Rock Rift, page 16
She’d looked troubled, and after that, though she wasn’t always by his side, she was somewhere nearby. When he started to lead the group out, she took the twitchy guards aside. Anonymous in their visored helmets, the armored men didn’t back away but they didn’t interfere either as Gavyn and the others passed them.
The great hall was big, but no place on Ydro-Down had ever been intended to hold all the miners together. Most were able to squeeze into the room, but a few were left outside the loading bay doors, peering in.
Maybe the guards would assume it was just happenstance or practicality that the miners left out in the hallway were the biggest of the crew.
Over the closed caskets of the blasting squad, Gavyn met Jashanna’s gaze. Two of the guards had shouldered her to one side to peer nervously past her into the hall. She stood impassively, her arms crossed over her chest. The inattentive guards were within easy reach of those long, thick arms; she could crack their visors together like two hollow rocks.
And then she would have three weapons instead of just the gun that Yumi had given her.
He’d been more than a little appalled when Yumi had showed him the stash of weapons hidden in her quarters. He’d been so ashamed of himself for stealing her QueCorp pistol, but that had been the very least of what she possessed.
He needed to question her about who’d sent her to Ydro-Down. But this wasn’t the time.
Especially because he wasn’t going to like the answers.
The quiet stillness of the hall settled around him, and he didn’t need his enhanced eyes to sense the stress fractures hurting his people. Not all of them knew about the coming revolt— most have been left out of the scheming either because he didn’t entirely trust them or because their value in terms of brute force weren’t enough to justify risking them in the attack. If the rebellion failed, some at least might live.
“Some of us live,” he began. In his armed uprising to-do list, he hadn’t set aside any time to come up with a proper eulogy. A mistake, he recognized, as his fury bubbled up in him like a long-suppressed geyser. He forced himself to modulate his tone. “And now our friends our free.” This time tomorrow, maybe life and freedom would not be mutually exclusive conditions on Ydro-Down.
He spoke for a while about each deceased miner in turn, letting his voice fall into the singsong patterns that Jashanna sometimes used for the morning meditation she led. As he droned on, the guards lost focus. The one nearest Jashanna even slouched against the wall, his pulse rifle trapped between his body and the stone. That would certainly make her task easier.
Gavyn lifted his chin. He didn’t want the guards too complacent; they needed to be focused on what was happening here, not out at the elevator or the catapult. Yumi had said he had a knack for inspiring his people. How had she seen that when he’d always felt beaten down?
He’d already been on the verge of revolt when she arrived, but now, with her backing, maybe he was on the edge of becoming a leader.
“Tillerson told me once”—he dropped his tone an octave—“the rock is where we learn about ourselves with every swing of the pickax. And the rock never gets softer, so we get stronger.” Yes, he had the guards’ attention again. “But that was after one of his less successful attempts at brewing ‘sunshine’ from seaweed and mineral water, so…” He shrugged as a ripple of laughter eased the room. Even the guards laughed; they’d indulged in Tillerson’s forbidden alky more than once.
Gavyn waited for the slight release of tension before he said, “Would anyone like to share their memories?”
As they’d arranged, Lalabey raised their hand. “I will speak since I was there.”
The guards stiffened to attention. Lalabey had earned the same reputation as Tillerson’s sunshine: even half a glass could knock a person flat. Lalabey levered out of the crawler Arjay had modified and started toward the front of the room. Their progress across the pit was labored, and they thrust out a hand to Gavyn for a boost onto the platform positioned above the crowd.
“Let me tell you about the first leg that QueCorp stole from me,” they started.
Oh, the tension was definitely back now. When in the mood, Lalabey could spin tales longer, stronger, and more elaborate than any of their 3D printers. But their anger now was something raw and straight from the deepest pits of Ydro-Down.
With every eye riveted to the miner, Gavyn faded to the side. He cast one last glance at Jashanna, who didn’t even nod, before he slipped out the side corridor.
