by C. Gockel
“Where’s Emery?” Blick asked again.
“You know where Emery is,” said Martham.
“It’s not her. Obviously, it isn’t.”
“It was the only way to get rid of the robot,” muttered Martham.
Blick struggled for a second but a twinge of heat and pain pierced the back of his head and he groaned and subsided. “Not the robot either. You didn’t kill her— tell me you didn’t kill her.”
“No.” Martham pulled him a little faster, zipping past the lock. “But I’m not sure that it isn’t the robot either. We can discuss Emery after we’re safe and you aren’t leaving ribbons of blood in your wake.” She slid into the bridge and pushed him carefully toward one of the chairs. Liu slipped in behind them and shut the door. Al Jahi strained against the buckles they’d used to tie her down. Her hands were bound behind the back of her seat.
“Let her in, Martham!” she shouted.
Martham shook her head. “Look, we’ve got bigger problems than Emery at the moment. Dr. Cardiff and Leroux are dead. Oxwell has had some kind of psychotic break. And Blick’s got a hole in his head and alien quills in his shoulder. One crisis at a time, Captain.”
Liu pulled apart the door console. He jerked a wire free. “Should be secure now, even if the robot’s helping her,” he said.
“The robot? You shoved it outside! You broke the feed,” shouted Al Jahi. “How do you think it’s helping her?”
“It was alone with Oxwell, too. Same time as it cornered Emery. Could have brainwashed her, too.” Martham buckled him into the chair and floated away to get the emergency kit.
“This is insane . The whole thing. It’s just paranoia. Emery hasn’t done anything that would suggest she was following Issk’ath’s orders. She was repairing the ship. Why would she do that if you think Issk’ath wants us all dead?” Al Jahi twisted and wriggled against the straps holding her in place. “It’s Oxwell. This whole thing is Oxwell. She’s the one that argued against settlement. She’s the one that argued against bringing Issk’ath along. She’s been present at every death— except, perhaps, Spixworth’s. The feed shows the methanol leak at her station. I’d wager it was even Oxwell that convinced you to get Issk’ath out.” Liu glanced over at Martham and Al Jahi saw. Blick was having trouble following now, his world reduced to a sluggish pulsing ache in his head and the spreading itch around the spines in his shoulder. “Did you even mean to bring me inside first, or was that just a happy coincidence?” the captain yelled.
Martham shoved her foot into a nearby strap and sunk beside him without answering. She held up a dose of Rem. “This is going to hurt. You ok with another dose?” she asked.
“Got to get Emery back inside,” he insisted. “Can’t leave her like that. It’s so cold and dark…”
Martham shook her head and pushed the dose into his filament port.
“Go get her, Liu. The robot too,” said Al Jahi.
Martham swung around Blick’s chair to check his head wound. “You want him to go out there and get picked off by Oxwell?”
“So you’re just going to leave Emery out there to die? She didn’t do anything. ”
“We don’t know that,” said Martham. “The robot could have affected them both.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’ve all been alone with it for at least a few minutes. Are we all going to suddenly snap? You have to go, Liu, you have to help her. It’s not a request.”
Liu hovered uncertainly near the broken door. Martham frowned over the small hole in Blick’s head. Their basic medical training hadn’t included stab wounds in the head. She began gently bandaging it, hoping it would be all right for the hours between them and the Keseburg. “Even if you’re right, Captain,” she said, “it shouldn’t be Liu who goes out. He’s the only one who can get us home. We can’t risk a surprise from Oxwell or an accident outside the Wolfinger. To say nothing of what Issk’ath might do.”
“Then let me go. If you’re right, and I die, you don’t have to deal with the Admiral when we get back for mutiny. And if I’m right, then Emery doesn’t die needlessly.”
Martham glanced over at Al Jahi. She closed a pair of pliers around one of the spines in Blick’s shoulder. The skin around them was puffy and hot. She didn’t want to think about what might be in the wound. “No, I’ll go.” She pushed a long breath out and adjusted her grip, bracing herself on the back of Blick’s chair. She hoped the Rem was in full effect. She jerked her hand back and the spine slid free. “It was me, after all, that helped Oxwell convince the rest. And me, as well, that told Liu not to warn her.” She placed the spine into an empty specimen tube and capped it before turning back to clamp the next one.
