The Devil's Eye (23 page)

Finally, they gave up. We were piling on too much altitude. Kav assured me they'd be back for me, and they pulled away as an airliner passed in the distance. Now all I needed was to get to thirty-one thousand kilometers and get rescued. I was hoping that Sky Traffic Operations was notifying Samuels that a vehicle with a hysterical woman on board was heading up out of control and would need help. I checked the doors and listened for the sound of escaping air. I didn't hear any. The taxi seemed as secure as the AI had promised. I checked the altitude gauge. It was marked up to three klicks, which wasn't much use in determining how high I'd gone. But I could estimate my rate of ascent, so it wasn't hard to calculate. I was maybe halfway to my target altitude when Traffic Control started talking to me again:
"Miss, are you okay?"

"Yes," I said.

"Okay. Thanks."

So far, so good. I rode patiently up into black skies. The heating system couldn't keep up, so I wrapped myself in one of the blankets. The galactic haze was rising in the east. And we were burning fuel at a steady rate. When I thought I'd reached more or less the space-station altitude, I burned some more to level off. And I began looking for lights. The messages from groundside went on without a break. Lady in the taxi, it's okay. We're watching you. Samuels has been notified. Help is on the way. Please remain calm. Despite all that, the sky remained empty. My air had been leaking out, and I was beginning to feel it. I reached back for the mask and put it on. The flow of oxygen felt good. I don't think I'd been aware how foul the air had gotten. I began breathing regularly and sat back to await rescue. The ride up from the surface had consumed more fuel than I'd hoped, and I had maybe fifty minutes before the spike would shut down. I couldn't come close to accelerating to orbital speed, so once that happened I'd simply fall back to the ground. Well, as close to the ground as I would get before burning up. It was time to take matters into my own hands. I got on the radio. "Samuels Ops," I said, "this is Janey Armitage." I made up the name. "I'm in a runaway taxi. Something went wrong with the spike, and it's taken me God knows where. Please help. I'll leave the transmit on so you can track me. Please hurry." I looked out at the empty skies. "The fuel gauge is near empty, and I don't know what will happen after that." They would know, of course. And they answered immediately:
"Ms. Armitage, we heard you were coming. Patrol vehicle is already on its way. Should be there anytime."
Then, a gag:
"What kind of taxi are you riding anyhow?"

"Don't know," I said. "But I'll be glad to get out of here."

"Just sit tight, ma'am. They'll be right there."
Moments later I saw lights. Coming from ahead. And another voice on the radio:
"Ms. Armitage, this is Orbital Delta. We see you, but we may have a problem."

Chilling words, those. The guy wasn't even close to me yet. "What's the problem?" I said.

I'd debated picking up a pressure suit in case we had to do a space walk, but I hadn't been able to see any way to explain its presence to the rescuers. Hiding the oxygen tank would be tough enough. If they figured out that I'd engineered the whole thing, they'd waste no time turning me over to the authorities. So I'd had to take my chances. "How long before it gets here?"

"It won't be long."
"
How
long?"
"Probably within the hour."

"That's not going to work."

"Air's okay, but fuel looks like about forty-five minutes."

"No." I held back on the wisecrack.

While they were figuring, a cluster of lights came out of the night behind me. The lights were higher than I was, and off to port. While I watched they grew brighter and blurred past. "That Samuels?" I asked.

Only one course of action was possible, they explained. I would have to cross from the taxi to the rescue

vessel more or less dressed for dinner.
"It sounds unnerving, ma'am. We know that. But we've done it before, and we've never lost anybody."

I had my doubts. "Okay," I said. "What's your name?"

"Okay, Lance. Come to the lady's rescue."

They needed a few minutes to get ready. I assume they were talking to the station, trying to make sure the other vehicle, the one with the big cargo doors, could not make it in time. Finally, they were back.

