Starship to Demeter (Starship Portals Book 1)

by K. D. Lovgren

  The moment still felt bleak. Sasha tried to shake it off. She couldn’t keep herself from thinking there was some basic key to this whole compromised mission she had been missing all along. Some clue, she thought. Like Davena and her mystery novels, her Agatha Christies, her enjoyment of a good plot. Sasha hoped this wasn’t an And Then There Were None plot. Instead something with a more muted and humane application of justice. Where she would not have to be judge, jury, and…executioner, her mind filled in, even though she didn’t want it to. There would be no call for that, here.

  There was always Rai for that.

  There was no one she’d be able to tell these things to. As the woman in charge, she would have to find a little bleak humor in the absurdities of their situation alone.

  A cry echoed through the atrium, “Sasha, Sasha!”

  Sasha pivoted on the spot to face the other direction, toward the gangway. It was Gunn, with her arms full of something, running. Sasha lunged forward as she saw a long black braid swaying from Gunn’s arm.

  “What happened?”

  “I found her on the floor of the astrolab, passed out.”

  Sasha put her hand to the pulse point of Kal’s neck. She could feel the flutter of her pulse and folded her head over Kal’s body for a brief moment.

  “Get her to Inger.”

  “But Sif is in the infirmary,” Gunn said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Come on,” Sasha pulled on Gunn’s arm and ran ahead. She wanted to comm with Inger but in this topsy-turvy place, Sasha didn’t know what was okay to say and what wasn’t.

  Gunn ran smoothly, her upper body barely jostling Kal. Sasha’s eyes went to the looping swing of Kal’s braid every time she glanced back.

  Both of them ran, their rubber shoes almost silent across the gangway. Choosing the spiral down to the infirmary rather than the lift, Sasha led like a bird dog racing to the cache, not sure why it was necessary but knowing she had to make sure the way was clear and safe for them. At last the infirmary glowed up ahead, the light from it diffusing into the dark corridor. Sasha palmed the entry print to open the double doors and entered, breathless, Gunn right behind her.

  “Inger?” Sasha scanned the rooms right and left. There was no answer. She didn’t see Inger anywhere.

  Standing there watching them through the clear glass of the quarantine room was Sif. With one hand splayed on the glass Sasha thought she looked like that figure from long ago, etched onto the gold plate of an explorer satellite, the human figure meant to communicate a greeting to other intelligences.

  Sif’s expression was unreadable. For a frozen second they all stood there in a strange tableau: Gunn holding Kal’s limp body, Sasha with feet in a wide defensive stance, Sif with her hand on the glass looking out at them.

  Sasha reminded herself not to treat Sif like a prisoner. “Where’s Inger?”

  Sif’s voice sounded tinny, coming through a filtered speaker. “What happened?”

  “We don’t know yet. She’s out cold. Where’s Inger?” Sasha said, harder.

  “She left. I don’t know. Does Kal have the virus?”

  Sasha ignored questions she couldn’t answer. Of course, Kal didn’t have the nonexistent virus, but there wasn’t time for dissembling or anything else.

  “Put her on one of the cots,” she ordered Gunn. “Do triage. I’ll look for Inger.”

  “Ask her?” Gunn flicked her eyes at the ceiling.

  “Rai, where is Inger?”

  “Inger is in the gymnasium.”

  Sasha said, “Gym comm: Inger come to infirmary stat.”

  With gentleness Sasha hadn’t seen her show before, Gunn settled Kal onto one of the high infirmary beds. She raised the back so Kal’s upper body was propped up a little. She started a quick appraisal, checking vitals. Sasha thought Gunn, with her past history, had more extensive training than herself in emergency skills and kept back out of her way.

  There was only silence, no Inger answering back. “Gym comm: Inger?”

  No response.

  “Rai, find Inger and tell her she’s needed here.”

  Rai said, “Inger is in the gymnasium.”

  “Why isn’t she answering then?”

  “Inger is on the physio machine.”

  “Can’t she hear me?”

  “Inger is not responding.”

  “Give me a holo,” Sasha snapped.

