by Kate Blair
But then Aldrin throws the wrench, hard. Vega looks back up.
“No!” I shout. Too late.
The wrench hits her in the face, making a dull, awful thump. Vega screams. Blood sprays from her nose, her mouth. She lets go. Topples back from the ladder, arms out to either side of her.
She falls down the shaft. Slowly at first. She slides down, fumbling for a grip on the smooth metal, grasping for the rungs of the ladder, but they’re too far to her left. She’s twisting, struggling, her face a mess. Slowly speeding up, falling faster down the bare wall of the shaft, toward me.
I hook an arm through the ladder, twist it around a rung so I can’t slip. I reach my other hand out. She sees me. One eye bloody and shut, nose broken, lip bleeding. She stretches out a hand, and I strain with mine. I grab her arm as she passes and catch her falling weight. It jolts me downward hard. I keep my other arm hooked between the rungs and the wall, taking my weight and hers.
It’s too much.
I scream, pain blinding me for a second. Something in my shoulder snaps.
When I open my eyes, I realize I’ve let go of Vega.
Her body slams into the wall again. She yells my name. She tries to grab the ladder, but she’s too far, and the rotation pushes her away. She keeps scrabbling, clawing for a finger hold on the rivets of the sheer wall.
I’m still hooked onto the ladder, jammed in place above the drop that’s claiming Vega. I’m breathless with pain, craning my neck to stare at the sheer drop below me.
Vega keeps falling, accelerating, eyes wide, arms flailing.
She smacks into the roof of the elevator with a decisive thud. It takes my breath. Her body splays on the dark square of the elevator cabin, unmoving. Eyes stare blankly up at me.
I swing my good arm back to the ladder and hold on tight. I lower my head onto a cold metal rung and sob.
It’s a little while before the pain and shock fade enough for me to wrench my arm out from the wall. I scream as it comes free, and almost slip. But I clutch tightly with my good hand. It’s lucky I’m so high up. I doubt I could do this climb at full gravity. I lean my weight forward onto the ladder and use one hand as much as possible, sliding it up the side for stability as my feet push me up. I’m soon almost weightless, gliding up toward the engine room. Below me the protectors have reached the elevator. Have reached Vega’s body.
When I get to the open elevator doors, Aldrin grabs my good left arm and I float into the Venture’s heart. Alarms blare around us. The displays scroll red and orange text. Aldrin guides me over to the control chair and sits me down. The movement jolts through my shoulder, and I close my eyes, hiss with the pain.
“Are you okay?”
I can’t answer that right now. I pull out my linkcom and ping Mom.
“How’s Sabik?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“He’s fine. Just waking up now,” Mom says. I can hear the rustle of her clothing as she moves. I can almost see her, linkcom pressed between her shoulder and her ear, as she keeps working on her patients.
“Leda? Sirius?” I speak through gritted teeth. “And the bomb?’
“No deaths reported. The protectors are will be fine, and Yuri is recovering too, although he has a bad concussion. But lots of minor injuries are coming in, including Celeste.”
“Celeste?”
“Stomach pains,” Mom says. “I’m checking them out now.”
I swallow. “Okay. You go.” I break the connection. Breathe.
Minor injuries. I guess that means the blast didn’t kill anyone. Good. But what about Celeste? Is the baby okay?
I’ll go to her as soon as I can. But I’m no medic, and right now there’s work to do. My shoulder is bad, but it’s bearable if I clench my teeth and I don’t move it. Aldrin floats next to me, and I scan over the info feeds, the flashing lights, the warning messages. I put the information from the feeds together in my mind, build a map of the Venture, and see where the damage reports are centered. It’s good to have a distraction from my shoulder.
Ecocarriage 3. Of course. Yuri knew the ecocarriages best. I should have checked more than just the vents. The bomb could have been anywhere among the purple plants.
There were no people in the carriage at the time of the blast, luckily. But as I read the feeds, I spot a much bigger problem. The main generators are next to ecocarriage 3, and the blast was a big one.
