Jodenny nodded at all of them, and went down to the Mother Sphere. She paused at the archway to throw Myell a questioning look. He forced a smile.
She walked inside, and was lost to his sight.
* * *
Jodenny didn’t know why she was so nervous. Even if the token came, she wasn’t going anywhere. The mission to save Dr. Monnox and Commander Gold would fall to others. But she couldn’t shake off the memory of her last trip—the hard yellow light pushing them onward, ever onward, through dusty Spheres flung across the universe. The sickness ripping through her gut and head. The way Myell had looked when they finally returned to Warramala, his face slack and limbs cold.
Stepping into the Sphere was like plunging from day to night, despite the half-dozen large floodlights that had been erected in the interior. Darkness persisted high in the ceiling and at the base of the round walls. The place smelled cool and dry and musty. Nothing like the deep lushness outside, the redwoods that stretched like giants to the sky. This was a different giant, molded by the Wondjina, long before the trees outside had been saplings, or seeds, or even the idea of seeds.
“Radio check, Commander,” said a voice on her headset, and she nodded for the benefit of the cameras.
“Loud and clear,” she said.
She resisted the urge to rub the goosebumps on her skin. Instead she walked back and forth across the width of the Sphere, watching her boots make faint marks in the hard-packed dirt. She felt silly, walking around under remote scrutiny and waiting for a piece of alien technology to put in an appearance. What was Myell thinking, up on the path? She was glad he had come. Maybe when evening came they could find a nice, intimate restaurant, a place far from the crowds where they could talk and bask in just being with each other.
She knew after a few minutes that the token wasn’t going to come for her. A relief, actually. If it wouldn’t come for her, surely she wasn’t in any way responsible for the system shutting down in the first place. Nor would she bear the responsibility of enabling more people to go off down the network on a second mission that might end in tragedy. But it was disappointing, as well, to find out that she wasn’t special in any way. The token that wouldn’t come for others wouldn’t come for her, either.
Her radio clicked. Gayle’s clipped voice said, “Thank you, Commander. You can come out now.”
The sunlight was exceptionally bright outside, and Jodenny had to blink several times against the harshness. Myell and Gayle had come to meet her at the archway. Gayle nodded appreciation for Jodenny’s attempt but her gaze was averted.
“I’m not discouraged,” Gayle insisted. “I never expected immediate success. We can try the Spheres at Swedenville next. Still, while we’re all here, I’m wondering if Chief Myell wouldn’t agree to test his presence as well.”
Myell kept silent.
Gayle said, “I understand that to you, this network is more than just ancient technology. More than machinery. There are severe political, economic, and religious implications if Team Space finds a way to make it a practical mode of transportation, and the repercussions cannot be underestimated. I wish I could see into the future and reassure you that the network will be put to only the most beneficial of purposes, and that all mankind will benefit. But we both know it’s not in my power to do so.”
Myell was still silent. Jodenny couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“But it is in your power to step into that Mother Sphere, Chief, and I’m asking you to do so. You know that my husband is out there somewhere. I believe he’s alive. I believe he needs my help. To that end, I’ll do everything I can to try and get this system working again. I’ll beg you, if that’s what you want. I’ll get down on my knees right here. Because that’s how badly I want to have him in my arms again.”
“Dr. Gayle…” Myell sounded appalled. “Please don’t.”
Gayle’s eyes started to glitter. “I believe you came here today not just because you wanted to support Commander Scott. I believe deep down that you want me to persuade you, that you truly want to help. It’s a dozen steps from here into that Sphere. All you have to do is take them. Twelve steps, and you could enable my husband to come home again.”
Jodenny watched indecision play out on Myell’s face. Perhaps he had come out here just to be persuaded. It stung a little that Gayle could succeed where Jodenny had not, but then again, the stakes were much higher for Gayle.
Myell stared at the archway of the Mother Sphere.
“It won’t work for me,” he said, but not very strongly.
“Please try,” Gayle said. “Please just try.”
