Arms folded across his chest, Brad half-listened
to Hodak reeling off status from screens that lined
the Raven's flaked, time-battered bridge.
The indicators in Brad's line-of-sight, at least
those that still functioned, displayed erratic and
uncertain status of systems and accessories in the
main power plant, fluids pressure pumps, oxygen
generators and other vital gear. More than slightly
precarious, according to the dials and blinking
lights, but the records would show that the ancient
utility had been accepted at the spunnel gateway
in the void between the Asteroid Belt and Jupiter,
despite its technical difficulties.
Sneaking into the tail end of a crowded convoy of
Slingshot-bound transports gave them the 'jump'
they needed. The Neptune spunnel exit would do
fine and provide a seemingly reasonable story
under interrogation, if it came to that.
Stripped to her vitals, all but the simplest
decisions diverted from her computer, the Raven
reminded Brad of his old freighter when he first
took her over. The Raven's maintenance records
showed that she had slipped to less than marginal.
Hodak's expertise with duct tape and hand tools
would get credit for the successful escape.
Planet Pluto, in her ashen melancholy, lay dead
ahead. Sprawled across the frozen methane plain
a couple of points to starboard Coldfield's lights
shimmered through its frost-crusted, barely
translucent dome. Stretching away from the
twenty-kilometer-wide city, the mottled terrain
spread in all directions, slashed by ravines and
man-made, soil-fused excavations, roads and
bridges. Mooring towers, launch and landing pads
spotted the barren landscape across which
crawled processions of utility tugs.
Near-space cargo and passenger shuttles and
taxis landed at and departed from pads adjacent
pressurized air docks into the city. Deep-space
transports and utilities rode high, immobilized
by fore-and-aft mag-beams at the pinnacles of
two-hundred-meter mooring towers.
The Raven drifted closer. Brad noted the hard
orange glow of energy packs encapsulated in
vehicles moving about on the dome and surrounding
land surfaces. Adjusted magnification defined the
vehicles as personnel carriers, flatbed trailers,
dome fissure-fusers, and methane frost scrapers.
Coldfield was a busy place.
Charon drifted into view from over the horizon as
the Raven nosed forward. Only Lamplight's dome
and high-intensity flashers that pinpointed its
landing pads, gateways and walkways broke the
moonlet's solid gray-green landscape. Further out,
the logistics depot slid slowly across the sky like
a glowing green-and-orange sausage.
Zolan keyed a signal to Pluto Traffic Control
as the Raven crossed the line into the planet's
jurisdiction. He added the ship's name and call
sign. Several minutes passed without response.
Zolan leaned back from the console and winked at
Brad. News of their presence had preceded them
and the locals were likely wondering why had the
ship appeared in their skies.