by C. Gockel
“We have to find out why she’s doing this. Does she mean for us all to die? Or has she already killed her targets?”
“Does it matter?” spat Martham. “She’s already killed plenty of good people. You want to sit down and have a friendly chat about who should go next?”
“I want to find out if any of us are meant to survive. Because if we aren’t, she could just repeat what happened in the infirmary. The bridge isn’t contained like the labs. An explosion nearby would cause extensive damage to the ship, even if the blast didn’t kill us immediately. We have to find her. Waiting it out isn’t an option.”
“Okay,” breathed Martham. “Let’s find her then. And after, we turn on the feed and grab Emery.”
“This one first,” said Al Jahi, pointing to the quarters where their dead crew members waited.
Martham followed her in.
Four left , thought Alice, Three if I got lucky with Blick. I hope they put him out. The idea of Blick suffering was distressing. The botanist had always been kind. More. He’d been good. Blick had been in charge of the Agriculture deck for over thirty years. He and his wife had been able to revive Earth species that hadn’t been grown in a thousand years. If anyone could have understood the danger the Keseburg posed to the new planet, it would have been him. Perhaps I should have tried harder to persuade him , she thought, but then dismissed it. It was kinder, not forcing him to make that decision. Just as it had been kinder not to involve Emery. This was Alice’s burden. She’d be strong for them all. If there was something after, they would thank her. When all was resolved, they’d see her actions were worth saving a whole world. It was a small cost, thirteen people in exchange for all the lives it would save. Not only on the planet, but on their own ship as well. Alice continued sharpening a stripped sapling from Blick’s specimens. It was fitting, she told herself, spinning the small pointed stick, the planet’s life rising up to defend itself from invasion. She was only helping it succeed. A loud clang outside the lab made her head jerk up and stare at the door. Time to whittle it down to three. Or two. She peeled herself from the velcro of her seat and gathered up her tools. The biology lab was a maze of brightly lit tanks and work stations and she wove through them, listening. But the space outside the lab door was silent. She let the door slide open and held herself against the corner of the doorframe. The flash of a suit in the doorway of one of the sleeping quarters and then the corridor was empty.
Alice pulled herself quietly down the hallway, ducking into the kitchen. She could hear them talking, the tones of their voices rapid and hushed. The words were unclear, but it didn’t matter. Whatever plans they were making would never be completed. The voices grew louder as they reentered the hall. Martham and Al Jahi, she thought, they’re looking for me. That would mean they were armed. Alice was no fighter. None of them were, but weapons made them dangerous.
“This one first,” Al Jahi said.
There was a beat of silence and then: “No, we can’t both go. What if she slips by us? One of us has to stay out here and watch. Make sure she doesn’t get past us.”
“This is a stupid plan,” hissed Martham. “The whole point of us leaving the bridge together was to avoid this.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Martham was silent.
“It’s only a small room anyway. I’ll be in and out. There are only a few places in there to hide. Thirty seconds.”
There was another long silence. Alice tried to calm her breathing so that she could hear past the rush of it.
“We can switch, if you want. I don’t mind keeping watch out here, if you want to check the quarters.”
“I’ve at least seen what’s in there already,” said Martham. “Maybe it’s better I do this one.”
Alice heard the door click open. She waited. Better to let them move through this one. Better to let them calm a little, assume she was in the labs.
“Nothing,” muttered Martham and the door clicked closed.
“You have— blood.”
“Sorry. I wanted to make them comfortable. I know it’s not important right now. I just— I thought I could spare a minute.”
“It is important,” said Al Jahi. “Thank you for doing it, Beatrice.”
Alice gripped one of the sharpened sticks tightly. Another few moments. Had to be fast. Had to be silent. Wouldn’t be silent. She knew it wouldn’t. She’d need a distraction. She glanced around. The kitchen was no good. It was too close. One of the labs? Nothing fast enough came to mind. The infirmary though— Al Jahi had said there were two holes just before Liu killed the feed. Cycling it should make the environmental alarms go off again. And if she dragged Al Jahi into the geology lab—
“No sign of her,” said Martham.
