How Not to Rescue a Hippo - part 3
A silly scifi short story
How Not to Rescue a Hippo - part 3
If you just tuned in, hop back here for part 1
Luck was with us—we encountered no one on our way to the maintenance room (probably because everyone was still dealing with the chaos I’d created at the train station). And, doubly good, Frank kept his mouth shut the whole way.
I hacked the lock and let us in.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Frank turned to face me and crossed his arms over his chest.
I frowned. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m rescuing you.”
“You don’t seem like that kind of criminal.” He met my gaze. “What do you really want?”
“Bloody hell, let’s focus on getting out of here.” I took off my backpack. “Turn around.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I have to take off my clothes to reconfigure the nanites, and I don’t think you want to see me in my underpants.” (They had Hank the Hippo printed on them.)
“Right.” He turned and faced the wall.
I stripped out of my clothes and reprogrammed them into a security uniform. Then I pulled them on and swung my backpack on my back. “All right, I’ll turn around so you can do the same.”
Frank spun to face me and bit his lip.
“Don’t tell me you’re wearing woven shit?”
He nodded, and I groaned. He wore a red-and-black-plaid shirt and grey cargo pants—station bumpkin clothes that would stick out here.
“What’s under your shirt?”
He took it off, exposing a solid black T-shirt.
“That’ll have to do. Leave the shirt.”
He stared at his shirt. “My husband…” His words trailed off. “But it’s worth it to get our embryos back.” He set the shirt down and smoothed it out.
“We’re getting the hell out of here.” I didn’t have time for Frank’s nonsense, so I ignored him and scrolled through the map. We were on the opposite side of the dome to the hangar. It wasn’t logical to go there, despite my longing for that yellow shuttle. I devised a new plan. “We’ll march into the train station, act like we belong, and board the train. Then we’ll hide and wait until it departs.”
“Hell, no. I’m going after my embryos.”
“The current chaos won’t last. This might be our one chance to escape.” I frowned. “They were planning to kill you.”
“I’m willing to die for my children.” He puffed out his chest.
“Oh, stop that noble shit. You and your husband can get your…” I made a squiggly gesture as I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I mean, more embryos made.”
He grabbed my arm, and I almost punched him in the face. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why?”
His shoulders slumped as he released me. “It’s just…” His words trailed off again.
I frowned. We didn’t have time for a heart-to-heart. “Spit it out.”
“We spent our life savings creating these embryos. Having children is our dream.”
I took a deep breath, knowing I was about to be exceptionally foolish. From then on, whenever someone asked me to deliver something, I’d demand to know what it was.
“I saw a massive lab from the window in Dyson’s office with cases like yours. We’ll head there.”
Without a word Frank followed me out of the room.
With the map it was easy to find the lab; my trusty goggles overlaid a green line along the path to follow. We passed only a few people, probably lab technicians based on how they avoided us.
“We walk in there like we belong,” I said as we approached the main doors. “No one is going to stop us.” The last part I said mostly to reassure myself.
I pulled myself up to my full height and walked through the doors, the automatic type that just opened. Two steps into the lab, I froze in my tracks.
“What is it?” Frank asked. “Oh!”
“Yeah.”
No one was in the lab. In fact, all the equipment was gone as well. Nothing remained in the except the workbenches and someone’s dirty coffee cup. Frank strode ahead.
“Didn’t you say this place was hopping?” He opened a desk drawer at the nearest workstation. It was empty.
“When I was in Dyson’s office.” I pointed to the now-dark bank of windows where his office had once been. “This place was a hive of activity. I swear I saw tons of boxes like the one I brought in.”
Frank turned to face me. “Is there another lab?”
I checked the schematics. “This is the only lab space.” I swallowed. We were wasting precious time, but I didn’t say a word because Frank looked ready to cry.
The two of us stood in silence for an awkward moment.
Frank’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, let’s get to the train station.”
I nodded but kept quiet for fear of having to give the man a hug just to keep him going.
We left the lab side by side, and I followed the projected green line through the maze of corridors to the train station. Lights were on as we neared it—good news.
Frank leaned into me. “What’s the plan?” He was way too close.
“We walk like security professionals.” I pushed him away as we came around a corner.
A train waited at the platform. I stood tall and marched on. I swallowed, then glared at a pair of maintenance workers who crossed our path. They picked up their pace and got out of our way.
“So you’re a professional curmudgeon,” Frank said.
Why in the hell had I decided to rescue this guy? I kept walking. The train was only ten metres away.
“Hey!” someone shouted farther along the platform. I made the mistake of looking.
It was Digger, or Degger, or whatever that guard’s name was—and they recognized me.
“Crap!”