  Their in-ship holos were black and white and not terribly clear. She squinted at the holo of the gymnasium, trying to pick out Inger. She looked to the center where the physio sat. If Inger was using it, it would look like a smooth metal ball, with the whirling hoops giving an illusion of a sphere. There was no sphere.

  “Enhance,” Sasha said. The image focused in, the physio in larger relief. It was unmoving, Inger strapped in. Inger wasn’t moving.

  “Inger!” Sasha barked. “Gunn, stay with Kal. Inger’s not responding.”

  “Take someone with you,” Gunn said, still bent over Kal. “It’s not secure.”

  Sasha hesitated at the doorway. “Who?”

  Gunn looked up. “Take Chyron.”

  “Yes, Chyron. All-comm: Chyron, meet Captain Sarno in the gymnasium, stat,” Sasha said, her voice clear and strong, as she ran out the door. Her stride ate up the meters between herself and the gymnasium. She was afraid what she’d find there.

  The ship was dark, as it was night. With a few words Sasha could light up the whole thing like a Christmas tree. Something in her, the gut she trusted at times like this, told her it wasn’t the time.

  Her feet beat out names as they hit the deck in the rhythm of her run. Noor and Yarick and Kal and Inger.

  As she skidded into the great arch of the atrium, which connected to the gymnasium, she saw Chyron running toward her from the other way.

  Sasha nodded toward the gym and they joined up, running side by side. Together they reached sight of the physio. Inger hung there, caught in the harness, a fly in a web.

  “Why didn’t it release her? Why didn’t it give alarm?” Chyron stood with Sasha, just outside the orb of the physio, as Sasha looked it over. Her voice was low. She had instantly sussed why Sasha wasn’t rushing in to clip Inger out.

  Sasha spoke even lower. “We don’t know what happened here.”

  “Sabotage? Like Noor?”

  “Kal, too.”

  Chyron made a silent whistling shape with her mouth. “What are we into here, Sasha?”

  Sasha was pacing outside the ring of the physio. “If it starts up while I’m in there we’ll both be done for.”

  “Can we power down absolute? Or short it out?”

  Sasha shook her head, a tiny movement. Not that it mattered. If they weren’t in the Tube, what voice was low enough, what gesture small enough to disguise from Rai? “It’s connected into the reactor, not the subsystem, like other essentials, since we need it for physical maintenance. I can’t be certain it wouldn’t, ah, power up again at the wrong moment.”

  They exchanged a look. Chyron glanced up. Sasha gave a nod that might have been a neck stretch.

  “We could watch the holo,” Chyron said. “See what happened.”

  Good idea, but Sasha didn’t love it. If she couldn’t trust Rai, she couldn’t trust anything shown them, either. Would Rai have the wherewithal to change footage? Was that degree of deviousness part of the realm of possibility? If she had learned to lie, it was hard to know how seamless it would be, but Sasha didn’t want to make the mistake of underestimating the possibility.

  “I think she’s breathing,” Chyron said.

  “I see it too. Not very deep.”

  “We gotta get in there.”

  “Hell with it,” Sasha said, and stepped forward.

  Chyron caught her arm, hard. Sasha whirled around her, off-balance. “Not you,” Chyron said. “If you’re out, and Kal, there’s only Noor and Gunn to guide the ship. Our odds are better if you make it.”

  “No, Chy. Without you, half of us would be in pieces right no
w. You hold us together.”

  “I can’t fly the ship. It’ll be okay. Pro bono publico.” Chyron smiled.

  Sasha’s face was a mask. She squeezed Chyron’s arm and nodded.

  “Wait!” Sasha ran around the gym, eyes scanning the walls, the equipment. Gunn’s weight sets gleamed on their many racks. Sasha grabbed the seven-foot Olympic bar, and hauled it back to the physio.

  “I’ll try, if something goes wrong. The failsafe might trip if I do. Let me stick this in first, anyway.” Holding the bar perpendicular to the ground, Sasha slowly nudged the end of the bar into the space inside the sphere.

  Nothing happened.

  She pushed it further, until it touched Inger’s limp foot.

  Stillness. Pulling the bar out with a grunt, Sasha stepped back to give Chyron room, staying in reach.

  Chyron stood at the outer ring and breathed deeply. She stepped inside the rings.