“We’ll find her,” said Al Jahi. “Try the next.”
“This is really reckless, Captain. We’re wandering around blind waiting to be attacked. Emery is losing hope every minute if she hasn’t already let go— let’s go back. Turn on the feed. We can use the cameras. Find Emery. If Oxwell tries something, we’ll see it and be able to stop her before she even gets close.”
“We’re halfway through. She could already be building some kind of explosive, Martham. The labs and equipment lock are the only areas that are fully sealed in emergencies. The rest of the ship is at risk. With the feed off, she doesn’t know where we are or that we’re coming. She thinks we’re hunkered down, safe. This is our best chance of finding her without losing more people.”
There was a long silence. Alice debated striking then, taking her chances. She’d be able to get one before they got her. Maybe. But getting one wasn’t enough. It had to be all of them. All of the crew and the logs rewritten. Otherwise, it was all pointless.
“Okay,” sighed Martham.
Alice let out a shaky breath and tensed as another door clicked open. She counted to three and launched herself up toward the ceiling and out into the corridor. It took a second for Al Jahi to see her soaring just over her head, and it took her a few more to shake off the shock and respond. Alice shoved herself down as Al Jahi spun to face her and brought the gun level. Alice didn’t bother knocking it aside, the thin stick piercing Al Jahi’s throat even before she finished the movement. Al Jahi let go of the gun and struggled even as Alice clamped a hand around the back of her neck and pushed the wood farther in. It bumped and snapped on the cartilage and Alice’s arm shook with the effort as the stick finally tore through. Al Jahi managed a heavy punch to the side of Alice’s face and she was flung a little way away. Al Jahi clutched at the the stick even as blood welled around it, fizzing and bubbling as the air she was gasping leaked around the wood. She gurgled, trying to call for help, and Alice recovered, springing toward her and grabbing her arm to drag her toward the labs. Martham had to have heard. She slammed against the infirmary doors, Al Jahi bouncing just below her, yanking on the wood. Alice ignored her and tapped the door panel. It buzzed a denial. She glanced over her shoulder. No sign of Martham yet, but a field of advancing blood drops that spread over the hallway. She tried to remember her emergency cycling procedure. Tapped in a code. The door buzzed again. No, that was the chemical spill code. Al Jahi was wriggling away and choking. Alice rubbed her eyes and then swore as she smeared them with blood. It stuck in scarlet droplets to her lashes. She tried another code. The alarm began to wail and the cycling process started. She dove after Al Jahi who struggled, wheezing, sucking at the air. They were in the geology lab just as Martham emerged from the sleeping quarters.
Al Jahi was drooping, still trying to wriggle out of Alice’s grasp, but gradually weakening. “I want you to know,” said Alice, just below the blare of the alarm, “It’s for Dia and Noura. They’ll live the rest of their lives in peace, in their home. Their natural space. Safe. I promise.”
Al Jahi jerked one last time and wrenched the broken stick from her neck. “Fuck you,” she burbled and twisted. She jabbed the stick before Alice could do more than clench her eyes shut. The stick sa
nk through her eyelid and into her eye. A thousand purple spikes and then dark and agony. Alice screamed and let go of Al Jahi to clutch at her face. Warm wetness dribbled through the lid and collected on her cheek but she barely noticed. The pressure in her eye was sharp and heavy, a hammer that knocked against the socket and shattered any other thought she had. Al Jahi didn’t matter. Martham hearing Alice’s pained shrieks didn’t matter. The planet and the Keseburg were nothing. Her whole existence narrowed to the scraping pain in her skull.
Martham had heard the scream clearly, even over the wail of the infirmary alarm. She clicked her feed, intending to ask Liu to shut off the alarm so that she could hear. Then she remembered it was off and cursed under her breath. She pulled herself toward Hackford’s old lab. It had sounded like the scream had come from there. She opened the geology lab door.
“Captain?” she hissed. “Chione, where are you?”
