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"We are. Do. Have. Vrijheid. The government thinks it was destroyed by the Primacy during the war. Crash and burn, my informant said, so it's a station."
"The government thinks?" Presit snorted. "That are being unlikely. Still, that are being enough information even for you to be finding it. Fortunately, you are not having to. Ceelin! Run a search."
Because Confederation law stipulated that all recording equipment must be large enough to be seen by the general public and carry obvious network identification, Ceelin's camera also included as much or more data storage than the Second Star, an ability to hook into any nearby network, as well as, he'd confided to Torin on the trip out, every game made by Kwin Industries. That was one hell of a lot of games.
"So when we are finding Vrijheid Station," Presit continued, "you are having a plan? Or are you just docking and telling murdering pirates they are giving you back Craig Ryder now."
"Yes," Torin told her, frowning down at the Susumi charts.
"Well, which is it being?"
"Both." The crew of the Heart of Stone had moved the armory to a heavily reinforced storage pod near the station's old shuttle bays. If Craig had to bet, he'd say the pod had been designed to hold explosives of one kind or another. Stations usually stored explosives in support of mining facilities on the planet they orbited and that told him absolutely sweet fuk all about where he was. There were enough uninhabitable planets being mined that most of them didn't even have names and, even if this one did, he sure as shit wouldn't find it written on the wall in a storage pod.
As large as the armory was, the pod was just enough larger that Craig could walk all the way around it.
"The seal is on the front," Cho snapped.
"On the front of a locker potentially containing enough explosives to fracture this pod, hole the station, and kill us all," Craig reminded him, reaching out to brace himself against the metal as his vertigo returned. "I've lived most of my life in vacuum and I have no intention of dying in it because I didn't take a couple of minutes to make sure I knew what was I doing."
"Why would salvage operators even need a seal this complicated?" Nadayki sniffed. He hadn't been happy hearing about the possibility of fusing the lock and exploding the armory. Although Craig suspected he was less happy about not being able to hook in his slate than he was about blowing up. The youngest of the ship's di'Taykan had lime-green hair and eyes and an attitude Craig wanted to smack off his pale face. Where the di'Taykan default leaned toward elegantly slender, Nadayki bordered on ski
"Yeah, well, we don't play well with others, and eyeballing this thing…" Craig patted the metal. "… isn't about the seal. What we have here is an armory that hasn't been treated with the respect it deserves." He eyeballed the dent beside his hand. "If something inside is damaged and leaking, it could blow before we get a chance to fuk it up."
"That's… possible," Nadayki reluctantly acknowledged after a long moment.
"I've already examined it," Cho growled.
"And I've got more experience with debris blown off a battle cruiser." Craig tapped a fingertip against the metal and almost laughed as Nadayki's eyes lightened. "I know exactly what kind of stress fractures that causes, and I know when it's safe to hang around and when the only thing to do is haul ass and pray."
Cho folded his arms and glared first at Nadayki and then at Craig. Craig waited patiently for the captain to deal. Every second he took coming to a decision brought Torin one second closer. "Fine," he said at last. "Inspect it."
"Thank you."
Ignoring the sarcasm, Cho only growled, "But make it fast."
Unfortunately, the locker was in amazing shape considering what it had been through. In spite of his best attempt, Craig could spend only so long checking out a line of slag that ran diagonally across the bottom third of the locker's back to tail out along the lower edge of one side. It looked like part of whatever had secured the locker to the Marine packet had melted.
"Well?" Cho had moved back beside the pod's closed door.
There was barely enough damage for Craig to lie about.
"Looks like the slag's attached to the locker's surface. With luck, it hasn't melted in." Down on one knee, he reached back to where Nadayki hovered, making less than helpful comments under his breath. "Give me a screwdriver, kid."
"Why would I have a screwdriver? That's hardware. And don't call me kid!"
"Fine, a stylus then. Just something solid and pointed so I can get a bit of this slag off and make sure there's no structural damage."
"Use your kayti," Nadayki snorted dismissively. "And it's obviously not melted in. Even pathetic Human eyes should be able to see that."
Craig grabbed for the approaching foot but missed as his depth perception twisted. Naydaki's kick wasn't hard, not given that the kid was supporting weight and movement on his bad leg, but he hit the armory with enough force to break off a six-centimeter length of melted metal. It took a bit of enamel with it as it fell to the deck.
"See? No structural damage. Can we get on with it?"
"An excellent suggestion. Move, Ryder; on your feet."
"Forgive me for wanting to start with not blowing up," Craig muttered as he stood. Halfway up, the pod tipped sideways, and he slammed back against the locker.
"What is the matter with you?" Nadayki snarled, yanking him forward.
Okay, maybe not the pod that tipped, he thought as those metaphorical red-hot spikes got shoved back through his temples. Jack-knifing forward, he spewed the contents of his stomach over the young di'Taykan's uninjured leg. Shoved hard, he bounced off the locker, vomited again, then headed for the floor, impact jarring both knees. At least he avoided putting his hands down in his own puke.
I've got to learn some more di'Taykan profanity, he thought as the pod tipped again and he fought to keep from toppling over. It sounded like the kid had hidden depths and an impressive vocabulary.
"Well, are you surprised?" Doc asked, as he half carried a semiconscious Ryder past the captain and out of the pod. "Given the amount of juice Almon hit him with, I'm amazed he has brain function. Intermittent dizziness and vomiting is no big deal."
"It's keeping him from what I need him to do," Cho growled.
"Doesn't the boy wonder have Ryder's codes? Tell him to get started. Tell him to change first," Doc amended, nose wrinkling.
"Ryder's codes are only the first step," Cho began, but Doc cut him off.
"Yeah, well, that's where most people start. Now, I'm going to take my patient to sick bay and make sure there's no brain damage I missed."
"If he's brain damaged…"
"Station medic is looking for organs. I'll take care of it."
"Good."
Cho stared into the storage pod, stepped aside as Naydaki shuffled out, and tried not to show how much he'd been startled when Big Bill said conversationally behind him, "Smells like puke down here."
"Ryder had an accident."
"Ryder? Your salvage operator?"
"Lingering effects from when we took him."
"You need to learn to play more nicely with your toys." Thumbs in his belt loops, Big Bill nodded toward the pod. "So that's what's going to change the world as we know it?"
"You can take a closer look," Cho allowed reluctantly, even as he moved to put himself between Big Bill and the pod.
Big Bill's expression suggested he could do whatever he damn well pleased. "No, I don't think so. I'm not a part of this. Remember?"
Because Big Bill only allied himself with schemes that had a hundred percent chance of working, Schemes where a mistake wouldn't blow a hole into the station that, one way or another, Cho definitely wouldn't survive.