“The bomb went off near the air circulators at the rotation-wise end of Ecocarriage 3,” I say to Aldrin. “It blew out the hull and damaged the main generators. Three of the four cells have gone into shutdown. Ecocarriage 3 and the generator carriage have decompressed.”
“Was anyone in them?” Aldrin has always been slower at reading the feeds, lacks the feel for them that I have.
“No, thank Beta. We’ve lost the crops, but the carriages have sealed and radioactive containment is one hundred percent. The air circulators have rerouted, so we’re okay for now. We’ll be limited on the power we can generate. We’re lucky we still have one functioning cell.”
Aldrin nods. “I’ll suit up, get down there, and coordinate the repair team. You stay here. Antares will want a full damage report and repair estimates.”
“I’ll restart the elevators, man the feeds, and send all available engineers to you.”
Aldrin heads for the nearest elevator as I activate the emergency protocols. I ping all the engineers and update them. Then I sit down to catalogue the faults on the info feed and figure out priority.
I try not to move my shoulder as I work through the data. Try not to think about letting go of Vega. Try not to think about her face when she realized I was alive. The relief, the smile.
Then her body on the elevator.
She lost her father and her husband. She feared for her brother’s life. I should never have made her choose between me and Orion. If we’d stayed friends, none of this would have happened.
But I can’t think about that right now.
I clench and release my fingers, noticing the blisters. My shoulder is bad, making it hard to think. I should get to the medcarriage soon. But there’s so much to do here. The damage is serious, across multiple systems. But it’s survivable. We were close. If Vega had gotten in here, one zap would have destroyed the air circu-lation bypass. The oxygen in the ecocarriages would have slowly increased to toxic, even explosive levels. The Venture would have set its failsafe in motion, broken apart, and fallen to Beta.
Jovan pings through to me. Checking I’m okay, praising my bravery. I smile. I’ll reply as soon as I’ve catalogued the faults and got them to the engineers on site.
Astra arrives about five minutes later. She kicks off the wall by the elevator, closing the distance between us in a rush. Before I can update her, she grabs me and hugs me. I try not to cry out at the agony in my shoulder. Then she lets go. She looks pale, older than usual.
“How’s Celeste?” I ask, trying not to let the pain show.
“I’m on my way to her now,” Astra says. “I thought it would be quicker coming through the center. How are you?”
“Not good,” I say. “Vega is dead because of me.”
“You saved the Venture, Ursa. Your father would be so proud.”
“I don’t know, Astra. The damage is bad.”
Astra takes a deep breath. “Tell me. I’ll report to your mother.”
I update her on the feeds and the reports coming in from Aldrin. The biggest problem is the cells in the generator. The damage might be minor, but they’ll need to cool and be made safe before they can be repaired. And we’ll need to fix the hull before we can get in there. It’ll take months to do all that, restart the cells, and get them back up to full output. One of the four cells is undamaged, but that’s not even close to enough energy output.
Astra looks grim. She knows as well as I do what that means.
Ionizing the shuttle fuel into plasma is the main drain on our power. We can’t keep up the flights to and from the surface and repair the ship at the same time. A decision will need to be made.
“I’ll tell your mother. She’ll need to call a ship’s meeting,” Astra says.
But that’s when the ping comes through from Mom.
Celeste’s in labor.
Mom’s the medic attending the birth. Astra rushes to join them. I call another engineer to take over so I can get my shoulder seen to in the medcarriage. I’ve done all I can, and Astra’s hug was the last straw. I have to get this sorted. And this way I’ll be near Celeste.
It turns out it’s a bad fracture. It’s good to have a proper fix with a collagen and calcium injection and a PainFree patch. I’m in the open ward, in a treatment chair, its padding stained and fraying. There’s the babble of many voices and the clang of medical instruments. Sabik, Leda, and Sirius are recovering in med beds opposite me. Medics bustle around them, moving with a reassuringly calm efficiency.