Yumi met him at the junction that led to the elevator. “Everyone is in place.”
She paced him easily as they sped for the access to the orbiting station, a pistol balanced in her hand, her gaze even more flat and steady. How had she become so important to this fight?
To him.
If she died because of him… No, he couldn’t think about that any more than he could question her. There was no time left for doubt.
Three miners were waiting at the elevator, Arjay tapping a tab against his thigh. He straightened when they appeared. “Finally. I was thinking maybe we were on our own.”
Gavyn gripped his shoulder and nodded at the others. “I wouldn’t leave without you.”
They all wedged into the cabin. It was a tight fit with the container of grenades that no one wanted to stand beside.
Letting out a hard breath, as if that would give him more room, Arjay ran a thin cable from his tab to the elevator controls. “I’ve checked and rechecked the overrides. I’m absolutely sure”—the cabin launched with extra force, hard enough that Gavyn felt the grid of the decking through his soles—“they won’t be able to take control and open the door when we’re halfway up.”
“Little late to tell us that,” Tephra muttered. She stared down out the window as they rose. “So that’s what all this fuss is about. Looks as crusty as day-old nutrient slop.”
“You’ve never let a bowl last that long,” Arjay teased, and she punched his shoulder.
She’d been born on Ydro-Down, had never set foot off it unless she jumped. But she’d been apprenticing to Arjay and seemed to instinctively understand his hacks. They’d need her talent if they had to program on the fly once they reached the station.
Also, she was strong—in body and in her hatred for Scraff. The overseer had authorized the removal of her two brothers, also born to the mines but deemed unsuitable for the work. They’d been taken away. And one day shortly thereafter Tephra’s mother had walked into the tunnels and never come out.
Even Arjay hadn’t been able to find a report on where the boys had gone.
Next to Tephra, Marl was pointedly not looking out the window. “It might not seem like much,” he said, his gaze resting on her as lightly as the bubbles in the crystal pool. “But it’s all we got.”
He was one of the oldest miners. He was quiet, did what he was told, and had crushed more rock than most without grievance, but he’d demanded to be included in this dangerous party. He’d adored Tephra’s mother. Although Marl had never been allowed to claim his children, Gavyn knew the man would do anything for the girl and for the other miners. For Ydro-Down itself. Under the influence of sunshine alky, he’d once confessed that he hoped someday his woman would again emerge from the dark.
It wasn’t qubition that powered this rebellion, Gavyn knew.
It was love.
He realized his own gaze was fixed on Yumi, and he was suddenly glad for the alterations QueCorp had forced on him, since the goggles hid what he was sure was a reckless enthrallment. No, he had to at least be clear with himself.
What he felt for her was love.
She wasn’t looking at him or the planetoid or even the weapons. Her eyes were closed, her expression as still and hard as rock. Even his enhanced vision couldn’t catch any tremor of emotion. He’d already known she was something deadly, but now he couldn’t ignore it.
What had he done? Falling in love with this mysterious, dangerous cypher was worse than deliberately throwing himself out of this casket rocketing into space.
As they rose, they left the planetoid’s shadow. The light from the distant sun touched her face, gilding even the shadows under her lashes. When she opened her eyes, the amber of her gaze was lit like flames. She smiled at him, soft and sweet.
And whatever happened with this battle, he knew he’d already lost—and won—his heart.
The elevator sped upward.
“They might not be able to stop us now,” Yumi said, “but we can’t stop them from looking out a window. We need to be ready if they meet us at the door.” She flipped open the cargo carton where they’d packed the grenades.
Tephra bit her lip when Yumi held out one of the improvised explosives. “I’ve been practicing my throw, but…”
Marl plucked it from Yumi’s hand. “You code. I’ll blow.”
