Chapter 27

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The flight to the station took at least another hour and a half. When the hum of the engines died down and the back door opened again, Alex saw a starry sky filled with a myriad of stars and the rim of the white floor beyond which the cosmic void began, and the jagged pins of some kind of antennae, riddled with narrow coal-black opaque shadows. Having gotten over the initial shock, he realized that they were actually already inside the station and that space was separated from them by a protective field.

Those who sat closer to the door, not at all surprised by what they saw, jumped down quickly without waiting for the ramp to fall completely. On the left, several droids and a forklift with long arms and manipulators like giant forks stood in silent anticipation.

"Hey, hurry up in there. Why are you standing up?" There was a call from behind, and a hesitant Alex quickly ran off onto the station's white floor, which was slightly springy and rubbery. And quite cold for his bare feet.

The shuttle was in a relatively narrow but incredibly long hall with a high ceiling. The room stretched to the right and left as far as the eye could see. It was difficult to estimate its true size, though, because of the sheer number of ships, containers, and equipment of some kind.

The entire crowd of arrivals reached the huge square of the freight lift at the back of the hall, and after the grey containers were loaded onto it, the platform, large enough to fit the entire shuttle, went up smoothly. The PVD men who had come with them to the lift remained at the bottom, from which Alex deduced that they had gone with them to make sure everyone had left.

"I think we should get ourselves some shoes after all." Lord Lister mouthed in a half-voiced voice, wringing his frozen fingers as they made their way up the stairs. "Not to say it just attracts attention. It's a lot colder here than on Tallana."

"As soon as possible.' Sincerely, assured him Alex, who was already starting to freeze.

The first thing he saw at the top was the four barrels of some kind of cannon covered by transparent shields and looking straight at him.

Two double-barrelled machines, which looked like heavy machine guns with very thick barrels, stood at an angle on either side of the platform to provide a crossfire if necessary. Around them were piled some sacks, metal crates, and plastic containers, creating improvised embrasures. There were no people near the guns, though.

The relatively small room they arrived in matched Alex's idea of a space station room. It was finished in grey metal panels and filled with some kind of equipment. And exclusively by people from the PVD. Alex thought so because they were all solidly sober and busy with business. There were three entrances to the hall-their lift, two corridors wide enough for two forklifts to pass through at a time. Near the exit to one of the corridors, another cannon was welded to the floor, causing the hall to hum and hiss. At the second corridor, the cannon was already mounted, and an embrasure was being built around it.

The containers were greeted with cheers, and they were immediately dragged to a disassembled square box a couple of meters high, made of light grey plastic strips. In its depths, something gleamed with a dull gleam of metal and into which several white hoses as thick as an arm ran. Replenishment, on the other hand, was all but ignored. It was only when they were all dragged to the crate and began to open it that a tall, broad-shouldered man in his thirties approached the new arrivals. Judging by his slanting grey eyes and long dark hair gathered in a ponytail, he was a Tallana. He wore a brown jacket over a pair of light gray overalls, like all PVDs, and was armed with a shorty, sporting a large gold earring and a pair of gold rings curled into a small goatee.

Krain made a gurgling sound as he approached and tried to duck down so that he couldn't be seen behind those in front of him, but he had to hang onto Alex's arm to keep his balance.

"It's Balik," he gritted through his teeth in response to Alex's surprised look. "I know him, he knows me, and he knows how I left the PVD. If he sees me..."

Luckily, they were almost in the center of the incoming group. As Balik approached, he introduced himself as the chief defense coordinator of Transit Six and began to explain how important this station was to Tallana's freedom.

As he spoke, Krain ducked sideways to the edge of the shaft, where there was some kind of panel with buttons, which must have served to summon the lift. Before either Alex or Lord Lizard could stop him, he struck the panel with two swift blows, each one resulting in a pathetic pop of broken plastic which was barely audible amidst the noise in the hall.

"What are you doing?" Alex hissed angrily, barely moving his lips when he finally pushed his way over to the rebel and stood so he had covered him. "Do you want to get us killed here?"

"Later," Krain whispered back, straightening up and hiding his blaster.