Al Jahi twisted again, trying to get free. “Do you really think I’d let you go out after her? You’re far more likely to shove her out into open space or— or, stars, I don’t know, tear her suit or something, than you are to help her. You’ve had it out for Emery since the first week of training. Gang, let me loose. This is ridiculous. You know this is wrong.”
Liu gave in and began unbuckling her. Martham grunted and pulled the second spine. “You keep saying that. All of you. You think I have this personal vendetta against Emery. My only goal, this entire mission, has been the same as yours. To save the Keseburg. To get our families settled on a safe planet before we fall apart.” She dropped the second spine into a specimen tube and wiped her sleeve through the sweat on her face. “Emery is an anthropologist. I’m sure she’s a very competent one. I’m sure she’ll be very useful in the coming months and years to the Keseburg. She just didn’t fit an exploratory mission. Without her— we might not even be in this mess. There’d be no Issk’ath, because we wouldn’t have found it. Or if we did, we wouldn’t have brought it back. Stratton would still be alive. Maybe all the others too. I’m not sure what made Oxwell crack. I don’t hate Emery. I don’t even dislike her. And I certainly don’t want to watch her die. Aside from that— Oxwell and she were close. If anyone can figure out why our microbiologist has suddenly become homicidal and how to stop her, it’s Emery.” She sighed and got ready to pull the last spine. “Liu and you both know the Wolfinger. It gives you a natural advantage over Oxwell. On the planet, I was valuable. Up here—” She shook her head once and yanked on the pliers. “Just a warm body.” The wound seeped a thick, foul pus. Martham hoped it was just an allergic reaction and not some alien infection. She cleaned it as well as she could. “It makes the most sense for me to go. Give me a sidearm and a suit. And be ready to open the door.”
Chapter Forty-Four
“Okay.” Rebecca checked her toolkit once more. She looked up at Issk’ath. She wished she could warn it, tell it what she meant to do. She tapped its chassis and its eyes followed the slow movement of her hand. She waved it over to the side.
“Are you certain, Emery? Your system is still rapid.”
She nodded and Issk’ath retracted its antenna. It moved down the Wolfinger’s hull. She followed it and clipped her tether back into the guide rail. She maneuvered around Issk’ath and waved for it to follow. It seemed to process for a moment and then glided carefully along the rail after her. The hull was thick and she worried for a moment that the small welder would not be enough. “Never going to know until you try,” she told herself. They circled to the spot where Rebecca and Al Jahi had been working, her fingers bumping over the welded sheets she’d finished shortly before. The remaining two holes were small, less than a hand’s width. Rebecca intended to make them bigger. It wouldn’t solve everything. They’d get inside, but the lab was sealed and all the air gone, until and unless she could patch the remaining hole and the door she was about to create and get the environmental system working again. But they’d be inside, at least. Out of the cold and the radiation that had to be bombarding Issk’ath. And she might find a way to warn the others. They could hardly ignore her if she were in the ship. If anyone remained.
“Enough stalling.” She set the welder to its maximum setting and tapped the feed
to dim her vision. “Galactic Void,” she swore, realizing that it was still not functioning. She fumbled with her helmet pulling the old, scratched solar guard down. It wasn’t great, but it would protect her vision at least a little. Rebecca took a shaky breath and flipped the torch on. The spark flared as the welder met the thick metal of the Wolfinger’s hull. She imagined the cracking fizz and the sharp smell of burning metal that had constantly lingered in her father’s clothes. It slowly ate through the outer shell, but she was careful to go no further. She expected several layers of insulating material, but she didn’t want to pierce any of the essential lines that ran throughout the ship. She made thin, careful lines in a large rectangle, trying to guess at Issk’ath’s size once it compressed itself. They’d have to reseal it once inside, and she had little to work with if she made a mistake. The first corner turned and she stopped to move down the hull. Her father would have tutted at the messy line, but Rebecca was just grateful the welder had managed it. “Halfway there,” she told herself, but pushed away thoughts of what would happen after she got back inside. Getting through was problem enough for now.
