John Scalzi - Earth Below, Sky Above

“It doesn’t seem like a lot of oxygen,” Lowen said, looking at it.

“It’s not,” Wilson said. “When the combat suit is covering his face, it will sequester the carbon dioxide and recirculate the oxygen. He won’t need as much.”

“It’s a handy suit,” Lowen said. “Shame it looks so silly.”

“She’s right, you know,” Schmidt said.

“Don’t you start, Hart,” Wilson said, and then both his BrainPal and Schmidt’s PDA went off in alarm. Wilson accessed his message, from Ambassador Abumwe.

Sixteen unidentified ships have appeared around Earth Station, it said. Stop what you’re doing and head to gate seven. The shuttle leaves in ten minutes. Do not wait. Do not start a panic. Just go. Now.

Wilson looked over to Schmidt, who had just finished his message. Schmidt looked back, alarmed. Wilson quickly put everything back into his canvas bag.

Lowen caught their expressions. “What is it?” she said.

“There might be trouble,” Wilson said, hefting the bag.

“What kind of trouble?” Hirsch said.

“Sixteen mysterious ships suddenly appearing outside the window kind of trouble,” Wilson said.

Lowen’s and Hirsch’s PDAs sounded. They both reached for them. “Read them while walking,” Wilson suggested. “Come on.” The four of them made their way out of the cargo hold and headed to the main corridor of the station.

“I’m being told to head to the beanstalk elevators,” Lowen said.

“So am I,” Hirsch said. “We’re evacuating the station.”

The four of them walked through a maintenance door into the main corridor, and into chaos. Word had spread, and quickly. A stream of Earth citizens, with looks ranging from concern to panic, were beginning to push their way toward the beanstalk elevator entry areas.

“That doesn’t look good,” Wilson said, and started walking purposefully against the general rush. “Come on. We’re going to our shuttle at gate seven. Come with us. We’ll get you on our shuttle.”

“I can’t,” Hirsch said, stopping. The others stopped with him. “My team has been ordered to assist the evacuation. I have to go to the beanstalk.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lowen said.

“No,” Hirsch said. “Harry’s right, it’s a mess, and it’s going to get messier. Go with him and Hart.” He went in to give his cousin a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. “See you soon, Dani.” He looked over to Wilson. “Get her out of here,” he said.

“We will,” Wilson said. Hirsch nodded and headed down the corridor, toward the beanstalk elevators.

“Gate seven is still a quarter of the way around the station,” Schmidt said. “We need to start running.”

“Let’s run,” Wilson agreed. Schmidt took off, weaving through holes in the crowd. Wilson followed, keeping pace with, and making a path for, Lowen.

“Will you have room for me?” Lowen asked.

“We’ll make room,” Wilson said.

“They’re not doing anything,” Balla said to Coloma, staring at the sixteen ships. “Why aren’t they doing anything?”

“They’re waiting,” Coloma said.

“Waiting for what?” Balla asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Coloma said.

“You knew about this, didn’t you,” Balla said. “You’ve been having us count off ships as they came in. You were looking for this.”

Coloma shook her head. “The CDF told me to be looking for a ship,” she said. “Their intelligence suggested a single ship might attack or disrupt the summit, like a single ship tried to disrupt our meeting with the Conclave. A single ship would be all that would be needed, so a single ship is what they prepared me for. This”-Coloma waved at the display, with sixteen ships hovering silently-“is not what I was expecting.”

“You sent a skip drone,” Balla said. “That will bring the cavalry.”

“I sent the data to the drone,” Coloma said. “The drone is at skip distance. It will take two hours for the data to get to the drone, and it will take them at least that long to decide to send any ships. Whatever is going to happen here is going to be done by then. We’re on our own.”

“What are we going to do?” Balla said.

“We’re going to wait,” Coloma said. “Get me a report from our shuttle.”

“It’s filling up,” Balla said, after a minute. “We’re missing two or three people. We’re coming close to our deadline. What do you want to do?”

“Keep the shuttle there as long as you can,” Coloma said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Balla said.

“Let Abumwe know we’re holding on for her stragglers, but that we’ll have to seal up if things get hot,” Coloma said.

“Yes, Captain,” Balla said, and then pointed at a display that was focused on the station itself. From the bottom of the station there was movement. A car on the elevator was making its way down the beanstalk. “It looks like they’re evacuating people through the elevator.”

Coloma watched the elevator car descend silently for a moment and then felt a thought enter her head with such blinding assurance that it felt like a physical blow. “Tell the shuttle pilot to seal up and go now,” she said.

“Ma’am?” Balla said.

“Now, Neva!” Coloma said. “Now! Now!”

“Captain, missile launch!” said weapons desk officer Lao. “Six missiles, headed for the station.”

“Not to the station,” Coloma said. “Not yet.”

“Stuff them in,” David Hirsch said, to Sergeant Belinda Thompson. “Pack them in like it’s a Tokyo subway.”

The two of them had been assigned to keep order at the elevator cars, which were “cars” in only the strictest sense. Each of the cars was more like a large conference room in size, torus shaped around its cable. The car could comfortably fit a hundred or so; Hirsch planned on jamming in twice that number. He and Thompson shoved people in, none too gently, and yelled at them to go all the way to the back of the car.

A thrumming vibration in Hirsch’s soles told him that one of the other elevator cars was finally under way, sliding down the cable toward Nairobi and to safety. Two hundred fewer people to worry about, he thought, and smiled. This was not the day he’d been planning to have.

“What are you smiling about?” Thompson wanted to know, shoving another diplomat into the car.

“Life is full of little surpris-,” Hirsch said, and then was sucked out into space as six missiles targeting the departed elevator car smashed into the car, destroying it, and into the beanstalk cable, wrenching it askew and sending a wave up the cable into the car-boarding area. The wave tore open the deck, sending Hirsch and several others tumbling into vacuum and tearing open the deck, crushing the car Hirsch and Thompson had been filling into the hull of the boarding area. The air sucked out of the gash, launching several unfortunates into the space below the station.

The station’s automatic overrides took control, sealing off the elevator-boarding area, dooming everyone in it-three or four hundred of Earth’s diplomatic corps-to death by asphyxiation.

Elsewhere in Earth Station, airtight bulkheads deployed, sealing off sections of the station, and the people in them, in the hope of stanching the loss of atmosphere to only a few areas and protecting the rest still inside from the hard vacuum of the outside cosmos.

For how long was the question.

Wilson felt rather than saw the emergency bulkhead springing up in front of him and saw Hart Schmidt on the other side of it. Wilson grabbed Lowen and tried to push his way through the now thoroughly panicked crowd, but the mob pushed him and Lowen back and into their flow. Wilson had just enough time to see the shock on Schmidt’s face as the bottom and top bulkheads slammed shut, separating the two of them. Wilson yelled at Schmidt to get to the shuttle. Schmidt didn’t hear it over the din.