Starplex

“Well, and each deck is cross-shaped, so the apparent force of gravity would increase as you went farther out into each arm.”

“But it would also keep the water from flowing down the central shaft,” said Keith. “Instead, it would be trying to press against the outer walls of the ocean deck. Thor, could you set up such a spin using our ACS thrusters?”

“Can do.”

Keith looked at Rhombus. “How much gravity do you Ibs need for your circulatory systems to work?”

Rhombus lifted his ropes. “Tests have suggested that at least one eighth of a standard-g is required.”

“Below deck fifty-five,” said Lianne, “even at the ends of the arms, we won’t get that much apparent gravity at any reasonable rotation rate.”

“But that’s only fifteen floors that have to have their Ibs evacuated instead of forty,” said Keith. “Lianne, inform everyone of what we’re doing. Thor, as soon as no Ib is left below deck fifty-five, start spinning the ship. Bleed off the artificial gravity as we come up to speed.”

“Will do.”

“People should probably vacate the rooms at the ends of each arm, because of the windows,” said Lianne.

“Why?” asked Keith. “They’re transparent carbon composite; they won’t break even if people are standing on them.”

“Of course not,” said Lianne. “But the windows are angled at forty-five degrees there, because the edges of the habitat modules slope at that angle. It’ll be difficult to stand on them once the apparent gravity shifts so that those sloping windows become slanted floors.”

Keith nodded. “Good point. Pass on that advisory as well.”

“Will do.”

The holographic head of Longbottle aboard the Rumrunner spoke up. “Polluted waters we are in. Engines overheating.”

Keith nodded at the hologram. “Do what you can; if necessary, head away from us. Maybe no one will follow you.”

Starplex rocked again. “Gawst has started carving into the central disk beneath our number-three generator,” said Rhombus. “And a second one of his ships is carving in from the top of the disk, right above generator one.”

“Start spinning the ship, Thor.”

The starfield hologram began to rotate. The ship reeled again. “That took Gawst by surprise,” said Thor. “His lasers are skittering across the entire undersurface of the central disk.”

Lianne spoke up. “Jessica Fong is in position inside docking bay sixteen, Keith.”

“Show me.”

A frame appeared around part of the starfield hologram—now spinning at dizzying speed. Inside the frame, a picture of the interior of the docking bay appeared, with a space-suited woman floating in midair. She was tethered to the rear wall—the one that was shared with the engineering torus—and the tether was pulled taut as the ship’s rotation flung her outward toward the inside of the curving space door. The bay’s floor, crisscrossed with landing reference markers, was more than a dozen meters below her feet, and its roof, covered with lighting panels and housings for winches, was a dozen meters above her head.

“Open channel,” said Keith, then: “Okay, Jessica. Behind the bay’s rear wall, inside the engineering torus, is a water-filled ocean-deck filtering station. That station opens on to the ocean on the other side. Drill open a big hole in the docking bay’s rear wall. Be careful, though: when you do that, water is going to hammer through at you.”

“I understand,” said Jessica. She reached to her waist and let out more tether. Keith watched breathlessly as she moved through the air across the bay. She wasn’t wasting any time; meters of additional tether appeared each second. She finally reached the far side of the bay, slamming against the curving surface of the space door. For a horrible moment, Keith thought she’d been knocked unconscious by the impact, but she soon recovered from the blow and fought to bring the heavy geological laser into position. She was having trouble holding the unit steady. When she fired, her first shot crossed her own tether line, severing it at its midpoint. Fifteen meters of nylon line came crashing down at her; the other fifteen meters whipped around far over her head like a narrow yellow snake. She was now pinned against the center of the space door by the ship’s spinning.

Fong’s second shot went equally wild, taking out a junction box for the in-bay lighting system. Everything was plunged into darkness.

“Jessica!”

“I’m still here, Keith. God, this is awkward.”

In the frame, all that was visible was black—black, and then a pinprick of ruby, as the laser found the rear wall. Keith watched as the metal began to glow, soften, ripple—

—and then—

The sound of water rushing through, like a high-pressure fire hose. Jessica continued to shoot the laser, perforating a giant square along the rear wall. A hole here, move the laser a centimeter, another hole, shoot again, over and over—

The emergency lights came on, bathing the entire bay in red. Seawater erupted from the rear wall. The perforated square of bulkhead metal peeled back, then tore free, flinging across the bay, propelled by a geyser of water behind it.