But worry crept back as she watched the metal dissolve beneath the torch. She’d known Alice her entire life. They’d been in the same classes. Lived in the same habitation ring. Even dated the same boy once. Rebecca knew Alice’s parents, knew her friends and her personality. She knew her friend’s entire life arc almost as if it were her own. How had this happened? She’d been hesitant, was still hesitant, about what would happen if they colonized a planet. And she’d been vocal about it. But killing her colleagues, sacrificing her friends to keep the planet secret— it was too far. Had her own doubts pushed Alice into this insanity? Was this Rebecca’s fault?
The square was complete. Rebecca turned the welder off and clipped it carefully to her suit. She stared at the cut panel, only half concentrating on it. If it was her fault, if Rebecca had convinced Alice that this was the only way to protect humanity, then maybe she could find a way to stop her. She hoped Alice hadn’t gone farther than locking her out of the ship. Maybe there was still time. She gripped the edge of the guide rail and pulled herself into as tight a ball as the suit would allow. She aimed her feet at the cut panel and kicked it. The panel shuddered and shifted slightly. It took two more kicks before it slid enough to get her fingers into the gap. She floated closer, intending to push it, but Issk’ath tapped her helmet and once again plugged into her suit’s port.
“You intend to move it so we may enter?” it asked.
Rebecca nodded.
“The metal is too sharp. It will damage your suit. I will move it.” It unplugged and Rebecca moved slowly aside. She unhooked her tether from the guide rail and tied it tightly around Issk’ath’s torso. She held on to a metal rung and watched as the robot pulled itself to the broken panel. It slid a pincer in and rocked the panel slightly until the gap widened enough for it to wedge two legs into the space. It braced itself against the edge of the hole and the pincer pistoned out, shooting the panel farther in, sliding it along the interior of the Wolfinger’s shell. Issk’ath turned and looked at her. She released the guard rail and Issk’ath pulled her to it by the tether. The insulation and thinner metal of the interior wall were all that separated them from the remains of the biolab. Inching her fingers in the small gap between the hull and the insulation, she felt for the seam of the insulation panel. It would be foolish to tear right through the middle, and she wasn’t even certain that she could. The insulation was tougher even than the hull. But her dad had installed similar panels— thinner ones, newer ones, but similar, on the Keseburg. It was difficult to feel through the gloves. Her fingers caught on a corner of the insulation seam after a few moments of fumbling. She gripped it and tugged. The thick material popped off of the frame, one snap coming free after another. She rolled it carefully back toward them, and pushed the tail out of the hole. A thickly wrapped pipe ran through the upper part of her hole. She ducked underneath to reach the thin, shining inner layer of inner insulation. She pushed gently on the fragile material for a moment and then shook her head. The others didn’t have time for her to worry about salvaging it. She punched through and raked it aside. The hole was getting progressively smaller. She looked nervously back at Issk’ath. It just stared at her, waiting. A whole world blinking in its chest. A whole world being bombarded by frigid temperatures and radiation. She’d get it inside. Somehow. She pulled out the welder again, and this time, the cut was rapid and smooth. She pushed the piece of wall in and it tumbled away into the dark, ashy interior of the lab. Rebecca pulled herself in after and turned to help Issk’ath. She tugged on the tether as its face appeared in the hole. A pincer extended, then another, gripping the edge. Its head emerged, the large lamps of its eyes dimly illuminating the sooty room. And then the top of its thorax was through. It halted abruptly. Stuck, as Rebecca had feared. It tried to twist its head and she could see the pistons in its upper legs jittering as they tried to push it through. She pawed her way along the dark walls of the lab until she found a stability rung and wedged an arm through. She pulled on the tether, trying to help Issk’ath. The metal of its wings sparked as they scraped the edge of the hole, but it didn’t make more than an inch of progress. It jerked its upper body and Rebecca wondered if it were panicking. Or even capable of panic. She glided back to it and put a gloved hand on its chassis. It stopped and looked at her. She held up the welder and pointed at the wall beneath it. It started yanking again. It must have misunderstood. She touched it again, wishing she could talk to it.
