A sharp pain shot through his head. He grimaced until the feedback ceased. His temples cooled. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the enemy hopper descending. A female form in black bounded out to meet it.
Katy.
He studied from a distance. She juggled one of the spheres as a tall man exited the hopper. They seemed to converse. Then he saw her shoot the man and board his ship.
Who the heck is she?
Alvin fired his jets and raced over the ground to the hopper. The gold lightning bolts of his suit gleamed under the craft’s lights. He stood there waiting.
A thin line appeared along the front hull of the hopper. The metal egg parted to reveal the cockpit beyond a translucent window.
He could see her clearly; the black sphere sat in her lap. She removed her helmet, letting brown hair laced with gray roll down her cheeks. Her eyes looked sad, her skin pale and speckled. The woman who looked upon him resembled Katy, but she was older. Her features, though still beautiful, had drooped and creased. She’d aged twenty years.
He felt his emotions welling up inside, anger mixed with confusion. He pressed his helmet to the window and lowered his solar protector to reveal his face.
“Why?” he said over the radio.
“Alvin, you’re alive!”
She breathed out heavily, looking stunned.
“What have you done, Katy?” he said.
Her head dropped. She sat in silence for a moment, then looked up. A tear ran down her cheek.
“I’m not—I’m sorry, Alvin, but this is what I do,” she said.
“Why did you do this to me?”
“I had to. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know this would happen.”
“You’re leaving me to die.”
“No. Alteris will come. You’ll survive, Alvin.”
“No. Not like this.”
Tears left his eyes and stuck like glue to his cheeks in the low gravity.
“You’re an honest man,” she said. “I’m a liar. There can’t be anything more.”
“Who are you?”
He felt his anger rising, pushing at his insides.
“I’m who I need to be to get the job done,” she said.
“You killed Henry and Chickowski. You made all those people sick. Why didn’t you just kill me, too?”
“Because I care about you. I don’t enjoy hurting you, but I have to go. I have an obligation.”
The hopper stirred. Small jets fired as the tendrils contracted from the ground.
“So do I!” yelled Alvin.
He pressed his hands to the craft’s window and looked at her face—sad and aged, yet familiar.
I love you.
He didn’t step back as the hopper rose up off the ground. He stared into her eyes instead, and she looked away. He wanted to reach out to her, to feel her once more.
Hug her!
Anger spasmed within him.
Strangle her!
He shook his head at the thought of how stupid he’d been; how naïve and trusting. His life was over—if he let her go.
The dust blew across his chest and he looked up at her one last time through blurry, tear-trapped eyes. She lifted off to leave him, and he got a final glimpse of the sphere in her lap.
That stupid thing! The cause of all of this!
He felt his head tingle. His synaptic implants warmed.
A soft blue glow reflected against the inside of his face shield. He began to hyperventilate, then he stopped feeling his body altogether.
His mind communed with the sphere, and he felt her and the craft around her. It made him angry.
Gone. Gone. All of it.
He snapped back.
In Rouja’s lap, the black ball rippled with light. Her fingertips turned translucent for a nanosecond and then she was gone and the ship with her. What once was muscle and bone and metal disappeared in a spherical void. Then the stars rushed back into the empty space, leaving Rinsler’s sphere hanging in the air.
It dropped slowly into Alvin’s hands. He held it gently and felt the familiar tingling sensation. A moiré of colors washed over the ball in a continuous rhythm.
What have I done?
He fell to his knees on the gray surface of Dactyl and wept.
Alvin’s head throbbed. Using the sphere had hurt. Pain overtook his sorrow. Tears welled up in his eyes and clung like growths. He shook his head to toss them onto his visor so he could see. The helmet began to fog. His head pulsed with every shake.
Damn it.
He was alone now on the barren surface of Dactyl. He took labored breaths and looked back up at the sky. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. The frigate Cronus still hung overhead. Something moved in the black beside it.
What was that?
The stars twinkled and he felt a ghostly intuition slap him on the back of the neck. He knew that whatever it was had seen him recover the orb at the crash of the Zzyzx.
He stood up straight, the device in his hand. His thrusters lifted him slowly as he peered closer at the sky through his fogging helmet. A blast of laser light fired out of the dark at the frigate. The engines erupted in an explosion, and it crashed to Dactyl’s surface.
He looked back to the sky. A black tubular body with outstretched wings revealed itself above. The wings folded inward as it came lower out of the darkness of space. He could see the United States flag on the belly of the thing.
It’s a drone.
He stared up at it, uncertain what to do. It pulled to a stop twenty feet overhead.
It’s watching me.
Another laser came from farther out to lay into the crashed frigate, then others from multiple directions. The Cronus exploded.
Alvin scanned the horizon. All around him the stars flickered. Another laser blast laid waste to the communications dish. His heart began to flutter. He turned in circles trying to identify how many were in the sky. He counted eight flickering spots and the locations where the lasers had originated.
The dark objects circled off in the distance. Alvin rose off the ground a few more feet to get a better look. He remained mindful of the drone directly above him. He could see what they were circling now. A white space suit, down on the surface, not moving.
Rinsler!
