by John Scalzi
“Kerensky here,” he said.
“Not a lot of time here,” Abernathy said. “Do you have the carrier?”
The carrier? Dahl thought—and then remembered that Hester carried in his body invasive cells whose DNA was a coded message detailing the final will and testament of the leader of the Forshan’s rightward schism—which if unlocked could end the religious wars on Forshan—which would not be convenient to any number of leaders on either side of the conflict—which was why all those ships were out there: to bring the shuttle down.
Then Dahl remembered that until that very second, absolutely none of that was true.
But it was now.
“We have the carrier,” Kerensky said. “Crewman Hester. Yes. But he’s awfully sick, Captain. We’re barely keeping him alive.”
A panel on Dahl’s co-pilot screen flashed. “Three new missiles away!” he said to Kerensky, who spun the shuttle into new evasive maneuvers.
“Kerensky, this is Chief Medical Officer Hartnell,” a new voice said. “Crewman Hester’s immune system is fighting those cells and losing. If you don’t get him to the ship now, they’re going to kill him, and then the cells will die too.”
“We’re being fired on,” Kerensky said. “It makes travel difficult.”
A new pulse beam flickered out of the Intrepid, vaporizing the three new missiles.
“You worry about getting to the Intrepid, Kerensky,” Abernathy said. “We’ll worry about the missiles. Abernathy out.”
“‘The carrier’?” Duvall said, from the back of the shuttle. “He’s got cells in his body with an encoded message in his DNA? That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Nick Weinstein had to write the episode really quickly,” Dahl said. “Cut him a break.”
“He also wrote this?” Kerensky said, motioning out the view screens to the space battle in front of them. “If I ever see him again I’m going to kick his ass.”
“Focus,” Dahl said. “We need to get to the Intrepid without dying.”
“Do you think Paulson’s son is in Hester’s old body?” Kerensky said.
“What?” Dahl said.
“Do you think the switch worked?” Kerensky asked, glancing at Dahl.
Dahl looked back at the body on the stretcher. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe?”
“‘Maybe’ works for me,” Kerensky said, stopped the shuttle’s evasive maneuvers and jammed it as fast as it would go, straight toward the Intrepid. All around them Forshan spacecraft fired missiles, beams and projectiles. The Intrepid lit up like a Christmas tree, firing all available weapons to shoot down missiles and disable beams and projectile weapons on the Forshan spacecraft.
“This is a bad idea,” Dahl said to Kerensky, who was grimly staring forward, keeping the Intrepid squarely in his sights.
“We’re going to live or die,” Kerensky said. “Why fuck around?”
“I liked you better before you were a fatalist,” Dahl said.
A missile erupted starboard, knocking the shuttle off its course. The shuttle’s inertial dampeners flickered, hurling Hester, Duvall and Hanson around the rear of the shuttle.
“Don’t fly into missiles!” Duvall shouted.
“Blame the writer!” Kerensky shot back.
“That’s a shitty excuse!” Duvall said. The shuttle rocked again as another missile scored a near miss.
The shuttle ran through the gauntlet of ships, breaking through toward the Intrepid.
“The shuttle bay is aft,” Dahl said. “We’re not aimed at aft.”
“Here’s where we find out just how hot a shuttle pilot that writer thinks I am,” Kerensky said, and threw the shuttle into a reverse Fibonacci spiral, over the top of the Intrepid. Dahl groaned as the Intrepid wheeled and grew in the view screen. Missiles vibrated the shuttle as they zoomed by, narrowly missing the arcing shuttle. Dahl was certain they were going to smash against the Intrepid’s hull, and then they were in the shuttle bay, slamming into the deck. The shuttle screeched violently and something fell off of it outside.
Kerensky whooped and shut down the engines. “That’s good television,” he said.
“I’m never flying with you again,” Duvall said, from the back of the shuttle.
“There’s no time to waste,” Kerensky said, changing his demeanor so suddenly that Dahl had no doubt he’d just been gripped by the Narrative. “We’ve got to get Hester to sick bay. Dahl, you’re with me on the left side of the stretcher. Duvall, Hanson, take the right. Let’s run, people.”
