Kleigmann’s expression turned stony. Angie bowed her head and her lips began to quiver. Julie sagged against a table. Santos murmured a prayer. Ho found a bottle somewhere and poured himself a drink, tossed it back, then offered the bottle around.
Estevan braced herself. Took a deep breath. “I will stay, of course. I’m sorry, but I must ask you, each of you, to join me.”
“Maybe they won’t attack right away,” said Julie.
“It’s possible,” said Valya. “They took their time at the East Tower.”
“I’ll stay with you,” said Angie.
Kleigmann nodded. Yes.
“What happens,” said Santos, “if I say no?”
“I don’t know.” Estevan wiped tears out of her eyes. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”
“Me, too,” said Julie. “I’ll stay.”
“I don’t want to do this,” said Santos. “I didn’t sign on for anything like this.”
“I know,” she said. “But we’re department heads.” She said it the way she might have said warriors. Or, thought Valya, Spartans. “We can’t ask others to stay behind if we clear out.”
“We ought to be able to squeeze a few more people into the Salvator.”
“Life support is already overloaded,” said Valya. “It won’t take any more.”
“I’ll stay,” said Ho. He looked as if he were in pain.
Santos shook his head. “I’m not going to do it.”
“You don’t really have a choice,” said Kleigmann. “What are you going to do? Go out there and take a breather from one of your subordinates?”
Santos’s eyes slid shut. His lips were pressed tight together, and his face was a study in agony.
Unless the WhiteStar arrived quickly, seven more would have to stay.
Estevan caught Valya’s eye. “Better get the Salvator loaded and moving.” She got to her feet. “I better go tell every body.”
Valya had been looking for an opportunity to exit, and that was it. “You’re right,” she said. “I better get going.”
They all looked at her. How weak had that sounded?
Estevan got up. Shook her hand. Embraced her. “Thanks for everything you’ve done.”
“I wish we could have done more.” She said good-bye to the others, wished them luck, and with an overwhelming sense of relief, or guilt, got out of there.
THE CORRIDORS WERE almost empty. Eric had loaded the Salvator. Valya collected everyone else with a breather and told them to board. After they’d gone through the airlock, eighteen remained in the tower.
Two women stopped her to ask if she’d heard anything new from the WhiteStar. “It’s about twenty minutes out,” she said.
So were the globes.
One of the two explained she was scheduled to leave on the Granville. She was an attractive woman, about twenty-five, black hair, dark eyes. With a scared smile. Trying to be brave. “It’s getting late,” she said.
“I know,” Valya told her. “I don’t have details.” She broke away and felt their eyes on her back as she hurried into the ship. Behind her, Estevan was calling everyone to the dining area.
SHE WAS RELIEVED to get back to the Salvator, to get on board, and close the hatch behind her. Put a barrier between herself and the Tower.
The interior was jammed. Thirty-plus people on a ship built for seven. Bill, aware that the airlock had shut, made his announcement: “Everyone with a breather, please put it on and commence to use it. Thank you. If you need assistance, let us know.”
Eric appeared to help with compliance. Several of her passengers were crowded into the common room. Others, she knew, were down in cargo. She exchanged smiles with them, squeezed past, and went onto the bridge.
“Everybody on board?” she asked Eric.
“I hope so,” he said. They were stacked on top of one another.
“How about the lander?”
“Lander’s full.” Thirty-five altogether. Plus Eric and herself.
“Moonriders are sixteen minutes away,” said Bill.
“Where’s the WhiteStar?”
“Estimate twenty-four minutes.”
Well, there was nothing she could do about it. It was time to get clear. Get as far away as she could.
She activated the allcom. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be getting under way in about sixty seconds. We’re going to take it slowly, but anyone who’s not in a seat please find something to hold on to. I’ll tell you when you can move around freely.”
“What’s wrong?” Eric asked.
She shook her head. Nothing.
Behind them, a female passenger sat on the deck in the hatchway. She was using a breather.
The ship’s scopes had picked up the black globes. They approached side by side, straddling and slightly above the tube.
“Where’s the Granville?”
“They made up some time,” said Bill. “They’re one hour fifty-three minutes out.”
An hour and a half behind the moonriders.
“Bill, I assume you haven’t been able to contact them?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been in constant contact.”
“With the moonriders?”
“With the Granville. I apologize. I misunderstood. No, I have been transmitting constantly to the moonriders. They do not respond.”
“We’d better get started, don’t you think?” Eric’s voice. Somehow far away.
“Yeah.”
He activated his harness. He wasn’t going to need it, and he knew that. He was sending a message.
Nobody subtler than Eric.
“Valya.”
“No,” she said.
“No what?”
“I can’t do this.”
Outside, the long narrow dock pointed toward the stars.
“Can’t do what?”
“You’re captain, Eric.”
“What?”
“I’m going back.”
“What do you mean, going back? There isn’t time.”
She got up. The woman on the deck watched them curiously. Eric grabbed her arm. Held on. “You’ll be okay,” she said. “You don’t need me.”
