The Galaxy Construction Company's crews settled in on Zevus Mar two weeks ahead of Hankura's projected arrival. If things had gone according to plan, at least part of the star port would have been completed in time for his arrival. But they didn't . . .
"Casir, that little bugger is wedged in there but good," Cran muttered in disgust, working at the droid's remote control panel without success. "These damn droids are about useless in this wreckage. They're fine when we can get them where we want them. But if anything gets in their way, they haven't got enough power to do anything about it. One of us will have to go in and set those charges... "
"Well, I suppose---" Casir started to say he would go.
"Not you, Casir," Cran interrupted. "You may be the boss, but you don't know microbes about those detonators. Let me go. I'll get 'em in there so we can drop that tower in one shot."
Casir was the boss, but Cran had been a demolitions expert for ten years before he served on the Searching Star, and before he came to work for the Galaxy Construction Company.
"We haven't got any more of those droids?" Casir asked, and then answered before Cran could speak. "No, of course not. This is a helluva fix. We've got to have this star port operational so the freighters can land with the stuff we need to get this star port operational."
"Yeah, and those poor survivors in the villages won't get any help until we do. The first freighter shuttles are due in three days---and it'll take two days to lay down the primary landing pad," Cran reminded him as if he needed reminding. "Let me take the tower down so we can get to it."
Casir studied the big dark-haired man for several moments, meeting his violet eyes. Then he looked at what was left of Medrin Starport's guidance tower---ten shattered stories out of forty-seven.
Pieces of wreckage were strewn all over the cratered landing pad, and the tower was hindering construction of new hangars and loading docks. It had to come down before the reconstruction of the landing pad. Blowing it down afterward would just make another mess to clean up and possibly create faults in the new pad.
The Zevians were desperate for food, shelter, medicine, and in some cases even water. Protection from the great shifts in temperature was most essential. During the days in the hottest summer season, the temperature often reached fifty-five degrees centigrade, dropping to zero on clear nights.
"All right," Casir agreed reluctantly. "But you be damned careful. And I want you out of there at the first sign of trouble. Bren'll be on the scanner, and I'll be on the droid. I'll let you know if we get anything. Don't bother with a com. Telepathy's faster since you're used to it."
"With Luran, I can't help but be," Cran remarked. "Sometimes, I almost wish I were a psi-path."
"Yeah, well---sometimes, it's not all it's cracked up to be," Casir grinned wryly. "Especially in a place like this, as sensitive to people's misery as I am."
"You don't have to be a psi-path to feel for the Zevians. If you have any feelings at all, you can't help it." Cran shook his head. The kids are enough to break your heart---sad little eyes and hungry bellies, not even a blanket to cover up with if they had a soft place to lay with it besides just the cold ground.
Casir nodded mutely.
At the supply tram, Cran put two explosive charges and two detonators into a belt pouch then pulled on a heavy cover all over his work clothes. Attaching the pouch to his utility belt, he donned a heavy duty hard hat and a pair of gloves to protect his hands from jagged pieces of rubble.
Cran started out walking upright into the wreckage of the tunnel at ground level. Soon he was stooping lower and lower under fallen beams and hanging panels, wires, and pieces of the plumbing until he was on his hands and knees crawling. He planted the first charge without incident and moved on, worming his way through on his belly. He stopped at the narrow opening where the remote droid was still wedged. It was blocking the only opening to where Cran wanted to place the last charge---one of the main stress supports of the tower. The only way to get the little droid out was to pry it out. He had brought a steel bar for just that purpose.
Laying on his side, Cran pried at it with all his strength while Casir worked at the remote controls, adding its power to Cran's strength. Slowly, the little droid started to come free, and so did a few tons of steel, concrete, plastic, and glass.
Give it up, Cran; Get the hell out of there! Casir's urgent command was shouted into Cran's mind.
Cran dropped the pry bar and tried to back out of the hole as everything started coming down on top of him.