When Balik finished his speech, they were led into a huge hall, which, judging by the partially melted signs, was the ".....ing Area". In the .....ing Area, there was music, songs, snoring, and other often indistinguishable sounds made by a huge number of "freedom fighters" - several thousand at least. There was also the "Resistance Headquarters of Station Six".

"And what did you do there?" Alex asked when the PVD man finally left them to their own devices, and most of the new arrivals reached for the smell of food and drink.

"I'd like to know the same thing," added Lord Lister in a whisper. "But first, I suggest we move behind that container over there."

"I broke the call marker and the sound box," Krain explained as they stepped back.

"Why?"

"Balik is a sick psycho who doesn't know a damn thing about tactics. He's as much a defensive coordinator as I am a poet. Grand used to use him in acts of... let's say, "intimidation" that others just wouldn't go for. And I want to know what this zwigolot regurgitation is doing here."

"And?"

"And... these panels not only summon the lift but can also be used to communicate between floors, so you can yell at those holding up the lift, I guess. So now you can summon their floor, and they won't know about it because the signal marker is broken and the sound box doesn't work, but the recording element is perfectly serviceable."

"There's a lot of noise, and the hall is quite big. Can you hear anything?"

"The thing is." He explained with a mentor-like tone, "that most recording systems are far more sensitive than the human ear. And they record and transmit all sounds, even the ones we can't hear."

"And?"

"Look, your Lordships." The rebel grinned, gesturing to the magician to retrieve one of the trophy infoblocks. "An expensive model, with a voice recorder mode." He explained, loosening the screws on the case with his fingernail. Having removed the upper panel, he took out some small device connected by a transparent stem and started to fiddle with the settings of the infoblock, commenting at the same time:

"We remove the recording unit from the casing. Select the recorder mode, set the sensitivity to the maximum, and switch on the option "record speech only". The noise amplification and filtering device are now ready. The only thing left to do is to find a secluded spot, call their floor, and connect our recording unit to the sound unit." With these words, he screwed the case back on, leaving the wire with the little device on the outside. "So much for a hand-held eavesdropping device." He added with a smug look.

"Okay..." Alex said as he watched the rebel's manipulation with interest. "You take care of this Balik. Lord Lister and I will get the lay of the land and find the shoes." He added, shivering.

"So, how did you say you met the esteemed Krain?" Lord Lister asked softly as they stepped back. "The specificity of his skills, I couldn't help but wonder."

"In the warehouse," Alex lied without thinking. "He was tied to a chair, too. Only unlike you, he was conscious. He helped me when the commotion started."

"I think he's a secret agent, probably from the imperial security service." Brenor shared his doubts. "Or even a pirate."

"Anything is possible." With a doubtful look on his face, Alex nodded. "But we weren't doing anything completely illegal anyway. And even if he is a pirate, we have a common interest now, to get out of here as soon as possible. Why not use his help? Anyway, we need to find the shoes and find out where the 'evacuation' groups are forming here."

The atmosphere at the Station was interesting. There were several hundred of the crews of the ships stranded at the Station. Needless to say, they were extremely unhappy. Several thousand enthusiastic Tallanas of both sexes, mostly students and mostly not sober. And only sixty PVDs. The number was an estimate, but Alex was sure it was well under a hundred.

The PVDs, though few, must have been the most organized to run the process. They held both control rooms, the flight and lift area, and that lounge. They did not let anyone else in. The people from the PVD practically never left their posts, except for the dozen "crowd pleasers" who were constantly in the crowd, making speeches, and seemed to Alex to be making a strictly calculated mess of the "resistance headquarters" which technically was supposed to run everything here.

The most troubling thing was that no hint could be found of any evacuation of the PVDs from the station outside Tallana. Maybe something could be found out with an "emergency committee" card, but the idea seemed excessively dangerous. So Alex decided to postpone that option for later. At least after we've got our shoes.

They found a working information terminal and Lord Lister grasped and summoned a map of the station. In front, at eye level, a hologram appeared composed of translucent colored blocks with captions. Together, they looked like an avant-garde-painted grand piano: in the area around the keys, a flight deck of several stories opened out into space. In the center, there was the transit and passenger area. And in the elongated part and in the space next to it - the cargo area.

