Satisfied with her inspection, she carried the bulky suit over to the tanks.
Dr. Wells had been the one to point out that if the Resilere couldn’t distinguish between most Gaians, they might consider Gaians in envirosuits to be an entirely different species. The best solution was to have Rahel suit up in front of them, allowing them to see the change.
Rez came to the side of the tank, plastering itself to the material. She had another vision of Mouse asking where she had been and realized she shouldn’t have stayed up front. Right now, she was their only guarantor of safety. Though surely within their empathic range, her absence had made them nervous.
“I’m sorry,” she said, projecting her regret. “We should have known. But I’m here now.”
She stripped off her Bondlancer’s Guard uniform and folded it carefully, setting the jacket and trousers atop her polished boots.
Rez watched with interest, rumpling its skin. To its thinking, she had probably just discarded a shell.
Slowly, she drew on the envirosuit’s legs, leaving the upper part hanging while she pushed her feet into the thick boots and sealed the connections. Each lit with a green line, indicating a proper seal.
Getting her arms in place was more awkward, but once they were in, she closed the front without difficulty. When that seal lit up with its own green line, she pulled on the gloves and set those seals. Before taking the final step, she squatted down and rested a gloved hand against the tank wall, covering one of Rez’s armtips. It curled up and down again, acknowledging their connection.
She picked up the heavy helmet and set it in place, giving the quarter-turn that closed the final seal. The near silence that suddenly pressed on her ears was the one thing she disliked about this suit. It felt claustrophobic.
The helmet display activated, informing her of the condition of all seals, the suit’s internal and external temperatures, and the operational health of the built-in carbon dioxide scrubbers. A colored cylinder, mostly green with a red base, indicated the current amount of oxygen available to the scrubbers.
Every breath she exhaled was full of unused oxygen along with the carbon dioxide. The scrubbers extracted the carbon dioxide, added a bit of fresh oxygen, and returned the mix to her suit.
Beside the green cylinder, in large, shifting digits, was the all-important time remaining readout. Without external oxygen packs, these suits were good for six hours.
Now fully encased, she set her gloved hand against the tank again, thinking of warmrons and lying on the couch with Sharro.
Rez’s violet eyes roamed up and down her new shell—a word she could now use literally—and its skin smoothed out.
“Sayana to Dr. Rivers,” she said. “You can tell Dr. Wells that it was a good idea. Rez knows it’s still me inside this suit.”
“She’ll be glad to hear it. Everything is green?”
“I did go through the training. Don’t worry.”
“One thing you need to know about me. I always worry about my friends.”
She watched Rez move away and said, “Commander Cox wouldn’t let me go if he wasn’t sure I’d be safe. He has a healthy respect for Captain Serrado’s status as my oath holder. And Dr. Well’s status as my protector.”
Lhyn’s smile was audible in her voice. “Good. That should keep him in line.”
She carried her uniform back to the locker, then unsealed her helmet and took a relieved breath as she sat next to Zeppy.
“All set?” he asked, taking her helmet so she could strap in.
“All set.” Gaians had far too many ways to say I’m ready.
Lhyn was lucky, being able to sit up front with the full view of where they were going. Rahel wished she could see Enkara’s oceans and mountains zooming up as they passed through the thin atmosphere and descended. Then again, Lhyn certainly wished she could watch the release of the Resilere. She would be seeing it through the shuttle’s external cams, the tank cams, and Rahel’s own helmet cam, but that wasn’t the same.
Of the two options, she’d take being with the Resilere.
Lokomorra kept them apprised of their progress on the com link that would remain open for all team members until the end of the mission. She felt the change when their angle of descent lessened. When it leveled out altogether, Zeppy gave the order for everyone to put on their helmets and check their readouts.
“The tide’s already gone out from where the shuttle landed last time,” Lokomorra said. “We’re landing a kilometer further on.”
Commander Jalta had told them to expect that. They were chasing the tide out, which was better than running from it coming in, considering the speed at which it rose. It would have been ideal to release the Resilere at high tide, in that brief window when it was neither rising nor falling, but the only way to do that would have been to release them at a location a quarter of the way around the moon—or wait in orbit far longer than Captain Serrado had time for.
Lokomorra set them down with hardly a jar. Once the cargo bay had equalized its pressure with the outside, Zeppy opened the hatch onto Rahel’s first alien world.
She stood in the opening, staring in wonder.
The sky was a dark violet-blue, and lapping at their landing struts was water of a similar color, stretching to a range of impossibly high mountains. They lacked snow, trees, or any vegetation that she could see above the high tide line. That line was made obvious by a thin coating of blue and purple that she knew to be seaweed, covering the rocks to the current sea level.
Above that line, the rugged geology was exposed. Bands of pink and silver gleamed against the black rock that composed the majority of the sharp-edged peaks.
Looming over the mountains was the one thing that made this truly alien: the massive bulk of Sisifenach, lit from the side. She could even make out some of the storm systems.
“Sayana, get down the stairs and gawk from there,” Zeppy said. “We need to get these tanks out.”