"Sorry about the delay, Janey. Okay, here's how we're going to do it. The only thing you need to do is keep cool, follow directions, and leave everything to us."
Minutes later, the Patrol vehicle maneuvered close in, almost close enough to bump the cab.
"It's okay,"
Lance said.
"If you have any warm clothing with you, put it on."
I wrapped myself in one of the blankets. I was starting to get used to wearing blankets. Latest fashion item. Their air lock opened, revealing a figure in a pressure suit. They had to stay close, not only because getting me from one vehicle to the other had to be done quickly, but also because the antigravity field extended only a hand's length beyond the wingtips. We weren't in orbit. So anyone who got outside the field was going to fall.

That's why I'd bought my nearly airtight dragon jacket. I'd secured it to a seat support to prevent its floating around the inside of the taxi. Now I released it and told him
yes
. The person in the pressure suit-I didn't know whether it was Lance or not-jumped across, and I heard the thump as he landed on the side of the cab. Just before he reached the door, I took a deep breath, shed the mask, and pushed it under the seat. The air in the cab was fouler than I'd realized.
"All right, Janey,"
he said.
"You're doing fine. Keep calm."
I pulled the jacket over my head and secured it at my throat with the tieback.

I couldn't really answer him anymore. But I grabbed hold of the door release and the chair.

I nodded okay. Inside the jacket, of course, I couldn't see anything. I knew others had made this kind of crossing and that there was no real danger unless I lost my head. So now I'll confess something. I was almost enjoying playing the damsel in distress.

I pulled the release and opened up. The air exploded out. Then the world turned frigid. It was like being held naked against an iceberg. I started shivering. He took my arm and pulled me through the door. I could see nothing; I was just trying to breathe normally when we pushed off hard away from the taxi. Hard because for a moment we went outside the antigrav field. My weight returned and, for a terrifying moment, we fell. But our momentum carried us across. The weight went away again, as quickly as it had come. We touched metal. Secure in my jacket, I closed my eyes. Air pressure began to push against me, and gradually, the world got warm again.

Lance insisted I check in with Medical, and there was no way I could refuse without arousing suspicion. Anyway, I was bleeding from every orifice I had. So he escorted me down. On the way, he said he knew this wasn't a particularly good time, but he wondered if he could see me again. Considering the shape I was in, it came as a surprise. "That would be nice, Lance," I said. "I'm on duty through tomorrow. But-" He hesitated. "Will you be staying on station? I think they're going to want to talk to you." He didn't specify who "they" were. "I have to be getting back to my job," I said. "Can't really stay here." He smiled. He was a big, good-looking guy. There was an innocence about him that was appealing, and we all know how women love uniforms. Not to mention guys who save their behinds. But there was too much risk in letting him know how he could reach me, so I gave him a bogus code to go with the bogus name, and we separated, he promising to get in touch, while I batted my eyes, said thanks, gave him a hug, and thought
good-bye
. Medical checked me out, said I was fine, but suggested I stay under observation for a day. I thanked them, but passed, and headed for the Ops desk. I was approaching another bad moment. To get the
Belle-Marie
, I had to use my real name, which was likely to bring the gendarmes crashing down on me before I could get launched. Ivan was my best bet. But I wanted very much to get on board
Belle
and clear out. The watch officer came out of a back room and assumed his place behind the counter. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "What can I do for you?" He was tall, thick gray mustache, speckled gray hair. Serious-looking and well along in years. He'd obviously been passed over several times, a guy who was still manning the counter. "My name's Kolpath," I said. "I'd like to clear my ship. The
Belle-Marie
." He wasn't good enough to hide his reaction. His jaw tightened; his eyelids flickered and came alive. "Very good," he said, trying to pretend everything was okay. "Can you hold on a second?" "Sure." He went back into the office, and I took off. Down the gravity shaft and out onto the main concourse. Picked out a ladies' room and hustled inside. There was one occupant, and I washed my hands until she left. Then I called Ivan.
"Captain Sloan is not available,"
said his AI.
"Do you wish to leave a message?"
He was probably out on the
Goldman
. "Yes, I would."
"Anytime you're ready."

"Ivan, this is Chase. I'm in trouble. Need to talk to you as soon as possible." I added my code as the door opened, and somebody came in.

