Aetherbound - E.K. Johnston Page 0,27

into one of his many pockets, and left the captain to her work.

Operations on the dock level was run out of a much tinier office than the one Fisher usually worked from, but it had its advantages. There was so much electrical interference from the power generator and refinery that covert surveillance was next to impossible. There were the station’s cameras, of course, and anyone with half a spark could tap into them, but they were used to Fisher’s advantage most of the time because he controlled where they were pointed.

Fisher watched as the Cleland off-loaded the small amount of ore it had brought as an excuse to travel, knowing that Ned was doing the same thing from his own terminal, and itching to be down here himself. The work went without a hitch, which was good because the tiny dot indicating the Harland was beeping with increased insistence as that ship drew near. After four hours, Fisher’s comm link chimed.

“Brannick,” Fisher said, not bothering to specify which one.

“This is the Cleland,” Choria’s voice sounded. “We have finished here, and would like to request passage though the Brannick Well.”

“Patching you through to the gene-lock,” Fisher said, and began to work on the pre-launch sequence. It wasn’t like Ned was going to say no.

“Ned Brannick, live,” Ned said through the comm. “My report shows that you have bartered twenty-five percent of your oglasa processing fee in return for passage. I accept. Please stand by while I coordinate with Katla Station.”

Brannick Station could activate the Well, but the corresponding gene-lock on Katla was needed to set up the Net there before the Cleland could go anywhere, or the Cleland would literally never stop going. Katla had a few celestial surprises near its Net that made it necessary to be very precise with regard to timing. It usually took about five minutes to set up, but Fisher wasn’t sure what time it was on Katla right now. If they had to wake up the station commander, it could take longer.

“Katla is ready for you, Cleland,” Ned said, exactly five minutes later. “You are cleared to go in fifteen minutes. Activating your chronometer now.”

Fifteen minutes was plenty of time for the Cleland to get itself into position. Choria hadn’t asked for help, which meant her own star-sense was enough to calculate the angle she would need to hit the Well at in order to make the jump. It was good to know Fisher wasn’t sending the ship out blind. Direction was complicated enough in space.

Fisher left the office and went to a viewing station. The Well wasn’t activated so often that anyone could get tired of looking at it. Up on the colonnade, people were probably pressed against the ports, no matter how drunk they were. Fisher was glad of the relative quiet, because that made it easier to hear the hum of the Well kicking up.

Wells were mostly natural phenomena but bound in place for use by the Stavenger builders all those generations ago. They could be activated by anyone with power, originally, but now they were locked to the genetic inheritors of each station. This was how the Hegemony controlled the stars, even as those they controlled tried to rebel against them. Only Ned could bring the Brannick Well to life. Only Ned could catch incoming ships in the Net.

Fisher felt Ned’s power stretch out from the station. Just the barest amount was needed to activate the Well, magnified through the conduits that connected the station to the universe. Then, just as the hum reached a volume where it started to hurt, the power surged and the Well flared up.

“This is the Cleland, heading out,” said Choria. Her voice was elated through the comm, and Fisher couldn’t blame her. The Well was beautiful, and her scheme had succeeded.

“Good sailing, Cleland,” said Ned.

“Good sailing,” Fisher echoed.

The chronometer counted down the last few seconds. Then the Cleland’s engines glowed as Choria slammed them into the Well at the angle she’d need. There was a surge of power—everyone on the station with any sense of anything would feel it—and then the Cleland streaked rainbow across the blackness of space and disappeared into æther.

“That never gets old,” Ned said.

“No,” Fisher agreed. The schedule indicated that they had two hours before the Harland arrived. “You should take a nap, if you can. We’ll need you.”

“We’ll need you too,” Ned said. “But I suppose you’re going to take a stimulant instead.”

“I am,” Fisher said. “I’ll sleep when the