“Dulcie, it wasn’t Pendt,” Fisher said calmly. “I don’t know how much time we have, but I would like you to evacuate the loading docks and seal every door you can. Have the station populace return to their homes, like a lockdown drill.”
To their credit, they still didn’t panic. Dulcie announced the drill in a calm voice, while her seconds began to evacuate and seal the docks.
“Pendt—” he started, but she cut him off.
“I am staying here,” she told him. “No matter what comes through that Net, I am staying with you.”
There was only one person it could be. They knew it, even if no one was willing to say it out loud. This was how the Hegemony invaded. They used their genetic hostage to activate the Net, and then nothing could stop them from arriving at the station of their choice. Fisher’s father was coming home, and it was the very worst sort of homecoming imaginable.
The Net glimmered as a ship made contact. Instead of firing its engines and making for a dock on the pylon, it sat there. Eventually, an automatic drone was activated on the station and went to tug the ship in. The whole process was beyond Fisher’s control. In the case of station safety, getting a ship to dock was always prioritized, and stopping the drone would require more time to overwrite than they had.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Dulcie. “That’s a one-person drone. They can’t follow him through.”
She was right. The Net was already flickering out, and all of the Brannicks were on this side of it. Nothing could be caught without their say-so.
“Maybe they’re using my mother against him,” Fisher said.
It was possible, and almost too horrible to contemplate. Pendt knew what her aunt would choose, but Fisher’s father actually used his heart.
“I’ll go down,” Fisher said. “Whatever is going on, I’m the least likely to be hurt.”
“I’m coming with you,” Pendt said.
“You can’t,” Fisher said. “You are the station’s priority right now. We have to keep you safe.”
“Fisher,” she said.
“I will be all right,” he said. Physically, at least, he was pretty sure. He could already feel his heart starting to fracture. Whatever he found in that pod couldn’t possibly be good.
“I’ll be watching,” she said, indicating the monitors.
“Damn straight,” said Dulcie.
Fisher took the lift that let him override all stops between operations and the loading dock where the drone had landed. With the lockdown, it was unlikely that anyone would stop him, but he wanted to be sure. The lift seemed to take forever, even though he knew exactly how long it took. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way for the cameras. Pendt wouldn’t be fooled for a moment, but the fact that he was trying would make them all feel a little bit better.
At last, the doors of the lift slid open, and the loading dock spread out before him. The air was already a bit stale, typical when an airlock had cycled during a station lockdown. The drone was ready to open, but whoever was inside wasn’t coming out.
Fisher had imagined this moment a hundred—a thousand—times. Good versions, where his parents stepped out smiling and said it was all a misunderstanding. That the Hegemony never meant to split up their family so cruelly. Bad ones, where his father led an army, his mother’s blood still staining his hands. Nothing had prepared him for the unknowing of the moment. It was agonizing, and yet he never wanted it to end.
The pod was clearly not going to open itself. Fisher crossed to it and looked at the readings. One life sign, fading. Whoever was inside was injured, but not fatally if they were given medical care. No matter what happened, Fisher told himself, he would help someone today. Even if it came back to bite them.
Since the airlock had already cycled, it was easy enough to open the pod’s door. There was no lock on it, no code. It was absolutely ancient, he realized, and he pressed the opening sequence. It was barely space-worthy. Maybe whoever was inside had been healthy when they left and nearly died on the journey.
He was stalling, he knew. He had to get it over with. Pendt would already have it open if she were here. She was probably yelling at him on the viewscreen upstairs.
Fisher finished the sequence and stood back as the door swung open. A rush of oxygen came out, even more stale than the stuff Fisher was breathing, and a body slumped onto the floor of the bay.
Even as he moved forward, Fisher’s brain insisted that it wasn’t possible. His eyes were deceiving him. The oxygen mix was worse than he’d thought, and he was already hallucinating.
Ned Brannick smiled as his brother pulled him out of oblivion and into his arms. It was such an achingly familiar smile. Fisher wanted to scream. It couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. And yet the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to make Fisher lose him twice. Ned collapsed in Fisher’s embrace before Fisher could even think of any questions to ask. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“Fisher.” Ned’s smile faded and he was deadly serious. “Thank goodness. I have some news.”
24.
BRANNICK STATION WAS STILL locked down, so there were no random bystanders around to watch while Fisher and Pendt hauled Ned to Dr. Morunt’s office in the infirmary. Pendt had appeared in the loading bay so quickly Fisher wondered if she’d broken the lift to do it, but he wasn’t about to send her away. Together, they could manage Ned, even though he was very unsteady on his feet.
Dr. Morunt was shocked to see the three of them, of course, but immediately helped lift Ned onto the table for an examination.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Ned protested.
“You are dehydrated,” Dr. Morunt said. “And your oxygen saturation is low.”
“Put the mask on, Ned,” Fisher said. “You can still talk.”
Ned put the mask on. His colour was already better with the flow of air normalized, but he was still quite thin. His skin had the papery look to it that Pendt’s had when she came aboard. It wasn’t because he’d been in space; it was due to malnourishment.
“So the Cleland was captured, then?” Pendt asked. Fisher was so grateful that she could keep a level head.
“Yes,” Ned said. “We were covering the retreat of several other ships. Choria always volunteers for that sort of thing. It’s one of her best qualities.”
“We heard it was destroyed with all hands,” Fisher said.
“Oh, they destroyed it,” Ned said. “But they emptied it first. All our stores went to Hegemony soldiers, and we were taken off to prison. I think they assumed we knew things, but only Choria had any real knowledge of rebel movements, and she never broke.”