He looked hopelessly at Jodenny, but she couldn’t help him. The decision had always been his to make. But she doubted that his convictions were strong enough to withstand the force of Gayle’s grief and hope.
Myell said, “Only this once.”
Gayle was instantly on her radio. “Chief Myell’s going in. Make sure you’re monitoring.”
Jodenny squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”
He kissed her hard, then disappeared into the Sphere.
“Thank you,” Gayle said to Jodenny.
Surprised, Jodenny said, “I didn’t do anything.”
“You could have stopped him.”
“You don’t know him very well.”
Silence from the Mother Sphere. Across the grass, a baby squirrel popped out of a fallen log, peered at them, then darted away again. Gayle’s right hand, fisted at her side, looked so painfully clenched that she’d probably have fingernail marks in her palm for hours. The defeat of hope was such a difficult thing.
Then the loud, clear call of an approaching ouroboros blasted through the air, and that changed everything.
* * *
The horn cut through Myell as surely as a dagger.
He told himself he hadn’t expected the system to respond to him. He’d said as much to Gayle and Jodenny. He was not special; he had in no way been singled out or chosen.
A lie, he knew. The worst kind. The kind told to oneself.
But Gayle had been right. He had come here knowing that they would ask, and perhaps wanting to be persuaded to try.
The scuffle of boots made him turn. Gayle and Jodenny came through the arch. Gayle shook his hand with a forceful grip and a wide smile.
“You did it, Chief,” she said. “I’ll always be in your debt.”
Jodenny kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
A half-dozen Marines in gray camouflage uniforms entered the Mother Sphere, each loaded up with equipment, backpacks, and mazers. Leading them was a tall, muscular commander of Aboriginal descent. His hair was cut close to his skull, and his orders to the other soldiers were crisp and confident.
“Saadi, make sure your GNATs are ready to go. Collins, we might need that Blue-Q at the first station. Breme, Lavasseur, that anti-grav sled’s got to get in position fast. Remember the window.”
“You’re leaving right now?” Jodenny asked, surprised.
“We can’t take the chance it’ll shut down again,” Gayle said. One of the soldiers brought a backpack to her. She shrugged into it with practiced ease. “The mission leaves with that token.”
Myell said, “But you don’t know that the network will continue to work.”
An ouroboros flashed into existence on the ground. The circle was larger than Myell remembered, the cool metal fashioned into a snake devouring its own tail. He could see the interior glowing faintly with symbols. The female soldier and one of the men steered a sled into its confines and took up position.
“It could stop,” Myell said. “You might get one or two stations and the whole thing will shut down again.”
Gayle spared him the briefest of glances. “That’s why you’re coming with us.”
“No, you can’t—” Jodenny started to say, but two of the Marines moved to Myell’s side.
“Chief Myell, I’m Commander Nam,” the Aboriginal commander said. “Effective immediately, you’ve been reassigned from
Supply School to the Research and Development branch. You are ordered to accompany and assist this mission. You can go willingly, or you can go carried over our shoulders, but you are coming.”
Leorah Farber and Teddy Toledo had joined them inside the Sphere—Toledo wide-eyed and gaping, Farber vocal in her disapproval.
“Dr. Gayle,” she said, “this wasn’t in the plan!”
“It was in my plan,” Gayle said tightly.
“Mine, too,” Nam said.
“No,” Myell said. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. “I’m not going.”
“Let me be clear.” Nam nodded to the soldiers, who grabbed Myell by the arms. “You don’t have a choice.”
Everyone was talking at once now—Farber and Toledo arguing, Jodenny protesting, Nam giving orders. The Marines tugged Myell toward the ouroboros. He thought about swinging his fists but he didn’t want to risk Jodenny getting hurt. He cursed his own stupidity. Of course they had tricked and used him. Of course they had lied.
Jodenny watched helplessly as they took her husband away. She tried to join them, to leap forward, but Nam’s other men restrained her.