Alvin flew off in a rush toward the prone form. The black craft overhead spun and pursued him.
He raced toward the downed man and flipped over his body. His helmet was banged up.
“Mo!”
Rinsler’s hand was gripped tight to his belt pouch. Alvin could see that he’d stuffed the other orb inside.
He looked up. All eight U.S. flags circled overhead.
Shit.
He bounced his wrist off Rinsler’s to download his health data. He was alive.
“Thank god. Mo, What do I do? Wake up.”
Alvin shook him violently. The scientist coughed.
“Mo! The shield is down. Drones are overhead.”
“Alvin—” He spoke slowly with confusion. “What happened, did she get—”
“No, I have it. You have the other one.”
Alvin looked up again. The drones extended their wings.
They’re powering up to fire.
“Mo, we have to get out of here.”
“I think I hit my head,” said Rinsler. “I see blood. You have to tow me to the hopper.”
The scientist tried to stand in the low gravity and stumbled.
“There is no hopper, Mo. It was destroyed.”
Alvin pulled the tether line from his belt and attached it to Rinsler. Green lights reflected in the moisture droplets clinging inside his visor. The drones’ weapons were beginning to glow.
“This game’s not over yet,” said Alvin.
He looked down at the little sphere in his hand, then leaped straight off the ground and lobbed it over the horizon. The drones folded up their wings and raced after it like dogs playing fetch.
Up!
His suit flew at top speed. Rinsler ho
wled as he was snapped off the ground by the tether.
Moisture droplets were flung about inside Alvin’s helmet obscuring his view. Damn my tears. He sent his mind back over the horizon to the sphere.
His consciousness became one with the little ball and scanned the world, wide and fast. He felt the drones in the sky and Dactyl below him. He selected all of it.
In an instant, he was back in his body, coasting through space on nitrogen jets with Rinsler in tow. His head pounded.
Below them Dactyl vibrated intensely as the surface turned a translucent white then burst upward.
What the hell!
Dactyl began to separate into large chunks. Gusts of water blew through the fissures, boiled off into the vacuum, and froze again within moments. Alvin and Rinsler tumbled end over end as their bodies were buffeted by the escaping gas and ice crystals.
Rinsler howled as he was tossed about on the tether. “What have you done?” he yelled.
“I don’t understand. It worked before,” said Alvin.
“You never emptied it! You’ve transmuted the whole moon into water!”
Actually, I think I made tears.
Alvin shot his thrusters out into space as the fault lines widened everywhere. The ground below fell away in a liquid waterfall that turned gaseous then solidified, sending hunks of ice into orbit.
He dodged left and right trying to keep from bouncing into anything. His head throbbed and he found it hard to concentrate.
My temples are on fire.
He slowed under the pain and suddenly a block of ice smashed into Rinsler. The scientist went limp.
“Mo!”
Alvin shook off the pain and sped away, intent on finding a path. His thrusters shot them between the obstacles and out into the void. Swarms of white crystals drifted around him. A few feet away a huge block of ice banged against another, shattering into smaller pieces.
He looked from whence they came and saw the blackness of space appear between the shrinking pieces of separating moon. He glided by the last large chunk and checked on Rinsler. His vitals showed a slow pulse and a drop in oxygen consumption, but he was still alive.
Hang in there, Mo.
Behind them was a veritable space snowstorm. There was nothing left of Dactyl but ice. He considered the riot in progress on 243 Ida and knew that no one was coming to save them. He would have to fly to 243 Ida and tow Rinsler the whole way.
Alvin took slow breaths to relieve the throbbing in his head. His implants had seared his skin and the smell of cooked meat filled his nostrils. He coughed and tried to ignore the odor.
He calculated his speed and the distance to Ida. It would take over an hour to get back. Alvin spied the little pebble and made for it. He prayed he had enough fuel to make it.
Forty-Three
Alvin glided through space, Rinsler in tow, with occasional pulses of his suit’s jets. He’d been traveling in silence for twenty minutes. His headache from using the sphere had dulled at last and he grew annoyed at the sound of his breath echoing in the helmet.
They were far inside of the ice floes now. He could see the base at 243 Ida clearly. The flat metal disc that formed the airlock frontage looked pristine. An interminable distance still sat before him, but seeing his destination renewed his hope. He checked his propellant reserves, lest the space suit become a coffin. He had enough—if he only fired the jets for course corrections.
We can make it.
He checked Rinsler’s vitals. The scientist was still kicking.
How many lives do you have, Mo?
Flying alone in the vastness of space with Rinsler unconscious, he felt a profound restlessness. He had killed the woman he loved to save a job he hated. He picked at himself for caring about her.
Damn it, she lied to you, Alvin.
His thoughts twisted around, reversing one emotion into another. He wanted her. He hated her. None of it mattered. He had to survive.
Landfall or death.
His mind wandered to Rinsler’s sphere. It was lost now in the ice flows of Dactyl. Mo would not be pleased, but at least they still had the other sphere.
For the first time, he comprehended the magnitude of the invention he’d tossed over Dactyl’s horizon. It could change human destiny, either as a weapon or a godsend. He puzzled over it—ever since he’d first touched the thing, he’d been eager to get rid of it. And yet the U.S. government and Katy—
His thoughts froze. That’s not her name.
