SIX
The shuttle shuddered again. This heavy-duty multitasking craft designed for short-haul flights worked perfectly in the vacuum of space, but after entering the thick atmosphere of Delta, it started having problems. Henryan wasn’t sure whether this was the case due to both pilots’ lack of experience, or bollixed aerodynamics of the bulgy vessel. In any case, another jolt forced him deeper into the cocoon of his chair.
“What are you guys doing?” Darski snapped over the intercom.
“It’s not our fault, Captain,” the pilot answered, sounding a bit robotic. “Turbulence is a normal occurrence in such thick atmosphere.”
Turbulence? You’re calling this turbulence?! Darski wanted to yell, but he felt nauseated by the perpetual shake and continual swing. He swallowed hard and then shifted his gaze to Lieutenant Hondo, who had served as his assistant since being assigned to Cervantes at the beginning of the evacuation.
“Let’s roll, Toranosukenjiro!” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Again? The third time?” A very slim, freckled, redheaded vicenarian groaned. “You already know these numbers by heart, Captain.”
“I need to keep my mind occupied. When I have nothing to do, I think about what’s in my stomach too much. Thanks to those scoundrels …” He nodded in the direction of the cockpit behind the bulkhead.
Hondo nodded. Unlike most of the soldiers, he didn’t wear a helmet. In the light panels’ glow, his cropped hair was the color of copper. This, and the freckles, made the lieutenant look like one of Henryan’s distant ancestors on his mother’s side. Even Toranosukenjiro’s face was similar to those in the old family holos: oval, with a pointed chin and very high but not too prominent cheekbones.
“The alien probe appeared in the Ulietta’s jump zone seven hours and twelve minutes ago,” Hondo said in a bored voice. “That means we still have about forty-one hours to complete the operation.”
“Come on!” Henryan growled, feeling that the hull and the seats attached to it were starting to vibrate again.
“Within the allotted time, our transporters and the requisitioned arks will get to the transit area of Belt Q twice, going back and forth, which means we’ll be able to pick up one hundred and eighty-two thousand people—”
“Out of the three hundred and twenty-five thousand colonists inhabiting the system,” Darski cut in.
“Yes. Out of three hundred and twenty-five thousand, six hundred and seventeen,” Hondo specified.
“Anyway, it’s only fifty-six percent of the Ulietta’s population.”
“As many as fifty-six percent, Captain,” Toranosukenjiro corrected him. “After all, evacuating these people isn’t even our priority.”
“Son,” Henryan looked him in the eye, “saving them is and always will be my priority.”
“But the Admiralty clearly—” Hondo fell silent when his superior shot him a withering look.
“I know what the orders are, Lieutenant, and believe me, I don’t intend to break them. But you’ve got to understand one thing: the evacuation of half the population will be my personal defeat … what am I saying? … it’ll be a personal tragedy. It’s more than one hundred thousand of potential victims, can’t you see that?” He kept his eyes trained on the lieutenant until he nodded. “That’s why I’m going to focus on this aspect of our mission.”
“What about the rod-ship?” the lieutenant asked in a slightly shaky voice.
“What about it? Stowing is in progress. It won’t stop until the very last minute. The miners and mine management know best what to do. By interfering, we’ll only worsen the situation.”
“Right.”
“Really?” Henryan smiled wryly.
“Yes. It’s the same in the Fleet. Let’s take maneuvers. Everything’s going swimmingly until some star-studded clone-of-a-bitch starts to interfere.”
“Oh, yes.” The captain’s smile widened. “That’s why we should focus on what really matters. Rescuing these people.”
“But how do we do it? Since numbers don’t lie?” Hondo lifted his reader. “As per your orders, I took the maximum value of each factor into account. The Admiralty had planned to evacuate forty percent of the Delta’s population, including its moons. Thanks to your tips, I managed to raise this number by another sixteen percent. It’s a lot—”
“Perhaps,” Henryan admitted. “But still not enough for me.”
“That’s all we can do.” Judging by the sound of his voice, the lieutenant believed it.
Darski leaned forward as far as the cocoon harness let him.
“In the next two days you will understand that when you’re determined enough, you’ve got the power to change statistics.”
Hondo didn’t reply. After another jolt, accompanied by loud scraping, the soldiers heard the voice of the co-pilot. “Attention, the craft is now making its final approach to Delta.”