Gayle and Nam joined the group in the ouroboros. Gayle said to Jodenny, “If all goes well, we’ll be back soon. If not—well, if not, then perhaps we’ll have been more successful than I hope.”
Myell wasn’t saying anything, but Jodenny could see in his face a thousand unsaid things—horror at how the situation had gotten out of hand, desperation at being dragged into the network against his will. Resignation, too. As if this had always been meant to happen. She remembered how they’d nearly died in the network, and realized she might never ever see him again.
“Can’t you stop her?” Jodenny said to Farber.
Farber’s gaze was locked on Gayle. “This is wrong, Anna. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for.”
Gayle’s face lit up in an unexpected smile. “I’ll let you know.”
Jodenny said, recklessly, “I’ll follow you—”
Myell found his voice. “Don’t. I’ll come back. I’ll come home. Remember that—”
A flash of hard yellow light took him, Gayle, Nam, and four Marines away before he could complete the sentence.
Jodenny sank to her knees on the ground, unable to stand on her own.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Stale air. Flashes of artificial light, painful against his eyes. But not as painful as the dry heaves tearing from his stomach up his throat. In retrospect, he was glad he hadn’t eaten lunch.
Urgent voices swirled over his head.
“GNATs deployed, Commander. Outside atmosphere cold but clear—”
“No sign of Commander Gold’s team, no radio signals—”
“Time elapsed: forty seconds. Forty-five…”
“We have to stop here,” a man said. “He needs to stabilize.”
Gayle, sounding irritated, asked, “Why is he sick so soon, Ensign Collins?”
Collins answered, “This wasn’t unexpected, after his reaction on Warramala. Commander Nam?”
Myell curled into himself further, aware of dirt and dust, and someone’s hand on his shoulder. Bile burned at the back of his throat.
“You’re sure he can’t make the next one?” Gayle asked.
“Not without the risk of cardiac arrest, ma’am.”
Nam said, “Haul out, then. We’re stopping.”
Gayle cursed. Strong hands reached under Myell’s shoulders and more hands gripped his ankles. When they tried to lift him, he fought against the movement.
“It’s okay, Chief,” Collins said.
“He’s fighting,” said the woman at Myell’s ankles.
Nam asked, “Can you sedate him?”
Myell gave up struggling. He was lifted and carried out of the ouroboros. They put him on the ground. Collins pressed some cold gel on the inside of Myell’s right wrist, and some of the nausea began to pass.
Other voices in the dark were talking about GNATs, weather reports, recon information. Myell caught only part of the conversation. Eventually Collins and the woman carried Myell out of the Mother Sphere. The new planet’s sky was black and clear, without any of Kimberley’s city glow. A stream gurgled nearby and stars glittered above the branches of pine trees. The air smelled faintly salty.
“Make camp here,” Nam ordered. “I want him ready to travel by morning.”
Myell was eased onto a blanket. Several battery lanterns powered up, the blue-white light a comfort.
“Tents up, sir?” someone asked.
“Is the weather going to hold, Chief Saadi?” Nam asked.
“Too soon to tell, sir.”
Nam said, “No tents. Not yet.”
Collins, a dark-haired man with freckles across his nose, urged Myell to drink from a water bottle. Camouflage insignia on his collar indicated that he was an ensign, though he was clearly older than Myell. Former enlisted, perhaps. Or maybe a late addition to the Medical Corps.
“You a doctor?” Myell croaked out.
“Medic,” Collins said easily. “Feeling better? Your temperature’s coming back up. I’ve given you a dose of Blue-Q.”
Gayle, standing nearby, said, “So he’s better. We can keep going?”
“Not until morning,” Nam insisted.
Myell huddled in the bedroll as Nam set up a watch schedule. Sergeant Breme, the only female soldier, got the first watch. Sergeant Lavasseur, a lanky blond with a scar on his chin, would stand second watch. Chief Saadi, with his shaved head and intense stare, would round up with the third. Saadi controlled the remote-controlled GNATs and comm equipment, which he compulsively checked on the two gibs he carried with him.
