“Not really. I fell on my butt when my belt broke.” She pointed to the bottom rung of the service ladder, well above her head, where a short length of strap still dangled. He gave her points for trying.
“Okay,” replied Taz. “Let’s get you free first. Then we’ll go for your parent. What’s your name?”
“Jhidelle Barallone. My father is Xolor Stramlo.”
Taz’s voice came through his earwire. “The sled will fit in the shaft with plenty of room to spare. You could fly her up while I climb down a few meters to see if I can get better readings on the lifesigns.”
“That works.”
The lights flickered several times, then steadied. He couldn’t tell if it affected what should have been always-on emergency lights in the lift shaft. Current construction codes required bright lights with independent thousand-year power sources. No telling what a flagrantly corrupt settlement company had used a century ago.
Hatya’s tone pinged. “Silver Team status check. I’m a glorified autocab. Just dropped off medics and supplies at the ERC.”
As usual, thirty minutes went by fast in rescue situations. His percomp would have reminded him if Hatya hadn’t initiated the check-in first. He touched his earwire. “We’re good so far. Cleared our initial target. Six and a half lifesigns headed for the ERC and one evac capsule headed for the medics. No recoveries needed.”
“That’s good,” replied Hatya. “I hate cremation duty.”
Rylando didn’t like attending memorial services for the dead, either. They made him feel guilty for not having saved them. “We have detailed building scans to share with the ERC, too. Should help them with repairs.”
“Speaking of scans,” said Taz, “are you near enough to deep scan from the shuttle? We think we might have multiple lifesigns in the basement, but it’s denscrete and heavy metal construction. We’re at the lift lobby now.”
“I’m already in the air. Be there in two,” replied. Hatya. “Meanwhile, I sent you as-built records and occupants for the building. No one can explain the power glitches.”
Rylando confirmed the new data and pinged acknowledgment as he watched Phobos and Diemos stroll across the lobby and jump into the airsled.
“Baskets,” he told his team, and reinforced it with the hand sign. They jumped into their respective crates without a fuss, though Phobos chose to stay with Diemos instead of going to his own. Rylando sent them all the mental equivalent of a quick pat of praise.
All the animals suddenly stood up. Phobos meowed and Lerox gave a low warning grunt. Mariposa, the little owl, woke and rocked side to side on her perch. Moments later, a low vibration rumbled beneath him. He leaned out the airsled’s open door and shouted, “Aftershock!” then closed it.
Taz scuttled back from the shaft opening and maintained her crouch. The walls began to sway. More pieces from the ceiling dropped onto the airsled’s roof and the floor.
Six seconds later, the vibration and swaying faded to nothing.
Rylando sent reassuring thoughts to the rest of the team as he walked to the back of the airsled to open Otak’s crate. He gently slid the tense rat into the chest sling he wore as part of his uniform tunic. The others would be all right in a few minutes, but Otak needed warm physical contact to climb out of his spiral of panic.
Outside, he heard Taz’s amplified voice. “Jhidelle, are you okay down there?” On the console’s display, holographic Taz rose to her feet and stepped toward the shaft, though not as close as she’d been before.
The airsled’s console amplified the reply. “Ja, ja, I’m fine. Just more dust.”
Hatya pinged again. “Confirming your lifesign readings. Three clustered about seventy-five meters west of the airsled. Never seen a whole community building of incalloy. What did the builders do, salvage a crash-landed interstellar freighter for construction materials?”
Taz described their plan of action to the girl while Rylando lifted the airsled to glide slowly to the opening.
“You go first.” She pointed to the shaft. “Don’t scrape me off the service ladder on your way back up.”
“Copy. I won’t.”
Easing into the shaft slowly, he let the airsled sink slowly. He kept his scans running in case the metal walls hid unexpected damage.
The shaft could have fit two more big sleds like his. Maybe the architect planned the lift to hold a hundred people at a time, to fulfill the CAC’s alternate purpose as the town’s emergency shelter.
He keyed the airsled’s amplifier. “Jhidelle, I’ll land at the far side. Please stay where you are near the ladder until I open the side door for you.”
Keeping a steady pace, he glanced at his cameras to see Taz in her suit climbing down. She made it look so easy to adapt her human agility to the tech. The only time he’d tried on a mech suit, he’d tripped over his own two feet and done serious damage to the commander’s favorite shuttle.
Landing on the roof of the lift car proved impossible. What he’d taken for a dusty solid surface turned out to be a warp mesh that couldn’t handle the weight of the airsled. He set the sled to a stable hover and opened the side door. Holding onto the sidebar with one hand, he leaned out and beckoned Jhidelle. “Come on.” If the third power coil had been working, he wouldn’t have had to yell so loud to be heard over their vibration.
She clutched her coat lapels with one hand and walked quickly toward the airsled. He gave her a hand up and pointed her toward the jump seat. “Pull that down and web in.”
Moyo stood in her crate, tail wagging, making a soft snuffling noise. Jhidelle’s head snapped to the back. Her eyes widened as they darted to each crate.
“They’re our rescue team,” he told her and pointed to each. “Moyo, Shen, Phobos, Diemos, Mariposa, and Lerox.”
The animals were clearly as fascinated by her as she was them.
Taz’s tone sounded in his earwire. “I’m halfway down. Bad news is, I think this shaft is twisted five or six degrees, which is probably why the lift grounded itself. Some of the service ladder rungs have popped their anchors. My scans agree with Hatya’s on where the lifesigns are. The basement hallway seems clear, and it’s big. Maybe the lifesigns are stuck in one of the storage units? Hatya’s updated records say each one has its own life-support system, but they depend on the building’s independent power.”
“Which is glitching,” he subvocalized.
Waving to get Jhidelle’s attention, he pointed at the side of the jump set. “Web in. Safety rules. Sit sideways so there’s room for your feet.”
“Yeah,” replied Taz, “which is why I propose we get the others now, rather than making a second trip.”
After making sure Jhidelle hooked the web all the way, he squeezed by the tall equipment cases to stand at the front controls. “With only two coils instead of three, we might have to make a second trip anyway, if the lifesigns are heavy. As it is, we’ll have to re-stack the crates, or hook one to the roof.” The airsled’s scans agreed with Taz’s and Hatya’s. “Let’s try it anyway.”
“Copy that. Meet you in the hallway.”
Since the girl was webbed in, he didn’t bother closing the side door as he slowly raised the airsled up the shaft twelve meters, then eased it into the wide-open doors of the basement hallway. Simple hovering was easier on the coils than grounding and lift-off, so he floated in place a half meter off the floor.