"Poor Loretta," Kimberly continued as she and Eponine dried each other's backs in the lavatory that adjoined the shower. "She was brokenhearted. She offered me everything, including her client list. Eventually she became a nuisance, so I undercut her and had the Magician force her out of Denver."
Kimberly saw a fleeting look of disapproval on Eponine's face. "Jesus," she said, "there you go again, turning moral on me. You're the softest goddamn murderer I have ever met. Sometimes you remind me of all the goody two-shoes in my high school graduating class."
As they were about to leave the shower area, a tiny black girl with her hair in braids came up behind them. "You Kimberly Henderson?" she said.
"Yes." Kimberly nodded, turning around. "But why—"
"Is your man the king Jap Nakamura?" the girl interrupted.
Kimberly did not reply.
"If so, I need your help," the black girl continued.
"What do you want?" Kimberly asked in a noncommittal tone.
The girl suddenly broke into tears. "My man Reuben didn't mean nothing. He was drunk on that shit the guards sell. He didn't know he was talking to the king Jap."
Kimberly waited for the girl to dry her tears. "What have you got?" she whispered.
"Three knives and two joints of dynamite kokomo," the black girl replied in the same soft whisper.
"Bring them to me," Kimberly said with a smile. "And I'll arrange a time for your Reuben to apologize to Mr. Nakamura."
"You don't like Kimberly, do you?" Eponine said to Walter Brackeen. He was a huge American Negro with soft eyes and absolutely magical fingers on a keyboard. He was playing a light jazz medley and staring at his beautiful lady while his three roommates were out, by agreement, in the common areas.
"No, I don't," Walter replied slowly. "She's not like us. She can be very funny, but underneath I think she's truly bad."
"What do you mean?"
Walter changed to a soft ballad, with an easier melody, and played for almost a full minute before speaking. "I guess in the eyes of the law we're all equal, all murderers. But not in my eyes. I squashed the life out of a man who sodomized my baby brother. You killed a crazy bastard who was ruining your life." Walter paused for a moment and rolled his eyes. "But that friend of yours Kimberly, she and her boyfriend offed three people they didn't even know just for drugs and money."
"She was stoned at the time."
"No matter," Walter said. "Each of us is always responsible for his behavior. If I put shit in me that makes me awful, that's my mistake. But I can't cop out of the responsibility for my actions."
"She had a perfect record in the detention center. Every one of the doctors who worked with her said she was an excellent nurse."
Walter stopped playing his keyboard and stared at Eponine for several seconds. "Let's not talk about Kimberly anymore," he said. "We have little enough time together… Have you thought about my proposition?"
Eponine sighed. "Yes, I have, Walter. And although I like you, and enjoy making love with you, the arrangement you suggested sounds too much like a commitment… Besides, I think this is mostly for your ego. Unless I miss my guess, you prefer Malcolm—"
"Malcolm has nothing to do with us," Walter interrupted. "He's been my close friend for years, since the very first days I entered the Georgia detention compound. We play music together. We share sex when we're both lonely. We're soul mates—"
"I know, I know… Malcolm's not really the central issue. It's more the principle of the thing that bothers me. I do like you, Walter, you know that. But…" Her voice trailed off as Eponine struggled with her mixed feelings.
"We're three weeks away from Earth," Walter said, "and we have six more weeks before we reach Mars. I am the largest man on the Santa Maria. If I say that you're my girl, nobody will bother you for those six weeks."
Eponine recalled an unpleasant scene just that morning where two German inmates had discussed how easy it would be to commit rape in the convict quarters. They had known that she was within earshot but had made no effort to lower their voices.
At length she put herself in Walter's huge arms. "All right," she said softly. "But don't expect too much… I'm sort of a difficult woman."
"I think Walter may have a heart problem," Eponine said in a whisper. It was the middle of the night and their other two roommates were asleep. Kimberly, in the bunk below Eponine, was still stoned on the kokomo she had smoked two hours earlier. Sleep would be impossible for her for several more hours.
