They had been a wealthy family by the look of things. Rena couldn’t tell if they had belonged to a big clan or were a single-ship operation, but either way they had been a successful outfit. More importantly though, they had been happy. She could see it in their faces in the portraits. Husbands holding wives, children clinging to parents like monkeys held to trees. It was as if each portrait held all the love in the world.
Her thoughts went to Segundo. Her rock, her other self. She had never been afraid with him at her side. When he held her, all anxiety melted away. There was nothing they couldn’t face together, no pain they couldn’t endure when they shared the burden and held each other tight. And yet when he had needed her most, she hadn’t been there. He had been alone. His last moments, his last breaths, he had passed and taken alone.
Rena opened the door to a mechanical room and found something worth salvaging. The electrical generator was tucked neatly in the corner, and appeared to be undamaged. Generators didn’t usually bring in a lot of money, but this one looked fairly new, only a few years old at the most, with decades of life left in it.
Rena moved closer and examined it, noting the many bolts and anchors that held it fast to the wall. Cutting it free wouldn’t be easy, and carrying it back to the bay would be a cumbersome task—the generator was tall and bulky, and maneuvering it through the corridors without damaging it would be tricky.
For a moment Rena considered not calling it in and ignoring it completely, but the thought left her just as quickly. To come back empty-handed would be to invite the wrath of Julexi. No, she needed to prove that she was pulling her weight while the others salvaged what was in the cargo bay.
Rena clicked on her transmitter and radioed it in, sending photos and vids directly to Arjuna. The crow captain sounded pleased by the find and asked her to bring it in as quickly as possible. Rena anchored her spotlight to the wall and used her juice meter to ensure that the generator didn’t currently have power. Then she unstrapped the saw from her leg and got busy. The room was tiny, so Abbi waited out in the hall while Rena cut.
The blade screamed as it sliced though the steel braces, shooting sparks back toward the hand guard. Rena cut the first two braces away easily, but the third and fourth ones were behind the generator and the saw wouldn’t reach them. Those she would have to do by hand. She set the saw aside and got out the hacksaw. The space was barely wider than her arm. When she reached back with the hacksaw, she didn’t even have room enough to turn her bulky helmet to the side to see what she doing. She felt around blindly with the hacksaw until she found the brace and started cutting. It quickly became apparent that this would take forever. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was hot and sweating and frustrated.
She called Abbi on the radio to give her a hand.
Abbi didn’t answer.
Rena tried calling her again, but still got no response.
She retracted her arm from the tight space and went out into the corridor. Abbi wasn’t there.
“Abbi?”
“I’m here.” The voice was quiet. It sounded like she had been crying.
“Where?”
“The corridor to your left.”
Rena’s light was still with the generator. She left it there and moved to her left. Light from Abbi’s suit spilled from one of the rooms up ahead. Rena moved toward it. When she reached the doorway she saw that it was a room for young boys. The walls had been painted with mining ships and planets. Five child-sized hammocks were positioned along one wall. There were toy figurines and plastic helmets, sports balls, and stuffed animals. To Rena’s relief there were no children here; perhaps they had been moved elsewhere on the ship before the battle.
Abbi floated in the middle of the room holding a toy hand drill. She didn’t look up. “Mono had one of these,” she said softly. “It was broken when we gave it to him. He was only about two years old then. He played with it for hours, flying around the room, making the drill noises, pretending to unscrew everything.” She turned it over in her hands. “I think that’s why he wanted to be a mechanic. He had this stupid little plastic drill and then he saw Segundo and Victor using the real thing, and his eyes lit up.”
Rena said nothing.
“He was going to be a mechanic,” said Abbi. “That’s what he told me all the time. He was going to be like Victor. It was always Victor this and Victor that. He asked me more questions about Victor than he asked about his own father.”
She let go of the drill. It floated there in the air in front of her. She stared down at it. “If I had given him something else, a different toy, everything would have been different. He wouldn’t have wanted to be a mechanic. He wouldn’t have snuck off that day. He would’ve stayed with me. He wouldn’t have been on El Cavador.”
