Beyond the Reach of Earth by Ken MacLeod

Author:Ken MacLeod [MacLeod, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780356514819
Publisher: Orbit; Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2023-03-20T17:00:00+00:00

Wednesday 12 November 2070

Milloy sat on top of her survival pack on the floor of the Fighting Chance. Between her knees was a high-powered anti-materiel rifle, and across her back and chest a score of its heavy slugs. The weapon, built in the Station’s robot workshops from metal that had cooled when the Earth was molten, was capable of taking out any unarmoured vehicle or bringing down a helicopter or small aeroplane. Most of Marcus Owen was as vulnerable as the human form he emulated. His inner core was not. A steely skeletal remnant of himself would survive a machine-gun burst or a nearby bomb. It wouldn’t survive a hit from this.

Nine other evacuees from the Station sat or squatted beside or opposite her, most clinging to whatever stanchion or brace came to hand. One, the astronomer Gianna De Marte, had grabbed the chance to sit in the observation bubble beneath the cockpit. Farther back, Omar Khan fussed over the fusion pot. Morag Rafferty stood by the airlock. Outside, but very much present in Milloy’s mind, the descent suit with the Sikandar AI clung to the hull.

Creaks and clunks sounded through the ship as grapples let go.

‘Forward jet easy,’ said Grant.

‘Aye, aye,’ said Ellen, in an ironic tone.

The thrust was barely detectable. Milloy flipped her glasses to outside cameras. Slowly the Station drifted past, and then away. Ulrich’s voice came through.

‘You’re clear, Fighting Chance. Safe home.’

‘Thank you, Commander,’ Ellen replied. ‘Stay safe yourselves.’

The Station dwindled. Still huge.

‘Omar, give us some juice,’ Grant said.

‘Powering up,’ Khan called back.

The field wasn’t even on yet. Milloy felt her knees quiver. Her gut was queasy from Apis-specific antibiotics, cooked up on the Station from prescriptions in the Black Horizon and NASA information packs. Her palms were slick on the rifle. In a few minutes, if all went according to plan, she’d be stepping out of the hatch onto Apis. It felt more scary than her descent to Venus. Huddled in the ship’s belly, she wondered if this was what it was like for soldiers in troop carriers. She told herself not to be pretentious. No one would be shooting at her.

‘Stand by for FTL jump,’ Grant said.

The stars, hitherto steady, sparkled in varied colours, as if a prism was in front of each one. The colours merged in a rainbow wash, like petrol on a puddle, and the dread climbed.

Milloy closed her eyes, compressed her lips and took the fall.

And then they were out of it, and still falling. Really falling. Milloy opened her eyes, expecting free fall in low Apis orbit, and saw white clouds whip past. Then black sky above and something almost as dark beneath, rushing up.

‘Short jump,’ said Grant. ‘Brace for landing.’

‘Can’t get much more fucking braced than I am,’ Morag Rafferty swore, to no one in particular.

Like a blink in which you miss something−

And then they were down, quite softly, in what looked like moonlight. The landing bars scraped. Something outside cracked. Silence, except for everyone’s breathing.

‘Well, John,’ said Ellen, ‘looks like you did it.

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