City of Ruins - [Diving Universe 02]

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  His gaze meets mine, and he speaks with more animation than I’ve seen from him. The lieutenant translates.

  “I’m sending a team to fix what you call the death holes. It shouldn’t take long. It’s a relatively common malfunction that we usually have safeguards for. Clearly all of the safeguards have failed.”

  “Clearly,” I mutter. A common malfunction that kills a lot of people.

  “What I need from you,” he says, “is guidance. I’m taking a team to the surface. I want you, Al-Nasir, the lieutenant, and I to accompany them. I need to see this Vaycehn myself.”

  My breath catches. In my shock, I note that he actually said “Vaycehn” and pronounced it correctly.

  Al-Nasir speaks before I do. He’s shaking his head as he does so, speaking in their language. I know what he’s saying. I walk over to him and place my hand on his arm. The protest should come from me.

  “Captain, if you go to the surface, you jeopardize my team, my work, and this room, as well as your ship.”

  “You have told me that they do not know we’re down here,” he says.

  “And suddenly a military force climbs out of the hole?” My voice rises. “They’ll know then.”

  I make myself take a deep breath as the lieutenant translates my words. Before she finishes, I add, much more calmly, “Al-Nasir and I will take you and the lieutenant to the surface. We’ll leave two of our people here, and hope the guides don’t notice the difference. We’ll show you around, and you can see for yourself—”

  The captain is shaking his head before the lieutenant even tries to translate. Either he understands what I’m saying or he knew I was going to protest and is prepared for it.

  The lieutenant gamely tries to translate, but he talks over her.

  “I am sorry,” he says, and this time, it’s Al-Nasir translating for me. “But I cannot rely just upon your word. I have problems of my own that the Fleet needs to know about. I need to know where and when I am. My ship is in no danger, and we will be fine.”

  I start to protest when the lieutenant’s translation gets to “my ship is in no danger.”

  I say, “You have no idea what the Empire can do.”

  “If what you tell me is true,” he says, “then we have nothing to worry about from your Empire. My ship can take care of itself.”

  I flush. What I’m telling him is true, and something I said made him leave. Not, then, that the Empire would try to take his ship. Something about stealth technology.

  “What did I say earlier that caused this decision?” I ask.

  He tilts his head slightly. I can see him thinking about how to answer me. He’s weighing a few options. Then his mouth tightens and he nods, as if he’s picked an option.

  He says in Standard, his words so clear the translator is redundant. “Five thousand years.”

  There is an honesty to those words. I probably would have believed him even if I hadn’t seen his reaction to that number earlier. In spite of myself, I understand. I remember finding the first Dignity Vessel, not believing that it was what my eyes and my computer told me. No Dignity Vessel could have been in our sector of space, and yet there it was.

  This captain doesn’t believe me in the same way I did not believe in that Dignity Vessel. He needs to know, and he will not stop until he gets answers.

  Only he wants to do it right.

  I understand that, too.

  I also understand that I will not be able to change his mind.

  I sigh.

  “Give me five hours,” I say. “I need to get my people off Wyr before you get to the surface.”

  “You have two,” he says, through the translator. “And I would like you and Al-Nasir to stay as we prepare.”

  Even though the lieutenant couched that as a request, it is clearly not a request. We must stay. He doesn’t trust us, yet he needs us. We’re his guides to the surface.

  “I will get you off planet if there is trouble,” he says.

  “In your damaged ship?” I ask.

  “The damage is repaired,” he says.

  “There will be trouble,” I say. “So let Al-Nasir leave, too.”

  “No, Boss,” Al-Nasir says. “You need me.”

  “I can survive,” I say.

  “It’s all right,” Al-Nasir says, even though we both know it is not. I had thought so little of him, and here he is, trying to protect me. He shouldn’t protect me. I need to take care of my people.

  “Let me go to the room, at least, to get my people out of Vaycehn,” I say. “It would be better if you give us more time.”

  “I am giving you as much time as I can,” the captain says. “And even that is too much if you are untrustworthy.”

  I stare at him. I hate understanding this. I hate the realization that I would make the same requests.

  “All right,” I say because I have no real choice. “Two hours. And this better work.”

  * * * *

  SIXTY-TWO

  I

  don’t look at anyone as I leave that room. I know my way out of this ship.

  I’ve been inside several Dignity Vessels, and the structure of this one is no different from the others. I know my way to the door as if I had marked it in my diving suit.

  The guards look alarmed, and I don’t care. Nor do I care if anyone is following me. I expect Al-Nasir to keep up. I’m sure we’re going to pick up other handlers along the way.

