and only a part of its crew is intact. I have advised we are having difficulty with the airlock and require assistance. That may give you the diversion you need. I will now attempt to interrupt the comlink to the main outpost.”

“Very well,” said Fre’geel. He waited until Deutsch nodded again, then transmitted the go-ahead to the number-two commando group. In the outside monitors, the Narseil warriors were barely visible, moving along the outer pressure hull of the docking bay in camouflage armor. In the Flux they appeared as little more than momentary, shimmering distortions in the hazy glow. With luck, any Kyber watching from inside the station would miss their movement altogether.

In another monitor, the first group was gathered around the airlock hatch. Presumably, the docking crew working to open the hatch were expecting Flechette ’s raider crew, injured and weakened—not Narseil commandos.

Fre’geel waited until group two reported ready to begin their breach of the portals. He asked Cantha one last time if there was any signal from the underground. When Cantha answered in the negative, Fre’geel called to the commando groups: “ Go.”

The main airlock ballooned open. Group one moved like lightning, overpowering the surprised docking crew. The first puffs of neural gas left the Kyber crumpled outside the airlock, before any alarm could be sounded. Group one flew into the station in all directions, neural gas billowing ahead of them. By this time, group two had entered the station at both emergency portals and were fanning out, pouring gas into other compartments.

Legroeder’s stomach knotted as he waited. Once the commando teams were in the station, direct transmissions were cut off. Would they be able to subdue the entire raider crew before a cry for help went out?

Legroeder glanced at Deutsch, who was immersed in the comlink. Some part of Deutsch was aware of his glance, because he gestured urgently to Legroeder to join him in the link. Complying, Legroeder found himself at the outer fringes of the docking station’s local net. He waited while Deutsch connected to security monitors inside the station. Seconds later, the interior view blossomed around him.

At first glance, it was chaos. Narseil commandos raced through the corridors past the crumpled figures of unconscious Kyber crewmen. A handful of Kyber, more cyborg than human, were still on their feet, fleeing or hiding. Several were shooting back. They were soon brought down by gas or neutraser fire—but not before a Narseil went down.