The Consuming Fire (The Interdependency #2)(61)

“We checked their propulsion system,” said Commander Vyno Junn, the chief engineer of the Bransid, when Marce came to him for an update. “It’s shot and it can’t be fixed. Not with what I have on hand or what they have on hand, in the time we have before we have to leave.”

“Can we raid some of the nearby habitats?” Marce asked.

“For what?” Junn asked. “Check the schematics. Habitats don’t have propulsion or navigation systems that work even remotely like the ones on starships. They’re there to maintain rotational speed and orbital position, not to accelerate to Flow shoals or travel to planets. And before you ask, we already checked the hulls of close-by ships. These guys have already hollowed them out.”

“So they’re screwed,” Marce said.

“They were already screwed when we got here,” Junn said. “We’re buying them a little more time, at least. We’re helping them rebuild some of their life support and power systems, very slapdash, but better than what they have now. And I’m pretty sure we can get that ring of theirs moving again before we go, which will help them with their agriculture. And I know we’re basically carving up all the fresh fruit we have on the ship to give them the seeds. Plus bags of potatoes and turnips and all that other root vegetable stuff.”

“We’re breaking Interdependency law to do that,” Marce said. He thought back to his friend and former lover Kiva Lagos, who probably would have skinned someone who handed out citrus seeds without a payment to her house.

“The way I see it is if anyone has a problem they can come here and try to collect,” Junn said. “But they better hurry.”

“What about bringing them back with us?” Marce said, to Captain Laure, after his visit with Junn.

“The Dalasyslans?” Laure said.

“Of course.”

“Where will we put them, Lord Marce?”

“We can squeeze in,” Marce said.

“We really can’t,” Laure said. “This ship crews with fifty, and includes a dozen marines and your science crew on top of that. You’ll have noticed that your berth is roughly the size of a broom closet. Mine, I regret to say, is not much larger. Every square centimeter that’s not allocated for occupancy is already claimed for something else. How many Dalasyslans are there?”

“Almost two hundred.”

“Again I ask: Where will we put them? We literally have no space for them on this ship.”

“We have a cargo hold.”

“Yes,” Laure said. “That will work quite well as long as we don’t ever expect them to sit. Which brings up another salient point, Lord Marce. The Dalasyslans have never been exposed to full gravity. They’re used to, what, a third of a g?”

“That’s what their living quarters pull, yes.”

“So we’d be exposing them to three times the weight on their bodies that they’re used to.”

“We can draw down our own push fields.”

“That works fine until they get to the Interdependency. I don’t know of a habitat that functions at a third of a g on a constant basis. Living on Hub for them would be like you or me living on a gas giant. And finally, even if I did stuff them into the cargo hold and drive home on a third of a g push field, how do you propose we keep them sequestered, to keep them from catching a disease from us they have no defenses for, or vice versa? The cargo hold ventilation system is tied in to the rest of the ship. The only time we close it off is when we’re purging the air out of the hold for sterilization. We’d leave with two hundred refugees but arrive with not so many, I suspect, Lord Marce.”

“They’ll die if they stay here,” Marce said.

“No,” Laure said. “They’ll die if they stay here with that broken ship of theirs. Maybe we can help with that.”

“I don’t understand.”

Laure smiled. “Sensing that I might be having this conversation with you at some point, Lord Marce, and anticipating your objections, you may be interested to know that I have already sent a courier drone to Admiral Emblad, with a confidential message outlining the problems the Dalasyslans are facing. The Imperial Navy has several ships that have been recently decommissioned, including at least one fiver. There’s nothing wrong with them except that they are old. But none as old as what Captain Chuch and his crew are sailing in. It’s possible the navy may be interested in saving the expenditure of tearing that fiver down for scrap. Especially if you, sir, drop a similar hint to your good friend the emperox.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Marce said, then did some math in his head. “The timing will be tight for anyone hoping to get back.”

“Captains don’t like to talk about this, but it’s possible for a ship to be navigated to and from a Flow shoal entirely by computer, even more so if there is no crew to manage.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t tell anyone I told you that. I’ll have you tossed out an airlock. Sir.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And since you are being so accommodating to me at the moment, Lord Marce, let me say it’s good you went looking for me, because it saves me the trouble of having to look for you. I have news for you.”

“What is it?”