Chapter 11 - 2372
The shuttle craft was full to capacity, and Shaw hated it.
He'd managed to sit in the front of the cabin next to the hatch. It was a relatively short trip from the orbiting ship to the planet surface. But it was still much too much like being crammed into a lifeship. As soon as the shuttle landed, he stood up.
The hatch did not open.
"Ground crew says we need to wait," the pilot said.
Shaw flopped back into his seat.
Blessedly, within a few minutes there was a tap on the hatch and the pilot opened it. Two people climbed onto the shuttle and stood in the front – Chief Carr and Becca Radford. Two of his favorite people, but it was a little unnerving that they arrived together. They were both covered with a fine white dust. Carr had a piece of shiny metal in her hands.
Becca glanced at him, gave him a little smile.
"Sit down and shut up," Carr said to the restless passengers. "I'm Chief Carr, from the Alder. We got a couple things to go over before you head out. First off, this is what you're up against. It's sharp."
She handed the metal piece to Shaw, gave him a little nod. It was the size of his hand and surprisingly heavy. It looked like chrome. The flat sides were smooth and reflective. One edge was rounded and polished. The others were jaggedly broken and razor sharp. He examined it and passed it on.
"This lovely stuff is called Selene. It's what the good people of Yandek decided to face all the buildings in the capital with. As the name suggests, it's heavily infused with selonite."
A groan went up from those on the shuttle who knew what that probably meant. For the rest, Carr continued. "That's the same shit that's used in cloaking devices. And in this particular mix," she gestured to the piece that was making its rounds, "you can't scan through it, you can't transport through it, or even near it, and tractor beams just barely grip it."
"They used this to build on a fault line?" someone from the back asked.
Carr nodded. "And now they've had a major quake. Dozens of buildings collapsed, and about ten thousand people are dead, wounded, or missing."
"So are we supposed to dig them out with shovels or something?"
"Pretty much. Every scientist we've got is working on getting either transporters or tractors to work, but for now we're doing it the hard way."
A second, louder groan went up.
"Corps of Engineers is on their way with specialized equipment," the chief went on, "but it's be two or three days before they get here. Until then, we do the best we can. And there's a little extra shit topping to go on this shitburger."
She nodded, and Becca moved forward. "I'm Rebecca Radford," she said. "I'm one of the diplomatic aides to Ambassador Sovek. In addition to the physical crisis out there, we're also having a serious diplomatic crisis."
"Not our problem," the man behind Shaw said. His name was Prasek and he was usually reliable, but at the moment Shaw wanted to slap him.
Before he could turn around, Carr snarled, "Shut up and listen."
Becca went on as if she hadn't been interrupted. "The government was warned multiple times that building with this Selene composite was a bad idea, especially with the capital over a seismic fault line. They were told that it was dangerous, that it was a disaster waiting to happen. They argued that the look of the buildings was part of their culture, their heritage, and anyone who criticized it was being disrespectful. Now that the city's collapsed, they're in a panic. And governments in a panic do dumb things. In this case, they're trying to kick us out."
"Us who?" Shaw asked.
"All of us. Everyone who's non-native."
"And what?" Prasek asked. "They're just going to dig these people out by themselves?"
"That's their plan." Becca shrugged, unbothered by his tone. "As it happens, they haven't been able to formally file their request. Ambassador Sovek is in his quarters in a spiritual retreat and cannot be disturbed until it is completed. And coincidentally, the president and the High Council are also on a retreat and cannot be reached. So right now there's no one the Yandek can complain to, and no one who can tell us to leave."
"And how long's that gonna last?" the pilot asked.
"As long as it needs to. We hope." Becca shrugged. "So what we're asking is for you – all of you – to not start any more fires. We all know they made stupid decisions. They know it too. But once you leave this ship, please please do not say anything about how this happened. Because anything you say may give them an excuse. If you absolutely have to vent, find another Starfleet member and go behind a closed door somewhere. Or find one of us from FDC, we'll be happy to commiserate. But out there in front of the locals, we are begging you to keep your mouths shut."
"So we not only have to dig them out with shovels," someone further back said, "but we also have to be careful not to hurt their precious little feelings?"
"Exactly," she agreed, still apparently unbothered. Then, "If it helps any, pretty much every member of the government has someone they care about lost in the rubble. They're scared shitless. They will come to their senses. We just have to keep digging and give them time." She looked over the crowded cabin. "Questions?"
There was grumbling, but no comments or questions. "Thanks. Stay safe." She ducked out of the shuttle.
