“I’m not alone. I have Mohammed Rinsler with me. He needs medical attention.”
“Mohammed Rinsler? He died ten years ago,” said Beckman.
“No. He works for Alteris,” said Alvin. “Our tests on Dactyl were successful. Are you gonna tell Meyer you let him die out here with the company prototypes?”
Alvin looked off into the distance past Ida’s horizon. He could see the newly created ice forming a ring where Dactyl had once orbited.
“I can’t stand you, Baylor,” said Beckman.
“That’s immaterial. Buzz told me the water tanks have been damaged.”
“What of it?”
“How many days do you have left without water? The food printers will go offline. So will the hydrogen exchanger,” said Alvin. “There’ll be no air and no fuel. You’ll all be dead in a matter of days.”
“Pathetic,” said Beckman. “Now you’re stooping to cursing us?”
“Alvin, this isn’t helping,” said Sioux.
“All you need to do is patch the tanks. I can solve your water problem in minutes,” said Alvin.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“Rinsler’s invention. It can transport matter.”
“I knew it!” said Buzz. “I think we should try it. I trust him.”
“You trust him? You don’t even know him,” said Beckman.
I’m coming back inside, with or without their help.
“What if he’s wrong?” said Sioux. “Dr. Choi?”
“He’s right about the timing,” said Choi. “Without water we have a week at best, but we have injured. They may not make it that long.”
“And if the others damage something else?” said Buzz. “Just because we’re breathing doesn’t mean the heat will stay on.”
“Dropping the oxygen will put us out,” said Choi. “It may be the quickest way to restore order.”
A loud wail echoed in the distance, followed by a scream and a thump.
“Six to twelve more hours of that?” said Buzz. “We’re at the mercy of the environmental systems, anyway. I say we get on with nap time.”
“Agreed,” said Choi.
“Okay,” said Sioux.
“Goddamn it. Get it over with,” said Beckman.
Alvin relaxed.
“Good. I’ll see you when you wake up,” he said.
Forty-Four
Alvin perched on one of 243 Ida’s knobby hills. He held the unconscious Dr. Rinsler across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. In the canyon below, he saw an enormous metal plate embedded in the asteroid’s regolith.
There it is.
Getting there was still a long trek on foot. He considered taking a jump with some help from the jets to push him down into the canyon. He peeped through his Opti-Comp to check his fuel. Nearly out. He had one big push left before he ran out of nitrogen. Suddenly an alert flashed across his view: “Oxygen Level Critical—10 Minutes Remaining.”
Shit. I have to do this.
He pulled Rinsler down off his shoulders and shoved him as hard as he could. The tether connecting them stretched away as Rinsler’s body glided out over the edge and into the black sea of space.
Alvin leaped after him and coasted. The strength of his leap took him out past the scientist. He yanked the tether with his arm muscles to hurry Rinsler along and keep from slowing their momentum.
Below them were the rolling hills of Ida’s peanut body, above hung the twinkling stars. He watched the minutes tick by on his oxygen levels. At eight minutes, the timing was right. The flat metal expanse of the airlock was below them.
Dive now.
He thought it and the suit fired the jets. Down he went, pulling Rinsler after him. They picked up speed until he saw the fuel status show Empty. He took his mind off the throttle.
Please work.
He came rushing down and at the last moment thought to bring himself to a stop. He felt the suit jets fire in the opposite direction, slowing his descent, then they sputtered and died. His speed slowed, but still he crashed atop the giant metal door. He felt the impact hard in his arm and heard a crack inside the suit. Then he was sandwiched by Rinsler’s body. Pain rippled through his arm and he yelled.
“Fuck!”
“Oxygen Level Critical—7 Minutes Remaining,” flashed in his view. “Fuel Reserves Empty,” followed it. The lines alternated, flashing across his vision in bright-red letters.
He took a deep breath. His arm was on fire. His shoulder throbbed. He tried to ignore the pain.
I have to be careful or I’ll float away.
