Free Strider's Galaxy by John Grant Page B

rising," she said, slowly lowering her hands. It took an extra dose of courage to open her eyes. She discovered that the base of the thumb of her right hand was bleeding, and realized that at some point she must have been pressing her fingernails into it. The brightness in front of her had ebbed almost entirely, but she was still having difficulty seeing things directly: green and purple afterimages were confusing her vision.
    "Techbots are alerted," said the Computer, "in case of atmospheric leakage."
    In case any of those bits of junk out there crack the hull, is what you're too polite to say, thought Strider sourly.
    "Update me," she said wearily to the screen, once she could bring it into focus.
    "Meteor shields are one hundred per cent. They are currently deflecting the next drone, which may also be lost as a result. I am working with its onboard puter to try to calculate a secure trajectory so that it—"
    "About the danger to the Santa Maria ," she said.
    "Below one per cent and falling rapidly," said the Main Computer. She could almost have imagined that it sounded aggrieved.
    She let out another great gust of breath.
    "I think we've managed it," she said, looking towards O'Sondheim.
    It took him a couple of seconds to reply.
    "I think you have," he said.
    #
    Marcial Holmberg cornered Strider as she made her way back to her cabin after she and O'Sondheim had finished their tour of duty and handed over to Leander and Nelson. She was tired beyond the limits of exhaustion, and looked jadedly at the short, stout man. She and O'Sondheim should probably have called in the other two to take over as soon as the crisis had been averted, but she'd decided that they should work on: it was better the personnel were encouraged to believe that such things were all in a day's work than that they started to wonder just how close to death they had all been.
    She could tell from the expression on Holmberg's face that her policy had backfired on her.
    "I represent the non-SSIA personnel aboard this craft," he began pompously.
    "I know," she said wearily. "You've told me often enough before." He told her every time they met, which was as infrequently as she could manage it. Why is it that groups of apparently sane, intelligent human beings always elect dorks as their representatives? she thought for the hundredth time. And, likewise for the hundredth time, she answered her own question. It's because the dorks elect themselves, that's why. Sane, intelligent human beings have better things to do. Out loud she said: "Dr Holmberg, how may I help you?"
    "There was an emergency three hours ago, and all of our people had to stop their work—important work, I might add—in order to suit up." Holmberg had put on a lot of weight since they had left Phobos; Strider wasn't certain quite how he'd managed it, because the rations aboard the Santa Maria were reasonable but not over-generous.
    "It was certainly an emergency," she said. She explained roughly what had happened.
    "Our lives were endangered, is what you're trying to tell me," said Holmberg.
    "They were indeed. But First Officer O'Sondheim and I were able, with the assistance of the Main Computer, to avert the danger."
    "But only at the very last moment. That's not good en—"
    "It's good enough for me." She raised a palm towards him. "I'm very tired, Dr Holmberg."
    He ignored her. "Why was the emergency allowed to arise in the first place?"
    "Because the puter on one of the fuel-ferry drones crashed. It shouldn't have happened. There'll doubtless be an inquiry in due course—with luck, sometime after we've left Jupiter far behind." She was finding it intensely difficult to keep her patience. It would be bad for personnel morale to land a punch smack in the middle of that pompous, technology-enhanced face, but . . .
    "Was there any way in which the SSIA crew of this vessel could have stopped this emergency before it began?"
    "No. It was totally unpredictable."
    "Isn't that