"Mother of Life!" Casir swore. "The whole damned ceiling came down on him. Jess, get that crane over there and get Talbot in there with a power claw. By some miracle, he's still alive---but he won't be unless we get him out of there fast!"
"Gareth, I want a winch and a body plate ready. I'm going in for him as soon as there's a hole big enough to crawl through."
"We have a plate here, sir," Gareth told him. "I'll get the winch." He paused. "Oh, uh, some guy---Hankura's trying to get you over the telcom."
"What's he say? We're going to need him."
"He said---"
"Good," Casir replied. "I'll see him when we get Cran out."
Gareth gave him a fleeting nod as he ran to the control panel and pressed a red then a yellow button to summon an auto-tram with a heavy-duty winch.
About two minutes later, Casir was suited up and crawling through the rubble, pushing the body plate and power claw tediously ahead of him on a line attached to the winch at the other end.
Perspiration welded his clothes uncomfortably to his flesh and ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes. His taut muscles began to cramp as he continued pushing the body plate and dragging his own body behind it on his belly for almost twenty meters. Jagged pieces of the wreckage poked at him in the most unsavory places all the way, even though they couldn't cut through the tough material of his coverall.
When Casir got to Cran, he used the power claw to raise the rubble pressing down on Cran. He slid the body plate under him with the utmost care in their cramped quarters. Just hang on, friend. Help is on the way.
Casir secured Cran on the body plate and mentally signaled Gareth to pull it past him very slowly. As soon as Cran was well out of the way, he went ahead with the last charge that he had taken from Cran's belt pouch.
Maybe he didn't know as much as Cran about the detonators, but he knew enough to set this charge so no more of this men would get caught in here like Cran. With one last cursory look at the charge, he stuck it under the little droid that had caused all the trouble.
"There, you little bastard," Casir muttered viciously. "See if you pull that on me again!"
Then, with a lot of difficulty and even less comfort, he curled himself into a tight ball and twisted and squirmed until he faced back the way he had come. Still crawling, Casir soon caught up with Cran on the body plate and helped to guide it through the tight opening maintained by the crane and the power claw.
Outside, Gareth and Bren loaded Cran onto a droid tram, and Casir hopped on with him.
"Bren, as soon as everyone's clear, blow that sucker down. I'll see what I can do for Cran. It's been a long time. Let's hope not too long."
The droid tram lifted them about half a meter off the ground and glided easily toward the crew barracks. Cran was still alive, but he wouldn't be for long without better treatment than Casir could offer. He just hoped that Hankura was as close to orbit as Gareth seemed to think he was.
Two attempts and a half hour later, Casir's image finally lit the telcom screen of Hankura's small spaceship as they headed into the Zev system.
"Sorry it took so long, Hankura," Casir apologized and pushed his hand back through his already rumpled platinum hair. "We had a man trapped in some wreckage---he was setting some explosives so we could level a building. A whole floor came down on him. How soon will you touch down here?"
"Half an hour, maybe less. He bad?" Hankura asked, canceling the braking retros for a little longer, noting the proper readouts on the guidance computer screen.
"'Fraid so---busted leg, broken ribs, bad cuts on his arm and face, slight concussion, and the scanner shows serious internal bleeding. I'm not a healer, Hankura---not when it's this bad...and we don't even have a life support or a stasis chamber."
Casir squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a ragged breath.
"No medical droid either?" Hankura questioned.
"Damn, Hankura! We haven't bare necessities down here!" he growled in reply. "I sent the droid to the village. Mother of Life! I've never seen anything like it."
"You know me---so many sick and injured people---I had to do what I could. The crew agreed, and it helped a lot until a building caved in on the sorry mother. You know how those things are programmed; they have no instinct for survival. Now, it's just so much junk. You'd better punch those thrusters. I don't think Cran will last much longer."
"I am," Hankura said shortly and demanded, "Is that Cran from the Searching Star?
"The same. He mentioned you, but I didn't pry," Casir told him. "I picked him and Luran up at Kena Starbase on the way here. She's with him now."
