chapter 1, episode 3

Reading pleasantly by the woodstove

We were deep into our orbit and I was reading "...he noticed the new blue-and-white box of Nelson Thirty-three pipe tobacco on the little table beside the chair" when something hit the outside of the cell. The impact was gentle, but you feel everything on a craft that size. Plus, the shield breach lights had started blinking. The energy shields couldn't stop solid objects; they were there for lasers and such. But they did warn us when something crossed their field and right now the monitor was throwing up the dynamic results of its scan.

The object was a small tracking unit, a chrome beetle with a stubby little antenna in the middle of its back.

"I think we should get it," I said. "Looks like it may be a new model."

Rocco got up, putting his book facedown on the floor beside him.

"Use the airlock," I said.

"Too much of a hassle." He looked around at the scan on the monitor, clicked a few times to find the exact location. "See, it's right outside one of the sieve-holes."

"Yeah, but I—"

I was cut off. Rocco took a deep breath and popped open the little valve that we used to decontaminate the orbital when we were docked. He poked his arm through and there was a sudden whooshing as all the air and the pressure screamed through the small area between his skinny arm and the sieve-hole. I sucked in my breath and grabbed the foot of the wood stove. It was the closest thing to me that was bolted down. My pillow went flying. I kept my book in my other hand, thumb holding my place.

Rocco's face was getting kind of red. He had his left ear pressed against the inside wall of the orbital. He'd probably misjudged the distance from the sieve-hole to the tracker. I wanted to tease him, but I couldn't open my mouth. My eyes were bulging out of their sockets now in a way that wasn't very funny and it was getting really cold. I looked at him at least, gave him a "hurry it up" expression, but it probably looked more like my eyes bulging out. He just stared back.

My nose was starting to numb with a combination of the cold and pressure. My feet were higher than my head. Finally, with a quiet struggle, Rocco pulled his arm in. There was one final blast of air going out as his arm left the sieve-hole before the valve-door shut. The ship was screaming, lights flashing, data scrolling on the monitor. Life support systems were pumping oxygen and heat back into the module.

I landed back on the ground with a thump. I still had my book in my hand.

"The fire's out," I said.

"You sure?" Rocco's left arm was numb white from the shoulder to the fingertips. Now, with his deft verbal parry, it was on me to get the stove going again. I opened the door and sure enough there was a tiny kernel of a coal, just about to be snuffed. I blew on it gently until it glowed. The other coals around it and the pellets were probably too cold to start again quickly. I blew steadily, blowing bits of ash into my face. Smoke curled around the edges and then a bit of flame burst to life. I teased that, feeding it with oxygen until it reached adolescence. I gave it some fuel pellet friends. It wasn't roaring, but the odds were good the group would thrive and burn.

I turned around and Rocco kicked the pillow over to me. I lay down on it and went back to my book. Rocco held the tracker in his hand. "Wanchen Industries," he said. "Looks the same, just got it a little smaller."

"They produce parts for Haliburton. We should show it to Master Tomás anyways." Rocco looked it over again, and then pulled out a tupperware container. He put the bug in there, sealed it up with some duct tape and threw it in a drawer. He stood there, near the bridge, looking around.

"What's the matter," I asked?

"I can't find my book."

"Ha ha. Probably lost your place too. I told you you should've used the airlock. It's still freezing in here." The fuel in the stove was burning now, but not the kind of soul-warming fire you get from a big pile of logs you cut, dried and chopped yourself.

"There it is!" It was wedged atop one of the drive arrays. I pointed to it. "It must've got sucked up and then fallen and got stuck. That's pretty cool."

"Wow. That's pretty far up there." Rocco pulled out a plastic cooler and stood on it. He pulled down the book.

"While you're up there, will you just do a medium range scan. Make sure we're not being pursued." The government shot out thousands of those trackers around the earth randomly. They got bits and pieces of data from them, but more likely they fulfilled some military contract that kept the big boys in freedom fries. Still, they were monitored and an absence of one would be some information. Master Tomás would study it for any new technology (unlikely) and then send it back, wiped, to the place we'd first picked it up. He was meticulous like that.

Rocco and I on the other hand... well, the first time we ran into one of those trackers we'd been hotboxing the module. It was the third time up in it and we were just getting comfortable. Rocco got all serious and focused as he sometimes does when he's high and we put on our suits to go outside and check it out. We discovered a clowd of them. I guess they'd just been sent into orbit. We spent about an hour and a half flying around and shooting them with our lasers. It was pretty fun. Master Tomás had been a little miffed with our recklessness, but when Rocco gets like that there's nothing you can do but go along for the ride...