* * *
Jessica huddled in a fetal position in her cocoon, gripping her legs with a strength that would leave her bruised for days. Then Granma's voice ran through her head—What are you doing, girl? You have a job to do! Get on with it! Jessica shook herself, and rose slowly till she sat straight in her chair. If CJ could do what she had to do, Jessica could do her own part. She clenched her teeth and watched, knowing what would follow.
* * *
CJ took a running leap at the chute—as much of a run as you can make with one leg—and leaped up the slide. She slid and slid, slower and slower, until at last she stopped and slid back down.
Reaching the floor, she shook her head wildly, throwing tears from her eyes. "I'll make it this time," she muttered.
"CJ," Morgan spoke her name softly.
CJ stopped in a crouched position.
Morgan's voice changed. It became the brisk, demanding voice that must be obeyed. She did as he said.
"CJ, pull off your compressed air bottle."
"Check."
"Stuff point-two-five centimeters of duodec into the mouth of the bottle. Put it against the wall."
"Check."
"Blow it."
Amidst the harsh sound of the blast, shards of the bottle flew past her, some bounding off her frame.
"Pick up the top half of the bottle." The top half was more or less intact.
"Jam two centimeters of duodec in the top of the bottle. Strap it to your left boot."
"Check."
"Lie on the slide, CJ."
Finally she understood what he was doing. She was about to become a one-time-only human rocket.
"Put one centimeter of duodec in your left hand. Hold the staff in your right." He paused. "CJ," he said tenderly, "you know what you're going to do?"
CJ smiled. "Yes, darling."
Morgan's voice became commanding again. "Then do it."
CJ took a deep breath, and lit the duodec beneath her foot.
As the explosive fired, CJ's right leg dissolved up to the knee. But it was okay; she was flying.
Up the chute she sailed. The distinctive crack of ceramic-on-ceramic winged off the wall next to her: a Destroyer was standing at the top of the slide, shooting. It must have been a fresh reinforcement from somewhere else in the ship–she knew they'd left the others running on empty.
Her velocity ebbed, but not before she reached the door. Taking in the whole scene, she could see that the acid had continued its work a long time before subsiding. The door was completely visible now, almost free of the welding job Shiva had done. CJ knew how to finish the job. She raised her left hand and slapped it against the door.
The duodec in her palm exploded, throwing her against the far wall even as the Gate blew away, revealing the control room. With her right hand, her remaining hand, she heaved with the staff against the far wall and threw herself back to the opening.
But she could not quite reach it. As she started to slide away, she flung the tip of the spike up, and caught its hook on the lip of the entrance. She held on to the staff, dangling beneath the opening.
Another bullet splattered next to her. She looked up to see the Destroyer taking careful aim. There was nothing left to do.
Behind the Destroyer, a terrible burst of light shone forth, and another staggering explosion shook the walls and the slide. The vibration whipped CJ back and forth as she swung from her staff. Dimly she realized what had caused the blast: Lars, her protector, had blown all the duodec he carried. And he had carried a lot indeed.
The Destroyer bounced off the wall and slid spinning down the chute. CJ watched helplessly as the machine reached out to her with its right hand, to grab her shoulder. The machine tugged on her, but she held on, and looked at the Destroyer eye-to-eye.
Something else sailed past—another piece of a Destroyer. Looking back at the thing clutching her, she realized it was only a piece of a machine, even more broken than she was. She glared at the monster. "You're dead," she said. "Get the hell off me."
The ceramic fingers loosened, then slid away. A dull thud announced its arrival at the bottom of the slide.
CJ looked up at the Hallelujah Gate, just two feet away from her. Holding on with her right hand, she reached up with her left. "Ooops," she muttered. She'd forgotten. She didn't have a left hand anymore.
* * *
Reggie's eyes were locked on the screen, but still he could see Mercedes open-mouthed stare from the corner of his eye.
In a peculiar twist of fate, Lars' camera was still functioning despite the incredible blast he had precipitated as his last act of desperation. The lens pointed over the ledge of the slide, and with proper computer compensation, the whole world watched CJ struggle at the end of her staff. She seemed so close, despite being so incredibly far away.
CJ's stub of a left arm waved futilely in the air.
Mercedes whispered, "Dear God, don't let go. Get up, get up." Her eyes glistened. Her shoulders sagged. "She can't make it."
Reggie watched for a moment and shook his head. Mercedes' eyes glistened with tears of despair. But, though he could feel the water welling in his own eyes as well, he felt no despair. His heart surged with pride. "Love, fear not. You have not yet seen the full strength that Shiva must fight. I have seen our CJ fight this battle before. It is not over."
CJ's arm stopped waving. She hung there for a timeless moment.