  Inger dangled from the harness, like a parachutist caught on a tree. Her head hung down, eyes closed. Chyron put her hand on Inger’s shoulder. The harness attached to the innermost ring of the gyroscope, via four straps that corresponded to each limb. Three rings swung free, attached at the equator by a half-circle of a larger, heavier material for the base from which the rings rotated. Sasha unsnapped the harness points one by one, draping Inger’s body over her own shoulders as she was released. At last she had her free. With a nod to Sasha she stepped carefully over the half-ring base and outside the range of the sphere.

  Sasha took Inger’s legs while Chyron kept her head and upper body supported as they lowered her to the ground. Chyron put her ear to Inger’s chest, listening for her heart, put her cheek to Inger’s mouth, feeling for her breaths. She gave a thumbs up. They didn’t need to do CPR.

  Sasha ran over to the wall where the emergency backboard was kept. Carrying it on her head, she brought it to Inger’s side and lay it down next to her. She handed the neck brace, kept with the backboard, to Chyron, who strapped in on Inger. They did a count and lift to get Inger slid on the board in one smooth motion. With a few straps tightened she was secure and they lifted her up with the handholds to carry her to the infirmary.

  Back at the infirmary, Sasha was awash with relief to see Kal had come around. Gunn stood next to Kal with one hand on her wrist, feeling her pulse. Sif had dragged a chair up to her glass door to watch what happened. Gunn groaned and dropped Kal’s wrist when she saw them carrying Inger’s lifeless body through the doors.

  Gunn put down the sides of the bed next to Kal’s and waited for them to place Inger there. Once they had the backboard on the bed, they unstrapped Inger and slid the board out in a slow motion tablecloth-from-under-the-dishes move. Gunn took a penlight and looked under Inger’s lids, counted her pulse, and took her blood pressure. She shook her head.

  “I wish I knew more. We need her.”

  Sasha was beside Kal, holding her hand. Kal looked awake but her eyes were unfocused and she wasn’t responding to Sasha.

  “Do you know what’s going on with her?” Sasha asked, indicating Kal.

  “She has a bump on the back of her head. It’s possible that knocked her out. But why did she fall?”

  Chyron was fitting an oxygen mask over Inger’s face while Gunn started an IV.

  “What about Inger?” Sasha asked Gunn.

  “If she was on the physio, could have gone too fast.”

  Sasha let go of Kal’s hand and moved over next to Inger’s bed. “‘Gone too fast’? What does that mean?”

  “If something on the settings was off. The G forces could cause her to pass out if they were high enough.”

  “Physio pulling high enough Gs to knock her out.” Sasha said, shaking her head. She wanted to say, “Everything is broken,” but she was the captain, and she couldn’t.

  Gunn looked at her, waiting, her expression grim. “I’ll give her fluids and monitor. If that’s it, she should be okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be only seconds passing out, like in a space shot? It shouldn’t wipe her out this long.”

  “I don’t know. Things seem off right now.”

  The understatement of the year. “What about Kal?”

  “I’m here,” came a weak voice.

  Sasha whipped around to see Kal looking at them.

  “You gave us a scare. What happened?”

  “I couldn’t breathe.”

  “In the astrolab? Why not?”

  “I’m not sure. Oxygen levels.”

  “The oxygen levels dropped?” Sasha looked back at Gunn, who had found Kal. “Get Gwendy in here to help monitor these two,” Sasha said. “We need to talk.”

  Gunn nodded and called Gwendy through all-comm. While they waited, no one said anything. Inger groaned once and tried to turn on her side, which Gunn prevented. She strapped down her arms and legs, raised the back of the bed a few degrees, and got the hydration drip going.

  Gwendy entered, breathless.

  “Please help Chyron keep an eye on these two,” Sasha said briefly. “Inger should come around soon. Don’t do anything else, unless you have to. Leave everyone as they are.” She darted her eyes toward Sif as well as the other two. Sif sat quietly in her room, cross-legged on a chair, watching the show.

  Gwendy nodded, eyebrows level, as if this were a normal everyday request. Sasha saw she and Chyron lock eyes, communicating the way they could with each other, without words. Sasha immediately felt better. The force of the two of them would keep any other force out.

