Free Rift by Kay Kenyon Page B

shuffled toward the door as the Captain responded, “It’s temporary, Stepan. When the time comes, I’ll be grateful you helped me out on this.”
    As Mitya emerged into the central dome the two men noticed him and stopped their conversation. As soon as he was headed away, he heard their muffled voices, urgent and spiked with anger.
    Over at the input valve for the water purification system, Mitya checked the readouts for contaminants, doing a quick scan for aluminum, methane, bicarbonate acid, iron chlorides, sulfuric acid, selenium, tellurium, and the rest of the caustic brew of the Rift area. All in normal ranges. The filters, awash in a solution of ruthenium disulfide and other purification catalysts, registered within tolerances. It was a make-work task that Mitya was sure they weren’t leaving to a thirteen-year-old.
    He took the long way back to the galley, passing the clean room. This took up a quarter of the dome, a great wall of translucent resin from floor to ceiling, slightly concave under the sucking pressures of the air filtration fans inside, venting particulates out of the dome. As one of the crew ducked through the door flap, Mitya snatched a quick peek, and was rewardedwith a fleeting view of a draped assemblage the size of a shuttle passenger cabin.
    “Curious about the cannon, Mitya?”
    Mitya swirled to find Captain Bonhert looking down at him with a not-unfriendly look.
    “Yes sir.”
    “Quite a piece of machinery, eh?”
    “Yes sir.” When the Captain lingered a moment, Mitya asked, “How are we going to get it down into the valley?”
    “Good question, Mitya. How would you do it?”
    “I’d build it to disassemble in sections, then take it down in the shuttles, piece by piece.”
    The Captain’s broad face cracked sideways into a smile. “Well now, that’s exactly what we plan to do. Good thinking, Mitya. Could be you have some of your mother’s engineering in you. That so?”
    “I hope so, sir.” He very much did hope so, for his mother had been a top engineering officer.
    “I was thinking, Mitya, perhaps you could lend a hand with something.”
    “Me, sir?” Voice cracking.
    “Our situation is serious, Mitya. We may need to ask everyone to give a hundred and ten percent. Are you up to it?”
    “Yes sir! I’m pretty good on computers; I even do a little quantum processing, sir, or anything in math or chemistry.”
    Captain Bonhert smiled wider still. “Good, good. That’s just fine. But are you up for something that might be dangerous?”
    “Dangerous? Oh yes, sir, I’m not afraid of danger.”
    The Captain’s smile took on a tinge of irony, an expression Mitya had special antennae for. He realized he sounded like a child. “Whatever you need, Captain,” he added, figuring it for something Stepan might say.
    “Good. We’ll be getting a field unit together thismorning to take readings at the vent. We need a strong back and a man who can follow orders. Can we count on you, Mitya?”
    His mood soared. “Yes, sir!” At that moment he would have jumped into the Rift if Captain Bonhert had needed it of him.
    “Report to Lieutenant Tsamchoe, then.”
    As Bonhert turned away, Mitya blurted: “I never meant to horn in on the shuttle, Captain. It was an accident. I was just there and got pushed inside.” He’d waited six days to tell somebody that, but he was shocked he’d said it to the Captain himself.
    Bonhert regarded Mitya kindly. “I’m glad you’re here, Mitya. We need some of your enthusiasm.”
    That didn’t seem likely to Mitya, but he didn’t mind hearing it anyway.
    “You’ll serve me well if you help keep crew spirits up and work hard.”
    He paused and waited, so Mitya threw in a “Yes, sir.”
    Bonhert continued: “Anyone with a bad attitude, I’d like to know about that person. You can report directly to me. No matter
who
it is, you talk directly to me. Agreed?”
    “Yes, Captain.” As Bonhert walked away, Mitya drew a deep breath, filling his