Dahl unbuckled and scrambled over to the stretcher, unexpectedly giddy. Kerensky had used Hester’s name while under the influence of the Narrative.
As they raced through the corridors with the stretcher, they heard the booms and thumps of the Intrepid under attack.
“Now that we’re on board, all those ships are attacking the Intrepid,” Kerensky said. “We need to hurry.” The ship shook again, more severely.
“Took you long enough,” Medical Officer Hartnell said, as the four of them wheeled the stretcher into sick bay. “Any longer and there wouldn’t be a sick bay left. Or any other part of the ship.”
“Can’t we bug out?” Dahl heard himself say, as they maneuvered the stretcher.
“Engines have been disabled in the attack,” Hartnell said. “Nowhere to run. If we don’t get this message out of him fast, we’re all dead. Lift!” They lifted Hester’s body and put it onto a medical table. Hartnell flicked at his tablet and Hester’s body stiffened.
“There, he’s in stasis,” Hartnell said. “He’ll be stable until all of this is done.” He looked at his medical tablet and frowned. “What the hell are all these fractures and brain trauma?” he said.
“It was a rough shuttle ride,” Kerensky said.
Hartnell looked at Kerensky as if he were going to say something, but then the entire ship lurched, throwing everyone but Hester to the deck.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Duvall said.
Hartnell’s phone activated. “This is the captain,” Abernathy said through the phone. “What’s the status of the carrier?”
“Crewman Hester’s alive and in stasis,” Hartnell said. “I’m about to take a sample of the invasive cells to start the decoding process.”
There was another violent shudder to the ship. “You’re going to need to work faster than that,” Abernathy said. “We’re taking hits we can’t keep taking. We need that decoded now.”
“Now isn’t going to work,” Hartnell said. “How much time can you give me?”
Another shudder, and the lights flickered. “I can give you ten minutes,” Abernathy said. “Try not to use them all.” The captain disconnected.
Hartnell looked at them all. “We’re fucked,” he said.
Dahl couldn’t help smiling crazily at that. Pretty sure he wasn’t in the Narrative when he said that, he thought.
“Andy,” Hanson said. “The Box.”
“Shit,” Dahl said. “The Box.”
“What’s a Box?” Hartnell said.
“Take a sample and give it to me,” Dahl said to Hartnell.
“Why?” Hartnell asked.
“I’ll take it to Xenobiology and run it there,” Dahl said.
“We’ve got the same equipment here—” Hartnell said.
Dahl looked over to Kerensky for help. “Just do it, Hartnell,” Kerensky said. “Before you get us all killed.”
Hartnell frowned but took his sampler and jammed it into Hester’s arm, then took out the sample container and gave it to Dahl. “Here. Now someone please tell me what this is about.”
“Andy,” Hanson said. “To get to Xenobiology from here you’ll need to go through deck six.”
“Right,” Dahl said, and turned to Kerensky. “Come with me, please.”
“Who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” Hartnell said, and then Dahl and Kerensky were out the door, into the corridor.
“What’s with deck six?” Kerensky asked as they ran.
“It has a tendency
to blow up when we’re attacked,” Dahl said. “Like right now.”
“You’re using me as a good-luck charm again, aren’t you?” Kerensky said.
“Not exactly,” Dahl said.
Deck six was exploding and on fire.
“The corridors are blocked!” Kerensky said, over the noise.
“Come on,” Dahl said, and slapped open an access door to the cargo tunnels. There was a gust as the heated air of deck six blew into the opened door. Kerensky went through and Dahl shut the access door as something erupted in the hall.
“This way,” Dahl said, and the two fished their way around the cargo carts to an access door on the other side of the deck and then back into the main corridors.
Lieutenant Collins did not look happy to see Dahl.
“What are you doing here?” she said. Dahl ignored her and went to the storage room, pulling out the Box.
“Hey, you can’t be using that around Kerensky,” Collins said, moving toward Dahl.