Yumi glanced at Gavyn, and when he nodded, she passed grenades to the rest of them, pocketing several herself. “I’ll go first”—this time when he drew a breath, she ignored his signal—“and clear the line. Arjay, you have more experience with the station’s interface than me, but maybe this will help.” She handed him a small, sleek data tab.
The engineer and Tephra both leaned close with identical eagerness, and Arjay linked the tab to his before whistling softly under his breath. “Faster for sure. Should have no problem taking control of the station’s weapons and defenses as soon as we get to a port.” He tore his gaze away from the tab to stare at Yumi. “Why do you—” But whatever he saw in her eyes silenced him.
She turned to Gavyn. “Will Jashanna and her crew keep everyone in the hall, no matter what?”
There was an urgency to her question that scraped at him. “They aren’t trained soldiers, but they can follow orders. Once her team takes the guards, she’ll hole up tight with the rest until we call.”
Yumi nodded. “So they’ll be safe. Everyone has to live.”
She wasn’t just insisting on going first, she was trying to control all of it, even protecting those they’d left behind. No wonder he loved her.
The elevator began to slow as it approached the dock, and his pulse sped up as if to compensate. His breath felt sucked into the vacuum, and there wasn’t time to say anything.
Yumi stepped toward the door, her gaze shuttered again and her gun outstretched. The cabin slid into the dock with a thud at almost the same instant Arjay sprang the door.
Without a glance or another word, Yumi was out.
Into the silence Gavyn sprang after her, but the foyer was clear. She waved him forward. Arjay and Tephra were already scrambling for the nearest control panel, ready to jack into the station’s systems that had been inaccessible from the surface. Marl stood guard, both hands clenched around grenades.
None of which were packed enough—anyway, Gavyn hoped the calculations were right—to pierce the hull, though they’d do serious damage to flesh. Not their own, he also hoped.
What had Yumi said about hope? Bombs went farther.
She was already farther down the corridor. With a whispered curse, he went after her.
“Not the plan,” he hissed.
“If they aren’t here, where are they?” She ducked her head low around a corner and then slipped away.
The station guards, she meant. By this point in the plan, he’d assumed he’d have already had to kill someone. But they were alone so far.
The clean air and smooth decking made him lightheaded, almost slipping as he ran. Or maybe he was a coward. Yumi seemed untouched by fear or doubt as she sped down the empty corridor.
“If we take the operations room, we’ll have full control.”
“Arjay can—”
“He can’t. He had to do the bulk of his coding from the surface, without inputs from these systems. By the time he completes the links, the station could be locked against us.”
“Why do you—” Arjay had started to ask the same, but instead of silencing himself, Gavyn was cut off as a trio of armed guards charged into view down the corridor, already firing.
Fully armored, they’d obviously responded to some alert Arjay hadn’t been able to avert. Their frangible projectiles were meant to do maximum damage to soft tissue without punching into the hull, and the large, soft gel caps hissed through the air. He launched himself into the dubious protection of a shallow doorway.
Yumi dropped to one knee in the middle of the corridor and fired back.
With another curse—louder this time since it didn’t matter—he reached through the shower of projectiles to grab her.
But she was already rising and striding forward, still firing her laser pistol. Two guards were down, the third retreating from the intercessor’s relentless advance. A laser wasn’t always the best weapon for the real world—even dust could scatter concentrated light—but in the artificial arena of the station, the sharp, silent glare sliced into the third man and dropped him like a boulder.
Gavyn stared at the bodies for a long moment, then at her.
Under the harsh diode lights, her amber eyes were the same flat hue as the caution signs around an open pit. “Not dead,” she replied to his unspoken question. “Some neurophys breakdown from the electromagnetic charge, but unless I follow up with a kill shot, they’ll mostly recover, eventually.”
Close only counts with horseshoes and hydrogen bombs.
Did he trust her? Did it matter? The rest of their team was still following the plan, even if Yumi had something else in mind. Gavyn’s whirling head cleared. He was only risking himself this time, and the sensation was liberating.