But if there was an answer it was buried under the wail of the alarm. The large room was awash in amber light for a second as the alarm lights swung by. Then dark again. The light came back around and Martham caught a flash of two figures near the back before they melted back into the shadows. She fumbled with the door panel, staring at the spot where the figures had been. Two more swings of the light. Two more glimpses. One figure limp and drifting, a meteoroid left behind. The other, writhing and erratic and screaming. And then she managed to turn the lab lights on. She almost wished she hadn’t.
A globe of blood spread from Al Jahi’s throat. It had spread, clinging to the bottom of her face and the top of her suit, as if it meant to slowly envelop her. Beside her, Oxwell’s hands covered her face, her fingers splitting around the dull spike that erupted from her right eye. She too, was coated in blood. How much was her own, Martham wasn’t certain.
Martham launched herself over the lab tables and tackled Oxwell. “Captain,” she cried. “I’ve got her.” She wrestled with Oxwell, whose only real struggle was to keep hold of her eye. It was not surprising when Al Jahi didn’t respond, but Martham hesitated for a moment, doubting whether she ought to keep her grip on Oxwell or aid Al Jahi.
“Move,” she snapped, shoving her weapon into Oxwell’s neck. Alice was still groaning, but she put her hands out, reaching for a landmark to guide her. They slid between the lab tables. “Stop,” said Martham as they reached Al Jahi. She released Oxwell’s neck with one hand, but kept the weapon against her skin with the other. Martham reached through the thick bubble of blood to press against the underside of Al Jahi’s jaw. The blood was still warm and she shuddered. But no pulse met her fingertips. She ground her teeth together. “Why?” she growled, shoving Oxwell forward. It left part of a scarlet hand print on the back of Oxwell’s suit. Alice banged into the side of a specimen case.
“Please,” she said, cupping her eye, “I can’t see.”
Martham slammed her hand against Oxwell’s back again. “You think I care? After what you’ve done? You can hit every obstacle in here. Hope it jams that stick farther in. Al Jahi do that?”
Oxwell was silent, one hand out in front, groping the air as they drifted toward the door. Martham took it as confirmation.
“Good for her. I wish she’d done it sooner.” She gripped Oxwell’s shoulder, opting to steer her in the interest of getting her secured more quickly. “And you didn’t answer me. Why did you do it? Why all these people? They were good people, trying to do a good thing. They never did you any harm. Not one of them.”
“We weren’t doing a good thing, Martham. Not for any of us. Not for the life on that planet and ah—” Oxwell broke off as her shoulder hit the door frame and the stick in her eye jiggled when she could not fight the impulse to try and look around. “Get this thing out of my face and we can talk.”
“I think maybe you should die with it in there,” said Martham. “But that’s for the Admiral to decide. I’m not going to bother pulling it out. Maybe Blick will, if his shoulder isn’t too sore from the spikes you left in him.”
The wail of the alarm cut off suddenly. Martham felt some of the tension slither away. Took Liu long enough , she thought. “Back to the bridge. The others can take care of you. I have an anthropologist to retrieve.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Rebecca was halfway through the weld when she heard the alarm go off. She wasn’t certain what it meant, but it couldn’t be anything good. The lights had not returned, so she assumed Issk’ath had not had luck restoring the power. She looked over her shoulder. Issk’ath’s head was swiveling, seeking out the source of the sound. It hadn’t caused the alarm then. She returned to the weld. She was down to her last sheet of patch metal. The gash was long. She hoped it would cover it. Anything less would leave a hole and the door wouldn’t cycle open if the room couldn’t reach the right pressure. If they could even get the door panel to power up and work. If not— she checked her suit. Another five hours perhaps. Too little. The Keseburg was almost twenty-five hours away. Unless the feed came back on, no one would even know she was here until it was far too late.