To my right, the carriage narrows into a corridor, on either side of which lie the isolation rooms, operating rooms, and birthing cabin. I wonder how Celeste is doing. Protector Adhara is standing in front of one of the other doors, so I know Yuri must be behind it.
A ping comes through to announce an all-crew meeting. It’s scheduled for the early evening to allow time for the shuttle to go down to the surface to bring people back up.
Once my shoulder is sorted, I check in on Sabik. He’s propped up in his bed, next to Leda and Sirius. He’s still groggy, but when I sit in the chair next to him, he takes my hand.
“How are you?” he asks.
I stifle a laugh. “You’re the one that got stunned.”
“I didn’t mean physically.” He looks at me, and there’s the old kindness in his eyes. “I heard about what happened to Vega. I know you weren’t friends anymore, but …”
I slump back in the seat. Glance over at Sirius and Leda. I don’t want to talk about this in front of them. “I didn’t want her to die,” I say, quietly.
“Of course you didn’t.”
I don’t tell him about catching her. About letting her go.
“Any news on Celeste?” he asks.
“Not yet. Her baby’s early. Only by twenty days, but that’s not good, is it?”
Sabik shrugs.
“They’re letting the birth go ahead though, so the baby must be healthy. Right?”
“I really don’t know, Ursa, I’m not a medic. But I hope so.” He squeezes my hand.
Of course, my mother is too busy to ask. There’s another ping from Jovan, thanking me again, wishing my sister well, and asking to see me. I must reply to him soon, once my head stops whirling and I can think straight.
“How’s the ship?” Sabik asks.
“Not good. The bomb damaged the generator and half an ecocarriage.”
He rubs his forehead. “There’s so much to digest today. I’m sorry I got Yuri so wrong. I thought he was one of the good guys. I think he did too.”
I exhale. “Everyone thinks they’re one of the good guys.”
“I heard you found a bomb in the vents. You think he planted it?”
I nod.
“So, he’ll face the Exit.”
The thought of more death makes my bile rise. “But he tried to stop Vega.”
Sabik shrugged. “Planting bombs on the Venture is still treason.”
I look at Protector Adhara standing in front of the medcabin door.
“I want to talk to him,” I say.
Sabik tilts his head. “Is that a good idea?”
“Probably not.” I find myself standing and walking toward the door.
As I approach, Protector Adhara turns and looks me up and down.
“Can I speak to Yuri?” I ask.
I try to read her expression, but I don’t know her well enough. Is she angry at me for my part in her colleague’s death? Her mouth is a line.
She shrugs. “I’m just here to stop him leaving. Don’t turn the lights up,” she says. “He has a concussion.” She opens the door, and I head inside.
It’s good that she warned me. The lights are dim, making the metal walls almost black, and my hand automatically moves for the illumination controls before I stop it. Yuri is lying down, a giant lump under the gray blankets. I pause in the doorway. It slides shut behind me, sealing us in together. I don’t move. There’s only a narrow gap between the bed and the wall.
I hear some shuffling and a grunt as Yuri turns over and props himself up in bed.
“You,” he says.
I can’t make out his eyes. Can hardly see his expression.
“I didn’t know your father was stealing food for you.” The words come out before I’ve thought them through.
There’s a pause. When he speaks, Yuri’s gruff voice sounds tired. “He was a medic. He knew the problems malnutrition could cause. He wanted to look after me.”
There’s silence for a moment. Then the rustle of bedclothes as Yuri puts a hand to his bandaged head. “I did see something in the woods. A creature. Something like a big wolf or a jaguar. I thought you were making it up.”
“Why would I make it up?”
He shuffles in the bed until he’s sitting properly now, his bulk too large for the tiny cabin. I can see why he’d feel cooped up on the Venture. “When we first arrived. It was clear in everyone’s faces.”
“What was?”
“Wonder. Or fear.”