"Good Godess!" Chelle murmured in the background from her co-pilot's seat.
"They're both friends of ours," Hankura shot back, glancing at the readouts as Chelle's fingers played rapidly over the keypad of the ship's computer. "We're just locking into orbit, about to start the descent. Should be about twelve minutes till we're on your doorstep. Get me a droid tram to unload our equipment as soon as I open the hatch. And we'll need some kind of room to use for a surgical cell."
"Will do. The infirmary should do," Casir said, visibly relieved, and they ended the transmission.
We're going into this blind, Chelle. You'll have to cover for two techs. Casir's the only one trained enough to help us. Hankura indicated. I don't know what their infirmary will be like---guess it can't be worse than what the Tregans gave me. That was almost better than nothing.
Chelle nodded. You want me to go straight to the decontamination chamber as soon as we hit the dirt, and then check it out? Will there be time?
We'll take it. Casir should be able to keep a lid on it until we're oriented. Strap in. This won't be one of my softest landings. I'm cutting thrust at the last second.
"Oh, Mother! The last time you did that, you nearly broke this thing wide open." Chelle yanked out the safety strap and buckled it snugly over her slim waist. Leaning back in her seat, she fastened the rest of the harness.
"So, I'll do better this time," he retorted with a hint of indignation. But, there was no sense in getting mad; it was the truth. What could he say?
A lot of things went through Hankura's mind as he went through landing procedures with Chelle. It hadn't been a bad trip. The tension between Chelle and him had eased as they were occupied with ship's routine and planning out a work schedule for when they reached Zevus Mar.
Telepathy grew less strained, and he had been able to share some of his emotional turmoil with her. He should have known she would understand; she always did, and she felt the same way about a lot of what happened. At least now, he could stop venting his angry feelings on her. It helped.
Now, Casir would be around to help, too. Seven years would have done little to change the closeness they'd always shared. They had been friends since the day they met in the room they were assigned to share on Velran. Then, the two young telepaths had a lot in common. Both were light years from their homes and families. Hankura was sent from Aledus to keep from being legally brainwashed, and Casir's family sent him to Velran to get rid of him. Except for the credits regularly deposited into Casir's account, his family had washed their hands of him entirely. They callously invited him to never come home again.
After several days of Casir's silent treatment, Hankura and Casir found a close rapport that had sustained their friendship for more than twenty years. It had filled a void in both their lives on Velran. They'd shared their problems, their triumphs, their failures, their dreams, and their lovers. Few men could claim a closer friendship, certainly not with such honesty between them. Only Chelle was as close to Hankura emotionally, and they were psi-mated.
A lot had happened to Hankura since he'd parted company with Casir, a lot he hardly wanted to think about let alone share with him even yet. But Hankura knew he would sooner or later; he could hardly keep his thoughts from Casir any better than he could from Chelle---before. One way or another it would all come out.
Maybe it would help---if anything could. The first few days would be rough for him and Chelle back on Zevus Mar. He was damned glad Casir would be there.
"Me too," Chelle murmured perceptively.
He sent her a tender thought, still concentrating most of his attention on landing procedures. Angled for the descent, the Arius Mran plunged ground ward in a descent orbit at a marginally safe speed. The tiny ship shuddered at the sudden opposing force of the retros, but the Mran maintained its attitude in the air with no further correction.
That was one of the reasons that Hankura always liked Mrans, despite certain faults in the auto-guidance system. A man didn't have to be a professional space pilot to fly one. They could be landed anywhere there were a few square meters of flat ground, and Hankura had done it more than once. Even so, they still required a good background in Astronautics to pilot them, but a lot less than a professional space pilot. Mrans were tough little ships, a bargain at a million credits. They would take a lot of punishment, and one could take two people and a small load of cargo just about anywhere in seven sectors of the Galaxy they wanted to go. They were as fast as anything currently in space---definitely faster than passenger ships.
Now, Hankura and Chelle were fast coming in for a landing on Zevus Mar, and they were beginning to have doubts about their returning.