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
“I’ll take an e-suit with me.”
“What will you do with an e-suit?”
“If I have to, I’ll jump off the platform.” She shook her head angrily. No time to argue. “Bill?”
“Yes, Valya.”
“When Eric tells you to, I want you to pull away to a range of three hundred kilometers.”
“Okay.”
“Do whatever Eric says. He’ll be my alternate until you hear otherwise.”
“Yes, Valya.”
“Eric, the Granville will be here in about an hour and a half. The Bloomberg and the Tanaka are running right behind it. Set up a rendezvous plan with the incoming ships—”
“I can’t manage this,” he said.
“Sure you can. All you have to do is tell Bill what you want him to do, and he’ll take care of it. Transfer everybody with a breather to one of the other ships. There isn’t plenty of time to do it, but there is time.”
“All right.”
“After you’ve done that, get the people out of the shuttles. The shuttles here.”
“Goddam it, Valya, I wish you wouldn’t do this. I don’t see what you can do for them.”
“Eric, please—”
“Just tell me why.”
She had no answer. Maybe she could help. Maybe she just couldn’t bear the thought that Estevan was a better woman than she was. Or Angie. Or a bunch of other people.
She collected an e-suit harness from the maintenance locker. But it had no oxygen. The tank had been given to one of the passengers. She looked down at the young woman on the deck. “May I have the breather?” she said.
The woman stared back at her, frightened. “Why?” She had a Russian accent.
“It’s okay. You won’t need it. There’ll be one less rider.”
/> SHE DIRECTED BILL to reopen the airlock. Eric watched her leave the bridge. Listened to her reassure her passengers—his passengers now—as she passed through the common room. Then she was gone and the airlock hatch closed.
Dumb.
He changed seats. Felt his authority increase. He was the captain.
The young woman who’d given her breather to Valya still looked confused. He indicated the chair he’d just vacated. “Climb in,” he said.
OTHER THAN VALYA, eighteen people were left in the tower, most of them gathered in the dining area with whatever they planned to take with them. Estevan sat up front with Julie, Angie, and Ho. They were talking softly, two conversations going at once. Estevan looked up, startled to see her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Same as you. Trying to figure a way to get everybody off.”
“Can’t be done,” said Ho.
“You’ve lost your mind, Valya,” said Estevan. “Has your ship left yet?”
“Probably.”
“Call it back.”
“You need help.”
“What can you do?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“You’ve got a suit,” said Angie. “You can jump for it, if you have to.”
“I could do that.” That was what she intended to do if necessary.
Estevan studied her. “I’m tempted to crowd everyone on board the WhiteStar.”
“The cabin’s way too small. No way you could do it even if you had an air supply, which you don’t. You’re lucky it can fit seven. They’ll be on top of one another as it is.”
“Well,” said Julie, “welcome to the Short Timers Club.”
ON THE DISPLAY, the moonriders were burning another set of accelerator rings. “That’s the last,” said Angie. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
The Bergen called in. “We had a good jump, Origins. Will see you in two hours.”
And the Zheng Shaiming. “Two and a half hours, Salvator. We will be able to take twenty-six of your people.”
They drank coffee, and nobody said much. Estevan sighed, put her cup down, and got up. “How far away’s the WhiteStar?”
“Fifteen minutes,” said Angie.
“Not going to make it.”
“Don’t be so quick to give up,” said Valya. “The moonriders won’t open fire right away.”
Estevan seemed exhausted. “Good,” she said, pushing herself out of her chair. “Glad you have things under control, Valya.” Her tone had an edge. She got up, walked over to one of the other tables, and asked how they were doing. There was a whispered exchange between Angie and Julie, and it wasn’t hard to interpret. Say good-bye.
All heads turned in her direction. People hoping she had news and immediately seeing she did not. Estevan managed a smile. “I want the people who are going on the WhiteStar standing by the airlock. When it gets here, we’ll open up, get on, and clear out. Okay?”
They weren’t going to be hard to persuade.
A telescopic window opened on the displays. They saw lights.
The WhiteStar.
TOA: thirteen minutes.
Estevan gently tugged Valya out of her seat and looked at the breather. “You, too,” she said. “Go with them.”
Valya wanted to say yes, please, get me out of here. Kleigmann nodded, smiled, gave her a thumbs-up. Angie mouthed the words good luck. Someone had mentioned that Angie had a family. Three kids.
And Julie and Santos, about whom she knew nothing.
And Ho Smith.
“We see you,” said the WhiteStar pilot. “Valya, we can see the moonriders, too.”
Estevan answered: “WhiteStar, I don’t think you can beat them in here.”
“Have your people ready to go. This will have to be in and out.”
“We’ll be ready.”
“How many of you are there?”
“More than you can carry. We need you to take seven, plus two wearing your breathers. And one more who already has a breather.”
“Seven exceeds our life-support capacity.”
“It’ll only be for an hour or so. You can exchange when the other ships get here.”
“You’re making me liable.”
“It’s an emergency, WhiteStar. Please.”
