by Larry Niven
“It is not data they watch.”
“Has High Council reacted?”
“No, they are still silent. I did hear Star tell them, ‘At least we only lost one of the Moon Born. It could have been worse.’ ”
Rachel stopped and stood very still. Vassal’s silky voice still droned in her ears, but she no longer heard it. She closed her eyes, and it seemed like the weight of everything she worried about grew even heavier. Council leaving. Council staying, and tension remaining high; she and her friends and family watched and discounted. Antimatter. The words played in her head, “We only lost one of the Moon Born. Only a Moon Born. Only a Moon Born.”
Rachel found herself at the edges of a plot of carrots. She could smell the fresh green tops, the rich scents of the earth. She collapsed in the darkness, and watched the bright lights of a meteor shower burning overhead. Rachel thought of Ursula, and whispered to the memory of her friend, “You were right, little one, right not to trust Council as much as I have.” Then Rachel put her head down between her drawn-up knees, making as small a ball of herself as she could, and shook. They killed my brother, she thought, and they don’t even care!
A hand touched her arm, and she looked up, expecting Dylan. Andrew stood behind her. He said, “I’m sorry about Jacob.” His voice was gruff.
Rachel took his hand and squeezed it. They stayed that way for a long time, Andrew standing behind her; Rachel curled at his feet, saying nothing. Ursula hadn’t trusted Council. She’d done as Rachel asked all those years ago, and tried her best to be a good student, to work hard. And she died. Andrew didn’t trust Council either. She heard it in her head again, “Only a Moon Born.” She struggled up and flung herself into Andrew’s arms, sobbing again, angry tears. They had no right!
Andrew smelled of pipe grease and sweat, good smells, smells that were work and not death or sickness. Rachel wanted to scream into his shoulder. Instead, she stepped away from him. “They’re building something that might kill us all,” she said.
Andrew looked down at her, his eyes mirroring her anger. She asked, “What do you know about the collider?” stepping back a step from him, watching his face.
“Tell me?”
Explaining was difficult. Andrew had no fine grasp of math, no sense of proportion. Even so, she was working it out for herself, putting it into words.
Matter plus antimatter equals fire.
Drop an antiwatermelon, destroy Selene.
Twelve hundred kilograms to reach Ymir.
She didn’t speak of Vassal, or Treesa or Ali, but Andrew was used to her knowing things by now. He didn’t ask where she got her information, but he did ask a series of questions about antimatter, about the project, about the timeline. Then he took her hand and said, “Rachel, we have to act now. Surely you’re with me now.”
“How?” She shook out of her pain a bit, sensing how much of a mistake she might have made. She hated Council right now, hated them all. Hated what they had done to her. But they were too powerful. She needed to think—to plan.
“I don’t know. Are you with me?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “There is nothing you can do right now that won’t kill people. Kill you. Kill anyone you take with you. Jacob’s death was a startled reaction—almost, almost an accident. It makes me very, very angry. But this isn’t the time. They’ll kill you, and it will be bad for us all. I’ll help you plan something now, I will. But not an immediate reaction.” She took a deep trembling yoga breath, working her belly muscles as Gabriel had taught her, and it helped calm her flying emotions, at least a little. “Remember, under the Water Bearer, you promised you wouldn’t act violently without me knowing about it?”
“But I didn’t know this when I made that promise. I’m tired of hiding and now there’s no time. They’re already building the collider.”
“Andrew—we’ll talk about it.” She reached for his hand, holding it tightly. “There is time. Some time.”
“Will you wait until more people die? Right now, everyone feels as angry as I do.” He looked down at her, his eyes oddly soft. “You feel it too.”
Rachel wanted to agree with him. Even her anger violated all the things she believed in. Joining Andrew would make it worse; it would be accepting a fight she knew they could not win, fighting when maybe she could still negotiate something better. She had Gabriel, and Ali, and Treesa, and John with her. And Bruce. And more, her students, some of them anyway. Harry and Gloria . . . maybe it was enough. She had to stop Andrew first. Slow him down. Why had she told him? Given him more to be angry about? “Give it at least a few days. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please, Andrew?”