  I reach the main door in only a few minutes. My hair flies around my face, and my breath is coming in rapid gasps. There are two female guards in front of the door, and a team of people talking to one side. They appear to be gathering equipment.

  “Let me out,” I say to the guard in Standard. I don’t care that they can’t speak my language. They should understand my tone.

  They answer with a phrase that I now know means “What?” or its equivalent.

  I slam my hand against the door. “Out,” I say in what I think is Old Earth Standard.

  The smaller guard looks at the other. She nods once and hits the release beside the door. It slides open, and I hurry into the airlock before the guards change their minds. I hear a commotion behind me, Al-Nasir yelling “Wait!” and against my better judgment, I do.

  He’s running, and he finally reaches me, sweat pouring off his face, his shirt drenched. He’s not in the right kind of shape to keep up with me.

  The door closes behind him, and the exterior door opens. I hurry down the steps.

  The room is transformed. Dozens of people are inside, all wearing the black uniform of the Dignity Vessel. They’re underneath consoles, around consoles, near the back walls. In the very middle, a crowd has gathered, and something has risen out of the floor. They seem to be taking it apart.

  My team is separate from all of the action, watching but not touching. Rea and DeVries are the deepest into the room, looking at that middle section as if they’ve never seen anything like it. Seager is near the door, and Quinte has moved toward the original console, the one that we had initially touched, her hands behind her back, staring at the blank screen.

  All of the screens are off. In fact, it looks like the consoles are off as well. And the hum I’ve come to recognize as stealth tech is gone.

  Kersting is the only member of my team who I don’t see immediately, but when I shout “Hey!” he appears from beside the ship.

  “I need my team now! Right now!” I yell as I get close to the main door. A few people stop work and look over their shoulders at me. None of the rest of the ship’s people bother with me at all.

  Seager looks alarmed, but doesn’t move since we’re coming to her. Quinte comes over, as does DeVries. Rea seems reluctant to leave the middle of the room.

  “Now!” I yell again. I don’t think I’ve ever sounded this shrill in my life.

  “Hurry!” Al-Nasir adds.

  We gather near the door. If I look anything like Al-Nasir, I look panicked. His hair falls all over his face, his clothes are sweat-stained, and his
face is flushed.

  I wait until everyone is within hearing distance.

  “The captain of this ship is sending a team to the surface in two hours, and we can’t stop them.”

  “Oh, my God,” Quinte says.

  “He can’t,” Kersting says at the same time.

  “Doesn’t he know-—?” Seager starts.

  “Yes, he knows,” I snap. “He doesn’t care. I’ve already argued with him. They’re going. He gave us the gift of two hours. He could have gone right now.”

  Al-Nasir looks at me in surprise at my use of the word “gift.” Apparently he thought I was angry about the two hours.

  “I’m evoking our emergency procedures,” I say. “You have to get out of here now, and after you get out of the stealth-tech field, you need to contact all of our people on the surface. Tell them to drop whatever they’re doing, gather the equipment, and get the hell off Wyr. As soon as a group is assembled, take a ship and go to the Business. Make sure everyone is out of here. If you have to leave equipment behind, then do it. People are more important.’

  “What about you?” Rea asks.

  “I’m staying,” I say. “I’m going to escort them to the surface, and try to minimize this thing. After you’ve gotten out, send the hovercarts back down for us. We need to get to the surface, and I don’t think they’ll be using their own equipment to get us there. At least I hope not. So go, and don’t assume you have more than the two hours he gave us.”

  “I’m staying, too,” Al-Nasir says. “She needs a translator.”

  I shake my head but don’t argue.

  Kersting frowns. “What about you and Fahd? Will we ever see you again?”

  “The captain assures us he can get us to the Business. Pull out of orbit and wait for us at the rendezvous spot. If we haven’t arrived in three days, head home.”

  Rea is shaking his head. “But—”

  “The captain’s got a powerful ship, and he assures me they’ve fixed it. So I’m going to trust him. Think of it this way: I get to ride in a working Dignity Vessel.”

  They all smile at that.

  “Now get the hell out of here,” I say.

  I actually give DeVries a little shove. Rea doesn’t have to be told twice. He pulls open the door and hurries through it. Quinte and Seager take off at a run. Kersting gives me a haunted look, then jogs out.

  “Go,” I say to Al-Nasir.

  “No,” he says.

  We stand at the door and watch them run until we can’t see them anymore. I wish the captain had given us five hours. I wish he wasn’t going to the surface at all.