She lifted her head and looked at Rena. There were tears in her eyes. “We should have died with them, Rena. All of us should have died.”
“They didn’t want that, Abbi. They wanted us to survive. Segundo said so.”
“Who cares what Segundo said!” She was yelling now. “Mono was a child! He died alone! Everyone else was outside the ship. He would’ve been afraid. He would’ve wanted me with him. He would’ve screamed my name.”
Rena didn’t know what to say.
“You keep telling us somos familia, somos uno. We are family, we are one, we need to stick together. Well why didn’t we stick together when it mattered most? Huh? Why did we ever leave the ship? Why weren’t we familia then?”
Rena moved to embrace her. “Abbi—”
“No! Don’t touch me!” She shoved Rena away. The action pushed them both away from each other. Rena caught herself against the far wall.
She kept her voice gentle. “Abbi—”
“GET OUT!”
Rena didn’t move.
“I SAID GET OUT!”
Rena left. She moved back down the hall to the room with the generator. She didn’t pick up her hacksaw. She stared at it. She had been kidding herself, she realized. They were not familia. That had died with Segundo and Mono and Pitoso and all the others. What they had before was forever broken. Even if they were to get another ship one day, what would that change? That wouldn’t mend anything. They’d still be who they were; they’d still be missing that other part of themselves.
Arjuna’s voice on the radio startled her. It was fast and frantic. “Everyone get back to the ship now! Drop what you’re doing and move! Now!”
“What is it?” asked Rena.
“Don’t ask questions! Move!”
“Abbi and I are still several minutes away. We’re deep in the ship. Tell me what’s going on.” She grabbed her light and rushed back to the room Abbi was in.
“Khalid,” said Arjuna.
“What’s a Khalid?”
“It’s not a thing. It’s a person. A Somali. A vulture. The worst of them all. He’s coming. He must have heard our transmissions. He will kill us if he finds us here. How far away are you?”
Abbi was still in the boys’ room. She had picked up the toy drill again. Other than that she hadn’t moved.
“We’re ten minutes from the cargo bay,” said Rena. There were hatches to open and corridors to traverse.
“You don’t have ten minutes,” said Arjuna. “I need you in the ship now. Find a faster way out.”
“And if we can’t?”
“I can’t wait for you. I’m sorry. Hurry. I’ll give you five minutes.” He clicked off.
This wasn’t happening. Five minutes. “Abbi. Let’s go. We have to move.”
Abbi didn’t look up. Rena flew to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her. “Move! We need to go now!”
“So go then,” Abbi said casually, shrugging off Rena’s grip.
She was giving up, Rena realized. She was choosing to die here. Rena grabbed her by the shoulders again. “Listen to me. I am getting off this wreck and you are coming with me.”
Abbi brushed Rena’s arms away. “Leave me alone.” She tried to
turn away, but Rena wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed Abbi and threw her toward the door. It was easy to do in zero-G; Rena’s feet were grounded, and Abbi’s weren’t.
Abbi spun awkwardly but caught herself in the doorway. “You can’t force me. So don’t even try.”
Abbi was right, of course. Rena couldn’t force her. She couldn’t drag her back to the ship with Abbi kicking and resisting the whole way. But what could Rena do?
“I’m not leaving you here,” said Rena.
“Then we both die.”
The resignation in Abbi’s voice was as frightening as what was coming. It was as if she were dead already. There was no convincing her, Rena realized. Abbi’s mind was set.
Rena moved to her. “I’m sorry, Abbi.”
“For leaving me? Don’t be.”
