The Precipice gt-8

by Ben Bova

  A mumble of voices on the other side of the door. Then Stavenger, sounding relieved, replied, “Okay, Kris. Security’s bringing an analyzer down anyway. We’ll have it open in a few minutes.”

  “Doug?” she said again.

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Da nada,” he answered.

  By the time they got the door unlocked, Cardenas was surprised at how calm she felt. She had looked death in the face and discovered that she was strong enough to go on living.

  The passageway outside was crammed with men and women in security coveralls, half-a-dozen of her own nanotech people, several medics in white, and Doug Stavenger.

  “Are you all right?” Stavenger asked worriedly.

  Cardenas felt herself smile a little. “I am now,” she said.

  DEATH

  “C’mon, boss, wake up!”

  Pancho’s voice, muffled, distant. Dan’s eyes were gummy, bleary; it took an effort to open them. He tried to wipe them but his hands were still buried in the loose rubble of the asteroid.

  “Dan! Wake up!” He heard the urgency in her voice.

  “Yeah. Okay…” His stomach heaved.

  “Radiation level’s down almost to normal,” Pancho said. “You okay?”

  “Sure,” he lied. He felt too weak to move, too tired to care.

  “Time to get outta here.” She was scrabbling, clawing through the gravelly dirt. Dan wanted to help her but he could barely move his arms. All he wanted to do was sleep. Then his guts suddenly lurched and a wave of nausea swept over him. “We’re up, in the open.” Amanda’s voice came through his helmet speaker.

  “I’m gonna need some help here,” Pancho replied. “Dan’s in a bad way.” Dan was concentrating on not vomiting. Get me to a toilet, he begged silently. I don’t want to let loose inside the suit. Even in the depth of his misery, though, somewhere in the back of his mind he laughed bitterly at himself. It all boils down to this, he thought. Everything you’ve done in your life doesn’t amount to a teaspoon of applesauce. All that’s really important is not upchucking or losing control of your bowels.

  He sensed somebody digging frantically above him, and then strong arms lifting him, dragging him free of the rubble-filled tunnel. Fuchs. He overdid it, and the two of them went tumbling completely off the asteroid, spiraling crazily in space. Dan saw Starpower 1 slide past his field of view and then an unstoppable surge of bile rose into his throat and he vomited, spattering his stomach’s contents noisomely all over his fishbowl helmet. The stench was overpowering. He groaned and retched again.

  “Hang in there, boss,” Pancho said. “I gotcha.”

  Dan thought he heard someone else retching, too. Nothing like the sound of vomiting to make you upchuck, too. I could get the whole Vienna Boys Choir tossing their cookies this way.

  He wavered in and out of consciousness, thinking, That’s the way they get you. They make you so miserable that you’ll be glad to die. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to breathe. He desperately wanted to wipe his face but inside the suit and helmet it was impossible.

  “Okay, the lock’s cycling,” he heard Pancho say.

  “Bring him inside.” Amanda’s voice.

  “Take him to his own bunk.”

  “Yes. Careful now.”

  He didn’t dare open his eyes. At one point he heard Pancho say, “You get him out of his suit. I gotta see how much damage the storm did to the ship’s systems.” After a while he felt something cool and soothing wiping his face. Opening his eyes at last, Dan saw a blurred image of Amanda bending over him, with Fuchs beside her. They book looked worried, grim.

  “How do you feel?” Amanda asked.

  “Lousy,” he croaked.

  Fuchs said, “We are under way. Pancho is accelerating to one-third g.”

  “The ship’s okay?”

  “Some of the sensors were damaged by the radiation,” Fuchs said. “And the communications equipment, too. But the fusion power plant is functioning properly.”

  “The nanobugs didn’t get to the MHD generator’s superconductor?” Dan asked. It took most of his strength to get the words out.

  “No, they seem perfectly in order,” Fuchs answered. Then he added, “Thank god.”