“A lot of people follow you, Rachel. Lead them the right way. Surely now you know what that is?” He squeezed her hand tightly, and then pulled her to him.
She leaned into his arms, afraid of him, wanting the connection. If she let him go, if he left like this, something bad was bound to happen. “Andrew, don’t do anything. Not yet. Wait.”
“It’s not time to wait anymore.” He was tense in her arms, as if he wanted to run, as if he wanted to do something right now, right this minute.
“Wait until tomorrow. They’re watching us closely now. We have to plan.”
“I can’t promise that. I’m tired of waiting.” He leaned down and kissed her, his mouth hard and hungry against hers, and to Rachel’s surprise, she responded, pushing her tongue against his teeth, accepting him into her mouth, clutching at the back of his head, curling her fingers into his hair, holding him to this moment, this safe moment.
Then he stepped back and turned away, leaving her standing in the chilling air.
She looked after him, holding a hand to her swollen lips, watching the place he had been for a long time.
CHAPTER 59
PASSAGE
RACHEL WALKED. GREENHOUSES loomed behind her like shadowy boxes, and she continued out into the open fields, wanting distance between herself and Clarke Base. The fields felt cold and dark, and even the stars offered little comfort. She straggled home in the first light of dawn, and found Gloria still at the kitchen table, her head on her arms, fast asleep. Rachel shook her friend’s shoulder, and said, “Go home. Go see about your own family. Thank you.”
Gloria groaned and pushed into a standing position. “I should take Sarah with me,” she said.
Rachel looked over at her teenaged sister, who was stirring in the couch, the noise of Rachel’s homecoming waking her. “Sarah,” Rachel said, “Sarah, I want you to walk Gloria home. Stay and be sure she has breakfast. Can you do that?”
Sarah nodded, rubbing sleep from her eyes, stretching, and looking softly at her father, who was still asleep on the couch. “He looks terrible,” she said.
“Go on, now, both of you.”
They left, and Rachel sat by her father on the couch. His skin looked like the wheat grass paper Treesa made, and there were dark circles under his eyes and darkness in the hollows of his cheeks. Rachel talked to him as she had talked to the sleeping Beth on John Glenn so many lifetimes ago, and when the room was empty she told him stories about how grand Refuge would be, describing the ferryboat, Safe Harbor, and the glittering interior. She avoided Jacob’s death, but she told him all of her other secrets—she told him about Vassal, about Treesa, and Ali, and Gabriel, and even Astronaut. It felt wonderful to talk to him. She had always been so afraid to share these secrets, but it felt so good to let them pour out of her.
Apollo fell farther down the sky. Harlequin’s reddish light spilled in the tiny window above Frank’s bed. Frank stirred, taking her hand in his own, reaching for her with the hand that was missing fingers. His eyes opened, wide with pain, and the stump where his thumb had been drilled into her palm while he squeezed tightly. “I’m proud of you,” he said.
She didn’t know how much he had heard. “I hope I earn that,” she whispered.
“You have already,” he said.
She thought about things she probably shouldn’t have to
ld Andrew. “Daddy, I’m not sure. I may have put us in danger.”
“We were born in danger,” he said, so softly she could barely hear him. “You’ve had to bear a lot—and take a lot of risks. More than I was ever willing to. I’m proud of you for that.”
He didn’t know half the risks she’d taken. “I just hope it comes out all right. I want peace, and I don’t think we can have it. I used to think we could. I think that died with Jacob.”
“Keep going,” he said. “Keep fighting. You have to win for us.” His breath rattled, and he looked up at her. “But try and keep the peace—that’s right. It’s good. You’re good.”
She smiled at him, wishing it were half as simple as he seemed to think. As she had once thought.
“You’ve always taken care of us. Take care of Sarah—she’s like you.”
“I know. I’ll try.”
His eyes closed again, and after a few moments his grip on her hand tightened, then fell open. He stopped breathing.
Rachel stared at his face, sure now that she had known all morning that he would die. The anger from last night rushed back. Council could have saved him. Cold sleep would have saved him. It was even worse than Jacob’s death.