Somewhere around the "lid" of the piano, a small blue ball pulsed with the sacramental signature "You are here". Judging by the markings on the map, they were indeed in the waiting area and had come from the 'transition zone'. It remained to be seen where to look for the source of the shoestring here.

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"Where do you think there might be a place with shoes?" Alex asked Lord Lister when he finally got tired of looking for something like a 'staff changing room'. Such places just didn't seem to be marked.

"In the shops?" he suggested, looking around with interest.

Right, duty-free, why I hadn't thought of that. Alex thought, looking for something with 'shops' on the map. "Shouldn't they be near the passenger terminal?" He asked out loud.

"That sounds reasonable." Nodded Brenor. "Or near the VIP lounges. In any case, I think it's better not to guess but to ask at the terminal." Lord Lister turned to the map hanging in the air and, looking at it pointedly, ordered:

"Create a route to the nearest shoe shop."

The terminal responded with an electronic "Executing" and a jagged blue line stretched across the map. As Alex suggested, it ended at one of the walls of the adjacent passenger terminal.

"Well, looks like we got lucky." He smiled. "It's not far to walk."

It really wasn't far to walk, but as they got closer to their destination, it was clear that their luck seemed to be running out.

The wide, brightly lit corridor curved in an arc that obscured the opposite exit. The walls are almost invisible because of a continuous layer of holographic screens with advertisements stretching from floor to ceiling across the length of both walls. Free of the riot of color, lettering, and pictures were only the floor, lined with ribbed metal plates (quite cold to the touch), and the ceiling, which consisted of a solid milky white panel that gave off a soft warm glow.

A bright orange holographic triangle marked "Third Passenger Terminal" hung from the ceiling a few meters high. Its top pointed forward, from where a distant, indistinct hum was heard. As they approached, the hum intensified, growing louder and louder...

"It's not the machines..." said Lord Lister in a half-smile, pausing and listening warily.

Alex, following his example, also stopped and listened to the sounds coming in; it really didn't sound like a machine.

"I think it's people..."

They were indeed people and people in great numbers. They were squatting on their knees, with their legs pressed tightly together and their palms folded together. With their heads bowed and their eyes closed, they were all muttering something, and this thousand-voice muttering merged into a mighty unintelligible rumble, like the sound of a waterfall.

The noise reverberated off the impossibly high, curved roof of the passenger terminal, illuminated by the many circular lights that looked like distant stars because of their height. It wandered through the gleaming metal web of the ceilings and bounced off them in the adjoining corridors.

Looks like some kind of religious ritual. Decided Alex, cautiously examining the hall from behind the unopened sash of the door. "What are they doing?" He asked in a whisper, turning to Brenor.

"Praying..." He shrugged. "When Synths pray, they're supposed to sit like that."

Around the square filled with seated people gaped white holes of gutted shops. They were empty, and only their floors were littered with shelving debris and small flower scraps. There was only one winding store that gleamed with merchandise, and it looked intact, and the best part was that they seemed to be selling clothes.

"One shop clearly survived," Alex commented, pointing his finger at the window of a lucky shop. "Maybe we should try and check what else is left."

Lord Lister quickly peeked out from behind the door and looked where Alex was pointing:

"I bet it's just a power shield in there, and they couldn't cut the power to it. Besides, it would be an insult to walk around during prayer and, well... you know, rummage around."

"You said something about a VIP area..."

"Yeah, but according to the map, it's behind that gate, very close to the passenger terminal. I don't think there's anything left."

"Then why don't we try the tried-and-true method?" Alex hummed, pointing towards an inconspicuous door marked "Employees Only".

After opening the lock with a blaster, they entered a labyrinth of narrow service passageways, alternating with wide corridors that were used to move cargo around the station.