“What do we do?” Frank asked.
“Run.”
Frank and I sprinted away from the train—away from our best escape route. This job was getting better and better.
I didn’t have time to consult the habitat map, so I picked turns at random, hoping we were far enough ahead of the habitat’s security force.
“Here’s an airlock,” Frank said. He was fit for a grade six teacher; he wasn’t even out of breath.
I didn’t take the time to think things through before I darted inside. Once Frank entered, I shut the door. We leaned against the wall on either side of it, hidden for now. Gasping, I vowed to improve my fitness.
A few seconds later, the habitat’s general alarm sounded, and a red light flashed on the inner airlock door.
I peeked through the window. “We’re locked out.”
“The law says airlock doors can’t be locked,” Frank said.
“Oh, I don’t think it is, but the instant we open it, the whole habitat will know where we are.” I sighed. “And the spacesuits are on the other side.”
Frank walked to the outside door and stared out the window. He let out a long sigh. “We might as well turn ourselves in.”
“Hell, no. Dyson won’t let either of us live now.” I started scrolling through the habitat’s map.
He raised his hands and shrugged. “What else can we do?”
I took a moment to glare at the spacesuits out of reach. (Telekinesis would have come in handy in that moment.) Then I sighed and shrugged out of my backpack. This was about to get friendlier than I was comfortable with.
“The shuttle hangar is only fifty-seven metres to the right.” I pointed at the outside door.
Frank frowned. “There’s no atmosphere on this moon. At best we have ten seconds.”
I opened my pack and pulled out the Day-Glo magenta spacesuit.
“So that’ll sort out one of us,” Frank said.
“You see, it’s a nanite suit—a new, experimental model.” I swallowed, hating my plan. “If we get close enough, the suit will think we’re one person.”
Frank cocked his head. “How long can it support us?”
“Longer than ten seconds. Hopefully long enough to get to the other side of the hangar’s containment field.”
“So you’re only guessing?”
I frowned. Yeah, it was a guess but a good one. “It’s that, or I put on the suit and you make a sprint for it.” Hands on my hips, I glared at him. “Time’s running out. What will it be?”
“What are we going to do once we get to the hangar?” This putz had no end of questions.
I shrugged. “Are we sharing a suit?”
With of a heave of his shoulders, he nodded.
I put the helmet on (because of course I got the helmet—my altruism had limits). “Now, snug up behind me.”
Frank wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in tight. His chest was flat against my back, and his legs pressed into mine. It felt gross.
I activated the suit. A warning flashed in the helmet visor. “You need to be tighter against me.” I hated the idea of so much contact.
Gritting my teeth, I let Frank embrace me even tighter—so tight I could smell his deodorant (something fruity) and that he’d had a spicy lunch. I tried a second time to engage the suit.
It worked. The nanites flowed over us and squeezed us even closer.
“Step forward with your right foot,” I said, eyeing the outside door. I didn’t want this to last any longer than it needed to.
Of course, Frank stepped with his left foot, kicking my heel. We tipped to one side. I scooted my right foot forward to keep our balance.
“Sorry,” Frank muttered.
I barely kept myself from snorting. “Take a tiny step with your right.”
This time he got it right.
“Now the left, and keep it small.”
As we moved he asked, “Are you sure this thing is airtight?”
The suit’s diagnostics showed we had a perfect seal, but I didn’t feel the need to reassure Frank; saving him had to be enough. “We’re about to find out.”
He groaned. “You’re going to kill me.”
We reached the outside door. I hit the button to cycle the air. “I just might.”
The suit maintained a breathable interior as I opened the outside door. Rubble that stretched to the horizon dominated the view. The lack of atmosphere meant all the stars were visible.
“Small step leading with our left,” I said.
We exited the habitat in tandem. I swallowed, aware that sharing a spacesuit (even a fancy magenta one) could result in asphyxiation for both of us. Dyson and his crew would just dispose of our bodies, telling no one. It surprised me how the thought of Frank’s husband never knowing what happened to him made me sad.
“Okay, with tiny steps, we’re turning to the right.” I tried to harden myself.
Frank squirmed against me but did as I asked. Following the habitat’s wall, we inched our way toward the hangar bay.
“Why did you take the job to come here?” Frank asked.
“It was an exchange for something I wanted.” I didn’t mention that something was in my backpack squished between our bodies. (It was almost empty without the spacesuit, but leaving it behind hadn’t been an option.)
“What?” Frank’s question was followed by a chattering of his teeth. Forcing the nanites to cover us had reduced their insulation value. I shivered at the thought, or maybe I was getting cold too. At least now I could see the entrance to the hangar bay.