They hurried past the downed guards, encountering no more interference. And no Scraff either.
“Lucky,” Yumi said under her breath as she slid into an operations chair.
She knew how he felt about luck. “Can you reach Arjay in docking? He’s going to wonder where we went.” And why. But that question stuck in his throat.
Her fingers flew over the controls, toggling the comm. She nodded at him, and he leaned over her shoulder. “Arjay? We’re in operations. How you doing?”
“Tephra managed to lock down all the personnel and working quarters, including the transport crew and push jockeys. Confirms she’s trapped all but six in place.”
“We found three,” Gavyn said grimly. “They’re also, uh, down.”
“Marl’s going through surveillance cams but hasn’t located the last three. So keep an eye out. I have control of the cargo bay. The catapult team launched without incident and is due to rendezvous in three minutes.”
“Vac it, we’re close,” Gavyn muttered.
“We knew we’d be cutting hard, tight, and fast,” the engineer reminded him. “Margin of error: zero.”
“There are always errors,” Yumi said. “And we live or die on the margins.”
As she spoke, she was still scrolling through operations code, so fast he couldn’t keep up even though he’d sat in on a few of Tephra’s lessons with Arjay. But he caught one screen. “That’s the interface for the station’s weapons system. Scraff said it was for repelling pirates, but he wanted to show me the shooting end is always pointed at us.”
She jacked a small device into the control panel in front of her. The screen on the board flared with an alert but she shut it down with one click. “It’s mine now.”
He frowned at the multi-use tool, wondering what else was on it, but Arjay announced, “The cargo pod is a minute out. We’re secure here, so you get to the transport mooring and make sure those last guards aren’t sneaking off with our ship.”
She stood, yanking the MUT from the board. “Ping us if you find the missing staff on surveillance.”
Gavyn glanced back at the operations console. “Do we need to lock up this console? If we haven’t found all of Scraff’s people, one of them could make their way back here.”
She shook her head. “Between Arjay and me, the station is secure. We just need physical possession of the ship to guarantee its systems are also ours.”
Between Arjay and Yumi, why did he feel like his precious rebellion was relying on an angel and a devil? And the devil was not the charming, dark-haired man with an atrociously felonious past.
They sped through the station, leaving behind any of the parts where he’d ever been. Even before Kash’s escape with his cryoed children, Scraff had been paranoid about security and refused access. Gavyn couldn’t believe their revolt was progressing so smoothly.
Hope was obsidian, a sliver that could cut to the quick.
The transport mooring had been built to service two ships at a time, although even a full season of qubition yield was compact enough that a single ship could carry a treasure’s worth. As a result, multiple ships rarely docked. The mooring was right below the cargo bay, and the plate between the two decks operated on hydraulics to transfer the ore catapulted via electromagnetic rail from the surface up to the station. The plan had been for the catapult team to rush the mooring and take command of the transport, but now he and Yumi would get there first.
As they charged into the mooring, the sight of the open iris leading to the transport blew open something inside him.
That doorway led to a vessel that could traverse the galaxy with the aid of qubition—Q that he might’ve dug from the rock with his own hands. He’d never been so close to freedom.
The thought was sweeter and headier than biri-biri wine—or so he imagined.
Yumi strode to that opening and thrust her MUT into the control panel next to the iris. She probably wanted to lock down access against the missing station personnel. She tapped quickly at the MUT.
And a buzzer sounded. A puff of air breathed out from the iris, or maybe from the transport at the end of that expanding corridor.
Arjay’s voice barked from the panel. “What’s going on? Gavyn, are you there? Freeze it!” A flurry of words Gavyn couldn’t decipher. “Tephra, I think the missing station personnel are at the mooring. The transport is powering up—”
Yumi slapped her palm over the comm, shutting off the engineer.
Gavyn froze, as if Arjay’s curse had caught him. “You’re powering up the ship?”