“Fly, babies, fly,” he was saying.
“Lavasseur, you’re in charge of dinner,” Nam ordered.
“Now, Commander?” Lavasseur asked. He had a strange accent. American, maybe. Must have come from Earth. “It’s only fifteen hundred hours.”
Breme jerked her head toward the dark sky. “Not here, it’s not. Don’t want jet lag, do we?”
Saadi consulted his gibs. “I’ve got multiple readings coming in. We’ve got a fix on several stars in the Rosette Nebula. The GNATs are still calculating the differentials—okay, here we go. This planet’s a little bit smaller than Fortune, a little faster rotation, weather should hold, we should see sunup in about—oh, roughly, seven and a half hours. So it is well within time for dinner.”
Lavasseur said, “Trip is going to mess up my circadian rhythm.”
“Is that a complaint?” Nam asked.
“No, sir,” Lavasseur said easily. “Just an observation.”
Myell pulled the blanket tighter. He wished Jodenny were there. The look on her face as the soldiers had dragged him to the ouroboros was everything he had never wanted to see on her—anguish, helplessness, fury. She hadn’t known Gayle’s plan. Of course she hadn’t known. He was the one who’d fallen for lies and tears. But if he hadn’t volunteered to walk into the Mother Sphere, Nam or the others might have dragged him in anyway. The idea of choice had always been an illusion.
He slept, somehow, though his chest ached from missing Jodenny. When he opened his eyes again, a small fire was burning in a circle of rocks not too far away. Lavasseur had the watch. Gayle was sitting against a log and typing in her gib, her face bathed with its blue glow.
“Better or worse?” Collins asked, from somewhere behind Myell.
Myell rolled over. “Better,” he admitted. “Thirsty.”
Collins gave him a water bottle and rubbed more of the cool gel against his wrist.
“What did you call that stuff?” Myell asked.
“Blue-Q. Helps a lot. We’ve been receiving treatment for a few days now, but you haven’t—”
“Ensign,” Gayle said, a warning in her voice.
Myell pulled the blanket closer. The temperature had dropped while he was sleeping. “You knew the network would work for me.”
“I had hopes,” Gayle replied, without looking up. �
��It was hard enough to get you to consider cooperation in the first place. If I told you I wanted you to come along, you’d have run off screaming.”
Myell said, “So you decided to drag me along anyway.”
“In the service of Team Space.”
“Team Space doesn’t need this service.”
Lavasseur, warming his hands by the fire, watched the two of them.
“We disagree.” Gayle shut down her gib. “I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but there’s no turning back. The token carries us always forward, never backward. Your cooperation will ensure that we return as quickly as possible.”
“My cooperation,” he repeated.
“Passive cooperation,” Gayle added. “Nothing is expected of you, Chief, other than you don’t impede our progress. Think of it as a vacation.”
Myell resisted the urge to vomit.
Collins said, “I suggest you get some sleep, Chief.”
“I have to use the latrine,” Myell said.
Commander Nam sat up in his bedroll. “I’ll take him.”
The last thing Myell wanted was help to the latrine from a commander. But he let Nam walk him down a narrow path toward the trees. Nam’s flashlight led the way. Crickets and the occasional scuffling sounds of night animals reminded Myell of home, and home made him think of Jodenny. He finished as quickly as possible.
“Let’s take a little detour,” Nam suggested.
Nam steered him down a small hill to where the grass gave way to sand and the stream joined the sea. The roiling black mass of water was the source of the salty smell that Myell had been denying for hours. He shrank back, because if there was anything worse than the ocean it was the ocean at night, infinite dark roiling terrifying ocean at night.
Nam scowled at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Myell forced out, the word half strangled.
Nam thumbed his radio as if to call Ensign Collins but then stopped. He took Myell back up to a copse of evergreens. The view of the ocean was blocked, and they could see Lavasseur’s distant figure sitting by the fire. Myell sank to the grass with his head between his knees.
“That wasn’t in your file,” Nam said. “Thalassaphobia.”
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