The door banged open and Justin rushed in. “Andrew’s stolen a crate of Council weapons. He’s gathering us on the slope behind the warehouses. I have to go, I have to meet him. But I wanted you to know.”
Rachel looked up, tears streaming down her face.
Justin stopped, gathered a breath, and looked at Frank. “Oh. Oh,” he stuttered. “Oh, my God, he’s dead.” He lost all color and reached to touch his father’s face.
“Rachel, this makes it worse. We can’t stop now. We can’t. They’ll kill us all. This is our moment.”
Rachel looked at Justin and said, “If Andrew is fighting Council publicly, with their own weapons, then, yes, maybe they will kill us all.” Then she shook her head and stood up, reaching for her brother.
“I have to go,” he said. “Oh, my God, I have to go.” Justin turned and grabbed Rachel by the shoulder. “Keep Sarah. Keep Sarah with you. She’s coming here next, I passed her.”
Vassal’s voice in Rachel’s ear. “Gather your people. I’ll try to keep you safe. You must avoid Andrew.”
Out loud, Rachel said, “What are you thinking, Justin? Stay here.” She choked. “Jacob’s dead. You’ll be dead next.”
Justin turned, planted a kiss on Frank’s cold forehead, and said, “They killed my twin. Save Sarah.”
“Go get her and bring her here,” Rachel pleaded. “Stay with us.”
Vassal repeated, “Gather those who will stay with you.”
“I’m going,” Justin insisted, teeth clenched. “Your way hasn’t worked. They’re killing us anyway.”
Rachel shook her head, trying to clear it. “Yes,” she said, not sure if she was answering Justin, or Vassal, or both. Then with more strength, “Yes, I’ll do something.” She turned to pull the cover up over Frank’s face, and Justin dashed out the door.
Rachel’s brain didn’t want to think clearly. How did Andrew get weapons? How could she live without her father? Who would greet her when she came home? Where were her people? Where was Beth, and was Sarah really coming? How would she gather them? Ali was on John Glenn. Where was Treesa? “Treesa,” she sobbed, “Treesa, now what?”
No answer.
Someone knocked on the door. Rachel opened it. Beth stood there, Kyle beside her, holding her hand. Harry and Gloria were walking up, Miriam between them, half their height now, one hand hanging tightly to each parent. Sarah came running down the path, bounding past Gloria, almost pushing Gloria into little Miriam, burying herself in Rachel’s arms, crying. “Justin told me,” she said. “He told me to come here. He said Dad’s dead.”
Rachel nodded, holding Sarah tightly. “Stay with me,” she said. She looked up and found Harry’s eyes. “Harry, go find the others. Get Bruce, and everyone who has studied with us. Everyone who will come. Get them out of work even. Get supplies: food, blankets, water. And Dylan, Dylan will help.”
Harry shook his head. “Dylan’s with Andrew.”
Pain knifed through Rachel. “Get everyone you can. Tell them to come here, and to stay away from Andrew. If they won’t come here, tell them to go home and stay inside. Andrew doesn’t have a chance. Keep everyone you can away from him.” Rachel was surprised at how strong her voice sounded.
“I’ll see who I can find,” Harry said. “Some are already coming.” Sure enough, Rachel looked down the path and she saw it beginning to fill with her students. Sharon, Kimberly, Lisa . . . Harry faded into the crowd, going the opposite way. Gloria and Beth turned to watch him go, holding each other. Little Miriam cried, one arm reaching toward the place Harry had vanished.
Rachel blinked back tears as the gathering crowd looked at her. She scanned their faces. They had to leave. Council could find them here. Council could find them anywhere, but distance would be good. Sadness washed over Rachel, mixing with her pain, and she wavered for a moment, her knees weak, held up only by Sarah’s strength. The feel of Sarah’s arms around her and the tortured look on Beth’s face gave her the strength to stand more firmly. She just wished she knew what to do.
“Where can we go?” She whispered it to Vassal, not caring if Sarah heard, or if she understood what Rachel was doing.