"The rules on this ship are fucking stupid," Kimberly said. "Christ, even in the Pueblo Detention Complex there were fewer regulations. Why the hell can't we stay in the common areas after midnight? What harm are we doing?"
"He has occasional chest pains and, if we have vigorous sex, he often complains afterward of shortness of breath… Do you think you could take a look at him?"
"And how about that Marcello? Huh! What a stupid ass! He tells me I can stay up all night if I want to come to his room. While I'm sitting there with Toshio. What does he think he's doing? I mean, not even the guards can mess with the king Jap… What did you say, Eponine?"
Eponine raised herself on an elbow and leaned over the side of the bed. "Walter Brackeen, Kim," she said. "I'm talking about Walter Brackeen. Can you slow yourself down enough to pay attention to what I'm saying?"
"All right. All right. What about your Walter? What does he want? Everybody wants something from the king Jap. I guess that makes me the queen, at least in a way—"
"I think Walter has a bad heart," the exasperated Eponine repeated in a loud voice. "I would like for you to look at him."
"Shh," Kimberly replied. "They'll come bust us, like they did that crazy Swedish girl… Shit, Ep, I'm no doctor. I can tell when a heartbeat is irregular, but that's all. You ought to take Walter to that con doctor who's really a cardiologist, what's his name, the super quiet one who stays to himself when he's not examining somebody—"
"Dr. Robert Turner," Eponine interrupted.
"That's the one … very professional, aloof, distant, never speaks except in doctorese, hard to believe he blew the heads off two men in a courtroom with a shotgun, it just doesn't figure—"
"How do you know that" Eponine said.
"Marcello told me. I was curious, we were laughing, he was teasing me, saying things like 'Does that Jap make you moan?' and 'How about that quiet heart doctor, can he make you moan?'"
"Christ, Kim," Eponine said, now alarmed, "have you been going to bed with Marcello too?"
Her roommate laughed. "Only twice. He talks better than he fucks. And what an ego. At least the king Jap is appreciative."
"Does Nakamura know?"
"Do you think I'm crazy?" Kimberly replied. "I don't want to die. But he may be suspicious… I won't do it again, but if that Dr. Turner were to so much as whisper in my ear I would cream all over myself…"
Kimberly continued her rambling chatter. Eponine thought briefly about Dr. Robert Turner. He had examined Eponine soon after launch when she had been having some peculiar spotting. He never even noticed my body, she remembered. It was a thoroughly professional examination.
Eponine tuned Kimberly out of her mind and focused on an image of the handsome doctor. She was surprised to discover that she was feeling a spark of romantic interest. There was something definitely mysterious about the doctor, for there was nothing in his manner or personality that was the least bit consistent with a double murder. There must be an interesting story, she thought.
Eponine was dreaming. It was the same nightmare that she had had a hundred times since the murder. Professor Moreau was lying with his eyes closed on the floor of his studio, blood streaming out of his chest. Eponine walked over to the basin, cleaned the large carving knife, and placed it back on the counter. As she stepped over the body those hated eyes opened. She saw the wild insanity in his eyes. He reached out for her with his arms—
"Nurse Henderson. Nurse Henderson." The knocking on the door was louder. Epo
nine awakened from her dream and rubbed her eyes. Kimberly and another of their roommates reached the door almost simultaneously.
Walter's friend Malcolm Peabody, a diminutive, effete white man in his early forties, was standing at the door. He was frantic. "Dr. Turner sent me for a nurse. Come quickly. Walter's had a heart attack."
As Kimberly began to dress, Eponine glided down from her bunk. "How is he, Malcolm?" she asked, pulling on her robe. "Is he dead?"
Malcolm was momentarily confused. "Oh, hi, Eponine," he said meekly. "I had forgotten that you and Nurse Henderson… When I left he was still breathing, but—"
Being careful to keep one foot on the floor at all times, Eponine hurried out the door, down the corridor, into the central common area, and then into the men's living quarters. Alarms sounded as the main monitors followed her progress. When she reached the entrance to Walter's wing, Eponine paused for a moment to catch her breath.