“Not for leaving you,” said Rena. “For doing this.” She reached behind Abbi’s helmet and yanked out the oxygen line. Abbi’s eyes widened with panic as the air in her helmet was sucked out the valve. She opened her mouth, gasping desperately for breath, then she lost consciousness, and her head lolled to the side. Rena thrust the oxygen tube back onto the valve and checked Abbi’s vitals as Abbi’s helmet refilled with air. Abbi’s heart was beating. Pulse was weak, but there. Rena grabbed her and pushed her limp body out into the hall. If Abbi wouldn’t come voluntarily, Rena would pull her back to the ship. The question was how. Rena couldn’t have Abbi’s appendages sticking out and snagging on things or hitting walls and hatches. They’d move faster if Abbi were tight in a fetal position.
Rena grabbed the coiled harness strap on her hip and pulled out several meters of slack. She bent Abbi and bound her legs up tight to her chest. Next came the arms. Rena folded Abbi’s arms inward and strapped them down as well, as if Abbi were hugging her knees. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Rena checked her watch. One minute already spent.
I’ll give you five minutes.
Rena looked to her left, the way they had come. The spray-painted arrow on the wall at the end of the hall pointed her back toward the cargo bay. Ten minutes that way.
She looked to her right. The corridor extended another twenty meters and then stopped, allowing her to turn either right or left. She had no idea what was in that direction. There could be a hatch to the outside. There could be a dead end.
I’ll give you five minutes.
She launched to the right, heading into the unknown. The harness strap attached to her hip pulled taught, and Abbi followed. They weren’t going fast enough. Rena hit the propulsion button on her thumb. It was lunacy to do that inside. She shot down the hall. Abbi banged into the side of the wall but kept coming, pulled by the straps. Rena had Abbi’s vitals on her HUD. The pulse was there. Don’t die on me, she thought.
She reached the end of the corridor. Abbi slammed into her back, knocking her against the wall. Rena recovered herself, unhurt. She looked right and left, hoping to see a hatch to the outside. There wasn’t one. It was another corridor, extending twenty meters to the right, maybe forty meters to the left. She looked behind her. Way down at the end of the hall was the spray-painted arrow, calling to her, pointing the way.
I’ll give you five minutes.
She launched to her left, moving farther into the blackness, farther into the maze of the ship, farther away from the only escape she knew. They should have stayed on WU-HU, she told herself. Julexi had been right. What business did they have among crows? She was going to die in this scrap of a ship—her and Abbi both—and it was all her own fault. This Khalid and his crew would find them here and they would do their business, and the family would be broken even more.
Or worse, Khalid would catch Arjuna’s ship and everyone would die. Edimar, Lola, Julexi, the children, the babies. Everyone.
She should have followed the arrows. That had been the right choice.
Her light flickered and then shut off, leaving her in total blackness save for the small light in her helmet. She swore, shaking the light, jostling the batteries, trying to get it working again. She flew forward, essentially blind. Ten meters, twenty meters. She smacked the light hard against her palm, and the light came on again. She reached where the corridor bent to the left and caught herself on the wall, bracing her back for the impact with Abbi. Half a heartbeat later Abbi collided and bounced off, though the foam of their suits took the brunt of the impact.
Rena turned to the left and found …
A bathroom.
It was a dead end. There was no hatch here. No way out. No exit. They had come the wrong way. She had taken a risk and lost the bet.
I’ll give you five minutes.
She couldn’t tell him to wait for her. That was as much as killing everyone else. She would tell him to go. Now. Don’t wait for us. Run. Get out. Protect the children, damn you.
She wanted to cry. Segundo had told her to stay alive. He had asked her to keep them together. And she had ruined everything. She had failed. She couldn’t even do that much. She was nothing without him.
Abbi was floating there in the corridor in a ball beside her, wrapped up in the straps. Part of Rena wanted to kick her. The other part of her wanted to roll up into a ball and join her.
She clicked on her radio, her voice calm. “Arjuna.”
He answered immediately. “Rena! Where are you? The others are loaded up. We need to launch now!”
The others were back on the ship. They would get out at least. That gave Rena some comfort.
“Go,” she said.
“What?”
“You heard me. Go. We can’t get out in time. Promise me you will take them to a depot. Promise me you’ll keep them safe.”