“Where Council isn’t,” Vassal said. “I can guide you.”
Rachel nodded.
“This will keep you safe from whatever immediate danger Andrew is putting people into right now. You need to be separated from him.”
“Can you stop him? Can I stop him?”
“I see no way,” Vassal said. “Someone has to protect our students. If you aren’t here, I can’t keep them safe.”
Rachel swallowed. It was right. “Can I send some of these out to find the others?”
“Yes, but keep your eyes on the ones who have family in Andrew’s group. Keep them from trying to save anyone—I don’t know what Council will do, but none of my predictions end with everyone alive. Andrew has ten people with him.”
Dylan, Justin, Andrew, and who else? Rachel got the list from Vassal and started sending runners out, keeping others with her. She packed. Food, a change of clothes, bedding. She hung her wings over her back. Images of Dylan and Justin flashed unbidden in her head, demanding attention, and she remembered she had sent Harry out. Suddenly, she knew he would try to save Dylan. Harry was no warrior. What had she done?
CHAPTER 60
WAKING GABRIEL
CELLS DRINKING FLUIDS, like the rush of water after a long dry run. An expansion. Gabriel blinked, immediately recognizing the feel of the drugs in his body as an emergency cocktail. Warmth and energy invaded, too fast, an adrenaline flash of life. His body felt twitchy, edgy. Emergency wake-up calls were the pits. Blinking didn’t clear his vision; he couldn’t see well at all. Darkness, and light, and fuzz. He closed his eyes, counted to a hundred, and opened them again. Ali’s face swam into view, centering, becoming clear. He blinked again. He was still lying down, still strapped in. Ali fumbled with the clasps, saying something. There was no noise at all, but Ali’s mouth moved.
“Earplugs,” he said, unable to hear his own response.
He saw Ali frown, then felt the light pressure and release as she removed his earplugs and sound rushed in.
Ali’s hand worked his right calf, massaging life into the muscles. Pain shot up along his thigh, then a tingling sensation, then mere warmth. The feeling repeated as Ali worked her way up each limb, and started kneading his scalp. Her lips moved, and he made out words with difficulty . . . “Wake, sleeper . . . feel your life return . . . wake, Gabriel.” He followed her voice and let his body do its work.
Why was he being warmed in emergency mode?
He tested his muscle reactions, moving one leg, then the other. “I think I can stand,” he said. His voice was raspy.
“Let’s go.”
Gabriel looked a q
uery at her.
“To a magic room. We need visuals.” Ali’s eyes rolled up into her head for a moment. “They’re all busy! Everyone must have the same idea.”
“My office,” Gabriel said. Mouth numb: chewing the words. “What’s happened? Is it a flare?”
Ali shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start. Things between Moon Born and Council deteriorated while you were cold.”
“How long was I out?”
“Six months.”
Gabriel sat up slowly. He was only a little dizzy. “Tell me.”
“There was an accident two days ago. Jacob was killed—Frank’s son, Rachel’s brother. One of the twins.”
Damn. “A twin. Hard on the other one—what’s his name?”
“Justin.”
Right. He’d only met the twins a few times, but he had liked them. “Is Frank okay?” Gabriel asked, swinging his legs back and forth in the air, feeling them out. “And Rachel?”
Ali stopped, a deep frown creasing her forehead. “Frank died this morning. Old age, and shock, I suppose.”
Gabriel remembered the image that grew in his head as he went cold; a creation going out of control, molecule by molecule. He shivered. “We should have stopped that, or brought him here.”
Ali raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who argued to let the Children die of natural causes? Remember when we talked about Andrew? We all agreed they’d stay more human that way.” Ah sighed. “Anyway, no one killed him.”
Gabriel tested his weight on his right foot and then his left. “How’s Rachel?”
“I think she’s okay. I don’t have much information. Andrew stole a cache of guns.”
Too much information at once. “Andrew? How the hell did he do that? You still haven’t told me what happened to Jacob.”
“I was there, or at least, I was there right afterward. It was an accident. Paul stunned Jacob, but Jacob had other wounds too, and he died. I think the Children blame us.”