He slowly rolled his head and looked across the giant metal plate. Laser etchings in the smooth surface revealed the outline of the door. Nearer the center was a flashing light—the sensor to open it.
I can use the boots to stick to this metal.
He nudged Rinsler aside and felt his shoulder spasm. A yelp left his lips as he rolled to his feet. When he turned on his magnetic boots, nothing happened; instead, his heels lifted off the ground. Shit. He squatted low and bought his reduced mass back down on flat feet.
The battery power in his helmet display dropped by fifty percent and the boot icon grayed out. He exhaled in defeat. His breath echoed inside his helmet.
I’ve got one chance at this. If I miss, I’m dead.
He shoved Rinsler with his one good arm across the floor toward the door sensor. He watched the man’s body glide across the metal.
Then he dove after him. They glided forward, a foot above the ground, nothing to stop them. If he accidentally pushed off, they’d be lost in the void with no way to fly back.
Rinsler passed the sensor and it flashed. The giant doors began to slide apart below them. Alvin came across the center point as the seam parted. He grabbed the edge of the door with his good arm, then he tugged hard and managed to hop his hand to the bottom edge of the foot-thick door. He braced his elbow against the metal edge.
The tether snapped straight again and tugged him hard. He held on with all his might and felt his elbow pop out of joint. He screamed but did not let go. Instead, he squeezed through the pain and kicked himself over into the airlock.
Then he pushed off the wall with his feet. It sent him floating toward the middle of the tube. He felt the tension on the tether increase, then relax. Rinsler’s body was yanked inside after him. He peeped the airlock controls for the inner doors.
“Oxygen Level Critical—6 Minutes Remaining,” flashed in his view.
I’m gonna make it.
He reached the middle of the giant airlock and landed against the wall in a squat. Both his arms throbbed. The right was broken for sure, flaming pain from fingertip to shoulder. His left arm drifted at a funny angle below the elbow.
The outer doors continued to part. They opened fully and then began to close again.
“C’mon, c’mon!” He crouched near the wall, wired on adrenaline.
The doors sealed.
“Oxygen Level Critical—5 Minutes Remaining,” sat in his view.
The airlock was pitch black. He saw only the tiny flashing lights on their space suits and the warnings in his Opti-Comp. The inner doors parted and light fell upon him. He kicked off the airlock wall and flew backward into the cavernous cargo hold. Rinsler floated after him on the tow line.
“Oxygen Level Critical—4 Minutes Remaining.”
He drifted backward, his eyes darting from one unconscious ’roider to the next. He counted ten of them drifting around the bay.
Alvin peeped his Opti-Comp to check the base oxygen level. The log showed it had dipped as low as ten percent and was now back on the rise. His suit added a third rotating warning to his view. The air had an oxygen concentration of fifteen percent. He’d be loopy in it, but regardless, if his helmet didn’t come off, he’d be dead in minutes. And he had no way to remove it.
What now?
He couldn’t use the suit for propulsion and he wasn’t near any surfaces he could kick off of. He looked around the bay quickl
y and his movement started him twirling. Rinsler’s tether began to wrap around his legs.
“No. No!”
He spun until he thudded into a parked hopper. His arm sent shockwaves of pain through him. The tether was wrapped around his legs. He kicked at the line and it unraveled and drifted away from him. Rinsler, still unconscious, bumped up against the hopper beside him. It rocked slightly, swaying on the tendrils that gripped the anchor-hold below.
“Oxygen Level Critical—3 Minutes Remaining,” flashed in his view.
I’ve got to get this helmet off.
He turned his head slowly this time, scanning for something he could use. Far across the massive room, a flow of red caught his attention. Red mush drifted outward in an arc. It came from Ravi. The little man’s head was split open. Alvin’s eye followed the trail to a glimmering ax in the hands of a man in a brown space suit. The man thwacked another unconscious ’roider in the guts and pulled the blade free. Blood flew from the metal blade like viscous goo. He looked at Alvin. His helmet was dented. It was Henry’s goon. The one he had kicked in the head before he’d left for Dactyl. The man lifted the ax overhead and raced straight toward him.