* * *
CJ shook her head violently again, this time to throw the sweat from her eyes. Her mind drifted, despite her determination, into a dreamlike state. She was in the Olympics again, and Sara Dubcek was just in front of her. CJ could see the finish line a few meters ahead. She could hear her father whisper to her, "Finish it, CJ." CJ breathed again, the biggest gulp of air of her life, and pushed. And Sara was behind her. And then the finish line was behind her too.
CJ blinked and once again she was dangling from her staff. Her palm was wet. Soon she would slip from the staff, and never return. She held.
Then a voice spoke to her. Whether it was Morgan, or her father, or herself, she knew she would never know. But the voice held her nonetheless. "Finish it, CJ," the voice said with a light, almost laughing confidence. She breathed, and heaved herself up with a power that must have belonged to someone else, for hers had long since fled.
* * *
Reggie watched the moment unfold as he had known it would. CJ was still. And then, somehow, she grew. And this new CJ, larger and stronger than before, pulled herself up, over the lip of the Gate, into the control room, with a single effortless motion.
"Well done, girl," he whispered to no one in particular. He spoke more loudly, this time for Mercedes. "Humans are so damned hard to kill," he said with a voice cracking with emotion. "Almost makes you feel sorry for the damned Shiva."
* * *
CJ rolled across the floor of the control room, over and over; it was easy when you were missing so many pieces. She stopped as she came up against the vast, bulky elliptical panel in the middle of the room, covered with displays no one could read, with a large ceramic sphere rising from its center. She reached around her waist, unbuckled the football, and released the catch. A hissing sound followed as fuel-air explosive filled the room, preparing the place for a blast almost as devastating as that of a backpack nuke.
"Got you, you bastard," she cursed Shiva. Nothing could save Shiva now—if a robot came through the door, the football's proximity sensors would light up.
CJ grimaced as she noticed the pain from the remaining parts of her body. "Morgan, it still doesn't hurt as much as your blasted electroshocks," she ground out. Her body slumped as she passed out.
* * *
Jessica unwound her muscles slowly as she came out of the fetal position. Every limb in her body ached with released tension. Her arm and legs still tingled where she knew that CJ could no longer feel anything, but even that tingling was a pleasure of a sort. Being healthy and whole had never felt so miraculous and wonderful b
efore.
All around the world, she knew, victory celebrations had begun even as CJ rolled across the floor of Shiva. The Hallelujah Gate had earned its name once more.
All in all, the idea of celebrating seemed obscene as she watched CJ lie there helplessly. At least the decent people would hold their celebrations until CJ's fate had been decided, inevitable though that fate might be.
But then she saw on her screens that MacBride was leaning forward in his chair, tense and determined. What was he doing now?
Feeling chagrin at not having expected this, Jessica sat up alertly. She had no idea what he was going to do. But clearly, he had a plan.
* * *
She heard her name being called. "CJ, CJ," the voice repeated insistently. Eventually she recognized the voice. It was Morgan, of course.
"Morgan," she whispered between short breaths, "looks like we made it. Sorry I'll miss the party."
"No!" Morgan barked. His voice once again commanded her. "Pull yourself to the door. Get out of there."
CJ shook her head. "Morgan—"
"Now!"
She pulled herself to the door.
"Keep going."
The shock of her injuries was wearing off. Through the haze of pain-subduing chemicals in her bloodstream, she could tell that someone was in terrible agony. The person was far away, but she understood that it was probably herself.
"Go!"
She rolled out of the Gate, onto the chute, and slid down to the floor she had just recently tried so hard to leave.
"Get down the corridor. Faster."
She pulled herself along. She soon recognized another slidechute.
"Down."
Down she went. With no one chasing her, and nothing left that she needed to do, it was even more fun than the exercises and sims back at Powell. Even the distant person in egregious pain was enjoying herself.
She saw another slidechute and headed for it, but Morgan interrupted her game. "Go around this one."
Once again she did as she was told. In just a little way, she came to a hump in the corridor: the top half of a plasma beam tube. "Spray it, CJ. And set a ring."
CJ was amazed to find that she still had a bit of ceramic acid left. She used it, and set a ragged ring of duodec. "That's all I've got," she told the distant voice.
"It's enough. Roll back and blast."
CJ wondered how long it would be until the control room exploded. It should be happening just about now. Once the control room blew, she knew, only a couple of minutes would pass before the whole ship would light up, a veritable sun going nova. It would be a spectacular sight to see from a distance.
She squeezed the trigger and the ring of duodec exploded: she could feel the heat from the blast wash over her.
And as the sound of the blast died away, the sound of a whirlwind took its place. "Jump, CJ, into the tube! Gogogo!"
She barely heard the command, for she was helplessly unable to do anything except obey. The rush of air picked her up and swept her along with everything else it touched.
A deadly silence greeted her as she swirled down the tunnel: she was cut off from her comm to Earth, and in its absence she realized that the whole time she'd been on board Shiva, she'd been able to hear Morgan's breath, delicate as a snowflake, in the background. Now there was nothing. Even the whirlwind that carried her along made little sound, thinned by the vacuum that greeted it in the tube.