  I hope to hell the Vaycehnese government doesn’t notice that we’re leaving like scared rabbits.

  I hope to hell no one says a word to the Empire.

  But I have a hunch my hopes are just that: hopes, and nothing more.

  * * * *

  SIXTY-THREE

  C

  oop’s land team was gathering near the doors, but Coop was still on the bridge, making final plans. He wished he hadn’t given the woman two hours. He should have stuck with one hour, but he hadn’t.

  Still, she’d been incredibly panicked when she heard they only had two hours. She’d fairly flown off the ship, and her people had vanished instantly. She’d stayed, however. She didn’t come back inside the ship, choosing to wait and watch one of the teams fix the anacapa inside the base itself.

  Al-Nasir had stayed with her. Coop was a bit surprised at that. He had worried that all of her people would leave. The fact that they didn’t led credence to her story—credence he wasn’t sure he wanted.

  Dix was already below, preparing. Lynda was in the captain’s chair.

  Coop signaled Yash. She had been monitoring the anacapa repairs from her station. She left it reluctantly.

  “If this woman is right,” he said without preamble, “we might have to leave here quickly. We’re not going to be able to use the regular drive.”

  The regular drive worked like any other ship’s drive. The Ivoire had left the sector base using the regular drive a little over a month before. The technicians inside the base had opened the base’s roof, and the Ivoire had floated out.

  Even if the roof opening was working—and there was no guarantee that it was—Coop didn’t have a good map of Vaycehn. For all he knew, opening the roof would destroy entire neighborhoods and kill countless people.

  “Given the problems with the base’s anacapa,” he said to Yash, “can we safely use ours?”

  Yash frowned. “How soon?”

  “Maybe later this afternoon,” he said.

  “If we manage to finish the repairs to the base’s anacapa,” she said. “If the problem is as simple as we both think—and so far, my team has no reason to doubt that—then we should be able to activate our anacapa without any risk to anyone.”

  “Not even us?” Coop asked softly. “We’re not going to be sent through the wrong fold in space again?”

  “I’m not sure we went through the wrong fold in space this time,” Yash said. “But whatever malfunction brought us here shouldn’t repeat. We fixed our anacapa. I think it was both anacapa drives, malfunctioning in tandem, that caused the bulk of the problem.”

  “You think or you hope?” Coop asked.

  “I think,” she said, but she sounded doubtful. “I can go out there and help with the repairs.”

  “Will it speed them along?” Coop asked.

  She grinned like a kid who had gotten caught. Like everyone else, she wanted off the ship, even for a short time. “Probably not.”

  He smiled. “Then you know what I’m going to say. We need you here.”

  “We need you here, too,” she said. “It’s foolish for you to go to the surface. Dix and Rossetti can do just fine.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “But I have to see this. I can’t work off supposition any longer.”

  “You don’t trust your team?”

  “Of course I do,” he said. “But if this woman is right . . .”

  He let his voice trail off. He didn’t want to give voice to his thoughts. If the woman was right, then his life would never be the same. None of their lives would. And he would have to lead his people through this without too many breakdowns, without too much despair.

  He needed to know first, not last. He needed to be prepared.

  “Just make sure everything is functioning,” he said to Yash.

  “It won’t be,” she said. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

  “But not on the anacapa,” he said.

  “Not on our anacapa, no,” she said. “I hope we don’t have a lot to do on the base’s either. But some of the secondary systems on the Ivoire still need work.”

  “We can do that in space if we have to,” Coop said. “We do need the weapons systems online, however.”

  She looked at him sharply. “You think we’ll need weapons?”

  “We might,” he said. “I’m not sure what we’re facing.”

  “Good God,” she said.

  “I want all of the weapons working,” he said. “Even the minor ones. Especially the minor ones.”

  Her face had paled. “You think we might do some shooting down here.”

  “I doubt it,” he said, “but I want to be prepared for all possibilities.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “Let the others go up there, Coop. It sounds more and more like this trip is completely inadvisable.”

  He studied her for a moment. She cared about him, yes, but also she cared about the ship. She knew that in a moment of crisis, the last thing the ship would need would be a new commander.

  “The trip has been inadvisable,” he said, “from the moment we listened to the Xenth about the Quurzod. We can’t change that. We’re here now, and I’m going to figure out what to do.”

  “Even if it makes things worse?” she asked.

  “It can’t make things worse,” he said. “No matter what way this goes, we’re only facing different degrees of th
e same problem.”

  She was silent for a moment. Then she nodded.

  “I hope you’re right,” she said, and returned to her post.

  * * * *

  SIXTY-FOUR

  I