  We’re on our way home, Dan thought. He closed his eyes. On our way home. “Until you get him here where we can give him proper medical treatment,” Selene’s chief radiation therapist was saying, “there’s nothing you can do for him beyond the chelation pills and antioxidants you’re already giving him.” Pancho watched the medic’s unhappy image as she sat disconsolately in the command pilot’s chair. It had taken more than an hour to contact Selene. Starpower 1’s high-gain antenna had been knocked out by radiation damage and she’d had to use the backup laser comm system. Otherwise the ship was running okay, some radiation damage here and there; nothing vital. The nanobugs hadn’t gotten to the superconducting coil of the MHD generator, thank whatever gods there be.

  But Dan was in a bad way, and the sad-assed medics at Selene couldn’t do any more for him than a bunch of witch doctors. Bring him in as fast as you can. Well, sure! That’s what I’m doin’. But will it be fast enough? And Elly was dead. Just before they had abandoned the ship she had left the snake in her box and put the box in the refrigerator, knowing the cold would put Elly into a torpor, hoping that the fridge would provide enough shielding to save the krait. I should’ve carried her inside my suit, Pancho berated herself. Even if she bit me, I should’ve brought her with me. The radiation had killed the krait, along with the one remaining mouse.

  Her thoughts returned to Dan. He’s got it bad. We all took a dose, we’ll all need medical attention once we get back to Selene. The chelation pills are helping, but Dan might not make it. He looks half-dead already.

  Amanda came into the bridge and slipped into the right-hand seat.

  “How is he?” Pancho asked.

  “We cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.” She made a strange face. “His hair is coming out. In clumps.”

  Pancho fought down the urge to go back to Dan’s compartment. Nothing you can do there, she told herself.

  She asked Amanda, “How’s Lars?”

  “He seems to be fine.”

  “Did he take the pills?”

  “Yes, of course. He’s working on the high-gain antenna.”

  ‘That circuitry’s supposed t’be hardened against radiation,” Pancho said angrily.

  “We oughtta sue the manufacturer when we get back.”

  “Oh, Pancho, it was exposed to such a high level of radiation. That was an intense storm.”

  She nodded, but said, “Yeah, but still that comm gear has gotta work right.”

  “You need a rest,” Amanda said.

  “We all do.”

  “I’ll take the conn. Go back and catch some sleep.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Do it, Pancho.”

  She looked at Amanda for a brief moment, then made up her mind and slowly got to her feet, surprised at how stiff she felt. “If I’m not back in two hours, wake me up.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “I mean it, Mandy. Two hours.”

  “Yes. I will.”

  Satisfied, Pancho made her way back through the wardroom. She hesitated at the door to her privacy compartment, then went a further few steps to Dan’s door. She slid it open a crack. Dan was still sleeping, lying on the bunk, his body sheened with perspiration, the shorts and tee-shirt they had put on him stained by his sweat. His scalp was dotted with bald spots where tufts of hair had come out. God, he’s in a bad way, she said to herself.

  He opened his eyes and focused on her.

  “Hi, kid,” he breathed.

  “How’re you feelin’, boss?”

  “Not good.”

  “Anything I can bring you? I could fix some broth or somethin’.”

  “I’d just chuck it all over myself,” he said.

  “We’ll be in Selene in another
day and a half. Just rest yourself and we’ll get the medics—”

  “Did you send my last will and testament to them?” Dan asked. Pancho shook her head. “Havin’ troubles with the main antenna. Lars is workin’ on it.”

  “How’s the laser?”

  “The backup? It’s okay. We’re usin’ it to—”

  “Send my will,” Dan said.

  “We don’t hafta do that. You’re gonna be fine.”

  “Send it,” he insisted. He tried to raise himself on one elbow and failed. “Send it,” he whispered.

  “You sure you wanta leave everything to me?”

  “Will you fight Humphries?”

  She nodded solemnly. “Yep. That’s a promise, boss.”

  “Good.” He smiled weakly. “Send it. Now.”

  With a reluctant sigh, Pancho said, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want,” he whispered. “And put in our claim to Haven, too.”

  She nearly smiled. That’s more like Dan Randolph, she thought.

  “One more day,” said Fuchs.

  He and Amanda sat side by side in the wardroom. Fuchs was picking halfheartedly at a breakfast of prepackaged eggs and soymeat. Amanda hardly looked at her cereal and fruit.