He was quiet a moment. “On my life, Lady.”
There. It was done. He would keep his word. She knew it. The familia, however broken, would survive. She pushed lightly off the wall and headed back the way she had come. The strap pulled taut and Abbi, still unconscious, followed. She and Abbi would find a room, she decided, somewhere where they could be together and wait for this Khalid. Maybe Rena could talk to him and offer to serve on his ship. Perhaps he would let them both work for their lives.
But no. She was kidding herself. He was a vulture, a killer. There would be no mercy, no joining his ship. He would do what vultures always did.
Nor could she fight them, not armed vultures. Rena had no weapons and no skill for combat. I have to cut Abbi’s air, she told herself. And for good this time. That would be the greatest mercy: let Abbi slip peacefully from sleep before this Khalid comes and has his way with her. Yes, thought Rena. I will cut her air and then my own.
She passed a room on her left. She turned her head casually and saw that there were cabinets on the opposite wall filled with supplies. She continued on. She passed a second room. She turned her head again and saw that there was nothing on the opposite wall.
There was no wall.
There were only stars. Millions of stars. Where the wall had once been was a gaping hole. She must have passed it when her light went out.
“WAIT!” she shouted into her radio. “WAIT!”
She turned her body and hit the propulsion. She shot out through the hole. The harness strap was tight. Abbi was behind her. They were out of the ship, space all around them. Free.
“Don’t leave us! We’re out!”
“I see you,” said Arjuna. “I’m coming to you.”
The Gagak was a big ship but a nimble one. It swooped toward them. Retros fired, slowing it as it neared. The airlock hatch was open, thirty meters away from her. Lola was there at the hatch, waving her to come. “Now, Rena!”
Rena punched the thumb button. She shot forward like a bullet. She came in fast. She fired retros at the last second, but it wasn’t fast enough. She hit the hull hard. Abbi was right behind her, careening into her. It knocked the breath out of Rena this time, and she thought she might ricochet off into space. But Lola was faster. She grabbed Rena’s hand and pulled them inside. Abbi was in. Lola slammed the hatch shu
t. “I got them!”
The ship vibrated. The engines roared. Rena braced herself, ready for the force of acceleration. But no force came. “We’re not moving,” she told Lola.
Lola was unwrapping the harness straps and freeing Abbi. “It’s a trick. Help me unwrap her.”
Rena was confused but she didn’t argue. They pulled the straps free. The airlock was pressurizing, filling with oxygen. Then the lights went out. Rena was panicked a moment. And then they were moving. Rena was nearly thrown backward in the blackness, her hand scrabbling for a handhold. She found one and steadied herself. Then her body adjusted to the acceleration and all was still. The airlock beeped the all-clear, and the interior hatch opened.
Rena was flooded with personal spotlights. The other women were waiting in the cargo bay, shining their lights in the hatch. They helped Rena and Lola and Abbi into the cargo bay and got their helmets off. By then Abbi was coming to, rousing, her eyes slowing blinking open. Alive.
Arjuna arrived a moment later with his own light, rushing in from the helm. “We are safe for now.”
“What just happened?” said Rena.
“We fired a heat bomb and went black.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“When we leave a site, we go black. We give off no heat signature, no light, nothing that could cause the buzzards to locate us. Buzzards always look—not at the original wreckage—but at the ships leaving the wreckage. So we give a strong signature on a particular straight course, but just as we go black, we jink in a different direction, a sharp move to one side that makes it hard to guess what course we’re actually on.”
“So they think we went somewhere else.”
“We give off a false heat signature in another direction. It will show up on Khalid’s instruments as if that were the real direction of the rocket blast, so they’ll search for us in the wrong part of space.”
“Won’t they detect our jink rocket?”
“It’s as focused as possible, so it can’t be picked up unless you’re in a very narrow range, while the heat bomb is large. It looks like a rocket firing once and quickly. But actually it makes no change in our trajectory because it’s detached from the ship before it blows.”
Earth Afire (The First Formic War) Page 36