Getting There

DATE: Year 308-B. Sol 405

LOCATION: Checkpoint Zero (Earth-Sun L2)

STATUS: Arrival

The journey from the Tumble to the edge of the Earth Exclusionary Zone took sixty shifts of hard burn. Phoenix ran through every old vid and interactive he had to keep Bit entertained before taking apart pieces of the ship and putting them back together to teach the kid engineering. Market tried to have Bit come on the Marley several times, but the child had latched on to Jimi.

Two shifts out from Checkpoint Zero, the radio crackled.

-Sparrow, this is Marley Actual, Market’s voice came through.

-Prepare for docking. I’m coming back over.

-What for? Phoenix asked. He’d considered whether the search at the checkpoint would uncover the MTC tracker. He put it in a led box but now he wasn’t so sure. It’s efficacy was a lot less theoretical if Himalaya was looming over his shoulders.

-I miss the view, Market joked. Besides, if we’re running a blockade, I want to be on the ship that can actually dodge. Or if, you know, they arrest you.

Phoenix pulled up for docking and then the airlock cycled. Market dropped back into the jump-seat. He looked tired. The sixty-shift journey had taken a toll even on a Pristine. His white suit was stained with oil, and his eyes were hard. He didn't look like a preacher anymore. He looked like a boy expecting a fight.

-They’re waiting for us, Market said, buckling in.

Checkpoint Zero laid ahead, at the Earth Sun L2 Lagrange point. It was a massive ring-station, bristling with sensors and docking clamps, the gateway to the forbidden zone, less forbidden every day. There was a time getting even this close to the Earth was impossible. Beyond it, the Earth hung in the dark, shrouded in gray clouds.

And waiting for them was the shark. The Cold Moon, Delavan’s cruiser, was parked just off the station’s bow. Its railguns were powered down, but its presence screamed trap.

-Maintain formation, Phoenix radioed the fleet. Don't twitch. If you drift across the line before they clear us, they can legally vaporize you.

In the co-pilot seat, Bit was asleep, his head lolling against the straps. In the jump-seat behind them, Himalaya Market leaned forward, his pristine face illuminated by the sensor grid.

-They are testing our faith, Market whispered.

-They're testing your transponders, Phoenix muttered back. He checked his scopes.

A new contact pinged. A blocky, grey ship detached from the station. It looked like a flying brick with flashing lights.

ID: NEC CUSTODIAN

CAPTAIN: WARDEN MAY

-Great, Phoenix sighed. A g-man.

The New Earth Consortium was founded nearly two hundred cycles ago, in Year 111-A, fittingly. It collected major chartered associations, like the MTC, that was formed before the Rip, and those, like the OBU, that was chartered after the Rip. It was humanity’s first experiment in government beyond the charters since the Martian Council, which didn’t survive long after the Rip. Bringing in the EZM brought in one of the last of the charters, opening up the opportunity to build Checkpoint Zero, with a shared vision for how to start reclaiming Earth. Or so the politicians of the NEC crowed. The Marley fleet put all of that at risk.

The comms beeped.

-Unidentified Convoy, a tired voice drawled. This is Captain Warden May of the New Earth Consortium. You are entering a restricted biosecurity zone. Cut your engines and prepare for deep-scan.

Unidentified, Phoenix laughed to himself. The way these bureaucrats play games.

-Do as he says, Phoenix told the fleet.

A scanning beam swept over the caravan. It lingered on The Marley. Then it swept over The Mighty Sparrow.

Phoenix held his breath. The MTC Beacon Delavan had given him was hidden in the cargo hold's led box. But May’s sensors were military-grade, she’d see it. She’d have to be in on it too, Phoenix thought.

The radio crackled.

-Sparrow, May’s voice said. I'm reading a thermal anomaly in your cargo hold. And a bio-sign that doesn't match your manifest. Unauthorized passenger.

Phoenix froze. He looked at Bit.

-It's just a glitch, Warden, Phoenix said, keeping his voice level. Old ship. She leaks heat.

-I'm looking at your thermal profile right now, Lyons, May said.

He used the real name, a warning shot.

-And I see an MTC-issue frequency emitter. You working for the Corporation now?

Market stiffened. He looked at Phoenix.

-What is he talking about? Market asked sharply.

Phoenix gripped the stick, sweat beading under his collar.

-He's fishing. He hates scavengers. I find a lot of things.

-I'm just a pilot, May, Phoenix said into the mic, his voice soft. Trying to get paid. The cargo, it’s just my garbage. Let it go.

There was a long silence. Phoenix watched the Custodian’s guns rotate. He saw Delavan’s ship in the distance, waiting for the excuse to start the slaughter.

-You know, May said, his voice heavy with static. This whole sector is a powder keg. If I turn this convoy back, they starve. If I let them through, well. I see the shark in the water.

-I see him too, Phoenix said.

-Tell Market to stick to the flight plan, May said. The New Earth Consortium has approved a very specific flight plan within the Exclusion Zone, as a sign that the Earth Zionist Movement is seen as an equal member of the Consortium. You must adhere to it. Do not attempt to land on Earth.

The scanning beam cut off.

-Convoy cleared, the automated system droned. Welcome to the Earth Zone.

Phoenix exhaled, his visor fogging up.

-What beacon? Market asked, his eyes narrowing.

-Standard distress beacon, Phoenix blurted out. Something I picked up along the way. May was being a stickler because I haven't paid my registration fees.

Market looked at him for a long beat. Then he looked out the viewport at the grey marble of Earth.

-Providence favors the bold, Market said finally. Set a course for Earth.

Phoenix rolled his eyes throttled up. Bit woke up and tapped the dashboard twice.

-Yeah, Phoenix whispered, tapping on his wrist. We got lucky, don't get used to it.