Station Breaker

63 Grand Theft

After I run through all the different things I'm going to have to do to get DarkStar to the K1, I shut my eyes and try to find my peaceful place.

This mission is a flowchart. One action follows another. There are variables, but most of them are known. The less I think, the better my chances of survival.

Wait, that's not right. This isn't about my survival. This is about getting the nuclear device off the station. What happens to me isn't important. The only course of action that matters is the one where the people on the ground will be safe.

I watch the little lines of code whiz past on the screen and occasionally catch one of the strings I recognize.

When they sent men to the moon their spaceship had less computational power than the key fob you use to open your car. Imagine going back in time with a smart light bulb and trying to explain all the things that make that work.

Now a rocket is really a bunch of code attached to some slightly extraneous hardware. Those same engineers of yesteryear would have no trouble grasping all the parts of the Unicorn and the Alicorn. The fact that we use 3D printers to make the engines might come as a surprise, but the design wouldn't be as radical as the fact that right now I'm waiting for a neural network as intelligent as a small mammal to decide if we're good to proceed.

Everything looks good. We're in a perfect alignment for an orbital intercept with the US/iCosmos and the K1 when the DarkStar does its little maneuver.

Let's just hope they don't decide to laser me. I'm pretty sure the wavelength absorbing material that covers this thing is the exact opposite of what you want around you when you're the target of a high-energy weapon.

We're in the final stage. In less than a half hour I'll either be in orbit or a firework.

I close my eyes to relax for a moment but have to open them when something bright starts to flash unexpectedly.

I reach a hand out to touch the panel but jerk it back in surprise when Vin's face appears on the screen.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

I freeze, not sure what is going on.

"I can see you, David. Did you know that I monitor every launch from a window on my screen? Not many people do."

"Uh… hey, Vin." Should I unbuckle and try to get out of the ship before security gets here? Hold on… maybe I can talk him out of that. "How did you know I was here?"

"When I started iCosmos I didn't want to get complacent. I promised myself that for at least the first thousand people in space I'd watch and make sure that they got there safely.

"That's a hell of a lot of pressure, if you think about it. If something bad happens, I have to watch it live. Imagine my surprise when my terminal tells me there's a live feed in a cargo module where there shouldn't be. When I open it up, who do I see? You. Have you seen our stock price lately? The board of directors is talking about replacing me…"

"Vin…"

He shakes his head and cuts me off. "Everything I've worked for, David — everything is on the line because of you."

"I didn't have a choice…"

"Really? What are you doing now?"

I think about Markov's warning about the reach of Silverback. "I'm not at liberty to say."

"I'm not stupid, David. I could tell Peterson and Bennet were up to something." I see his arms move as he types on his keyboard. "I just spent the last several days in what I'd technically call Federal custody after three of my astronauts caused an international incident."

All my screens go dark except for his video. He just shut me down.

"Vin! Don't!"

"I'm asking you again, what are you doing here?"

"You have to trust me."

"Do you know why it took so long for you to get a seat on my ship? It's because I have the most comprehensive psychological profiles you could imagine. I have maps of all my astronaut's brains and can predict how they'll act under different situations. Every time your name came up, I'd run your profile and come back with the same answer; you didn't have the right stuff. Your reflexes, your knowledge, your skills — those were off the charts. But there was something about your character that said this was a man who was out for himself. The only reason you got your slot was because Bennet pushed for it. I told him you didn't have what it takes. Your brain was nothing like his. You weren't a hero. You were a survivor. Survivors make great test pilots, but they're not leaders of men. And now here you are, trying to steal a quarter-billion dollars of hardware from me after causing the worst disaster of my life."

"Vin… things are complicated. I can't tell you my mission."

"That's not what I'm asking. I want to know why you're the one sitting here."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, David Dixon. Why you? What happened to Prescott?Did he back out? Was he ill?"

"Wait? You know about this?"

He gives me a pitiful look. "David, nobody does anything here without me knowing. Markov said he was sending up a specialist."

"Prescott wasn't right for the mission."

"And you are?"

"I don't know. I guess I have to be."

Vin gives me his sage-like smile. "And here we are."

"Capricorn?"

"I deny everything." He winks at me then presses a button on his keyboard.

My control panel lights up again.

"I just gave you a better insertion path to the K1. Four minutes to launch. Anything I can do for you?"

I think he means if I don't make it back. "Tell my parents I love them. Um, give Laney Washburn a chance to fly. Oh, yes, some kids in Rio helped me out. I forget the name of the neighborhood in Rio. Maybe see if you can get them into a school or something?"

"I'll find them."

"Thank you."

"Have a safe trip. When this is all over you should come out to the yacht."

"Only if you promise to lend me the silver Speedos you had on at Burning Man."