Rock Killer by S. Evan Townsend Page B

bridge window. He was so close to her shapely back, another few inches and they’d be touching. Because they were conserving water he could smell her: a not altogether unpleasant sensation.
Either she didn’t notice how close he was or didn’t care.
“Where are they, Knecht?” he asked her.
She didn’t move. “I don’t know.”
“They’re late,” he growled, stating the obvious. “Any radio contact?”
Trudeau shook his head. Knecht moved toward the window.
    Griffin sensed he was pushing his luck with her and moved away, passing back and forth. He looked at the black sky out the bridge dome window. He’d lost three people stealing this ship and if those camel-jockeys didn’t come through it would be for nothing.
“You did a good job on the Moon,” Griffin said to Knecht.
She looked at him and stated, simply, “Thank you.”
“I’ve got them on radar,” Trudeau reported. “At least I hope it’s them.”
“Figure the odds of someone else being here,” Griffin replied.
He hit the intercom button. “Cole, prepare the airlock to dock.”
“Okay,” she answered.
    Griffin again hit the intercom button. “Prepare for free-fall, Cole.” He turned to Knecht. “Match that ship up with the Janes program.”
    Knecht worked efficiently with the computer. “ Janes says it’s a modified, Russian Federation Tsiolkovshy -class, lunar shuttle, versions of which were sold to, among others, Syria, who renamed it the Athwara Bathy or something like that.”
    “ Ath-Thawra Baathiya ,” Griffin corrected. “It means ‘Baath Revolution.’ Real imaginative, huh?”
    “So, is it them?” Knecht asked with some impatience. “It’s the right kind of ship, but,” and she looked out her window. There was a flashing as if someone was pointing a flashlight out a window–low tech but effective.
    “There’s the light,” Knecht said. “It’s them all right.”
    “Great. Cut the engines,” Griffin ordered. “Let’s see how long it takes them to match velocity.”
    It took a great while. The Russian equipment wasn’t up to SRI standards, but Knecht’s training wasn’t enough to allow her to use the Rock Skipper ’s ability to its full extent. But eventually the two ships were mated. A swarthy fellow pushed over through the airlock.
    Griffin greeted the man. “ Marhaban sadiqi ,” he said. Greetings, friend.
    The visitor smiled sardonically. “ Marhabtain .” Two greetings to you.
    Griffin smiled also, although he felt the need to scrape the Arab’s sarcasm off his face. “Do you have the missiles, aqid ?” Sir. He didn’t understand the other’s need to humiliate him.
    “Yes, habibi .” My love. The Arab’s continued sarcasm was floating thickly in the air.
    “And are they fully capable?”
    “Of course. How do you plan to mount them?”
    “This ship,” Griffin said, “is used to survey asteroids. In order to determine the composition of the asteroid, it fires a missile very much like these. It releases a projectile, like a sabot round, and they do a spectroscopic analysis on the explosion of the impact.” His voice revealed his low opinion of the method. “These missiles should fit in those tubes with very little modification.”
    “Can you do it?”
    “Of course. We have plenty of time to get to the asteroid belt. We are in no hurry. And we have an ace in the hole.”
    The Arab looked as if he didn’t understand the idiom. But he ignored it. “I will send the missiles over. Ma’salamah .” God be with you.
    “ Ma’salamah ,” Griffin echoed. “We will inform you of our victory.”
    “ In sha’allah .” If God is willing.
    ***
    Charlie Jones took a spaceplane from Tokyo to Washington over the North Polar Region. Most of the trip her intestine seemed to be trying to tie itself into a bowline. This job Mitchel had sent her on, into the fiery furnace of the Gaia Alliance, could get her killed. And she’d be all alone, without Frank, Mitchel, or even Grandma to call on for