by Sarah Zettel
“How could I?” Cabal raised his eyebrows. “I'm an info-runner. It's what I do. I get information to people who don't have it. The work here was steady and pretty safe for a Human, ’til they all started shooting at each other and left me sitting in the damn middle of it.” He snorted. “It's kind of funny, you know, all of us had our best-laid plans, and they've ad been shot to hell by the pogos’ pathetic temper tantrums.”
Throughout their exchange, Arron just stayed where he was, frozen, except for his chest, which heaved like a bellows.
“Why are you telling me now?” Arron asked softly.
“Because now it doesn't make any difference. The pogos are going to kill each other, and we're going to go home.” Cabal stood up. “They even invited you to go along, didn't they, Arron?” Cabal cocked his head. “A friendly Human would be very useful when they actually got the ship, as a helping hand, or a hostage.
“You've been used, Arron.” Cabal picked up his helmet and gloves. “And you've been disappointed, Lynn, and I'll bet neither of you wants me around anymore. I'm going for a walk on deck.”
Lynn watched Arron as he watched Cabal fasten his helmet on and shove his hands into his gloves. She knew what he was thinking. He wanted Cabal to be wrong, to be lying. But after everything that had happened, he couldn't quite make himself believe it.
She felt the same way. She sat down, still shaking. She was too tired, too sore, to deal with any of this. Her head had begun to ache with a dull insistent throb.
While they watched, Cabal worked the filter door and walked out. Arron crumpled into the chair and bowed his head until it rested in his hands.
The sight shook Lynn out of her own fears. She touched his shoulder. “I'm sorry.”
He looked up at her and she saw his face looking fierce and lost at the same time. “It wasn't true,” he said. “None of it was true.”
“No,” said Lynn, without asking what he meant. “But it'll be all right.” As she spoke, conviction solidified inside Lynn's soul. “We're going back to Base, and I'm going to put an end to this mess.”
Chapter XVII
Lareet and Umat stood in the threshold of the open laboratory door. “Irat Queth, Irat Shnun, the light of day looks well on you.”
The irat stood at the far end of one of the Humans’ tiny labs. They bent over a comm station until their noses almost touched the screen. Neither of them wore clean-suits. The first order of business had been to sterilize the Human sections. With the help of the maintenance jobbers they had done a good job. The irat had only had to treat a dozen cases of Human poisoning.
After a moment, Irat Queth's ear swiveled around to locate the greeting. She touched her sister's shoulder as if to say “I'll take care of this,” and straightened up.
“As it does on you, Dayisen Lareet and Dayisen Umat,” she said, a little briskly. Obviously the interruption was not welcome.
Umat's ears quivered with suppressed humor. “We wished to hear what progress you and your sisters are making,” she said smoothly. “Have the Humans left us anything useful?”
“The Humans have done some excellent work, which should surprise no one.” Irat Queth walked toward them to draw the conversation away from her sister, who had remained intent on her screen. “The Humans have been studying the vectors of the diseases that make up the plague: How the microbes are transmitted, how they are incubated, what hosts carry them to their homes inside Getesaph bodies.” Irat Queth blinked constantly, flicking her first lid down and back up again in a nervous tic. “As near as we can make out, because they are not sterilizing the ecosphere, our world, they are not looking at wiping out the microbes. They plan instead to limit the microbes’ ability to transmit themselves. They want to make it difficult for the WKV, the plague strains, to travel, while letting the normal strains fill their niches.” Blink, flick, blink. “Their proposed methods, of course, are not something we could apply ourselves, even if we could fully understand them, but their vector research is definitely something we can adapt and expand on.”
Umat dipped her ears gravely. “Have they given us anything on cures or vaccines?”
Flick, blink. “Quite a bit. Again, they have been basing it heavily on the life cycle of the viruses as they behave in the environment and incubate in the body.” Her ears waved and her eyes blinked excitedly. “What are their weak points? What are the, to use a military phrase, choke points in the viruses’ development?” Her voice filled with a reverent awe. “Their research methods will be even more use to us than the current results.”