Fuck! Rodriguez has been waiting in that suit.
The ’roider flew across the cavernous bay at speed.
“I’m going to kill you, Baylor!” he said over the radio. He sounded rabid.
Alvin wrapped his legs around Rinsler’s body and swung him in front like a human shield. Then he looked down at the anchor-hold below him. “Thirty-Two” was stenciled on the floor.
He dialed through his Opti-Comp looking for hopper number thirty-two. When he glanced up, Rodriguez was almost on him.
“Oxygen Level Critical—2 Minutes Remaining,” flashed in his view.
Rodriguez glided at him with the ax overhead. At the last moment, Alvin spun around to protect Rinsler.
He felt an impact in the center of his back, and they were tossed forward then pulled back again as Rodriguez yanked the ax head free.
“Oxygen Level Critical—No Oxygen Remaining.” The words floated over the controls for hopper thirty-two.
Alvin gasped and no air came.
He cracked my air tank!
“You die!” said Rodriguez as he swung the ax back down.
Alvin’s temples grew warm and blue light filled his visor. Then two of the hopper tendrils whipped out and yanked Rodriguez in half.
Alvin spun around and gasped. Ten feet of red goo stretched from the man’s torso to his legs. His body was like a piece of wrapped taffy stretched to the breaking point. The two halves of space suit leaked red bubbles and stringy meat that saturated the air. He was still holding on to the ax.
Alvin felt his throat and lungs burning.
Air!
He used the hopper tendrils to quickly snatch the helmet off his head.
He craned his neck and sucked in to fill his lungs.
Thank god.
Then the tendrils reached over to remove Rinsler’s helmet. His head was bleeding, but he was breathing. Alvin released synaptic control of the hopper. His temples cooled.
He released his leg hold on Rinsler and they slowly drifted apart.
His heart pounded as he giggled in relief. He felt light-headed. His face was caked with layers of sweat and dried tears. He rubbed his cheek against the suit collar. Crumbles came off and drifted through the air. Another deep breath and his lungs were still not full. His broken body floated in the low-oxygen atmosphere. His aches and pains fell away, then everything went black.
Forty-Five
Alvin awoke to an orchestra of beeps. He cracked his eyes open and found himself in the medical bay. Ventilators and heart monitors pulsed around him. He rolled his head left and saw Tosh, unconscious, his face and head swollen. Beyond him, Yumi was resting with all four limbs in casts.
Alvin looked to his right and saw Mohammed Rinsler. He was awake, his head covered in white bandages. The strands of his unkempt black hair sprang from between the wraps. He lay against a thick pillow reading a virtual newspaper while his sphere sat in his lap. He looked over at Alvin and winked.
“We have to get out of here,” he whispered.
Alvin nodded. “Are you okay?”
“Concussion,” said Rinsler. “She told me to stay awake. I told the lady I don’t sleep.”
Alvin went to sit up and found he couldn’t use his arms. His right was in a cast with a sling that wrapped around his torso. It was immobile from the shoulder down. His left arm wore a brace at the elbow.
“They’ll be coming, Alvin.”
“Who?”
“Washington.”
“They already came. Maybe you don’t remember.”
“I remember,” said Rinsler. “Those were just drones. We have to go.”
“You mean I have to go,” said Alvin. “I did my job.”
“You can’t go back.”
“This is more than I bargained for. I’m handing you and the spheres over and going back to Earth.”
“Alteris will never let you return. You’ve seen too much.”
Alvin glared at him.
“Do you know you successfully ran test number three?” said Rinsler.
“Is that what happened?” Alvin said sardonically.
“Yes! You did something amazing, Alvin. You created a complex chemical bond to create water. Of course you should have dumped the previous contents to prevent external transmutation.”
The previous contents? Katy . . .
“I wasn’t really thinking, I just couldn’t see through my tears,” said Alvin.