“Just a trinket,” I replied—although to me, anything Hank the Hippo was more than ‘just a trinket.’
A red light flashed in the suit diagnostics: air filtration had failed.
“Let’s step it out just a little more,” I urged, increasing the size of my paces.
“I’m freezing,” Frank said.
I calculated the distance to the hangar bay. We had twenty-seven metres to go. “We’re almost there. Keep moving.”
I felt a shiver go through Frank, but he didn’t say anything.
We continued on. I ignored the warning of our air souring. Carbon dioxide levels were shooting up; the air system couldn’t handle two humans breathing. Focusing on the hangar bay, I forged ahead.
Two metres from safety, Frank stepped with the wrong foot. He went one way, and I fell to the ground in the opposite direction. I had no idea what we’d tripped on, but I plopped onto my knees as cold air blasted my back.
Momentum continued to pull me down, and I landed on the helmet’s faceplate with a crunch. My knees stung; the nanites hadn’t softened my landing one bit. With a groan, I rolled to my side and pushed up.
Then I saw Frank and realized all the spacesuit nanites had stayed with me because I was wearing the helmet. He was fully exposed to this atmosphere-less moon. He’d be dead in seconds.
On pure instinct I lunged forward and grabbed him. He struggled, but I ignored him. I was strong enough to subdue a schoolteacher any day. I dragged him through the force field of the hangar bay.
Frank heaved as he pulled in oxygenated air.
I surveyed our surroundings. Luck was with us; no one was in sight.
“Come on, we gotta move behind something.” I led him behind the nearest shuttle, then retracted the spacesuit and took off the helmet.
“I almost died,” Frank said when he found his voice. He stared at me with wide eyes.
“Yeah, almost.” I got down on my belly and looked under the shuttle. The next shuttle over was the jaunty yellow one that had caught my eye earlier. They must have moved it since I’d passed the windows. If I was going to steal a shuttle, that was the one.
Frank put a hand on my shoulder. With a jerk I turned and faced him.
“You saved me.”
For a split second, I thought he was going to hug me. I panicked and rolled out of range.
He wrung his hands. “Thank you.”
I knew I should say something comforting in this moment, but no words came except “Let’s take the yellow shuttle.”
“Wouldn’t it be less obvious if we took the train?” Frank asked.
I rolled back onto my belly and studied the target shuttle. “That’s what they’ll think, so they’ll focus their efforts there.”
“I don’t know how to fly a shuttle.”
“I do.”
Two people walked toward the yellow shuttle. From their outfits I guessed they were the pilot and copilot, which suggested the shuttle that would shortly be mine was fuelled and ready to go.
“Ever been in a fight?”
Frank frowned. “With an adult?”
“Fighting adults is what I’m talking about.”
“Uh…” His words trailed off as he looked down at his hands.
I frowned. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Yeah. Living a life of crime must mean you’re a good fighter.”
I snorted and didn’t answer. Sure, I could hold my own in a fight, but not getting in a fight in the first place was a much better option, especially with pacifist Frank as my only backup.
I pulled off my backpack and tucked the nanite spacesuit inside. I still had my Emerg-Blast, but I needed to recharge it before I could use it again. Besides, I wanted to fly the shuttle out of here, not ground them all. I bit my lip. It would be good to ground the rest after I left.
I shook my head. An electromagnetic pulse would blow the force field, and people might die. I didn’t want that on my conscience. I tucked the Emerg-Blast beside the spacesuit.
“What are we going to do?” Frank stared at me with wide eyes (again!). I ignored him.
Against the wall was a maintenance cart, the kind someone could lie on to work on the underside of a shuttle. Making sure no one was watching, I darted over and grabbed it. It was an old-school one with wheels, and the wheels moved freely.
“I’ll create a distraction, then we’ll run to the yellow shuttle.”
Frank lay on his stomach to view our destination. “I see two people in the cockpit.”
“You get a gold star.” Using my goggles I pulled footage of Frank and me running through Dome 17’s corridors. As I started a rendering algorithm, I pulled out the magenta helmet and placed it in the centre of the cart. A green dot announced the algorithm had finished. I now had a twenty-second three-dimensional loop of us.
I sighed.
Frank turned to me. “What?”
“This is going to cost me my fancy nanite spacesuit and goggles.”
He shrugged. “I’m sure both are replaceable.”
What I didn’t say was it would be worth it only if I got that yellow shuttle.
After setting a timer to activate the projection, I pulled off my goggles and strapped them around the helmet. Three seconds later a hologram of Frank and me appeared. Our expressions were suspicious, and we appeared to be on the run.
“I’m going to launch this. Once it’s on the other side of the shuttle, we run.”
Frank nodded and dropped to a crouch.