One crisis at a time, she reminded herself. She smoothed the rippling sheet until it lay straight and shining over the crack. Just enough, if she didn’t make a mistake. All right, Dad, know you can’t hear me, but I could sure use a little of your good luck right now. The sheet hardened beneath the welder, sealing out the emptiness. Flaming core, wish I could get out of this suit. Her damp hair was sticking to her forehead and the fabric over her chest and legs was cloying. Her hand cramped around the welder. She bit her tongue and refocused on the weld. The last of the metal sank against the hull plate and stuck. Was it enough? Were there significant leaks? She didn’t know. You don’t have any way to fix it, she told herself. She backed out a little, pulling the outer insulation in place and pressing it back onto the frame. The inner insulation was shredded and she had no way to repair the interior wall. She shrugged and turned to Issk’ath.
It was ignoring the alarm and had pulled the face of the console off. It seemed to be analyzing the wires, but even Rebecca could see they were melted and blackened from the fire. The dread she had felt as she pounded on the exterior door of the Wolfinger crept back. Snaked over her in cold, aching tendrils. She was going to die. In this room. Without being able to speak to anyone, not even an alien machine.
Issk’ath looked over at her, its gold eyes expressionless, just two points of light, soft moons in the dark. Its extension plugged into her suit. “I’m sorry, Emery. Your equipment will not function.”
She nodded but tears began forming. She decided she hated crying without gravity. She’d done it enough in the past several hours to know.
“Your system is rapid again. Your plan depended on the equipment in this room.”
She shrugged.
“It would have been better if I had other capabilities. If I were more than a Guardian.”
Rebecca shook her head with a weak smile and patted its chassis. The alarm cut off. They both looked around, but nothing could be seen, not in the dark. But Issk’ath was still staring off into a corner. “Are you able to hear that, Emery?”
Rebecca strained to listen, but all she could hear was the sound of her own breath.
“It is a long hiss.” It retracted its antenna and moved away. She drifted after it. Issk’ath looked up as they passed beneath a vent. She couldn’t feel anything through the suit, but she could hear the sound now, a distant, erratic hiss above them. It cut out as they passed the vent. Movement caught her eye and she shone her lamp on a cloud of ash that hung beside them. It swirled and bounced, the dark flakes breaking apart and sweeping away.
“It’s air!” She shouted. “Someone cycled the door. It’s air!”
Issk’ath turned. It was clear it could hear something, but she wasn’t certain her voice carried far enough for it to understand. It was a relief, anyhow. In a few minutes, she’d be able to speak with it. Even if the door didn’t open, she’d have that comfort at least. And more. She’d be able to breathe. It wasn’t g
ood air, choked with soot and ash, but it would help her survive if she ran out. They were going to make it to the Keseburg. Her plan and her welding had been enough.
If Alice didn’t kill the others first. Had she followed through with her plan? Had someone cycled the door in a desperate attempt to escape? Were they all dead and the Wolfinger drifting blindly through the endless miles of space? In a few moments, the door was going to open. And Rebecca began to wonder if she truly wanted it to. Maybe it would have been better to die in the quiet, here with Issk’ath. She stared at the gold insect-machine. What had she dragged it into? What had it risked because it trusted them?
Chapter Forty-Seven
Martham rapped on the bridge door. “It’s me, Liu. I’ve got Oxwell.”
After a moment, the door slid open and Martham yanked Alice in behind her. Liu winced at the gore on her face and lingered by the door as Martham tied her down to a chair.
“Where’s Chione?” he asked at last.
“Al Jahi is dead.” Martham’s tone was flat, but she passed a hand over her eyes to wipe away sudden tears that even she hadn’t expected. “We were separated. Oxwell attacked her.” She thought she should feel like kicking the woman or jamming the stick farther into her eye, but Martham only felt a dull, sapping sadness. None of these people had been what she would call “friends”, but they had been decent. And competent. Which was high praise in Martham’s world. An uncommon trait in her experience. More. They had believed in what they were doing. Even Emery. Her doubts had been rational ones, even if her conclusions had not. They had all been on the same team. Until Oxwell snapped. And Martham and the others had followed right along where she led.
“Turn on the feed, Liu. I’ve got to see if we can find Emery. I couldn’t see her from the lock, but maybe there’s a chance.”
“Shouldn’t have left her,” slurred Blick. Sweat clung in dozens of sparkling beads over his face and chest. The bandages she’d put over his wounds were damp and a sickening pale yellow.
