Stellar Objects

Chapter 29: Special Delivery

Andra settled into the pilot's seat of the HMS Ghandi.

It was faux-leather, patched up with duct-tape, and far too big for her. She may have been half the size of the Navy pilots the seat was made for, but she was determined to fly better than them.

It seemed, however, that Shelly had her doubts. "Where did you actually train for this?" she asked.

"Viseo games," replied Andra. It was the only training she needed.

"She flew that shuttle with panache," said Shakes, standing at Shelly's work-station.

Shelly sat in the Captain's chair and attempted to buckle her seat belt. The two metal pieces banged their heads together but wouldn't engage. "Just fly straight," she asked.

"I said panache," added Shakes, "not linearity."

Andra guided the Ghandi to the outer perimetre of the hospital's quarantine zone. The ship was lumbering and old, but Andra felt the power of controlling something so massive. She'd scrounged around in the trash most of her life, but up here, she felt born to fly among the stars.

Our Lady of Saturn was a long cylinder of a station, floating vertically and rotating slowly. A large 'H' glowed blue with a red slash through it.

Andra tapped her glass pad to call the engine room.

"How's our power and shields, George?" she asked.

"As good as I can get 'em," her brother replied.

"What does that mean?" asked Shelly.

"As good as we need," said Andra. If George said something was good, it was good.

Andra edged the Ghandi closer to the outer beacons. The nearest one was a dented sphere that reminded her of a crumpled up piece of tin foil. Of course, tin foil never warned of imminent destruction.

"This is a quarantined sector," warned the automated voice. "Stay at least one thousand metres from the border or be fired upon."

"That's our cue," said Andra, edging closer.

"This is a quarantined sector," repeated the warning. Andra scanned her glass pad and muted the incoming transmission.

"I'm going to draw the fire," she said. "Shakes, you ready to sweet talk the hospital into opening up their doors?"

"The play's the thing," he replied, readying himself to call the hospital.

*

Judson decoupled the shuttle from the Ghandi.

As the first blast struck the navy frigate, he dived the shuttle down and away from the hull. The last time he was in this seat, he was fleeing from the Ghandi to avoid capture. This time, he was fleeing to help it on a mission. Crazy, he thought to himself. How much had changed in just one day.

His captor-turned-captain sat behind him, his broken hover-chair locked down in a stationary position. Like Judson, Nayar was clad in a haz-mat bodysuit. Their helmets hung on hooks in the cargo area to the rear of the shuttle.

"You sure you don't want to fly this thing?" Judson asked.

"My fly-boy days are behind me," Nayar replied.

"Do you miss it?"

"Feels like a different lifetime, a different me," said the captain. "It's hard to miss something that seems so foreign."