Capítulo 18: Chapter 18: Minnesota

Minnesota ran for the ship before it even settled to the ground. She heard Quinn shouting behind her, but ignored him as she neared the dust-cloud whooshing in around the vessel, almost blinding her. Smoke mixed with burning metal forced her to cover her mouth and nose with the collar of her shirt so she could breath. She reached the smoking hull before she knew she was there, almost impacting it in her haste. It loomed out of the dust cloud, a massive black shadow, its once-shining skin charred and melted. Minnesota frantically searched along the length of it for a hatch or port where she could gain access.

She finally found what she was looking for. Though almost unrecognizable from the damage, its edges practically welded in places, the small hatch seemed to be an entry point to the lower decks. She could tell by the list of the ship it rolled over partially on its side during the landing, exposing its underbelly.

She dug out her gloves and forced them on her hands before struggling with the handle. It was fused, and worse about a third of the door was under the ship buried in dirt. Frustrated by this blockage to her needs, Minnesota spun in time to see Quinn and the twins arrive. Most of the dust had settled by then, only a thin haze left in the air that would probably hang for days.

"We have to get inside," she said, not realizing she snapped orders to boys much older than her who may have their own ideas. "I need tools. Dig that out. I'll be right back." She raced off, not realizing her guidance was exactly what the boys needed.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she slammed open the door to her workshop and found it intact. Her busy mind wondered why the aliens had done so little damage, choosing instead to only kidnap the colonists--she refused to believe they killed them all then took the bodies away

-but the question was filed for another time. She kept too focused on the job at hand to think about it.

Minnesota bundled up everything she thought she'd need and threw it all in a worn, old pack.

She jogged back as fast as she could, the tools bouncing against her in time with her steps.

By the time she returned to the hatch, Quinn and Manuel had mostly cleared the doorway.

Only Miguel stood aside, looking rebellious. Minnesota didn't have time to mess with the arrogant Diego twin so she ignored him.

"Great job," she said, dumping the pack and sifting through the stuff even as she spoke. "Just a bit more and I should be able to get it open."

"And we're bothering why?" Miguel demanded. When no one answered him, he fell still.

Minnesota, meanwhile, only had attention for the task at hand. She didn't have to ask herself why. Not when it was possible there were people inside who were hurt, dying even. And it was so much easier to focus on this task, on entering the ship, than thinking about her lost parents and the emptiness in the colony matching the echo in her heart.

She located the exterior access for the control panel and went to work on it with a small crowbar. With some effort involving both of her feet on the hull while she put her entire weight into it, the panel came loose. Manuel deftly caught her as she fell back and set her on her feet. Minnesota grinned at him before tossing the bar aside and taking a look.

It wasn't good, she could tell right off. The circuits were badly damaged, most of the controls fried. But from what she could tell, the main pathway to the central computer was still intact, seeing how it was the deepest buried.

Minnesota discarded her jacket and rolled up her left sleeve. She activated the power core embedded in her forearm and brought her computer on line.

It had been a gift from her parents on her eleventh birthday, imported directly from Earth. A biomechanical interface the local doctor implanted into her arm. Its power core was fusion material, a supply enough to last ten lifetimes, and used her own energy as a conduit. It allowed her to access any computer system, any mechanism run by electricity or generated power, and interface for control.

Expensive and state-of-the-art, Minnesota loved it more than anything in the galaxy. It brought her as close to being a machine herself as she would ever get.

The heads-up display flowed to life, the image floating above her arm. She scanned through the panel, tapping into the system with a simple touch of her hand, nodding to herself as it told her what she already knew. The door controls were a wreck, but she had access to the central computer and could run an override if she could find one.

She got lost in her conversation with the last scrap of what remained of the brain of the Day Wanderer.

reroute power, Hatch 241, Deck C, pressurize

unable to comply, all power reserves engaged for fire suppression and life support life support no longer necessary-disengage and reroute power

unable to comply, life support necessary for survival of crew repeat life support no longer necessary due to planetary conditions

analyzing... confirmed planetary conditions acceptable reroute power to Hatch 241, Deck C, pressurize

unable to comply, authorization of power routing required by Captain Patrick O'Malley...

Minnesota spent the next several minutes arguing with the computer, struggling to force it to give her what she wanted. For anyone else the exchange would have been frustrating and incomprehensible as she maneuvered her way through the logic patterns of the badly damaged system, reorganizing and shunting useless commands aside as she pursued her quarry. For Minnesota, it was the most fascinating and engaging conversation she ever had in her entire life.

She happily connected to the colony computer system when the power grid malfunctioned and found that computer kind, but slow. She had even once been sent on board one of the cargo ships to help with repairs to a damaged transport that refused to follow its programming. It had been blunt, but quick.