“You were crying?” the scientist asked with surprise. “It is awe-inspiring isn’t it?”
Rinsler showed him the newspaper. There was another headline from Anton Vance. “Trouble at Alteris’s Ida Plant?” A photo showed the tiny asteroid, 243 Ida.
Alvin gasped at the news coverage.
Meyer’s gonna be pissed.
“Persistent, isn’t he?” asked Rinsler. “Is my other sphere still out there?”
“Yes,” said Alvin. “I had to—”
“I know,” said Rinsler. “You’ll retrieve it as soon as you’re able.”
Presumptuous shithead.
Alvin woke his Opti-Comp from sleep and watched his inbox fill up. The message at the top was from Sabrina Meyer.
“Mr. Baylor, I received your communiqué. Corporate Security is en route to retrieve Rinsler and our devices from you. You will be transported to Armstrong Station for the return to Earth. CorpSec will deal with any remaining security matters. Thank you for your diligence under such troubling conditions. Please continue to exercise discretion until you are relieved of duty. Best regards, Sabrina Meyer.”
Alvin closed the message.
Shit. She said “devices.” Plural.
He struggled to sit upright, then kicked his legs off the bed. He realized he was fastened to an IV pole with no way to pull it from his hand. He saw a call button and tapped it with his elbow. Pain rippled through the inflamed joint.
“C’mon,” he said to Rinsler. “Let’s go get it.”
“I was up there too long. I can’t stand.”
“What?”
“I can’t stand,” said Rinsler. “I’m as weak as a kitten in normal gravity. I’ll never make it out of this room.”
“Shit. How am I supposed to find it without you?”
“Just listen for its call. You’re bonded now.”
“I’m what?”
Dr. Choi walked into the medical bay.
“Alvin,” she said. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“Get me out this, I need to get to work.”
“You need rest,” she said. “Your right humerus is broken and your elbow was dislocated.”
I’ve got to get that device or Meyer will never let me see Earth again.
“We need water, don’t we?” he said.
She paused. “Yes.”
He looked at Choi and tipped his head toward
the IV stand. “Let’s go. I have work to do,” he said.
“Okay.” She shook her head in disapproval and pulled the catheter from his hand.
He stood and looked toward the door. Tosh and Yumi lay unconscious on the next beds.
What have I done?
“How are they?” said Alvin.
“She’ll be okay—multiple broken bones. He has a concussion and hasn’t woken up yet.”
Alvin walked over to the bed. Tosh’s head and face were swollen from the kicks he had taken during the riot.
Alvin silently mouthed I’m sorry, then said, “What about the others?”
“We have six dead,” said Choi. “Most of the crew are nursing sprains and headaches. There’s a few with broken bones and missing teeth. I had to triage due to the water supplies. I can’t compound new medications and we’re using the last of the IV fluid. You four are the ones getting treatment.”
Alvin nodded. “So the plan worked.”
She nodded. “It did. You think well on your feet.”
Sometimes. Sometimes I let my passions get the better of me.
“How long am I going to be in these slings?”
“A few weeks. The cast will stay longer. If I had nano-therapy out here I could get you healed in days, but we’re not equipped for that.”
I’m sure The Hope has it.
“Okay, then. I’ll do this without hands.” He nodded at Rinsler. “Mo, rest up.” He turned back to Choi. “See to it that he gets some low-g time. He’s still acclimating.”
Choi nodded. “When we’re sure that his concussion is no longer a danger.”
Alvin turned to walk from the med lab.
“Wait,” she said. “This is yours.” She plucked his multitool out of her lab-coat pocket, then walked over and clipped it to his belt. “For when you can use it again.” She smiled, her eyes darting to his aching temple implants.
She’s worried about me.
“Thank you.” He nodded and walked away.
“Hey, what happened out there?” she said.
He didn’t stop or turn around. “We turned Dactyl into ice. Awe-inspiring isn’t it?” he said bitterly.
Then he heard her whisper something and looked back.
Alvin Baylor Lives!_A 21st Century Pulp Page 27