  “One more day,” she repeated glumly.

  “You’re not happy.”

  “Humphries is in Selene. It will start all over again once we get back.”

  “Not if you’re married to me,” Fuchs blurted.

  She stared at him. He looked totally serious, almost solemn. But then his thin lips curved slowly into a hopeful smile.

  Before she could think of anything to say, Fuchs went on, “I love you, Amanda. I’m not proposing to you merely to protect you from Humphries. I love you, and more than anything in the universe I want you to be my wife.”

  “But Lars, we’ve only known each other a few weeks. Not even that long.”

  “How long does it take?” he asked. “I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you. It happened in an instant.”

  She felt stunned. This steady, capable, thoughtful, intelligent man was looking at her expectantly, his whole life shining in his pale blue eyes. He loves me? Amanda wondered. We haven’t even kissed and he believes he loves me? Do I love him?

  Fuchs licked his lips nervously and asked, “I know I’m only a graduate student and my financial prospects aren’t very wonderful, but could you — I mean to say, do you think…”

  He seemed to run out of words. He simply sat there, gazing at her as if afraid to say anything more.

  She thought swiftly, never taking her eyes from his. He’s strong. He’s steady. He’s wanted to come on to me, I’ve felt that often enough. Yet he didn’t. He never even touched me, never said a word until now. He’s honorable. It seemed like an eternity before she heard herself whisper, “Yes, Lars. I’ll be happy to marry you.”

  You can learn to love him, Amanda told herself. You know you can trust him, you know he’s gentle and sweet. He’ll protect you from Humphries. Fuchs leaned toward her and slid a strong arm around her waist. Amanda closed her eyes and they kissed, softly, tenderly at first. But she felt him clutch her to him, felt real strength and passion in the lingering kiss. She wound her arms around his neck.

  After several minutes they separated slightly. Amanda felt breathless. Fuchs was beaming like a thousand lasers. “We’ve got to tell Pancho!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “And Dan!”

  Laughing, he took Amanda’s arm as she rose to her feet. He let her duck through the hatch to the bridge, then followed right behind her. “Pancho, Lars has asked me to marry him!”

  Pancho turned halfway around in her command chair and grinned at them. “ ’Bout time,” she said. “I was wonderin’ when you two would figger it out.”

  “We’ve got to tell Dan!”

  Pancho nodded, scanned the instrument panel and saw that the ship’s systems were performing adequately, then got up and started back with them. “We oughtta perform the ceremony right here, get you legally hitched before we get back to Selene,” she said.

  “Oh! Could you?”

  “Is the captain of a spacecraft legally empowered to perform marriages?” Fuchs asked.

  “Oughtta be,” Pancho said, shrugging.

  They reached Dan’s compartment and softly slid the accordion door back. Dan was lying on his back, his eyes closed, a sweaty sheet covering the lower half of his body.

  “He’s sleeping,” Amanda said.

  Dan’s eyes popped open. “How can a sick man sleep with all the racket you’re making?” he said, barely above a whisper.

  Amanda’s hands flew to her face. Fuchs started to apologize. Dan waved a feeble hand to silence him. “If you can establish a comm link, you can get somebody on Earth to perform the ceremony.”

  “Hey, that’s right,” Pancho said.

  Licking his dry, cracked lips, Dan asked, “You want the Pope in Rome? I’ve got some connections.” Looking at Amanda, he added, “How about the Archbishop of Canterbury?”

  “One of the ministers in Selene will do,” Amanda said softly.

  “I get it,” Dan said. “You’re in a hurry.”

  Fuchs turned red.

  “I want to give the bride away,” Dan said.

  “Sure. Fine,” said Pancho. “I’ll set up the comm link.” She headed back toward the bridge.

  It took longer to make the arrangements than to perform the ceremony, even with a twelve-minute lag between the ship and Selene. Amanda and Fuchs stood by Dan’s bunk with Pancho behind them. They had no flowers, no wedding attire except the coveralls they’d been wearing. The minister appeared on the wall screen opposite Dan’s bunk. He was the pastor of Selene’s interfaith chapel, a Lutheran: an ascetically thin young German with hair so blond it looked nearly white. Amanda could see that he was in his office, not the chapel itself. That didn’t matter, she told herself. He conducted the brief rite in English and with great dignity, despite the time lag between them.

