FREE STORIES 2012(54)

Kara sipped from her tea-bottle as she created a ref-file, attached the open, incomplete, order to the rebuild order, raised her finger to tap the next task in line -- and stopped, frowning.

Vechi was the fifth tech injured in the line of duty. Had the others all been checking anomalies, too?

In less than thirty seconds, she had the anomalies report open on one side of the wagon's screen; on the other, the tech department's injury report.

The injured techs: Vechi, Mardin, Whistler, Harfer, and Gen Arb -- and yes, each had been checking an anomaly report when they had been injured.

Kara's fingers were quicker than her thoughts. She called up the real-time functions, using her key for the big ops board, that she sat on rotation every eight station-days.

The wagon's screen was too small to accommodate the whole function screen, but all Kara wanted to do was to set an alarm. That done, she opened up the next work order in-queue.





#





About half-way through Vechi's shift, Kara paused between jobs to file a manual schedule adjustment. There was, she reasoned, no sense going off duty for one shift, only to have to report back for her regular work-shift. Best to just keep on, with the loan of Vechi's wagon, and swap out her second shift for rest. That would get her two rest shifts in a row, and put her back onto her regular schedule.

The system OK'd the change, which meant that Master Thelly was on maintenance himself, and would scold her the next time they met, per standard procedure.

Content with her changes, Kara finished out Vechi's shift, closed the list of completed work orders, signed in as herself and downloaded her own run of work.

She was in Green-Mid-Forty-Five; her work started in Blue-Mid-Twelve, conveniently near. Kara regarded the change of venue as a break.

She sipped tea as she walked, the wagon following. The best route to Blue-Mid-Twelve involved a shortcut through Orange, where the root of Ten Rod Two joined the station structure proper.

And there she quite unexpectedly found Fortch, the pool pilot who had not yet mastered the station's gravity, in front of the utility-core for the arm, an access hatch wide open, and several tools haphazardly sticking from his pockets and belt.

"What are you doing in the tech-tunnels, Pilot?" she asked, using her tea-bottle as a pointer, her voice sharper than it ought to be, for truly, he could be temp-help, or --

But if he was temp-help, where was his repair wagon? Where was his kit?

Fortch seemed to feel himself at a disadvantage. He licked his lips.

"Kara! I didn't know you were working down here!"

"And I didn't you were working down here."

"Oh, well I am – working. Filling in. Just checking something out for Master Thelly, that's all. There was a glitch on the screen and he asked me to – but wait, I need to talk to you about your license problem...”

He was moving, as if trying to stay between her and the open hatch. Lights were on, and covers hinged back from equipment.

Behind her, the anomaly alarm went off on the work wagon, and three things happened in a quick succession.

Fortch jumped toward her, a spanner suddenly in his hand.

Kara spun as if she were playing bowli ball, ducked under his outstretched arms, using the open tea-bottle to fend off the tool he swung down. There was a clang, the bottle was torn from her hand and spun away, splashing tea everywhere. Her spin continued as his lunge faltered; she came up behind -- and pushed him away from her, hard as she could, toward the open utility room.

He, inept in the station environment, skidded on the tea-splashed deck, arms pinwheeling now, half-fell and half slid, snatched for his balance, cursing -- and lost his balance altogether, striking his shoulder on the access door and crashing heavily into the room, arm up in a desperate and failing bid not to fall into the panels and wiring.

There was a sharp snap and a dazzling flash, and he collapsed to the decking, unmoving.





#





The door to the Station Master private office opened, and Kara stood up, preferring to meet her fate thus.

"Tech ven'Arith, thank you for your patience," the Station Master said gently, giving her a bow as well-meaning as it was meaningless. "You're free to go."

She blinked at him.

"To go?" she repeated. "Go -- where?"

"To your conapt, I'd say," Master Thelly stuck in. "You got the next three shifts off -- use 'em to sleep!"

"But --" She looked among them until she found Orn Ald yos'Senchul's face. "Fortch is dead."

"So he is, and that is unfortunate, since there were questions that various of us would have liked to ask him. Clearly, however, he was undertaking sabotage against the station and his efforts might have killed hundreds. Stopping him was of utmost importance -- and stop him you did." He inclined his head.