“Okay. Do it.”
Valya hated the moonriders. Absolutely and unequivocally. She would happily have killed whatever rode the globes had she been able to reach them.
Estevan was jabbing a finger at her. “Get going,” she said.
Valya shook her head. “Not on the WhiteStar. I need somebody to get me a go-pack.”
“Why?” demanded Estevan.
“Maybe I can buy some time.”
“What? How?”
“I need a lamp. Brightest one you have.”
SHE STRAPPED ON the go-pack and went out through the main airlock, past the people waiting for the WhiteStar. There were a couple of remarks, how come she gets to leave? Wish I had one of those.
Then she was outside. The gravity unit was located in the central deck. It projected in both directions, so there was a distinct up and down along the hull. It was tricky. Had she lacked the go-pack, she could not have maneuvered, and in fact might easily have fallen off the tower and drifted away.
She used the thrusters to climb the tower, which was mildly flattened at both poles. In the distance she could see the WhiteStar, a single point of light, growing steadily brighter. The stars seemed very far, and the collider tube was lost in darkness.
So were the moonriders. She didn’t see them until they were on top of her. Two polished black spheres, dwarfed by the tower. She watched them approach, still side by side. She switched on the lamp and raised it above her head.
Eric picked that moment to call. Was she planning on getting aboard the WhiteStar? What was happening?
“No time now, Eric,” she said. “Talk to you later.”
“You are going to get clear, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Later.” She moved the lamp back and forth, pointing its beam toward the globes.
They kept coming.
“Come on,” she said. “React.”
Gradually, they changed their angle of approach and rose higher in the sky. They were slowing down, keying on her. Maybe.
They moved into position above her, directly in front of where she stood. One on either side.
And stopped.
A good sign. She hoped.
She opened a sweep channel. If they had a receiver, they couldn’t miss the message. “Hutch sent me.” She tried to visualize Hutch in case there was a telepathic element to the communication. And Amy. “We are trying to evacuate. But we need more time.”
No answer came back.
“Please do not fire on the Tower until we get everybody out. It’s going to take a couple of hours.” Did they know what an hour was? She visualized the WhiteStar. And somewhere behind it, the Granville.
It was hard to keep her voice steady and her knees from trembling.
Estevan got on the circuit: “What are they doing?”
“Just sitting there.”
“Okay, Valya. You’ve done all you can. Get off. Get away while you can.”
“If I get off, they might open fire.”
“Let us worry about that.”
She wanted to go. God help her, she wanted to get as far away as she could. But she thought she knew what would happen. “Give it a few more minutes.”
“You’re impossible.”
“It would help,” she told the moonriders, “if you would say something. We know you understand English.”
Eric broke in again to plead with her to do what Estevan wished. “Get away from there, Valya. Please.”
“Everything’s going to be okay, Eric,” she said. “Relax.”
THE WHITESTAR BROKE into a cluster of navigation lights. Red and green to port and starboard. White light aft.
Lamps glowed on her commlink. The WhiteStar was talking t
o Estevan.
Valya took a step toward the globes. Looked directly at them. They held their position.
She listened to the air flow inside the e-suit.
The WhiteStar cruised in, slowed, slowed more, and disappeared below the curve of the hull. She felt the vibration as it connected with the dock.
The globes watched. She could literally feel eyes on her.
Don’t shoot.
Below, they’d be waiting for the airlock to open. She counted the seconds. Noted how solemn the stars were. How far they seemed from this particular place.
She tried not to think what the globes had done at the other end of the hypercollider. What they had come here to do. How many they had already killed.
Below, the hatches would be opening. And Terri’s people would be crowding into the ship.
The globes were waiting. Giving them time.
She could feel her heart beat. “Terri?”
“Hello, Valentina. Where are you?”
“Still on the roof. What’s taking so long?”
“We’re moving as fast as we can. Just another minute or two.”
“Okay.”
“You can get out of there now.”
“Okay.”
“Gotta go. Busy.”
She wondered what would happen if she went directly for the globes? Took them head-on? Might they open a hatch? Offer wine and an evening’s conversation? Or start shooting?
Lights appeared below the rim. The WhiteStar. It was pulling away.
“Terri.”
“Yes? Have you gotten clear?”
“I’m still here. You get them all off?”
“All nine. Now please go away.”
She looked up at the globes. If you were exactly at the right angle, you could see starlight reflected from the one on her right. “Where’s the Granville?”
“Eighty-three minutes.”
“Maybe they’ll wait.”
“Valentina—” There was no missing the exasperation in the voice.
The globes were moving again. Drawing closer together.
“Whoever you are,” she said, “thanks for waiting. We need you to hold off for one more ship. It’ll be a while.”
It was beginning to feel cold inside the suit.
“I know you can understand me. I know why you want to destroy the project.”
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. And heard Terri’s voice. “Valya, get clear.”
A plate had begun to lift off the surface of the tower. It was disk-shaped, set in a cradle, and the cradle was attached by extensors to a base.
Odyssey Page 40
