Persepolis Rising (Expanse 7)

The deck shifted hard to the right, and Bobbie’s head went a little swimmy from the Coriolis. She grabbed onto a handhold.

“I wasn’t on Ilus.”

“Oh right,” Amos said. “Well, like them anyway. But yeah, we’re kinda stuck where we are unless we can make another hole. We’re looking for something to cut through the bulkhead with. Would like to get that done before they decide to rush us.”

Alex’s voice cut in. He wouldn’t be able to hear them unless she turned up her broadcast power a lot more, but the Roci’s transmitters had more than power enough. “Hey, y’all. The Storm’s breaking off our little dance out here. It looks like she’s trying to get back to port. Might be a good time to launch anyone that wants to get launched. You’re getting short on time.”

Saba responded. “Still waiting for the prison stragglers. Any ship’s ready, I’ll get them gone, but keep that bastard off us as long as you can, yeah?”

“I’m on it,” Alex said.

Bobbie ground her teeth. She wanted to break off, head down to back up Amos and his squad. Bad tactics. She needed to stick to the plan. Amos was going to be all right. She had to believe that. The lift tube

went up the length of the ship, all the way to the ops deck. No one was waiting up there that she could see. That didn’t mean no one was waiting.

“All right,” she said to her team. “This is going to be just the same. Two move forward while three cover, and then the forward pair cover while the three catch up. Only instead of going from door to door, we’re going up from deck to deck. If we start drawing fire, we’ll try to get the lift going up before us, but it’s probably locked down, and I don’t want to announce where we are.”

The Belters all gave their assent and took position. Bobbie and a tall man went first, climbing the handholds like they were free-climbing. She glanced over the top of the deck before she climbed up, but she would have been surprised to find an ambush there.

She leaned against the wall, gun pointed up. It looked like the hatch to ops was closed. Leaving the rest open gave the defenders a great line of fire, but they weren’t using it. Not yet. She gestured to the others, and didn’t take her eye off the enemy as they scrambled up beside her. The Storm was bigger than the Roci. There were eight more decks between her and ops. That last step was going to be tricky, but—

Gravity cut out, and she grabbed for a handhold by reflex as the ship spun around her, sweeping her legs perpendicular to the deck. As suddenly as it had cut out, it came back. A hard burn—four or five gs slamming her down. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and then gravity cut out again, a moment of spin on the float and another high-g microburn. She and her team were braced now. The float and burn happened three more times. It seemed ready to keep going forever.

“Amos?”

“Hey there, Babs.”

“Is this you? Did you break something?”

“Nope. Whatever they’re doing, this here is the product of conscious choice.”

“I think—” A hard burn made her grit her teeth. Then the float. “I think they’re trying to shake us around like bugs in a can.”

Hard burn, and the float. “That’s going make this inconvenient. They trying to slow us down?”

“Until they can get back to port.” Hard burn, and float. Her mind shifted. Delaying and heading back to the docks made the most sense if the Storm was undercrewed. It also explained why she wasn’t catching heavier fire from the command deck. If the Laconians could get back to reinforcements, she wouldn’t have a chance. And if she didn’t, no one else would either.

Two more cycles of float, turn, and slam her into the deck failed to dislodge her from her place. When Amos spoke again, she could hear the effort in his voice. “That could be a problem.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Another round of gunfire pressed its way through the radio. “Not sure I’m going to be able to stop that from happening.”

“All right,” Bobbie said. “New orders. Don’t die until I say so.”

“If I find a way to kill this bird?”

“Then act like I said so, but don’t stick your head out just to look for it.”

“You got a plan?” Amos asked.

“That’d be generous,” she said, “but I’ve got something I’m going to do.”

The ship kept doing its stuttering bounce like one of the first-generation exploration ships that exploded nuclear bombs as a propulsion system. Even for the crew that made it to crash couches, it was a miserable way to travel. She took a deep breath, felt the rhythm of it, and on the next float, pulled herself out to the lift shaft. Two good handholds, two good footholds, and suddenly she weighed five times her usual.

Her fingers and toes screamed in protest. Her back and shoulder flirted with cramping. The float came back, and the ship turned, but she was climbing up. Just one set of handholds before the weight came back. But she was closer.

If she fell, it was a long way to the bottom. But no one was going to be shooting down at her during this, and they didn’t think she could climb while this was going on. That was it as much as anything. With every round of release and spin and high-g burn, she made her way higher, not looking back to see whether her team was with her. She needed all of her focus for this.