"She's a nice girl," Carr said when she was gone. "She's asking you nicely. So let me just add, if I hear any one of you shooting your mouth off, I will make sure you're busted down a rank. Just shut up and get the job done. Clear?"
More muttering.
"Clear?" Carr demanded.
"Yes, Chief!" the shuttle answered in the unison they'd learned as cadets and had barely used since.
"Good. Now. I don't suppose any of you know how to use an old-fashioned analog forklift."
Shaw raised his hand just a little. "I do, Chief. A little."
She looked at him sternly. "Camp Gander?"
"Yes, Chief."
"Told you a little time in the country would do you good. You come with me. The rest of you, report to Chief Dillon for assignment. Let's go."
The capital city of Yandek was – had been – called Manelie, but everyone had called it Reflection City. Shaw paused beside Carr a few steps from the shuttle and surveyed the wreckage. Some of the outer buildings remained standing, though they had visible damage. But in the center of the city, there were no walls more than one story high. Everything else had collapsed into great shining reflecting piles of sharp metal and chaos.
There was a sculpture in Chicago, a re-creation of a re-creation from the 20th century, called the Bean. It was exactly that, a giant chrome bean-shaped object. Shaw's mother was very fond of it; he'd seen it dozens of times. The ruins of Manelie looked as if the Bean had grown to the size of a city and then exploded into deadly fragments.
A large park formed the center of the city. It had probably been green, but now everything shimmered with silver dust. There were dozens of bubble tents up already and more being erected. Behind them, there was a long and growing row of white shapes that could only be dead bodies.
The Yandek version of a bulldozer cleared the street, moving very slowly, trying not to cause greater damage.
Carr pointed. "Down there, by the shore, we get enough signal to use transporters. Everything else is shuttled in."
Shaw squinted. He couldn't see the ocean, only a change in the glare that suggested water on the horizon.
"Fucking morons," Carr said under her breath. "Alright, let's get you set up on a pile." She waved. "We assume there are survivors in every sub-level, but we can't tell for sure."
The Yandek's farm equipment – that was clearly what it was – was different in many small ways from the equipment Shaw had played on at Camp Gander, but it was close enough that he got the hang of it quickly. Right-hand lever for the vehicle – forward, sideways, back. Left-hand lever for the fork – this one had three prongs – up and down. Right foot for vehicle speed; left foot to swing the forks. He practiced a bit on a pile that had already been cleared. The big sheets of selonite-laced metal were heavy and slippery as hell. Shaw developed a deep and abiding hatred for them immediately.
Carr returned with six ensigns and a truck full of supplies. She pointed to a pile and Shaw maneuvered his forklift over to it. Then he climbed down to figure out how to begin.
"We can get straps around some of the pieces," Carr said, "but the edges will slice right through them if you don't pad them." She gestured toward the truck. "Put these kids to work. I'll send you more help if I find it."
Shaw surveyed the pile, picked the top slab on the left. It was canted on an angle so they could get straps on, and he guessed he could pull it straight off to the side. "This one," he said.
The ensigns, who were clearly as newly-arrived as he was, moved in to put down padding. One clambered up to the top edge of the slope, promptly slipped, fell, and grabbed the edge to keep from sliding down. The brittle metal cut his hand right to the bone.
"God damn it," Shaw said. "Chief!"
Carr looked back, yelled for a medic, came to join him. "Just do the best you can," she said wearily. "You all need to be careful."
"They had these things at Gander," he said. "Flat rubbery things you put on the bottom of your shoes so you could walk on the ice. I don't know what they're called, but Radford would. We need them."
She nodded. "Sounds easy enough to produce. I'll let you know." She took his wounded ensign and went away.
"Okay," Shaw said, eyeing the blood dripping from the edge of the slab, "let's try that again."
Shaw and his team had removed three slabs and two bodies in two hours, and he was certain that this whole rescue was going to take forever if they didn't get some better equipment. He was at least grateful that an aide had arrived with a box full of ice grips and heavy gloves for everyone.
He was on the ground again, studying the pile for the next piece to remove, when a young Vulcan came to join him.
"Lieutenant Shaw, I am Lieutenant Tolin. Chief Carr has sent me to assist you."
Shaw looked at him. He seemed very young, which probably meant that the Vulcan was twice his age. "I'll take all the help I can get."
"If I may – I would remove that piece next." The Vulcan pointed. "And then that one … and then, if it looks stable, that one."
"You an architect?"
"No. I was the best 3-D chess player in my primary school."
Shaw stared at him. "You're not kidding, are you?"
