PYRA AND THE TEKTITES

by Rebecca Melanie Sunquist

Part 1: "Out of the frying pan---"

The bump dislodged Pyra from the makeshift cot. Her head struck the deck, and the bright lights faded as she began to float in the small cargo hold. Movement? Zero gravity? That could only mean---

And she wasn't strapped in!

She had selected a cargo pod at random to sleep in. Someplace where they would not look for her, at least not until she had a chance to catch her breath and get her bearings. Her right arm hurt where Torg the Retriever had grabbed her. She rubbed the four bruises his rough fingers had given her...the purple stripes suggested a military rank. Mental fingers crossed for luck, she allowed herself to drift toward the hatch. If the pod should change direction, it would cast her about like a pellet in a baby's rattle.

"Hey?"

If there was a response, Pyra failed to hear it over the thrum of the power module.

She sensed that the pod was about to veer to port, and grabbed a small stanchion for support. Even so, her knees struck the bulkhead when the pilot altered course. Once the new bearing was established, she ducked through the hatch and entered a short gangway that passed between the pod's power module and fuel water tank. At the end of the passage was the bridge. Not a proper bridge, merely an array of consoles and monitors and a single captain's chair. Cargo pods were manufactured with a crew of one in mind.

Pyra pulled herself hand over hand along the bulkhead. She'd managed to stabilize her attitude, floating a meter above the deck now, but if the pilot changed directions while she was in here, the results could be painful...or worse. As she reached the forward half of the passage, she could see the Videx monitor that allowed a 180-degree view...and confirmed her worst fears. The monitor was black. They were in space!

"Hey, wait!"

In response Pyra heard a "What the---?" but the pod held to course.

And then she saw the pilot. He was wearing the pale blue outsuit of a carguer...but common port laborers could not operate pods. Surely not. He was no pilot...but what was he?

Pyra's heart raced. All she'd wanted was a place to rest between chases. That, and maybe something to eat.

He turned his head just enough to locate her. She guessed he had seen her reflection in the Videx. He was very old, perhaps even thirty, with a scarred right cheek and a patch of chestnut hair missing just above the ear, lost in some skirmish long ago. His mouth worked when he saw her, and she supposed he was cursing, though no sound reached her.

Then: "You're just a kid!"

Pyra swung herself down to the deck and wrapped her arms and legs around the midline stanchion. "I'm eleven!" This was a lie by four months, but she'd used it on her parents, before they threw her out. The pilot did not have that privilege...not until they redocked.

Straps of woven nylon held the pilot in the chair, but his arms were free. Pyra was close enough for him to strike her if he chose. She peered at him from around the stanchion, then past him at the Videx. Two kilometers off to starboard, a security cutter drew within range of the monitor.

"Razza frackin!" swore the pilot. He had a medium voice, neither harsh nor chirpy, although Pyra had expected it to be deeper. "Hold on tight, you," he snapped. His right hand snaked out and keyed a touchpad.

Pyra let out a shriek as the pod rose slightly, then dove almost straight down. From aft came two thumps in rapid succession--she'd left her boots in the cargo hold. Despite her grip, she rose up the stanchion half a meter. Abruptly the pod veered to starboard, and she swung around to port.

"That cutter is too massive to maneuver like a pod," said the pilot. "So we're---"

"You're going to cut under her and hope to escape before she can change course to intercept."

The pilot glanced over his shoulder. "You're pretty quick."

"Escape to where?"

"Well, that is the question, isn't it? Scannar shows a cluster of asteroids at a thousand kays, bearing...plus-oh-four-four, oh-five-seven. They can't follow us in there."

"They can EVA search," said Pyra.

"Very quick. Maybe I won't sell you after all. Right, hold on, minor course adjustment."

Pyra tightened her legs around the stanchion. Already the edges of the structural plastic had left red indentations just above each knee, in the inner thigh. Next time you run away, she thought, wear something besides shorts and a jersey.

His words sank in, and Pyra's heart leaped again. Sell her? He was a retriever?

The pod accelerated, and Pyra's muscles hurt as she fought to hold onto the stanchion. In the Videx a cluster of massive boulders came into focus. Her eyes narrowed as she searched the consoles for the scannar range indicator, and found it. Crimson digits changed rapidly as the pod approached the cluster. Six hundred kays, then five, and four. Under the lavender jersey Pyra's skin began to itch, clammy with sweat. Did the pilot know his business? He was only a carguer. Did he know you had to decelerate, or you'd pass right through the cluster...or crash?

Pyra started to protest, when the power burn terminated. Her momentum swung her around the stanchion, so that she faced aft. Plastic edges gnawed at her flesh again. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she eased back around to face the bow.

Suddenly a blue beam sizzled past the pod, silent in space. The cutter was firing at them. This bolt had missed, but once the firing crew calibrated the aim, the next one would be spot-on.

The pilot fired maneuvering thrusters and altered course slightly. The digits in the scannar broke below a hundred kays. If he didn't fire a braking burn in the next few seconds, the blue beams would be the least of their worries.

Pyra could bear it no longer. "We're going to crash!"

"Hang on!"

The pilot fired a braking burn. Too late, she thought, as a rugged asteroid now occupied half the Videx. As they approached, it seemed to be growing, as if it were somehow alive, a terrible iron-and-olivine monster they were about to offend with their mosquito-bite collision.

The pod lurched down, then stabilized again. The abrupt movement almost tore Pyra free from the stanchion, but she understood the pilot's purpose. He was going pass under the asteroid and downdock on its lee face. If the cutter didn't vaporize them first...

Pyra closed her eyes and braced for impact. For a moment she felt like a nebula, drifting with the wind. Then, ever so gently, the minute gravitational field of the asteroid took the pod under its wing, and Pyra sank to the deck, still clutching at the stanchion.

They had downdocked. Without crashing.

The pilot rapped a knuckle sharply on her skull. "Wake up, Skinny. We're here."

She rubbed her head. "My name is Pyra!" She tried to kick at him, and missed, but the movement sent her floating toward the console. The pilot grabbed her arm and restrained her.

"Let go!"

The pilot bunched a handful of Pyra's jersey and drew her up to eye level. "Behave, then. If you bleed in this light gravity, the droplets could get into the circuitry, and we'd be stuck here forever."

"So we're leaving again? Oh, right, so you can sell me to the Tektites!"

"The sale on you would make a nice bonus for this haul." He set her back onto the deck, and began a slow, cautious shuffle toward the gangway. "But no, I'm not going to sell you. There's much more valuable cargo on board. That's why I stole the pod."

Uh-oh, thought Pyra. "What's it carrying?"

"Five cases of bacteria."

He disappeared into the gangway. Eyes wide, Pyra got up and crawled and floated after him. "Germs? You stole a bunch of germs?"

From the commo console there came a brief series of reedy beeps, followed by a query. "Flanagan, are you down? Is the cargo secure?"

"Still strapped in," the pilot called, from the port cargo hold.

"I'll send someone down to confirm status, soon as we deal with the cutter."

"Negative. Approach from the lee, don't let them spot you. They'll disengage shortly."

"Don't tell Mark the Shark his business, Flanagan. You just wait there. Out!"

Pyra's heart felt heavy now. Germs were one thing, but everyone in the Belt recognized the name of Mark the Shark.

Flanagan was working for the Tektites!

Don't Miss PYRA AND THE TEKTITES, PART 2: 'CAPTURED!' appearing on this site on 10 July 2002.

PYRA AND THE TEKTITES appears EXCLUSIVELY on the AOIFE'S KISS/KISSES FOR KIDS sites courtesy of prize-winning writer Rebecca Melanie Sunquist.