“If she tries to come near me, take her out,” Dahl said to Kerensky.
“Got it,” Kerensky said. Collins abruptly stopped.
“Take her tablet,” Dahl said. Kerensky did.
“How much time?” Dahl asked. He set the Box on an induction pad.
“Seven minutes,” Kerensky said.
“That’ll work,” Dahl said, slipped the sample into the Box and pressed the green button. He walked over to Kerensky, took Collins’ tablet, signed her off and signed into his own account.
“Now what?” Kerensky said.
“We wait,” Dahl said.
“For how long?” Kerensky said.
“As long as dramatically appropriate,” Dahl said.
Kerensky peered at the Box. “So this was the thing that kept me from turning into mush when I got the Merovian Plague?”
“That’s it,” Dahl said.
“Ridiculous,” Kerensky said.
Collins looked at Kerensky, gaping. “You know?” she said. “You’re not supposed to know.”
“At this point, I know a lot more than you,” Kerensky said.
The Box pinged and the tablet was flooded with data. Dahl barely glanced at it. “We’re good,” he said. “Back to sick bay.” They ran out of Xenobiology, back to the access corridors to return to deck six.
“Almost there,” Kerensky said, as they emerged out of the access corridors into the fires of deck six.
The ship rocked violently and the main corridor of deck six collapsed onto Dahl, crushing him and slicing a jagged shard of metal through his liver. Dahl stared at it for a moment and then looked at Kerensky.
“You had to say ‘almost there,’” he whispered, the words dribbling out between drips of blood.
“Oh, God, Dahl,” Kerensky said, and started trying to move debris off of him.
“Stop,” Dahl said. Kerensky ignored him. “Stop,” he said again, more forcefully. Kerensky stopped. Dahl pushed the tablet, still in his hands, to Kerensky. “No time. Take the results. Feed them into the sick bay computer. Don’t let Hartnell argue. When the sick bay computer has the data, the Narrative will take over. It will be done. But get there. Hurry.”
“Dahl—” Kerensky said.
“This is why I brought you with me,” Dahl said. “Because I knew whatever happened to me, you’d make it back. Now go. Save the day, Kerensky. Save the day.”
Kerensky nodded, took the tablet, and ran.
Dahl lay there, pinned through the liver, and in his final moments of consciousness tried to focus on the fact that Hester would live, the ship would be saved and his friends would make it through the rest of their lives without being savaged by the Narrative. And all it needed was one more dramatic death of an extra. His dramatic death.
It’s a fair trade, he thought, trying to reconcile himself to how it all played out. A fair trade. Saved his friends. Saved Matthew Paulson. Saved the Intrepid. A fair trade.
But as everything went gray and slid into black, a final thought bubbled up from the bottom of what was left of him.
Screw this, I want to live, it said.
But then everything went to black anyway.
* * *
“Stop being dramatic,” the voice said. “We know you’re awake.”
Dahl opened his eyes.
Hester was standing over him, along with Duvall and Hanson.
Dahl smiled at Hester. “It worked,” he said. “It’s you. It really worked.”
“Of course it worked,” Hester said. “Why wouldn’t it work?”
Dahl laughed weakly at this. He tried to get up but couldn’t.
“Stasis medical chair,” Duvall said. “You’re regrowing a liver and a lot of burned skin and healing a broken rib cage. You wouldn’t like what you’d be feeling if you moved.”
“How long have I been in this thing?” Dahl asked.
“Four days,” Hanson said. “You were a mess.”
“I thought I was dead,” Dahl said.
“You would have been dead if someone hadn’t rescued you,” Duvall said.
“Who rescued me?” Dahl asked.
Another face loomed into view.
“Jenkins,” Dahl said.
“You were right outside a cargo tunnel,” Jenkins said. “I figured, might as well.”
“Thank you,” Dahl said.
“No thanks necessary,” Jenkins said. “I did it purely out of self-interest. If you died, I would never know if you ever delivered that message for me.”
“I did,” Dahl said.