"I am not. I am told that I have exceptional abilities in deciphering spatial relationships in objects." He hesitated. "I would certainly be more comfortable in my suggestions if I had studied architecture, but …"
" … we work with what we have." Shaw shrugged. "I don't play chess worth a damn, so I'll take your suggestions."
"I shall return shortly to advise further."
The Vulcan moved on to the next pile to advise, and Shaw put his beleaguered ensigns back to work.
Tolin returned as Shaw was hoisting the third suggested piece. Just as he swung the lift around to move the slab, it cracked down the middle and both pieces crashed onto the pile again.
Shaw jumped out of the cab. "Everyone okay?" he shouted.
The ensigns were; he had instructed them repeatedly to stand back once he started lifting.
He stood next to the Vulcan and surveyed the new wreckage. "Well, fuck."
Tolin exhaled. "Vulcans do not generally swear."
"What?"
"We do not, for the most part, use obscenities."
"Oh. Sorry."
"I will therefore request that you do the swearing for both of us."
Despite himself, Shaw had to chuckle. "Gladly. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."
The Vulcan nodded. "Indeed."
The work continued with agonizing slowness. Shaw was peripherally aware that other teams had arrived, that there were machines working to clear other piles, but they weren't going much faster. It grew much hotter outside. The cab of the lift had some climate controls, but Shaw had to leave the windows open so he could hear his crew,
Finally they'd cleared enough that they could snake a small sensor on a cable down between the slabs. A medical team crowded around the little sensor read-out. Shaw's people sat in the shade of the forklift. They were grimy and exhausted; they'd all stripped down to their shirts, which left their arms unprotected, and every one of them was scraped up.
Becca Radford and a young man in an identical uniform came up. They were pulling a child's wagon that they'd stocked with water bottles and sandwiches. The team stirred from the shade and swarmed. Shaw grabbed his own and retreated, and as he'd hoped, Becca drifted over and leaned against the forklift next to him. They both watched the med team.
"Good to see you," Becca said.
"You, too." Shaw washed down the bite of sandwich – good bread, not much filling – with a swig of water. "How's the politics going?"
"Still in a panic."
"Great."
"We've got four ships in. Five more coming."
Shaw nodded. "This is going to take forever. We need better equipment."
"We got life signs!" one of the medics called, excited. "Looks like fourteen, maybe fifteen."
"Can you tell them to stay back from the opening?" Shaw called.
The medics shouted down to them, then listened. "No response."
"Great. Where's Tolin?"
"I am here, Lieutenant."
Shaw stepped back into the glare, sandwich still in hand, and he and the Vulcan circled the pile again. There were four large pieces remaining, and they were all interlocked, leaning on each other in a jagged pyramid shape. There was no obvious way to remove one without causing one or more of the others to shift and possibly to fall into the space below. "There may be people trapped directly below here," Shaw said. "If they can't get out of the way …"
"Our rescue attempts may cause further casualties." The Vulcan nodded. He stepped back, took three steps to his right. "Perhaps – if we could this piece a meter or so to the left. That would give us a visual into the space below and we could more accurately determine the risks."
Shaw kicked at the vertical piece directly in front of him. The top edge had sheered and it was jagged and sharp. The piece they wanted to move was half a meter lower. "We'll have to lift it a little to get it over this."
"Yes."
Shaw rubbed his face, which he was sure just blended the sweat with the silver dust into smears. "Okay." He glanced at his team, then at Tolin. "Gonna stall a minute so they have time to eat."
The Vulcan nodded his understanding. "We can consider the most efficient placement of the lifting straps."
"Have you eaten?"
"I … have not."
Shaw almost tore his remaining sandwich in half and offered it to him, but the condition of his hands made him reconsider. "Becca!"
She came over, bringing a wrapped sandwich and a fresh water bottle with her.
"Rebecca Radford, Lieutenant Tolin."
Becca handed him the provisions. "It's nice to meet you."
The Vulcan nodded. "You are Ambassador's Sovek's assistant, I believe?"
"I'm on his staff. Can't claim to be his assistant."
"Yet," Shaw added quietly.
"It is – unfortunate that the Ambassador has entered into a retreat at this time."
"Well," she answered evenly, "everything happens for a reason and in its own time."
Tolin nodded and took a bite of his sandwich.
When everyone had had a chance to eat and rest for a few minutes, they set to work strapping the target slab. Shaw climbed back into the cab of the forklift. He checked the area; the medical team was safely back, with Becca and the other aide. His own team was a little closer, with Tolin, where they could warn him if pieces started to slip. Everyone was waiting for him. He wiped his sweaty hand on his pant leg and reached for the levers.