“It’s okay,” she shouted, not sure if it would matter. “Trust me.” It didn’t seem to understand and she gave up. She’d have to do it anyway. It couldn’t stay stuck in the wall. She twined a leg around the nearby lab table to stabilize herself and switched the welder on. She started several inches below Issk’ath and it strained to see what she was doing. It was not flexible enough, but must have decided she did not mean to harm it, because it finally became still and she was able to carefully finish the cut a few millimeters from Issk’ath’s casing. She sawed through the remainder of the metal with her suit’s knife and pried the metal free. Issk’ath shot through and banged against the lab door. She swam around it, checking for damage. She shoved the solar shield of her helmet up again so she could see in the dark room. The only light came from Issk’ath and her own helmet. A series of shallow scrapes along its wing were all she could find. She traced the lights in its chassis, trying to remember the patterns that had been there before. Were there any missing? Issk’ath reached for her arm and plugged in again.
“I am unharmed, Emery. Are you as well?”
She nodded.
“Will we be able to speak soon?”
She shrugged and pointed at the hole in the wall, holding up the welder.
“I see. Am I able to assist?”
Rebecca thought for a moment and then pointed to one of the dead consoles.
“I will attempt to turn them back on, but I do not detect any electrical power in this area.” It scanned the room. “The radiation levels are much diminished in here. That is an improvement. I did not expect such— stimulation on our journey back to your home. I have collected a wealth of data. The colony is pleased. Is it always this way on your journeys?”
Rebecca shook her head emphatically.
“I am not disappointed. I would gladly gather information at a slower pace if it meant the colony faced less risk.”
She couldn’t blame it for that. She let it unhook from her and slid back into the hole to line up the exterior panel and begin welding.
Chapter Forty-Five
Martham slipped carefully out the bridge door. Al Jahi was just ahead. She tried to be calm as Liu let it glide closed behind them. It wasn’t far to the equipment lock, just a few feet. She could practically touch the door frame. But cycling the lock would mean getting into a suit. And that would mean releasing her sweaty grip on the gun. Martham didn’t like being vulnerable. It never worked
out well for her. Think it through, she told herself, plan ahead. A simple series of steps. She could only assume that Oxwell was unhinged, illogical. Prone to making a mistake. Or many. If she did mean to attack them, the best thing to do was stay calm and follow the plan. She peered down the hallway. It seemed still. “Let’s go,” whispered Al Jahi. They didn’t waste time, shoving off the wall to shoot down the corridor. Martham caught herself on the equipment lock door and swung herself to face it as Al Jahi opened the door.
Still no sign of Oxwell. The lock was empty, a lone communication pad tumbling slowly across the space. Martham caught it and hung it back in its place. Al Jahi was still staring nervously down the hall. Martham crossed to the outer door and stared out the window, looking for Emery. All she saw was unbroken dark. She tried to twist enough to see the side of the ship, but the window was too small.
“I can’t see her,” she said.
“Maybe she moved to another section of the ship.”
“Maybe she let go,” said Martham.
“We need to turn the feed back on. I need the cameras.”
“If we have the cameras, then Oxwell has them too.”
“She already knows where we are—” Al Jahi stopped as a loud clang echoed through the corridor. Martham turned from the window and Al Jahi held one finger up to her lips. They moved down the corridor together. The noise did not repeat and they were forced to check each room.
“Should we split?” asked Martham as they hung undecided between their own quarters and the quarters where Cardiff and Leroux’s bodies floated silently.
“No,” said Al Jahi. “I’m not going to make it easy for her to pick us off.”
“We could ignore her. We’ve only got another thirty hours before we reach the Keseburg. We could get Emery and hole up in the bridge. No sense in taking unnecessary chances.”