I launched the cart at the distant door with all my strength. The holograms of Frank and I appeared to be making a break for it.
As our avatars passed the nose of the shuttle, the people inside became more animated. They briefly argued before one disappeared. She reappeared a moment later at the door, then ran toward the avatars, which left one person on the shuttle.
“Now,” I whispered. I sprang up and bolted to the door. Frank’s footfalls sounded right behind me.
Without slowing when I reached the entrance, I continued inside, ignoring the cargo crates, and headed straight for the cockpit.
“Judy, did…” The pilot’s words trailed off when he saw me.
“Not Judy.” I grabbed him by his flight suit. (I was lucky he hadn’t strapped himself in yet.) Despite his wiggling, I pulled him from the chair and into the cargo area.
“Unhand me.” He tried to slap at my grip. (Clearly he had the same fighting ability as Frank.) I didn’t let him get his feet under him, forcing him to stagger. At the door I shoved him outside.
“Get the door,” I said to Frank, who stood like a statue beside it. “And lock it.”
I raced back to the cockpit and started the shuttle. Ignoring most of the checklist projected above the dashboard (okay, the whole checklist), I lifted off the ground.
Through the windshield I watched the pilot and copilot yell and point. Gestures alone couldn’t stop me. Gritting my teeth, I accelerated out of the hangar.
Fearing someone would think to chase us, I focused on heading somewhere other shuttles regularly flew and hoped the law would prevail. (This was ironic, considering I was flying a stolen shuttle I fully intended to keep.)
We circled around the habitat until the rail line came into view. Following it, I headed for the major settlement. Once we were on the main traffic route, I angled upward and off the moon. With a Centaur Line ferry nearby, even criminals like Dyson wouldn’t dare to act. Too many people (I hoped).
I let out a long breath as tension drained out of me. Leaning to the side window, I looked back at Happy Acres Moon. We’d escaped.
Once in orbit, I plotted a flight path back to Indigo Station. There would be plenty of time for a nice, long nap.
“We safe?” Frank asked as he came into the cockpit.
I didn’t ask what the hell he’d been doing for the hour and a half since we’d left. I yawned and stretched my hands over my head. Napping in pilot seats was never that comfortable, yet I did it all the time.
“Looks like it.”
He sank into the copilot’s seat. The vinyl groaned as it accepted his weight. That was when I realized he had a box in his hand—the box I’d arrived with.
“Where’d you get that?”
“All those crates are full of suspended embryos.” He gestured behind him at the back of the shuttle. “Turns out we weren’t the only couple stolen from.”
I shrugged, uncertain of the right thing to say. “Well, I guess everyone will get their embryos back.”
Frank’s face took on a serious expression. “What were they going to do with them?”
Why the hell would I know anything about that? I thought, swallowing. “Let’s see where this shuttle was going.” I scrolled through the nav data. Of course, I knew where this shuttle was supposed to go because Dyson had wanted me to fly it.
I fell silent.
“Where was it headed?” Frank asked, leaning toward me.
“Formax. Actually, it says here to the space station in orbit around Formax.” I scrolled through the info. “There’s a lab there. No, wait. It’s a lab ship.” I brought up a schematic.
“The Dyson. How…” His words trailed off.
“Exceptionally arrogant,” I finished.
“When we turn over the ship, we should tell them about this stuff.”
I nearly groaned. Of course, goody-goody Frank wanted to hand over everything. I just wished I could keep the shuttle. The yellow was so pretty. I ran a hand along the dashboard, smiling.
“You like this shuttle,” Frank stated.
“Yeah. I’m a fan of yellow. And I need a new shuttle.”
He shrugged. “Maybe they’ll let you keep it.”
“That’s not how law enforcement works, Frank.” I sighed. I’d already lost my goggles and my new spacesuit. At least the Hank the Hippo statue was safely stowed in my bag.
Ahead, the wheel of Indigo Station was now big enough to pick out against the backdrop of stars. We’d be there soon. I sent a request for a landing berth.
Two hours later we landed at our designated berth. I shut off the shuttle and unbuckled myself.
“Why don’t you call the authorities?”
Frank nodded. “Good idea. Then I’ll get my embryos back to the nursery.”
I stood. “I’m just going to check on the engine.”
I headed aft, past the crates of other people’s potential children. There was an astringent scent to the space I didn’t want to think too hard about. Besides, I didn’t have much time—the last thing I wanted to do was answer questions.
I opened the door and stepped into the hangar. Without looking back, I strode away, deeper into the station. I’d never told Frank my name. If I left the station soon, they’d never find me.
But first I headed to Em’s Pies. After the day I’d had, I deserved a slice or two (or three).
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