  “Do each of you take the other for your lawful spouse?” the young minister asked.

  “I do,” said Fuchs immediately.

  “I do,” Amanda said.

  They stood there feeling foolish and fidgety for the six minutes it took their response to reach the minister and the six additional minutes it took his words to reach them.

  At last he said, “Then I pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations. You may kiss the bride.”

  Amanda turned to Fuchs and they embraced. Pancho thanked the minister and cut the electronic link. The wall screen went dark.

  They turned to Dan, lying in his bunk.

  “He’s fallen asleep,” Amanda whispered. But she stared at Dan’s sweat-stained teeshirt.

  His chest didn’t seem to be moving.

  Fuchs leaned over the bunk and pressed two fingers against Dan’s carotid artery.

  “I don’t feel a pulse,” he said.

  Pancho grabbed Dan’s wrist. “No pulse,” she agreed.

  “He’s dead?” Amanda asked, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

  Fuchs nodded solemnly.

  LIFE

  Pancho’s heart was thumping, and not merely from the heavier gravity of Earth. The quarterly meeting of Astro Corporation’s board of directors was about to begin. Would they follow Dan’s wishes and vote her onto the board? And what if they do? What do I know about directing a big corporation? she asked herself. Not much, she admitted. But if Dan thought I could do it, then I gotta at least give it my best shot.

  She stared at the other directors as they milled around the sideboard of the luxurious meeting room, pouring drinks for themselves and picking out delicate little sandwiches and stuff. They all looked old, and dignified, and wicked rich. Most of the women wore dresses, by jeeps, or suits with skirts. Expensive clothes. Lots of jewelry, too. Pancho felt shabby in her best pantsuit and no adornments except for a bracelet and pendant earrings of lunar aluminum. They were ignoring her. They clump
ed together in twos and threes, talking to each other in low voices, not whispers exactly, but little buzzing heads-together conversations. Nobody even looked her way, yet Pancho got the feeling that were all talking about her.

  Not even the plump oriental woman in the bright red dress spoke to her. She must know what it’s like to be an outsider, Pancho thought. But she’s keeping her distance, just like all the others.

  Martin Humphries strode into the board room, decked out in a sky-blue business suit. Pancho clenched her fists. If he’s in mourning for Dan he sure ain’t showing it, she thought. None of them are.

  Humphries nodded here and there, saying hello and making small talk as he made his way past the sideboard toward Pancho. He glanced once out the long window above the sideboard and seemed almost to wince at the view of the sea out there. Then he turned and came toward Pancho. Stopping a meter or so in front of her, Humphries looked Pancho up and down, the expression on his face pretty close to a sneer.

  “Do you honestly think we’re going to allow a roughneck grease monkey to have a seat on this board?”

  Suppressing an urge to punch him out, Pancho said tightly, “We’ll see purty soon, won’t we?”

  “We certainly will.”

  He was wearing his lifts, Pancho saw; still, Humphries was several centimeters shorter than she.

  “What puzzles me,” she said looking down into his ice-gray eyes, “is how they can allow a convicted murderer t’ stay on the board.”

  “I wasn’t convicted of murder!” Humphries snapped, keeping his voice low. Pancho made a small shrug. “They found you guilty of causin’ Dan Randolph’s death, didn’t they?”

  “I pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter. That was the deal my lawyers set up for me.”

  “Selene’s court was way too easy on you. I would’ve hanged you. And not by the neck, either.”

  “They made me divest my holdings in Starpower!” he snarled. “Made me turn over my one-third to them!”

  “And Astro,” Pancho corrected. “You can still make money off Dan’s dead body outta the profits Astro’s gonna be pullin’ in.”

  “And they exiled me! Threw me out of Selene. Forbade me from returning for twenty years.” He glanced over his shoulder at the view of the sea through the long sweeping window like a man looking back at something chasing him. “You got off light,” said Pancho. “Dr. Cardenas got a life sentence. She’ll never be allowed to work in her own nanolab again.”