I checked the schedules. The
Hassan Goldman
, Ivan's ship, was en route to Varesnikov. It was due back in two days. See the biggest planet in the system. Cruise through the moons and rings. Gourmet meals served on board. Not good. If I simply wandered around the concourse for two days, I was going to become extremely visible. Then, as I was trying to decide what to do, I spotted Krestoff. She was looking around and talking into her sleeve. I had to get clear of the station. The only way I could think of to do that was to
steal Belle
. On the assumption they wouldn't expect me to go back to Ops, I did just that, slipped past the service desk, and saw a couple of serious-looking women talking with the watch officer. I kept going, and got as far as the maintenance piers. But the entrance is always locked. I stood there waiting for someone who'd open the door and allow me to follow him through. While I was considering my chances of doing that and

making a run for
Belle
, getting on board, and getting under way before they closed the launch doors, a nasal voice broke in: "Who are you and what are you doing here?" It was a technician. He was big, kind of old, and didn't look particularly kindly. "I'm lost," I said. "Can you tell me how to get to the main concourse?" I went back and thought about booking a room. But the hotel would be the first place Krestoff would look. I could hunt Lance down. And I had no doubt he'd be happy to provide bed and board for two days. But I'd have to persuade him to keep quiet in the meantime. The schedule showed two more tour flights that day: one to Miranda, and one that would chase down a comet. Miranda would be gone almost a week, so I signed on for the comet, which would be back in three days. I left another message for Ivan, asking him not to leave when he got back. "Going to see the comet," I said. "I'll be in touch." It was taking a chance, letting him know where I'd be. But I doubted Wexler had made a connection between us. I spent the next few hours shopping once again for fresh clothes and staying out of Krestoff's way. When time came to board, I waited until the very last minute, then rolled through the boarding area, gave them my pass, and hurried down the tube. A flight attendant welcomed me, showed me to my cabin, and wished me a good flight. There
was
a brief delay, apparently having to do with one more late arrival. I held my breath, but finally hatches closed, and the captain's voice came over the comm system, warning the passengers that we were getting ready to leave.

The ship was the
Excelsior
. It was a far bigger and more elaborate vessel than the
Goldman
. It accommodated four times as many passengers. It was more comfortable. It had a much better menu. And the common room was transparent in all directions save along the spine of the ship. The comet, when we got to it, was spectacular. It was easy to imagine you were not even
in
a ship, but that you were out riding alongside the thing in your chair. With a glass of wine and a few hors d'oeuvres. Despite all that, I was in no mood for sightseeing. And I wasn't thinking straight. I sat there in the resplendent glow of the comet and wondered whether, when we got back, I could hide in the washroom until everyone had left, then make off with the
Excelsior
and take it out to the asteroid. There would probably not be a refueling problem. But I'd draw every Patrol ship in the area. Ivan was a better bet. Cavarotti's Comet had been looping around the sun and lighting the skies over Salud Afar for more than three thousand years. It had originally been reported by John Cavarotti, of whom nothing more was known. The pilot explained it was beginning to come apart, and scientists thought it would make only a few more passes before disintegrating. "There are a lot of people," he said, "who'd like to see it saved for future generations. So there's an effort under way." The comet was close enough to the sun to light up, and it was a spectacular sight. We got in front of it and looked back at the head. We sank below it and braked, allowing it to pass above us. The tail was endless. "More than a million kilometers long," said the pilot. "As comets go, it's pretty ordinary." During the second day, while we still watched the fireworks, the pilot came back and asked whether I was, by any chance, Chase Kolpath. I hesitated. "Yes." "Your boarding pass says you're Jane Armitage." "I'm a writer.
Kolpath
is my pseudonym." He frowned, then smiled. "Okay. I have a message for you. From Ivan." "Oh," I said. "Good." "I told him there was nobody on board with that name. But he described you. Including the accent." "All right. Thanks. I was hoping I'd get to see him." He handed me the message.
Chase,
it said,
hope everything's okay. I'll be waiting when you get back. Ivan.