“Excellent,” said Umat. “Concentrate on retrieving the vital information. We don't know—”
A pair of runners trotted through the open door.
“Excuse me, Dayisen Rual, you are needed in the command center.”
The skin on Lareet's back bunched up. “We are on our way.”
The command center looked more like a repair shop than a ship's bridge. Consoles had been laid open. Wires and components lay on clean, white sheets. Technicians stood around, talking in anxious whispers like doctors over patients. The encryption team sat around the central table, poring over fat scrolls of paper covered in symbols that Lareet couldn't begin to decipher. The Trindt Brirdth, Wron, Pfath, and Nant, leaned over the shoulders of the encryption team, pointed at various lines of code, and spoke to one another in terms almost as convoluted as the symbols on the paper. As Lareet and Umat entered, Trindt Wron straightened up and came over to greet them.
“We have bad news, Dayisen,” she said flatly.
“Then let's have it out.” Umat folded her hands across her pouch. Lareet saw her ears quiver faintly with the effort of holding them straight and still.
Trindt Wron glanced briefly back at her sisters before speaking. “We miscalculated the nature of the ship,” she said. “Even once we have restored the command functions, there is no way to hold the ship on the course we require by precoding the onboard computers. We might have been able to do it if the artificial intelligence had remained undamaged, but as it is, there will have to be a command crew aboard to handle the changes in trajectory and thrust that will be required.”
Umat smoothed a thoughtful hand across Lareet's shoulder. “Well, then, a crew will be found. You and your sisters continue your work.”
“Yes, Dayisen.” She dipped her ears.
“Come sister, let us leave them to it.” Umat linked her arm through Lareet's and steered her to the steel tunnel that led to the city.
Lareet's skin shivered all across her body as she climbed “down” the ladder after her sister. When she could stand up again, there was green grass under her shoes and green smells in the air from the trees and plants. It was evening, and the dome was just beginning to clear to let in the night. She could even hear the river lapping in the distance, under the sound of voices from the command center drifting through the tunnel.
She faced her sister. “Umat, I do not like what I feel from you.”
“I didn't think you would.” Umat took her hand. “But you have to agree, our choices are limited.”
Still holding Lareet's hand, Umat led her down to the riverbank. She knows how much I enjoy this place, Lareet thought, but nothing in her relaxed at the sound and scent of running water.
“If the ship will not fly itself,” Umat said, looking across the river, “I must be here to fly it. I will not condemn our duty-sisters to do it for us.”
Lareet stood there for a moment, breathing in the fresh water and green scents. “And where will I be?”
“In a shuttle with most of our sisters, waiting until the worst is over and returning home,” Umat spoke almost dismissively.
Sister, Sister, I know you are trying to spare me, but for once, just once, will you try to feel what I am feeling? “You promised to be with me when my daughters are born.” She laid a hand on her belly.
Umat's face went instantly tight. “Lareet, that is unworthy of you.”
“I know.” Her ears drooped. “I am so
rry.”
Umat took hold of Lareet's shoulders. “I am worried about you, Sister. You are losing track of what we are here to do. It is for ad our sisters and all our daughters that we are here, not just our blood family.”
“I am worried about me, too, Sister.” She laid her hands over her sister's. Her eyes and ears focused on the river. “I am worried about how I look around this city that is as beautiful as a vision and think, ‘What would be so bad about letting the Humans’ plan go forward?’ I am worried about how I think about the t'Therians over in their city-ship and wonder if Scholar Arron was right in some ways. That perhaps if we can talk and reason, they might be able to as well?” She shook her head until she felt her ears flop. “Maybe we should just get this over with quickly, before I lose all mind and will for this task.”
Umat shook her gently. “We are moving as quickly as we can, Sister. Continue to do your part, and we will be there that much sooner.”