“How did it go over?” Jenkins asked.
“It went over well,” Dahl said. “I’m supposed to give you a kiss for her.”
“Well, maybe some other time,” Jenkins said.
“What are you two talking about?” Duvall asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” Dahl said, and then looked back to Jenkins. “So you’re out of your hiding place, then.”
“Yes,” he said. “It was time.”
“Good,” Dahl said.
“And the great news is we’re all heroes,” Hester said. “The ‘message’ was extracted out of my body and broadcast by the Intrepid, ending the religious war on Forshan. How lucky is that.”
“Amazing,” Dahl said.
“Of course, none of it even begins to make sense if you think about it,” Hester said.
“It never has,” Dahl said.
Later in the day, after his friends had left, Dahl had another visitor.
“Science Officer Q’eeng,” Dahl said.
“Ensign,” Q’eeng said. “You are healing?”
“So I’ve been told,” Dahl said.
“Lieutenant Kerensky tells me it was you who cracked the code, so the rightward schism leader’s last will and testament could be broadcast,” Q’eeng said.
“I suppose it was,” Dahl said, “although I can’t honestly take all the credit.”
“Nevertheless, for your bravery and your sacrifice I have written you up for a commendation,” Q’eeng said. “If it’s approved, which it will be, then you will also be advanced in rank. So let me be the first to say, Congratulations, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dahl said.
“There’s one other thing,” Q’eeng said. “Just a few minutes ago I received a highly classified message from the Universal Union High Command. I was informed that I was to read it to you, and only to you, out loud.”
“All right, sir,” Dahl said. “I’m ready.”
Q’eeng pulled out his phone, pressed the screen and read the words there. “Andy, I don’t know if these words will reach you. Nick wrote this scene and we filmed it, but obviously it won’t be shown on TV. I don’t know if just filming it will be enough, and I guess there is no way for you to tell us if it worked. But if it does work, I want you to know two things. One, I’m sorry for everything you just got put through—Nick felt we had to really push the action in this one or the audience would start to question what was going on. Maybe that’s not a great argume
nt to you now, considering where you are. But it made sense at the time.
“Two, no words I can say will ever thank you, Jasper and all of you for what you have done for my family and for me. You gave me my son back, and by giving him back you have given us everything. We will stick to our end of the agreement. Everything we said we would do we will. I don’t know what else to say, except this: Thank you for letting us live happily ever after. We will do the same for you. In love and gratitude, Charles Paulson.”
“Thank you,” Dahl said to Q’eeng, after a moment.
“You are welcome,” Q’eeng said, putting away his phone. “A most curious message.”
“I suppose you could say it’s in code, sir,” Dahl said.
“Are you allowed to tell your superior officer what it’s about?” Q’eeng asked.
“It’s a message from God,” Dahl said. “Or someone close enough to Him for our purposes.”
Q’eeng looked at Dahl appraisingly. “I sometimes get the feeling there are things happening on the Intrepid that I’m not meant to know about,” he said. “I suspect this is one of them.”
“Sir, and with all due respect,” Dahl said, “you don’t know how right you are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“So what now?” Duvall asked. The four of them were in the mess, picking at their midday meal.
“What do you mean?” Hester asked.
“I mean, what now?” Duvall said. She pointed to Hester. “You’re transplanted into a new body”—her point changed to Dahl—“he’s back from the dead, we’ve all come back from an alternate reality to keep ourselves from being killed for dramatic purposes. We’ve won. What now?”
“I don’t think it works like that,” Hanson said. “I don’t think we’ve won anything, other than being in control of our own lives.”
“Right,” Hester said. “After everything, what it all means is that if one day we slip in the bathroom and crack our head on the toilet, our last thoughts can be a satisfied, ‘Well, I and only I did this to myself.’”
“When you put it that way, it hardly seems worth it,” Duvall said.
“I don’t mind cracking my head on the toilet,” Hester said. “As long as I do it at age one hundred and twenty.”
“On your one hundred and twentieth birthday, I’ll come over with floor wax,” Duvall promised.