Lord Lister thought the staff changing rooms should be near the 'technical pillar', whatever that meant. So they began to make their way deeper into the station, until at the exit to another corridor, they were stopped by a commanding shout:

"Stop." It came from somewhere to the left. When Alex turned around he saw four PVD men with guns blocking the passage. "What are you doing here?" Behind them, the corridor widened in a semicircle encircling a huge metal column reaching up into the ceiling. The column was marked with some sort of bright red, unfamiliar pictograms that looked like yellow beams. Some of the equipment next to the column was in crates, and there were a couple of other roving POV guys around. They were seemingly assembling or cutting something off, and there were bright blue flashes on the other side, sparks flying to the floor.

"We're just looking for shoes," Alex admitted guiltily with a wave of his hands. "We woke up and shoes disappeared. Someone had stolen them. Maybe as a joke. We thought we might find something in the back rooms. What are you doing there?"

"None of your business, so stay out of it." Cut off the guard. "Get out of here, for good."

Alex, warningly put a hand on Lord Lister's shoulder as he began to boil:

"Yes, we were just leaving." He assured the guard. "Just... Do you know where the changing rooms are? It's cold..."

"Go back, turn left, and follow the sign to 'support services'." The PVD man grumbled grudgingly.

"Your stoic tolerance, Allesandro," Brenor said with a frown. "I am astonished. That commoner's behavior was insulting."

"Well, first of all, as you rightly pointed out, he's a commoner." Alex objected. "It would be beneath our dignity to notice his behavior. And second, there are a lot of them." And seeing the objection in the eyes of the 'Blade of Honor', he added. "Imagine that we are scouts in the enemy camp. Especially since we are."

"And these ignoramuses are still doing something to the central heat accumulator." Lord Lister added grudgingly. "If they manage to crack open the defenses, the ejection could burn out several sections."

"Let's hope they know what they're doing." Alex shrugged.

The PVD man was not deceived, and they soon found the locker rooms they were looking for, so they returned to Krain with their shoes on. After briefly outlining what they had learned, Alex asked with a sly look:

"So how did you manage to overhear anything interesting?

"Nothing useful." Reluctantly, the rebel confessed. "They've brought in parts of some kind of "Constellation", and they're assembling it, and will be another twenty-four hours, maybe more. All in all, a waste of time so far." He summed up.

"Did you say "Constellation"?" Alex asked, swallowing nervously, and his thoughts went at a panicked gallop without waiting for an answer:

The plan was to detonate the charges on the surface and evacuate via the Station. But that was a plan put together by Imperial Security or whoever else was behind it. And the Professor had clearly decided to replay the whole thing. He'd attacked Lord Velaske and the SS men that were with him. Which means he wouldn't use the escape routes known to the Imperial SS. I'm such an idiot!

"Well, yes, The Shining." Nodded Krain. "Why, 'your lordship', do you know what that thing is?"

"I know." Nodded 'your lordship'. "We're screwed." He added with a grim look and began to tell him what he knew.

The situation was getting dire. At least one warhead was at the station. What they were going to do with it was not known. But the work being carried out at the heat accumulator gave one a bad idea. There was no evacuation from the station either. Alex even took a risk and showed up at the "resistance headquarters" as Atur Chermega - but nothing. He was welcomed and invited to speak, but there was not even the slightest sign of evacuation, although he asked almost directly.

Towards nightfall, their "listening post", at which they were alternately on duty, finally clarified plans for the warhead. It was going to be turned into several charges, and placed on the station, to be detonated in case of capture by the Imperials. Transit Station Six had become a death trap.

The only ray of hope was making contact with the captain of one of the ships stranded on the station. Because of its irregular size, the cargo ship Old Redhead was not in the general guarded field but was docked at the hybrid hub. And it could be freely accessed through the passenger terminal, bypassing both rebels and PVDs. The only remaining obstacle was the docking bay grips controlled from the Control Room:

"We could try to take over the Control Room," Brenor suggested at another of their meetings. Like the others, he was a bit on edge and sleep-deprived.

"This is madness." Krain sighed. "There are over twenty PVD fighters with heavy weapons in there alone. You won't have time to do anything before you get shot. At best, you take two or three with you."

"Better to die fighting." Lord Lister said with grim determination. "Than to just wait for your fate."