A crowd of people was standing in the corridor outside of Walter's room. His door was open wide and the bottom third of his body was lying outside, in the hallway. Eponine pushed her way through the crowd and into the room.
Dr. Robert Turner was kneeling beside his patient, holding electronic prods against Walter's naked chest. The big man's body recoiled with each jolt, and then rose slightly off the floor before the doctor pushed it down again against the surface.
Dr. Turner glanced up when Eponine arrived. "Are you the nurse?" he asked brusquely.
For a fleeting moment Eponine was speechless. And embarrassed. Here her friend was dying or dead and all she could think about was Dr. Turner's practically perfect blue eyes. "No," she said at length, definitely flustered.
"I'm the girlfriend… Nurse Henderson is my roommate… She should be here any minute."
Kimberly and two ISA guard escorts arrived at that moment. "His heart stopped completely forty-five seconds ago," Dr. Turner said to Kimberly. "It's too late to move him to the infirmary. I'm going to open him up and try to use the Komori stimulator. Did you bring your gloves?"
While Kimberly pulled on her gloves, Dr. Turner ordered the crowd away from his patient. Eponine didn't move. When the guards grabbed her by the arms, the doctor mumbled something and the guards released her.
Dr. Turner handed Kimberly his set of surgical tools and then, working with both incredible speed and skill, cut a deep incision into Walter's chest. He laid back the folds of the skin, exposing the heart and rib cage. "Have you been through this procedure before, Nurse Henderson?" he asked.
"No," Kimberly replied.
"The Komori stimulator is an electrochemical device that attaches to the heart, forcing it to beat and continue to pump blood. If the pathology is temporary, like a blood clot or a spastic valve, then sometimes the problem can be fixed and the patient's heart will start functioning again."
Dr. Turner inserted the stamp-sized Komori stimulator behind the left ventricle of the heart and applied the power from the portable control system on the floor beside him. Walter's heart began to beat slowly three or four seconds later. "We have about eight minutes now to find the problem," the doctor said to himself.
He finished his analysis of the organ's primary subsystems in less than a minute. "No clots," he mumbled, "and no bad vessels or valves… So why did it stop beating?"
Dr. Turner gingerly lifted up the throbbing heart and inspected the muscles underneath. The muscular tissue around the right auricle was discolored and soft. He touched it very lightly with the end of one of his pointed instruments and portions of the tissue flaked off.
"My God," the doctor said, "what in the world is this?" While Dr. Turner was holding the heart up, Walter Brackeen's heart contracted again and one of the long fiber structures in the middle of the discolored muscular tissue started to unravel. "What the—" Turner blinked twice and put his right hand on his cheek.
"Look at this, Nurse Henderson," he said quietly. "It's absolutely amazing. The muscles here have atrophied completely. I've never seen anything like it. We cannot help this man."
Eponine's eyes filled with tears as Dr. Turner withdrew the Komori stimulator and Walter's heart stopped beating again. Kimberly started to remove the clamps holding back the skin and tissue around the heart, but the doctor stopped her. "Not yet," he said. "Let's take him over to the infirmary so I can perform a full autopsy. I want to learn whatever I can."
The guards and two of Walter's roommates eased the large man onto a gurney and the body was removed from the living quarters. Malcolm Peabody sobbed quietly on Walter's bunk. Eponine walked over to him. They shared a silent hug and then sat together, holding hands, for most of the rest of the night.
9
You'll be in charge here while I'm inside," Commander Macmillan said to his deputy, a handsome young Russian engineer named Dmitri Ulanov. "Under all circumstances, your primary responsibility is the safety of the passengers and crew. If you hear or see anything threatening or even suspicious, blow the pyros and move the Pinta away from Rama."
It was the morning of the first reconnaissance mission from the Pinta into the interior of Rama. The spacecraft from Earth had docked the previous day on one of the circular ends of the huge cylindrical spacecraft. The Pinta had been parked right beside the external seal, in the same general location as the earlier Raman expeditions in 2130 and 2200.