Lareet sighed and looked up at the dome. It was a translucent purple, and the brightest stars shone through. It was nothing less than beautiful.
A shadow crossed the dome. Lareet's ears twitched and she looked harder.
“Sister?” asked Umat.
Lareet pointed. It was a small, complex shadow. It scuttled on the dome, heading toward the farside.
Umat's ears fell back. “What is that?”
A second shadow fell onto the dome and hurried in the opposite direction of the first.
“I think it's from Commander Keale.” Lareet raced for the tunnel.
Back in the command center, the duty-sisters scrambled around madly, trying not to disturb the terminal parts on their white sheets.
“What is it?” barked Umat.
“Machines, Dayisen Umat,” said one of the Trindt Imn. “Most of the cameras still aren't working, so we have no count of how many, but you can see here …” She gestured to one of the table screens. Lareet bent over it with her sister.
A silver box with crab-claws and insect legs landed on the hull near the shuttle run. It began to pick a dainty path between the ship's pipes and other protrusions. A sister landed next to it and fell into step right behind.
“Where are they coming from?” Lareet felt her ears quiver.
“We don't know.” The Trindt Imn threw up her hands. “The cameras—”
“I know, I know.” Lareet waved her to silence. She flicked an ear toward Umat, who already had the speaker box in her hands. She flicked the switches to override all ongoing communications.
“This is the Dayisen Rual Umat to all sisters. Strange machines are landing on our hull. If anyone sees them where you are, report immediately.”
The speaker box crackled. “This is Trindt Prusht Kvet. There are strange jobbers in the hangar bay, and they're opening the hangar doors.”
“You, you, you, you.” Lareet pointed at whoever did not look like they had been coding. “With me.”
They trotted in a quick-time march down to the hangar's overlook. Trindt Kvet was there with four soldiers. The hangar doors had come open just far enough for the insectlike jobbers to scurry inside. They scampered between the waiting shuttles. One of them all but tripped over one of the ship's maintenance jobbers that had its arms in an open panel. The new jobber extended a limb to the busy machine and touched it. They stood motionless for a moment. Then, the newcomer pulled its limb back and hurried on. The old jobber swung into motion, its diligent hands now ripping the wires out of their sockets and letting them dangle free.
“Mother Night,” breathed Lareet. She scanned the keyboard in front of her and found the intercom button. “Jobber!” she called down into the hangar bay. “Stop!”
The jobber continued its methodical destruction. She tried again in English, in French, and in Cantonese. The machine did not even flinch.
“Speaker!” One of the duty-sisters handed her the boxy unit. “Somebody get those doors shut and stop that thing!” Two sisters vanished down the corridor.
Lareet flipped the switches for the bridge. “Dayisen Umat,” she said into the speaker. “The new jobbers are corrupting the old ones into reversing their purpose from maintenance to destruction. We need to get the squads out into the ship. Any jobber that does not respond to orders must be destroyed.”
“Understood, Dayisen Lareet. Take whoever you have with you and start a patrol of your quarter. We'll coordinate from here.”
“Understood, Dayisen Umat.” Lareet shut the power down and looked at the cluster of soldiers around her. “We have a new enemy, Sisters.”
It was the strangest battle Lareet ever fought. She patrolled the corridors with her soldiers, alert to every sound. Whenever they found a jobber, they shouted at it harshly. If it didn't answer, they fed on it, breaking it to bits.
The little enemies were fast, though, and got into everything, including the water recyclers, the air vents, and the main foodstore. But finally, after ten hours, Umat sent a runner from the command center. The ship appeared to be clear of the strangers.
Lareet congratulated her sisters. They embraced and laughed and started composing rude poetry about the metal monsters as they trooped back to their city.
But Lareet couldn't help turning an ear back in the direction they'd come from. That was a good move, Commander Keale. Make us destroy our own best allies. How many maintenance machines do we have left after this? A very good move.
What will you do next?
Lynn climbed down the shuttle's ladder into the echoing white hangar deck of Dedelphi Base 1. Cabal and Arron followed close behind her.