"We should not wait for fate but for a chance. Maybe they will lower their guard or be forced to disperse their forces. No Imperial fleet in sight yet. Who knows what will happen in a couple of days..."

"The bomb is not ready to detonate now," Alex remarked, "if we give them time, they'll set up the hardware and mine the critical elements. Then all they have to do is push a button. We have to act now. It's much more dangerous to attack later."

"We're not in the right position now." Krain objected. "Even if by some miracle we manage to get past the guards, we'll be torn apart by this crowd by the time we get back to the ship." He jerked his head back to where the human sea was raging behind the makeshift stage.

With nothing to answer, Alex straightened up from his squatting position, making his head appear above the upturned forklift that acted as the stage.

Behind the forklift, a crowd of would-be freedom martyrs raged, several thousand, maybe even five. They occupied almost the entire area of the giant passenger terminal, shouting, hugging, and occasionally shooting at the ceiling, which left white spots here and there left by the fire extinguishing system. They were really enthusiastic and could have ripped, and even telling them they were going to be blown up would not have helped. The crowd had been so fed up with booze and speakers that they might as well have blown themselves up voluntarily...

But the point is not that they're ready to explode. It's the drinks and the speakers. Thought Alex, looking at the whole thing. And games like that can be played both ways. At least we can try.

"We have two thousand possibilities here." He declared as he ducked down. "And the situation is just perfect."

"What do you mean?"

"These people." He jabbed his finger in the direction of the crowd. "They're not PVD fighters, they're not fanatics. Maybe they want freedom for Tallana, or the Imperials off the planet's surface, or whatever their demands are, but they're not fanatics."

"Yes, but now they have been turned on to the point where they can safely be considered fanatics."

"Exactly! Exactly. It's just a bunch of youths, drunk and drugged out of their cool aid who have been given guns and liquor. It's a force, but a force beyond the control of the PvD, and while they're in such a state, it can be used..."

The current speaker was clearly exhausted and Alex looked around to make sure there were no fighters nearby, grabbed the handrail, and climbed onto the "stage".

"Hang on." Krain grabbed him by the pant leg. "What if they just don't go after you, if it just doesn't work out? We'll sign our own death warrant."

"Then you just run to the transition tube and lock yourself in the ship. Sit there with the fields on full and not unhooking so you don't get ripped off by the beam. They can't get you out, and it might help you in an explosion."

"What about you then?" Asked Brenor.

Alex measured the distance to the open opening of the transition tube. About a hundred meters, maybe a little less.

"It's quite possible I'll make it in time, too. It's not that far to run. I don't think they'll start shooting right away. Also," he threw over his shoulder, "when it starts, don't let anyone near the stage or the equipment. And this one," he pointed his eyes at what he considered to be the most talented 'mass entertainer', "you'd better knock him out as soon as I start talking."

Climbing on top, Alex clapped the speaker on the shoulder and quietly said:

"I would like to speak."

Relief flashed in the speaker's eyes. He nodded and shouted into the small balloon hanging in the air that acted as a microphone:

"And now I give the floor to one of our most hardened fighters, the implacable freedom fighter, Atur Chermaga!" He stepped back to give way to Alex and immediately disappeared from the stage, pulled down by Krain. Lord Lister's flaming blade froze in front of his face.

There were several thousand people in front of Alex, and he could have sworn they were all looking at him. The idea suddenly seemed extremely stupid, even idiotic, but it was too late to change it. He caught the 'microphone balloon', and placing it in front of his face, took a full breath, Well, God with us...

"That's one thing you nobles have going for you, though." With a touch of envy in his voice Krain said, holding the half-strangled PVD speaker with his right hand. "It's the way he sticks out in front of a crowd. Spoken like he'd been at rallies all his life and he's got no memory."

"Yes..." Lord Lister nodded, watching the raging crowd from behind the forklift. And he added in a much quieter voice. "Memoryless, but he knows rebel terminology from somewhere." And he asked in a normal tone, turning to Krain:

"And what do you mean by 'El pablo unido, hamas sera ventido' and 'No pasaran'?"

"I have no idea." The rebel shrugged. "But it sounds encouraging."

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