  Sasha jerked her head at Gunn to follow her. Once they were outside the infirmary, Sasha pointed Gunn ahead of her. “Tube,” she said.

  They walked there in the same stiff silence, Sasha trailing Gunn.

  In the Tube, Gunn sat in one of the two chairs next to a small table, a conversational grouping of furniture meant for an intimate, more casual talk. Sasha sat too, conceding this choice if it would help Gunn spill.

  They sat for a while. Sasha waited.

  “It’s not what you think,” Gunn said.

  “You don’t know what I think.”

  Gunn considered. “That’s true.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t do anything to Kal.”

  Sasha lifted her eyebrows.

  “I knew the levels were low. I know a little bit. I don’t know the whole picture.”

  Sasha nodded.

  Gunn had one arm on each arm of her chair, as if she were bound there. Her fingers dug into the fabric. “It starts a while back.”

  “Just tell it,” Sasha said.

  “Right.” Gunn hesitated, then began speaking in a quiet voice.

  “Sif and I come from a small world. It’s a small island, relatively speaking. Very homogenous, for most of our history. Genetically, we’ve always been very similar. Interconnected. We understand each other and where we come from in a different way, I think, from other people I’ve met. Maybe that’s why they chose two of us for this venture, I don’t know. Or maybe it’s a personal test. A trial sent me by whoever decides these things.

  “Sif was well-known in our country. Her job, the way she looks, made her known. A little different. Because of how she looks, some people who hew to the older ways liked to say she even had a different blood in her.” Gunn darted a glance at Sasha. “It was told as a joke, but really, it’s not a joke to everyone. They said she might be part fey, a throwback. That gave her something extra in some people’s eyes. Maybe she is connected to something deeper. Maybe she knows something we don’t anymore. People listened to her, as if she were an oracle rather than an ethicist.”

  Sasha didn’t interrupt. For someone as quiet as Gunn to tell a story, she knew the best way to hear it was to listen, not to question. Gunn would tell it as it should be told. Sasha felt sure of that at least.

  “I was known too. An Olympian. A strongwoman. Also a throwback, maybe. Not listened to quite the same. But respected anyway.

  “We got to know each other when we were on a panel representing our country, at a conference for s
ustainable tourism such as Iceland is known for. She cultivated me, as she does people she needs for something or other. Or to keep as a pet. I think she liked the differences between us, yet underneath we were the same. I even did a stupid trick where I lifted her over my head. We’d finish a serious conference with this move. It seems ridiculous now.

  “There was another mission Sif was a part of, a few years after this time when we knew each other. I don’t think anyone here knows about it. I don’t think you know about it. She did another jump with one of the early portal shots. The third or fourth, one of those. Not to here. To Endymion.” Gunn stopped speaking.

  Sasha held her silence for a while, until she saw Gunn was struggling with some emotion and couldn’t continue for the moment.

  “You mean the Carys,” Sasha said, naming a ship notorious for its mission gone wrong.

  “Yes. She was on the Carys. Last voyage, you know.”

  “She escaped.”

  Gunn grunted her assent. “She was one of the ones who made it out.”

  Sasha felt a shiver snake down her spine, taking its time, splaying out to her arms, her fingers. Her hands felt numb.

  The Carys and Endymion were one of the best reasons not to do what she and Gunn were doing, leaving their own solar system behind. The portal to Endymion had failed somehow. Scientists still didn’t agree on why. Or why the Carys had ejected less than half her crew in a pod while in the portal, sending them back to their own system, leaving the rest in the doomed ship. Doomed because after the pod got out, the portal had closed. The Carys could not get back home. Whether she had been destroyed in the portal or had gone on to Endymion was unknown. All that was known for sure was that she couldn’t get back.

  Unlike their own trip, it had not been a settling mission, merely an exploratory one. What had happened to the rest of the crew was only hypothesized. None of the assumptions about their fate were good.

  “How did we not know this?” Sasha said.

  “I don’t know. You know they kept the crew protected. In quarantine for a long time. Then the debriefs. Afterward, they did what they could to let them re-assimilate quietly. I think the focus was always on the ones who didn’t come back.”

  “Yes,” Sasha said. “I remember.”