“Lynn!”
Lynn turned. The next thing she knew, she was enveloped by David's arms. Unable to speak, she held on to him, drinking in his warmth and his presence.
Oh, God, you're here, you're all right! She knew the same thoughts rang through his mind.
At last, David pulled away. “What happened?” His careful fingers touched her bandaged face.
Lynn rested her forehead against his shoulder. “A lot,” she confessed. “I'm going to need a new cheek, and a new camera.”
He wrapped his arms around her again. “We'll take care of you.”
It took a moment, but the intensity of seeing each other began to fade. Lynn remembered they were in public and realized that even by their lax standards this was a massive display, and noticed that the entire shuttle crew was flowing around them. The same thoughts must have reached David, because he did not resist as she pulled back to a more polite distance. It was then Lynn saw Trace and R.J. standing nearby. Not even perpetually polite Trace pretended to ignore the scene.
“Welcome back,” said R.J. blandly. “We've missed you. You would not believe the admin backup we've got.”
“I'm sure,” replied Lynn, matching his dry tone. Tired as she was, hurt as she was, she could not miss the tension singing between the two of them. They were both standing stiffly, as if every fiber in them had been tightened to the breaking point. “What's going on?”
“In a half hour, the seniors and veeps are having a meeting,” Trace said. “There's going to be a vote on a pullout. Everyone's gone out of their minds.” The set of Trace's jaw showed how little she thought of that. “They want you there. C16.”
“Good,” said Lynn, meaning it. “I want to be there.”
“Lynn,” David said softly. “Don't make me say ‘You are not going anywhere until I've looked at you.’ ”
She shook her head, briefly, because the motion made things hurt worse. “Never. But I need to be at that meeting.”
“Then we'll get you there.” David took Lynn's left arm and walked her down the familiar summer-lit corridors, with their gardens and statues, until they reached the white, sterile infirmary. The med-techs on duty took one look at her and started forward, but David waved them back.
Lynn hopped up on the table. David extended a privacy screen and whistled for the instrument jobber. With careful fingers he peeled away layers of bandage and flaking tempskin. His face dropped i
mmediately into professional mode. “Talk to me, Lynn. Tell me what happened.” His voice shook gently, although his hands remained perfectly steady.
She told him. He layered her wounds with anesthetics, antifungals, and vat grown T cells. He covered it all over with patches to keep her skin from growing until they could take care of the muscle damage. The only time they both faltered was when he had to clean and clear her eye socket He laid another patch over the empty hollow. Finally, he strapped support braces around her knee and ankle.
Just call me Dr. Ragdoll.
When he was finished, he pulled a clean cotton kaftan out of one of the jobbers.
She slipped it over her shoulders. “I'm sorry, David, I have to go. We'll talk after the meeting.”
“I almost killed them all.”
Lynn said nothing. David turned around. His bands shook visibly.
They had you. I didn't know if you were dead or alive. They were taking over the ship. I could have let loose the plague samples we had. I was going to. I wanted to.”
“David.” He leaned close, and she wrapped her arms around him. “It's going to be all right. There is a way out of this.”
He pulled back just a little. “Lynn, what are you going to do?”
“What you were going to do aboard the Ur, David. Just what I have to.” She kissed him gently, and, as fast as she was able, limped out of the infirmary.
Without her implant to help her remember her route, Lynn had to ask tine Base AI for directions three times before she found her way to conference room C16. As she paused in the threshold, the door opened to let her in.
The room was jammed. All the chairs around the conference table were filled with seniors and uppers, except for one next to Veep Brador that Lynn really hoped was for her. Veep Brador, unshaven and wide-eyed, sat at the table's head. Yet more people stood around the walls, balancing portables on their hands, or murmuring to their implants.
Everyone watched her as she threaded her way between people and chairs to the seat next to Brador.
“I am glad you could join us, Dr. Nussbaumer,” said Brador evenly.