I say nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Most people were so excited to be on the planet. But some were scared. I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened.”
“Like what?”
He winces as he shifts. “Like war. Like the Venture 2. When things were stolen from the engineering shed, I knew it was beginning. I knew I had to act.”
“Nothing was stolen. I checked myself.”
Yuri leans forward. “Do you think Sabik’s a liar?”
That makes me pause. It doesn’t feel right. “He lied about the path in the forest.”
“But that was for a good reason.” His thick brow crumples, and he rubs at it with a slab-like hand. He’s clearly not used to doubting himself. “And Jovan was taking mealpacks into the forest. Stockpiling food and weapons. We had to do the same if we were going to have a chance.”
I tilt my head at that. Then I remember the conversation between Cassius and Yuri back in the hut on Beta.
“He was taking his lunches at Maia’s grave. Even Cassius told you that was a picnic.”
“The pattern was so clear. Your enemies were dying. People were frightened. They were returning to the ship, just like you wanted.”
“Cassius wasn’t my enemy. I didn’t like Orion, but he wasn’t my enemy, either.”
“I know you didn’t kill them, now.”
I clench my jaw. “Am I meant to thank you for finally realizing I’m not a killer? After you accused me in front of the whole crew?”
Yuri shrugs, and I want to see him react, want him to drop this nonchalance. I want to see him acknowledge what he’s done.
“Vega is dead,” I say.
He exhales. “I know. But I didn’t kill her. I tried to talk her out of it.”
And I’m suddenly furious, suddenly want him to hurt like I hurt right now. “You planted the bombs. Sabik says you’ll face the Exit for treason.”
He straightens up. “I want my daughter to have freedom. I want her to grow up healthy and strong, just like my father wanted for me.” He lifts his chin. “If the price for good parenting on this ship is death, so be it.”
I want to slap him. The door behind me hums, then slides open. It’s Iola, a senior medic. “I have to check on the patient,” she says.
There
’s no room for the two of us in the small space next to the bed, and I’m glad for the excuse to get out of there. I don’t look at Yuri as I duck past Iola and into the main medcarriage.
I ping Mom, ask how the birth is going. She replies immediately to say that it’s going to be a while yet. That Celeste is resting, and I should too. I pace, unable to get Vega’s face out of my head. Feeling angry and guilty. Feeling the exhaustion of the sleepless nights catching up with me.
Pounding grows in my head, in spite of the PainFree. I can’t stay here. The medics have to squeeze past as they tend to their patients.
I head back around the rim to my cabin, return Astra’s pulse gun to the safe, and lie on the bed, thoughts whirring.
a ping on my linkcom wakes me. The lights are different now. They were the light glow of early morning when I lay down, and now they’re the bright glare of the day cycle. I try to remember what I’m doing. Where I am. I read the words that scroll across the linkcom, and clutch it tighter.
It’s from Mom. The birth went well. Celeste’s daughter is small but healthy. She’s calling her Beta.
I swallow the lump in my throat and read the rest of the message.
Mom says Celeste wants me to see my new niece and have a talk after the all-crew meeting, which Celeste won’t be going to. She needs to recover and take care of her newborn.
I check the time, and almost drop the linkcom. I’ve slept for hours and missed several messages from Jovan. I send him a quick ping to apologize. I barely have time to jump in the wash cubicle before I have to run to the all-crew meeting.
I hurry down the corridors to the council room, shuffling past people who are moving slowly. The room is full. Jovan waves from the other side. I wave back, but it’s too crowded to get anywhere near him. I squeeze onto the nearest bench before Mom, Astra, and the other council members enter and the room falls silent.
Mom takes the podium, brow set in a frown. “For those of you who haven’t already heard, Yuri has freely confessed that he planted the bomb Vega detonated. She died in the attempt. We’re lucky we didn’t lose anyone else.”
Most of the agricologists look genuinely shocked. I guess it wasn’t a wider conspiracy.