“Sorry.” She walked down the steps and stepped carefully into the shallow water, testing her footing. The substrate was made up of black rocks rounded by eons of wave action—not the easiest thing to walk on even if they weren’t coated with slippery patches of blue seaweed. Interspersed throughout the cobbles were occasional crystals of pink or silver, all beneath water so clear that she could count every grain of sand between the rocks.
As Zeppy extended the control chair, she turned to look past the shuttle and was awed a second time. They had landed at the foot of another mountain range, and at this close distance she couldn’t make out its peaks. It wasn’t that they were obscured in clouds—there were no clouds—but that she simply couldn’t see that far.
“Great Goddess above,” she murmured.
“Shekking amazing, isn’t it?” Lhyn said.
“Oh, yes. I wonder if Fahla comes here.”
A small wave rolled in, surging past her and tumbling over the rocks beyond the shuttle’s nose. She wished she could hear it without the dampening effect of her helmet.
“Hurry up!” Zeppy said impatiently. “You should have had those straps off already!”
A chorus of apologies came through her com. Within a minute, Rahel saw the loader descend from the shuttle’s ceiling. It vanished from her sight, then reappeared holding one of the tanks. Zeppy’s chair swung to the side, and the loader emerged. She watched it extend half the length of the shuttle before gently placing the tank on the rocks.
Zeppy did his best to keep the tank level, but the rocks weren’t, and it tilted toward the ocean. The adult Resilere were frantic, swimming round and round their confined space and bumping up against the lid. Rahel splashed out toward them, the water rising higher on her legs with every step. She slipped, nearly fell on her backside, and finally made it to the tank as the loader vanished into the shuttle again.
“Hold on,” she said, trying to project assurance. “Just a bit longer!”
Small waves rolled past the tank, swamping the front and sliding up its lid to
splash over the sides. Getting that lid off was going to be much harder here than in hydroponics.
With a delicate touch that Rahel was now recognizing as highly skilled, Zeppy brought out the second tank and set it next to the first. His crew scrambled down the stairs and waded out, with him close behind. When they arrived, Rahel had already pushed up one corner of the closest tank. She stepped back and let them take over.
The moment the lid came off and the screen was rolled back, every adult Resilere boiled up and over the front, meeting a wave as it rolled in and vanishing into it. Zeppy and his crew were carrying the lid back to the shuttle, but Rahel forgot their existence as the memory hit.
She was in the detention cell, collapsed and sobbing in her mother’s arms. In the space of minutes, she had gone from trapped and lost to having both her dreams and her freedom returned to her.
“Thank you,” she choked out.
With a sigh, her mother pressed a kiss into her hair. “It’s a little late,” she said softly. “But we got there, didn’t we?”
Water surged against her legs and arm, bringing her back to reality. She had lost her balance again, and somehow caught herself with one hand on the rocks.
“Rahel? Are you all right?” Lhyn asked.
She pushed herself upright and waded to the tank, gripping its edge for more stability. “I’m fine. Just a blast of memory. They’re . . .” She let out a sound that could have passed for a laugh. “They’re very, very grateful.”
“There are still hatchlings in the tank,” Lhyn said. “They’re getting stirred up by the waves coming in. Some of them are hiding in the corners, like they don’t know what to do. All of the adults are gone.”
Zeppy and the others had thrown the lid into the shuttle and were returning.
“Do you hear any communication from the adults?”
“None.” She sounded concerned. “Would you pull one of the hydrophones and stick it to the outside?”
“Doing it now.” As Zeppy’s crew gathered around the second tank, she waded to the front corner, popped the hydrophone off, and reattached it just before an incoming wave would have rolled over her helmet. “It’s in place.”
“I see it, thank you.”
The lid came off the second tank, and one of the crew flinched as a Resilere used him for a rebound point, leaping from the tank to him and then to the water.
This time Rahel was prepared for the memory, and when it passed she was still upright, holding tightly to the tank.
“We’re slinging this lid inside and going back in,” Zeppy said. “I’ll stay at the bottom of the steps in case you need anything.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
“And stay away from the fronts of those tanks. They’re heavy enough that the waves shouldn’t shift them, but if they do, they’ll move forward.”
“Understood.” She scanned the area ahead of the tanks, hoping for a glimpse of the Resilere. The constantly swirling water and thin layer of foam made visibility difficult, and she swallowed her sharp disappointment at the idea of such an anticlimactic farewell. What did she expect, that they would all come back for a warmron?
Joyous anticipation flooded her senses, tearing apart the threads of her dismay.
“Oh my fucking stars,” Lhyn said.
“What? What is it?”
Her voice was hushed. “They’re singing.”
Rahel ducked down to look in the tank, trying to keep still despite the buffeting of the water. “Hoi,” she whispered. “Look at that! Do you see them?”
“I do.”
Inside the tank, every hatchling was moving toward the front—and they were afire with blue, green, and red bioluminescence. The waves rolled in, shifting the rocks and seaweed the adults had carried in earlier, but the hatchlings held fast to the tank floor and walls. They seemed united in purpose, all rippling along at the same speed.