The computer of the Day Wanderer was another entity all together. She always heard the main system running the colony ships were complex and so fine-tuned they were almost human, but this was her first chance to examine one herself. Even despite its crippled condition, the remains of the great ship's brain was as intelligent as she when it came to drawing conclusions or making connections requiring a leap of faith. She was so enthralled by their connection she almost missed it when the core finally understood what it was she needed.

rescue attempt accepted, power rerouted

With a grinding hiss, the hatch released. Minnesota staggered backward a step as a fine mist of smoke escaped, burning her already sensitive nostrils.

Activation complete, standing by

Minnesota let her interface fade into sleep mode, diving for the edges of the hatch. She dug at the bottom edge where the door was still stuck and heard a clang next to her. She glanced up to see Manuel with the crowbar braced on the edge of the hatch.

"You better move," he said.

She scrambled back and watched, bouncing on her toes in impatience as he heaved against the damaged port. He gained an inch in one jerk then another after two more tries. But that was as far as it would go. More smoke, the remnants of some internal trauma, trickled out the bottom to pool in the dust.

"We have to get this door open," Minnesota said, knowing she was being obvious but unable to stop herself.

"Says who?" Miguel snapped at her. She figured he had finally worked up enough guts to challenge her.

"Says me," she shot back. "And the ship."

"Yeah, right," he barked a laugh. "You and your freaky ass ship talking."

"There are people trapped on board," she told him. "Survivors. We need to get them out." She stomped one foot in frustration. Why were people so illogical? Even the damaged ship understood and it was dying.

"So what?" He was definitely feeling his aggression, most likely because he'd been such a jerk earlier.

"So," Minnesota said, "in case you hadn't noticed, we can use all the help we can get." "Damned spacers," he muttered, backing down. She knew she had him and couldn't hold

back her last shot.

"Colony ship, Diego," she snapped. "Full of grounders, you idiot."

"What do we do?" Quinn asked, breaking the tension. "The hatch won't open." Minnesota freed her hand-held cutter from her bag and tossed it at Quinn.

"We make it," she said. He grinned at her and she couldn't help but grin back.

She tossed a second cutter to Manuel and ignored Miguel as she used the third on the bottom of the hatch. As she cut, she suppressed a shudder. The ship was so alive to her she felt bad hacking holes in it. Her only consolation was knowing it was already in so many pieces she wasn't doing much damage, considering.

"Step back," Quinn said. She finished her line and did as he said. Manuel replaced the cutter in the bag before going at the nasty hole they cut with the crowbar. It popped loose with a metallic twang, crashing to the dirt, raising another pile of dust.

Minnesota hardly noticed. The moment the metal hit ground she was onto the deck and in the ship. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, not only to the low light but to her skewed perspective. Everything had a right tilt of about thirty degrees, just enough to make walking treacherous. She paused at the end of the first corridor, ducking to avoid the dangling light leaning toward her from the crushed ceiling and spun at the hand on her shoulder.

"It'll go faster if we split up." Quinn squinted into the gloom and the occasional flare of red emergency light as the dying ship struggled valiantly to maintain a minimum of illumination. He raised his flashlight, looking to the right.

Minnesota keyed up her display again and checked the computer interface.

"This says there should be people up three decks and near the central core. Looks like a dining hall or something."

Quinn's flashlight fell on a warped map logo peeling away from the wall. He tore it free and had a look.

"I'll check it out."

He was gone before she could even tell him to be careful. She shrugged instead and glanced at the sullen Miguel and silent Manuel.

"Are you coming?" She tapped one foot on the damaged deck, almost hoping Miguel would say no.

"I guess," Miguel said.

Minnesota headed deeper into the ship, her goal the engine room. She knew from the ship's last locator scan there was at least one person there. She just hoped as she neared the right section and noted the massive damage done whoever was in there was still alive. Minnesota paused near the main door to engineering and found herself gaping at the raw, massive hole something cut through the skin of the ship.

"What the hell happened to them?" She turned to point it out to the twins and received a shock.

They were nowhere in sight.

Minnesota felt a flash of fury and of hurt. Fury at Miguel for abandoning her and hurt at Manuel for going along with it. She flashed the corridor she had just came through a rude hand gesture, hoping Miguel got lost, then returned her attention to the doors.

Interfacing with the computer again, this time using her own power supply and the ship's existing sensors, she began a scan of the compartment. A moment of concern rose when the small green blip flashed red, but it flickered back to green again so fast she figured it was just a glitch.

The alarm went off over her head, making her jump and clutch at her chest. It blared twice then fell silent. Panting from the shot of fear, Minnesota ordered the ship to shut down all non- essentials and open the door to engineering.

***

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