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Chapter Sixteen

Bowden realized he’d damaged his left arm more than he’d thought as he steered the packet up and away from the jet blowing debris from the comet. Every movement hurt, but he couldn’t think about it—he had to find Kamara and Raptis.

Which was probably going to be impossible since the stupid RockHounds were too worried about staying unseen to have handy little things like a Blue Force Tracker or some other locator he could have used to zero in on them.

He visually searched the coma, looking for them in the haze, but they were nowhere in sight. Belatedly, he realized they’d been ejected off in a different trajectory than he’d lifted off in, and he spun the craft around to an approximate heading of where he’d thought they’d gone.

Still nothing.

I could wander around in the coma forever and never find them, he realized. Would they still remain caught in the comet’s gravity, or did they have enough escape velocity to break free? He had no idea. What did he have that could find them?

The radar. He’d found the nucleus with it; maybe he could find the two suits with it. Sure, the radar was shit, but he could differentiate the metal of their thruster packs from the generic bits of rock flying around, and they weren’t in the debris being spewed out, so they ought to stand out a little more clearly. He flipped the radar on and waited impatiently as it warmed up.

After a subjective eternity waiting, the picture finally formed on the screen. Nothing. Some small, fuzzy returns that were probably rocks, but nothing that looked like refined metal.

Think, Bowden, think. Why don’t you see them?

They’re not there, obviously.

Why not?

They’re somewhere else.

But where?

He opened up the scope to scan the most volume possible. Still nothing.

You need to set up a scan pattern, just as if you were looking for enemy fighters.

As soon as he had the thought, he realized the problem—he wasn’t looking in three dimensions. He was certain—well, mostly certain—he was on the right general azimuth; he might just not be looking high or low enough. Space was big—too big for one small radar to look everywhere. He needed a better scan pattern. He hadn’t flown very far above the comet, so he gently pitched the nose of the craft up and panned it from side to side.

Still nothing.

A little more pitch, and re-scan.

This time he got two blips.

Gotcha.

He tapped the thrusters, wanting to get there immediately, but also knowing he’d have to match velocities with them when he found them. As he approached, the smaller of the blips resolved into two blips, very close together. That’s them!

As he got closer, the coma thinned a little, and he could see them. One was holding onto the other. As carefully as he could, he slid into position next to them. One of the figures waved, then pointed at the packet, then pointed back at the two figures.

That must be Raptis, and she wants me to come get them.

Oh, hell.

Bowden snuggled the craft up to the two figures and saw one of them holding up three fingers.

He looked at his suit; somehow the controls had gotten switched to channel four. He switched it back to three. “Hi y’all. Need a ride?”

“Yes,” Raptis said. “Kamara is unconscious, and I’m out of thruster fuel. Get out here and get us.”

“On my way.” He unstrapped and went to the airlock, trying to ignore the pain in his arm. As he cycled it open, he searched for the suited figures, but didn’t immediately see them. Panic started to set in, but then he caught motion from the corner of his eye. They were holding onto the wing!

Whether it was the coma blocking the blackness of space or his haste to get out to them, he forgot to feel overwhelmed—like he usually did—and released his hold on the airlock and jetted away from the ship.

Every motion he made set his left arm on fire, reminding him to keep his approach slow and under control. Raptis pushed off gently from the wing so he’d have a bigger target to aim for, and he intercepted the pair. Pushing the group of them with his thrusters took a good bit of experimentation and flailing around—which wasn’t helped by Raptis’s biting comments on thruster control—but eventually, he got them back to the airlock and inside.

“Glad you found us,” Raptis said once they had Kamara inside the packet and strapped down. She took off his helmet and held it up to show it had several pieces of tape across it. “He wouldn’t have lasted much longer. I did my best to seal the holes in his helmet and suit, but he was still losing air.”

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” Bowden replied. “You had spun off into the coma before I could get the ship fired up, and I had to use the radar to find you.”

“You used the radar?” she asked. “And you were able to find us…”

“Yeah.” Bowden gave her a wry smile. “Sorry if there was a better way; it was all I could think of.”

Raptis shook her head. “No. That was a great way to do it; I’m not sure I would have thought to do it that way.” She cocked her head. “That’s the second time you’ve saved my life today. You know, you’re not too bad…for a Terran.”

“Well, thanks.” He chuckled. “I think.”

“Why don’t you go fly us home now?” she asked. Raptis was all business again; the moment was over. “I will do what I can for Kamara.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bowden stood in the hatchway a moment, not sure he should leave Kamara in case there was something he needed to do for him.

Raptis looked up after a moment. “He will need competent medical treatment. The sooner you get us back to Outpost, the sooner he’ll get it.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bowden turned toward the cockpit. He was halfway there before he realized he had no idea how he was going to find Outpost again without Kamara.


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