Children of Scarabaeus Read Online Free Page B

inside.
    “Your turn,” Finn said to Edie.
    She pressed her fingers into the port and found it to be a standard mag lock. She snapped the airlock open and the three of them crammed inside. The inner hatch cycled and they stepped into the cargo crate. Ghostly blue striplights came on and illuminated the neat stacks of cryo capsules. With the plaz windows misted over, Edie couldn’t see the occupants’ features clearly. She didn’t want to. She shuddered to think she’d soon join them.
    Finn checked a panel near the hatch. “We’ve got atmo.” He turned off his breather, and Edie and Cat did the same. The air was freezing and smelled of antiseptic. “The air automatically replenishes and heats a little when the hatch is used,” he said, his breath misting the air, “or when the cryo capsules turn off.”
    Meaning when someone woke up. At least there were safety features.
    “Who are they?” Cat asked.
    Edie checked the panel, which listed the names and origins of the occupants along with short bios.
    “I don’t think they’re colonists,” she said. “No specific destinations listed.”
    Finn looked over her shoulder. “Migrant workers. Theymove from planet to planet until someone decides their skills are wanted and defrosts them.”
    “So how long have they been in cryo?” Edie scrolled the list and answered her own question. “Fifteen months, nine months… Jezus , this one’s twenty-two months…”
    Cat examined the capsules. “There’re half a dozen empty ones back here,” she reported. “They look fine.”
    Finn went to check them himself.
    “So where are we getting off?” Edie asked, still creeped out by the thought of all these sad people—so desperate for work and a home that they froze themselves indefinitely until someone needed them.
    “We can’t access the ship’s route from here,” Finn said.
    “Then where? Where’s the bridge?”
    “There’s no bridge. There’ll be a command center in the heart of the ship, but it’s not worth the risk of raising an alarm.”
    “What are you saying?” Edie felt more uncomfortable by the second.
    “We need to hide among these people,” Finn said. “We’ll create bios like they have, and wait to be defrosted.”
    “What if that never happens?” Twenty-two months in cryo—or more—was unthinkable.
    “We can set a maximum sleep time. Say, fifteen months.”
    “What?” That sounded almost as bad. “Over a year in cryo?”
    “A year for our trail to go cold,” Cat said. She didn’t look happy about it either.
    “The whole point is to get to the Fringe and help people,” Edie said. “A lot can happen in a year. Thousands of people will die…”
    “I know you’re impatient to get started,” Finn said, “but there’s no sense rushing into this and getting caught.” He pulled equipment out of a locker. “I need you to dream up some fake stats for us, something that will appeal to impoverished planets. That way, the people who do wake us will be more likely to need our help.”
    While he and Cat sorted the equipment and read over the capsule instructions, Edie jacked into the panel where all the migrant workers had recorded their stats. She created new bios for the three of them, adding bits and pieces from the other bios so that their names, planets of origin, qualifications, and various details blended with the other workers. There was room to list all kinds of certifications and idents. Many of the workers had written nothing for those, so the omission in Edie’s case didn’t seem strange. She listed op-teck as her profession, in the hope it would appeal to anyone with biocyph troubles, and grouped them as a family so they would be brought out of cryo together. Then Edie entered the maximum sleep period as fifteen months and authorized port authorities of any Fringe world to wake them sooner if they could provide employment.
    Finn brought her a set of biosensors. He placed a cuff around her wrist.
    Edie tried not to look