He got the straps hooked on the left fork and began to lift very slowly. They only wanted the piece up half a meter, then left a meter, propped up on the jagged vertical edge. Too fast and it would shift, maybe cut the straps and fall.
Shaw hated everything about this procedure.
The lift went smoothly. On the near edge, he could see darkness that indicated an opening under the rock rubble. Shaw shifted, preparing to swing the piece over.
Then people started yelling.
It was one of his ensigns at first, shouting, "No, don't!" Then others caught on, started yelling the same thing. Through the dusty windshield, Shaw saw something emerging from the darkness under the slab. It was brown and then white and then green. It moved as if it were being pushed, slid over the edge –
– directly onto the razor-sharp point on the edge of the vertical wall.
People screaming no and stop and then the little shape, the child being pushed out of the hole below, began to scream as well. His screams had no words. There was only pain.
The green of his shirt turned red.
Shaw felt it then, before he heard it: the tell-tale shift in the feel of the lift that said that the slab was cracking. Then the metal sheering noise alerted everyone else.
The child screamed. The slab screamed. Shaw screamed, for all the good that would do. He fought to keep the slab level, to keep it together, but there was nothing to be done once the crack started. Both pieces would fall away from the straps in a few seconds –
- whoever was shoving that child into the light was not pulling him back, despite all the warnings being shouted –
- and Becca moving, running toward the slab, toward the child –
- of course Becca, who else would it be –
- the slab cracked, slipped, dropped toward the screaming bleeding child –
- and Becca under the slab now with the child –
- crashing, and –
- rolling and –
- the child's screamed drowned out by the crash of the slab—
- a cloud of silver dust –
- the whole pile shuddered and then miraculously settled without collapsing on the idiots below.
Becca flat on her back, not more than an arm's length from the savage broken edge, with the child held against her chest, both her arms tight around him, and red everywhere.
The child stopped screaming.
The med team scrambled.
Shaw sat perfectly still, his hands slick with sweat on the levers.
There was not a goddamn thing he could do.
The medics converged, hiding both Becca and the child. They very quickly brought an orange backboard. Tolin was with them by then. They moved them together, Becca still gripping the child, strapped them both down, and ran them to a waiting cart.
They were gone before Shaw could stagger down out of the cab.
His knees buckled when he hit the ground. He seized the grab handle and hauled himself upright. It was almost too hot to touch.
Tolin came over. "Are you alright, Lieutenant?"
"No."
"The young woman asked me to tell you that she was uninjured."
"Was she lying?"
The Vulcan shook his head. "Any injuries she may have sustained are minor."
"Then why'd they take her on the stretcher?"
"The child is quite badly cut by the edge. They believe Miss Radford is – holding his spine together. They did not want to disturb her grip until they were in a fully-equipped Sick Bay."
Shaw looked away and strongly considered vomiting.
"I confess, I do not understand the motivation of the mother."
"The mother?"
Tolin nodded. "The child's mother was trying to push him out of the hole. When it was clearly dangerous, and we were so obviously near to freeing them."
"They've been trapped for more than a day," Shaw said. "She may have thought it was her only chance." He sighed, rubbed his face with his free hand. "We've got to find a better way to do this."
"I am hearing that the scientists are making very little progress. The composition of the Selene metal is unique and quite challenging."
"We just need some way to get ahold of the damn slabs …"
Shaw stopped and turned his head. The handle that he gripped to keep him upright. The simple, solid – "We gotta start thinking like Otto."
"Pardon?"
Shaw turned his head, saw Carr, and yelled, "Chief? Chief!"
Chief Carr trotted over. "You hurt?"
"I got an idea. Can we drill through that shit?"
Carr looked at Tolin. "I .. see no reason that we can't," the Vulcan answered uncertainly. "I have not studied the composition personally."
"What are you thinking?"
Shaw indicated the handle. "Drill four holes, bolt a handle like this on, self-flanging bolts, lift it that way. Way less chance of dropping it."
Carr glared at him. "Oh, son of a bitch. All this fucking around with transporter frequencies, when what we needed was some old-school mechanicals."
"Uh-huh."
"I'll get the Brains in here, see how we do this."
She started off. Shaw reached for the handle again, missed and dropped his hand onto the plate beneath it. It was hotter than the handle had been; he snatched his fingers back before they burned. "Oh fuck. Chief!"
"What?"
"I got a better idea."