He’d killed her and loved her and he didn’t even know her real name. She felt like a dream—gone in an instant and his fantasy for a happy life with her.
Is she inside it?
He looked back toward the ice and watched it cluster into curving lines along Dactyl’s orbit.
There’s got to be a way to find it.
He cursed himself for thinking of her, then turned his mind back to his employer.
Did Alteris really rough her up? I guess they weren’t overreacting.
“I’ll find it,” he muttered to himself. “Not for her, for me.”
He peeped out a text message to Meyer. It might never reach her, but he felt he’d better get the word out. “The devices are secure, so is your stolen scientist. I’m on the way back to Ida. Get me the fuck home. Please.”
Alvin touched down on the surface of 243 Ida to the sound of pinging in his ear. His nitrogen propellant was almost empty. Ida had spun halfway through its rotation since the time he’d departed, and he’d been forced to land on the far side. He wrangled Rinsler’s tether and pulled the man down to the surface. Then he hefted him over his shoulder and began walking the long axis of the asteroid to conserve power.
The ground was harder than Dactyl’s, the gravity a tiny bit stronger. Rinsler’s added weight made his gait more stable. His experience in low gravity was adding up, though 243 Ida presented a new challenge as it was not a sphere. Upon reaching the rounded end of the peanut-shaped asteroid, he looked down. The view presented an Escher-like illusion.
He was perched on an enormous knobby hill with a steep cliff below. He stepped off the sheer surface and felt the pull of gravity shift under him. He came off the ground and began to float, his feet slowly turned parallel with the sheer cliff below. He lifted Rinsler high overhead and gave a quick puff of his suit’s jets. He shot forward a ways until his feet touched ground and he regained his sense of orientation.
He brought Rinsler down in his arms and peeped the scientist’s vitals. He was still breathing and he’d used only a quarter of his oxygen. His suit also had propellant, but there was no way to transfer the propellant in outer space. The oxygen, however, was just a cartridge swap.
Only if I run out, Mo.
He hefted Rinsler back across his shoulders for balance. With the occasional aid of his thrusters, he kept the surface under his feet and resumed his trek to the entrance.
He could see the flat metal plate of the base shine between two canyon walls ahead. He wondered how he would handle that odd patch of gravity. He also wondered whether anyone was around to let him in.
He saw the network status in his Opti-Comp connect now that he was in range. It was time to call in and see what had become of the riot. He sent out a call to Buzz.
“Alvin!” said Buzz. “You’re alive.”
“I stopped her. I’m coming back inside.”
“Did you forget about the riot?”
“What’s the status?”
“They’re still out there. We talked to Dr. Choi. She knows which drugs were used. She says it’s just a matter of time until they pass out and the effects wear off.”
“I’ll be at the door within the hour. I’m gonna need to get past the welcoming committee.”
“Can’t you just wait it out?” said Buzz. “That’s what we’re doing.”
“I’m not alone. I have an injured man with me,” said Alvin. “How long?”
“Till they all pass out? I don’t know.”
“Where is Dr. Choi?” s
aid Alvin.
“She’s in the med bay. I’m still with Sioux in the atrium. Hold on, I’ll get her on the line.”
Alvin took slow cautious steps across the surface. He was nearing a shift in gravity.
I can’t believe I’m holding for a fucking conference call.
“Alvin, where are you?” said Dr. Choi.
“I’m outside with an injured man. He needs medical attention.”
“I’m afraid we’re stuck in place until the others wear themselves out.”
“How long?”
“Six to twelve hours, maybe longer. It depends on individual—”
“I don’t have that time. We’ll run out of power and air.”
“Aren’t you in the hopper?” said Choi.
“No. I’m in my space suit.”
“Oh shit,” she said.
He traversed another of Ida’s rocky slopes with assistance from his jets. The propellant level was critical. He pondered being stuck in the suit, unable to move, drifting until he suffocated. He checked his oxygen level—only twenty percent left. Then he checked Rinsler’s supply—he’d used just below thirty percent. His pulse was slow, but still stable.
Maybe I should just take a nap, too. Ha.
“Wait,” said Alvin. “You’re waiting for them to pass out? You think the effects of the drugs will wear off afterward.”
“Yes,” said Choi.
“I have an idea. Let’s hurry that along. Turn off the oxygen supply to the base,” said Alvin.
“Baylor! This is Beckman. Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Just what I need.
“Beckman, you’re alive,” said Alvin.
“I’m with Choi in the med bay. I’m not killing off everybody so you can get inside.”
“No one will die. Don’t vent the atmosphere. Just adjust the environmental controls. When the oxygen level plummets, everyone will go to sleep.”
“Yes. Including us! Who’s gonna turn it back on? You?”
“The system will kick the levels back up automatically. All of our biometrics are monitored.”
“He’s right about the monitoring,” said Buzz.
“He’s crazy,” said Beckman. “I’m not jeopardizing this whole operation to save a synaptic engineer.”
Alvin Baylor Lives!_A 21st Century Pulp Page 26