The first ones were already climbing the front wall, and Rahel crept forward to watch. Frustrated at not being able to see well enough, she finally went down to her hands and knees and ducked her helmet underwater.
Much better. Now she could see through the tank walls to the ocean beyond. And there they were, just past the tanks: all twelve adult Resilere, lined up and playing matching patterns of bioluminescence. She didn’t know if it was the same as their hatching song, but the voice was already murmuring to her.
“Ah! Fantastic,” Lhyn said. “Can you hold that position?”
“I can. The waves aren’t that strong.”
It wasn’t really a lie. The waves weren’t strong coming in, but they had significant suction going out. Still, she wasn’t about to move from this perfect spot.
The murmur in her mind gradually rose in volume and intensity, filling her with exhilaration and a sense of perfect belonging. Life began here, and all she had to do was leave this place and follow. The voice would take her home.
She wanted to go home.
Her body floated, weightless, and she let the next wave take her as it retreated, pulling her home—
She was brought up abruptly, hands under her arms yanking her backward and a harsh voice shouting in her ear. It sounded nothing like the loving voice beckoning her forward. She fought the hold, but her body was not responding as it should. It was wrapped in too many layers, unable to properly move. She lifted her hands, finding a helmet trapping her head, and began to undo it.
The voices multiplied, drowning her in confusion until one rang out above the rest.
“First Guard Sayana, settle! That is an order!”
She stopped at the barked command in High Alsean. “Captain?”
“Rahel.” Captain Serrado sounded more relieved than Rahel had ever heard her. “Stand still and let Commander Przepyszny reset your helmet.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Water droplets were still running down her faceplate, making it obvious when it shifted in place. She had not noticed the hiss of escaping air until it stopped, leaving her in silence once more. From behind, Zeppy’s worry and the sharp remnants of fear pierced her senses.
“It’s sealed, Captain,” he said.
“Rahel, what is your time remaining?”
She had to concentrate to pull her focus back to the digital readout. “It’s . . . thirty-six minutes.” It had been five hours and twelve minutes the last time she had glanced at it. Beside the timer, the green cylinder showing available oxygen for the scrubbers had dropped to a level barely above its red base.
“Do you know where you are?”
“On Enkara. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” She stopped. In truth, she had meant to join the Resilere.
“I know. It’s all right, Commander Przepyszny stopped you before you got far. Let him take you back to the shuttle.”
“Captain—”
“The hatchlings are all out. It’s time to come home.”
The word stopped her cold. She looked out at the water, already shallower as the tide continued to retreat. This was not her home.
“Yes, Captain.” With a hard swallow, she turned.
A Resilere surged out of the water at her side, arms reaching out. She dropped to her knees, overjoyed that she had one more chance. “Rez!”
It coiled its arms around her gloved wrists, and she was—
Lying on the sofa, her head resting on Sharro’s lap while her legs were across her mother’s. After more than eight moons in lonely exile or a form of incarceration, this felt like a dream. She reached for her mother’s hand and said, “I thought there was no magic left in the world.”
Sharro’s fingertips drifted down her jaw. “The best explorers were the ones who wanted to come back home.”
The memory faded, replaced by a vision. She knelt on Dock One, but there was no storm and no danger. Beneath a cloudless sky, docked ships rose and fell on the breath of the bay, their quiet movement told in soft clangs and creaks.
A wave rose from the flat water and surged across the boards, leaving behind a fish that
calmly settled upright on its fins. It looked up at her with intelligence in its violet eyes, its scales reflecting the blue of the sky.
Then it gave a twitch of its tail and launched into a graceful arc, clearing the dock to vanish in the bay.
The boards beneath her knees became rounded rocks, and the creaks and clangs faded to the quiet cocoon of her helmet.
Rez released her wrists, skin sparkling blue, and slipped beneath the water.
She refused to sniff on an open com. Instead, she took a deep, measured breath and said, “Safe journey. May Fahla guide and protect you.”
41
Resilience
Alejandra Wells stood back and made a sweeping gesture into her quarters. “Come on in.”
“Thank you.” Ekatya stepped through and looked around with interest. She had never been here before and was intrigued by the signs of a hidden private life.
Senior officer quarters were all constructed on the same general floor plan and furnished the same way, until the officers moved in and arranged things to their personal tastes.
Alejandra had gotten rid of the standard L-shaped sofa across from the entry and replaced it with a long workbench illuminated with custom lights. It was covered with at least thirty small paint jars in racks, a profusion of delicate paintbrushes, cloths bearing colorful stains, and other artistic paraphernalia. A tall stool was tucked beneath.
The bulkhead above had been stripped of the standard tile art; large watercolors hung there instead. It sported the usual alcoves full of plants, but where Ekatya’s alcoves held the standard species that she had neither time nor desire to care for, these were filled with exotics she didn’t recognize. Obviously, Alejandra was not one of those officers who gave the botany section entry permission to care for her plants.
Alejandra followed her gaze. “I’ve had some of those for twenty-five years. The two over there are from my home world. The rest I picked up on various stations.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. I walked away from crop genetics, but I never stopped loving plants.”
Resilience Page 34