As part of the preparations for the initial sortie, Kenji Watanabe had briefed the scouting party the night before on the geography of the first two Ramas. When he had finished with his comments, he had been approached by his friend Max Puckett.
"Do you think our Rama will look like all those pictures you showed us?" Max had asked.
"Not exactly," Kenji had replied. "I expect some changes. Remember that the video said that an Earth habitat had been constructed somewhere inside Rama. Nevertheless, since the exterior of this spacecraft is identical to the other two, I don't think everything inside will be changed."
Max had looked perplexed. "This is all way beyond me," he had said, shaking his head. "By the way," he had added a few seconds later, "you're sure you're not responsible for me being in the scouting party?"
"As I told you this afternoon," Kenji replied, "none of us onboard the Pinta had anything to do with the scouting selections. All sixteen members were chosen by the ISA and IIA back on Earth."
"But why have I been equipped with this goddamn arsenal? I have a state-of-the-art laser machine gun, self-guiding grenades, even a set of mass-sensitive mines. I have more firepower now than I had during the peacekeeping invasion of Belize."
Kenji had smiled. "Commander Macmillan, as well as many members of the military staff at COG Headquarters, still believes this whole affair is a trap of some kind. Your designator in this scouting operation is 'soldier.' My personal belief is that none of your weapons will be necessary."
Max was still grumbling the next morning when Macmillan left Dmitri Ulanov in charge of the Pinta and personally led the scouting party into Rama. Although he was weightless, the military equipment that Max was carrying on the outside of his space suit was unwieldy and severely restricted his freedom of movement. "This is ridiculous," he mumbled to himself. "I'm a farmer, not a goddamn commando."
The initial surprise came only minutes after the scouts from the Pinta had moved inside the external seal. Following a short walk down a broad corridor, the group came to a circular room from which three tunnels led deeper into the interior of the alien spaceship, Two of the tunnels were blocked with multiple metal gates. Commander Macmillan called Kenji in for consultation.
"This is a completely different design," Kenji said in response to the commander's questions. "We may as well throw out our maps."
"Then I presume we should proceed down the unblocked tunnel?" Macmillan asked.
"That's your call," Kenji replied, "but I don't see any other option, except to return to the Pinta."
The sixteen men trudged slowly down the open tunnel in their space suits. Every few minutes they would launch
flares into the darkness ahead of them so that they could see where they were going. When they were about five hundred meters into Rama, two small figures suddenly appeared at the other end of the tunnel. Each of the four soldiers plus Commander Macmillan quickly pulled out his binoculars.
"They're coming toward us," said one of the soldier scouts excitedly.
"Well, I'll be damned," said Max Puckett, a shiver going down his spine, "it's Abraham Lincoln!"
"And a woman," said another, "in some kind of uniform."
"Prepare to fire," ordered Ian Macmillan.
The four soldier scouts scurried to the head of the party and knelt down, their guns pointed down the runnel. "Halt," shouted Macmillan as the two strange figures drew within two hundred meters of the scouting party.
Abraham Lincoln and Benita Garcia stopped. "State your purpose," they heard the commander shout.
"We are here to welcome you," Abraham Lincoln said in a loud, deep voice.
"And to take you to New Eden," Benita Garcia added.
Commander Macmillan was thoroughly confused. He did not know what to do next. While he hesitated, the others in the scouting party talked among themselves.
"It's Abraham Lincoln, come back as a ghost," the American Terry Snyder said.
"The other one is Benita Garcia—I saw her statue in Mexico City once."
"Let's get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps," another scout said.
"What would ghosts be doing in orbit around Mars?"
"Excuse me, Commander," 'Kenji said at length to the befuddled Macmillan. "What do you intend to do now?"
The Scotsman turned to face his Japanese Rama expert. "It's difficult to decide on exactly the proper action pattern, of course," he said. "I mean, those two certainly look harmless enough, but remember the Trojan horse. Hah! Well, Watanabe, what do you suggest?"
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