The air pressure fell, then steadied as air from the heart of Shiva continued to pour down the tube with her. She felt the emergency systems of her battered frame trying to wrap enough skinsuit material around her to keep her alive. She laughed weakly. What next?
* * *
Jessica stared at the blank screens that had once held views from the Angels' vidcams. She still had no clue as to MacBride's plan. Blast! If she were to be MacBride's replacement, she would have to do better than this.
Of course, she realized with a little reflection, she shouldn't beat herself up too badly for missing this. She was sure that MacBride had spent the better part of the last two weeks mulling this problem over in his head: while she had been studying 'castpoints and dreaming about violent death, he had been studying Shiva and dreaming about paths for CJ's escape.
She did her best to figure it out. He'd gotten CJ into a plasma tube pointing straight down and out of the ship. Fine. The escaping air would carry her along. Also fine. But the plasma tubes had a series of blast shields in the outer section, much like the shields in the Alabaster Hall. He had to get those open somehow. Could MacBride trick Shiva into trying to fire the plasma beam, to open the shields of its own volition?
As she watched, Morgan punched a series of buttons. A new view of Shiva appeared, from a recon ship pacing it as it crossed the Moon's orbit. As the identical image lit up in her own cocoon, she understood Morgan's plan at last. Morgan hadn't dropped CJ down any old random plasma tube. CJ was hurtling down the plasma tube that had been hit twice with nuclear missiles from the fleet. Did Morgan think that the missiles had penetrated the whole course of shields, to actually penetrate the Shiva?
Even as she grasped Morgan's plan, confirmation appeared as one of her dead, empty windows came back to life—CJ's vidcam was back in operation, communicating with the recon ship. She could now see the view of the plasma tube from inside, via CJ's camera, at the same time that she watched from outside, from the ship.
* * *
CJ couldn't believe it. There was light at the end of the tunnel. Harsh yet beautiful sunlight reflected from the cracked and shattered surfaces of exposed rooms and chunks of armor. The wind whipping past her picked up chunks of debris larger than herself and flung them along in a tidal wave of jetsam. Beyond the wreckage, beyond the sunlight, she could see the stars in their icy splendor against the stark blackness of space.
The tube flared at the tip, where aiming magnets for the plasma beam operated. CJ was no longer bouncing off the sides of the tube with the frequency and vigor she had encountered earlier. Now she was flying along the route to escape and freedom. She started to laugh. She flew ever faster toward the mouth of the shattered tube.
A chunk of sandstone, a wall or a floor from some defunct section of Shiva, sailed in front of her, twisted in the wind, and jammed against two other chunks of material wedge into the wall fissures. CJ flung her arm in front of her as she slammed into the obstacle.
The swirling wind spun her and swept her around the blockage, but she'd lost her speed. Where she had been flying a moment ago, now she was floating gently. She reached the mouth of the tube, then spun ever so slowly and gracefully away from Shiva, into the sunlight.
* * *
Morgan stared at the screen. Tears fell from his unblinking eyes. "CJ," he whispered.
"Morgan, Morgan, we did it." A quiet gasp followed as some minor twist caused a burst of pain. Morgan watched as CJ turned to look back at the ship she had just escaped. "It doesn't look so deadly now, does it? Kinda pretty, actually."
"I see something much more beautiful than any ship ever built," Morgan replied. His voice cracked.
CJ must have heard the crack in his voice. "What's wrong? Why are you upset?" She paused. He listened as she continued, as the truth dawned on her. "I'm too close, aren't I? I lost too much velocity." Morgan heard her take a deep breath. "Still, this is a record, darling. I'm the second person ever to get out of a Shiva. We've made the history books."
Morgan punched a button. "A rescue ship is on its way," he said with a voice that tried to sound matter-of-fact, but came out dull and muted.
"One miracle too many, darling. Good effort, though." She paused. "You know, it doesn't hurt at all anymore."
The camera view twisted, and Morgan saw a triple burst of light rising from Shiva.
"Morgan, it's firing," CJ said with alarm in her voice.
Morgan looked at his screens. "Everyone knows. It's taken care of. Promise."
"I'm glad I can count on—" White light flashed on Morgan's win
dow and switched to black. He screamed at the darkness. He felt his heart thump with exquisite pain, and his eyes widened. The lights came up, and three paramedics burst into his cocoon. His last thought as he slipped into unconsciousness was, Damn Samuels, anyway.
Chapter Sixteen
T plus Two, The Cycle Begins
Reggie was, after all, a reporter. And Mercedes was, after all, one of five people on Earth who knew the Secret. And scooping the Secret was, after all, the heartfelt desire of any reporter after an Angel assault. Reggie could not help himself, he knew. He would take the story from her, no matter how hard she fought him off.
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