Ned shuddered.
The boys watched as the docking procedures were completed and the airlocks regulated. As expected, only one crew airlock cycled for use, along with the main and auxiliary holds.
“There’s nothing in the second hold,” Fisher reported, skimming the official register. “They’re just opening up to maximize air recycling. I’m going to switch the cameras to run maintenance.”
“That’s fair enough,” Ned said. “And also handy, since that’s where we should have unloaded the Cleland, so they might think it was weird if the hold was empty when they know there was a ship in front of them.”
“Everything is working out very nice for you,” Fisher said sarcastically. “I didn’t nearly have a heart attack or anything.”
Ned didn’t reply.
“Do you want to go oversee the unloading?” Fisher offered an olive branch. “If you start doing it on regular shipments, you can do it when your friends come in as well.”
Ned brightened. He was out of his chair and heading for the door before Fisher could draw breath. It was something, at least.
Fisher watched on the monitors as the ship was unloaded. It was strange not to have anyone get off and help or supervise or go get a drink on the colonnade. Instead, the Brannick team removed enormous crates of semi-processed ore from the hold of the Harland, stacking them in the cavernous loading bay until they figured out what was going where. A requisition list popped up on Fisher’s screen, mostly medical supplies and food. He sent it on to the quartermaster to be filled. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Fisher even saw Ned shaking hands with a tall woman he assumed was the captain. She didn’t look particularly thrilled about it.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. All the cameras in the other loading bay were maintenance cycling through one monitor since there wasn’t anything going on there right now. Or at least, there wasn’t supposed to be anything going on there right now. Fisher turned away from his brother’s image, and brought up the secondary cameras on more screens until he found what he was looking for.
A small figure dropped out of the Harland and made her way across the empty floor. It had been scrubbed after the Cleland had departed, partly as procedure and partly to destroy evidence, so there wasn’t really anything for her to hide behind as she crossed the deck. The door opened for her automatically, and she seemed to hesitate before crossing the threshold, as if it was the most important step she’d ever take.
With a flash of insight, Fisher realized that it probably was the most important step she’d ever taken. She didn’t look older than he was, which meant she had been born on the Harland and had probably never stepped foot anywhere else. Fisher wondered whether it was curiosity or desperation that drove her.
The girl stepped into the hallway and Fisher looked for the next footage of her. By the time he tracked her down, she had changed. Her hair was longer and darker, and her jumpsuit was a different colour. He watched while she changed its shape, making the suit more form-fitting and less of a coverall. For a moment, he wondered if he’d had too many stimulants, but then it struck him. She must be a gene-mage. And not just any gene-mage, either. There were four doctors on Brannick who could read a person’s genes with varying ability, but none who could change.
He sent a signal to Ned, hoping his brother would return to the office right away. They had to talk before the girl went back to the Harland. But Ned was busy helping move crates—of all the times to decide to start doing that!—and didn’t notice the message. Fisher watched onscreen as the girl went farther into the station. She didn’t seem to be looking for anything in particular, but neither was she wandering at random. She stuck to crowds, like she was hiding or trying to blend in. She followed the movement of the masses, heading past the shopfronts until she reached one of the most notorious bars on the station. She paused for a moment, and then ducked inside.
On the loading dock, the crates were almost all in place. The Harland’s captain had already sent the first officer back to the ship. Ned was directing the placement of the last few crates. It occurred to Fisher that he could stall the requisitions, but no sooner had the idea come to him than the quartermaster arrived with everything ready to go. Usually, Fisher was very proud of the station’s efficiency, but at the moment, it was causing a small dilemma.
He kept half an eye on the feed that monitored the bar. She hadn’t left yet. She had to know how tight the timing was. Her captain probably bragged about how little time they spent in port. If she was going to get back, she was going to have to get moving.
. . . If she wanted to get back. She’d snuck out and changed her physical appearance. She didn’t have anything with her, but maybe she hadn’t been able to bring her possessions. If this was an escape, it was pretty dire, but it wasn’t a half-bad attempt. There was always work available on Brannick. And she was a gene-mage. They would be beyond lucky to have her. Which of course meant her captain must also want her. Fisher couldn’t see the whole picture yet, and he was sure he was missing something important.
He watched helplessly while the Harland’s captain went back onto the ship and began the exit procedures. They weren’t using the Well, so they didn’t need Ned or any calculations or clearance. They’d just let operations know when they wanted the clamps released. Both of the cargo-hold doors were closing, sealing against the vacuum of space.
Ned came back into the office, whistling cheerfully.
“They weren’t so bad,” he said. “In a hurry because they’re meeting up with someone in a month for a contract and they have to control the engine burn or something, but aside from that, they weren’t as standoffish as I was expecting.”
“Someone got off their ship,” Fisher said tightly.
“Yes, I talked to the captain and the first officer,” Ned said.
“No, through the lower hold,” Fisher said. “A girl.”
“What?” Ned’s attention snapped to the monitor Fisher was using. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried!” Fisher said. “You didn’t answer me.”
“Why did you send it privately?” Ned asked. “You could have called the bay directly.”
“She’s a gene-mage,” Fisher said. “I watched her grow her hair twelve inches and change its colour. She changed her outfit too. And she snuck out, Ned. I think she might be escaping.”
“From what?” Ned said.
“I don’t know,” Fisher said. “Maybe she doesn’t like space travel. But she’s in a bar on the colonnade, and I think you should go talk to her.”
“Why?” Ned said. “She can find a job if she talks to the quartermaster. There are signs posted everywhere.”