by Sharon Rose
Her skills were incredible. The realization emphasized how inexcusably blind he had been. His estimation of his own abilities fell ever lower. Even though Hrndl could coordinate with Kena, he doubted he could. Making the attempt wasn’t even an option.
Krdn sent ruby quad and two of the amber units back to the Ontrevay. Amber thirteen and fourteen joined emerald under Kena’s control, and amethyst was functioning smoothly. Even though he had less than ever to do, Kena didn’t involve him in local activities. She had them so thoroughly—yes, coordinated—that he couldn’t offer her assistance again. It galled him unbearably that he had never recognized her capabilities until now.
They were about 90 percent complete when their exit route grew even more questionable. Krdn checked that Kena wasn’t focused on anything particularly critical, then he said, “Kena, I suggest you review the exit corridor.”
“You review it. If you don’t like it, just tell me how long till we leave.”
“Not more than ten minutes until we should all be in the main corridor. I’m going to order amethyst out now and have unit nine rejoin emerald.”
“Fine. You plan the exit course, and I’ll finish up here.” She opened a channel to the aft module and said, “We’re leaving. Notify the other scientists.”
Krdn plotted their exit course and also reviewed the rendezvous courses that Kena had given the six remaining craft. Each was to sweep straight through a separate area, indiscriminately gathering whatever fell within their range, and end at the corridor entrance. Emerald ten was on its way to the entrance and was drawing its collection into a tightly held pack.
Krdn spoke over the main channel. “Amber thirteen and fourteen, stop collecting. Pull your samp—”
Energy readings surged from the rock they had mined.
“Evasive!” he snapped.
The rock exploded with awesome force.
Kena was already twisting the ship away. “Activate EVA life support.”
Debris exploded beside them. It jerked them hard to the right. Bangs and shouts came over the comm channel from the aft module.
“Get back there and tie down whatever is loose,” Kena ordered. “They don’t know what they’re doing.”
Krdn was in the aft module in seconds. An oxygen canister had broken free and was bouncing wildly through the module. He snagged and anchored it. His glance took in the crew’s terrified faces but came to rest on the inward bulge of the hull. He’d never seen anything like it. That much damage through their hull shield couldn’t have been caused by a simple collision.
He grabbed a ceiling handhold and headed forward. Powerful thrust pinned him back. He clung to the grip. Kena altered course, and Krdn’s legs swung above the scientists’ heads. Hand over hand, he struggled toward the navigation module. Another collision sent the ship into an uncontrolled spin.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kena activated the module’s independent shields and closed her airlock. She controlled the spin, but couldn’t avoid the next collision. The rock exploded as it slammed into the side of the aft module, fragmenting its hull. The nav module’s shield held. Kena snatched a quick look backward. There was nothing to see but debris spinning by.
The computer responded to the loss of aft thrusters, resetting the control system. Kena adapted instinctively, flying the nav module as a single-pilot craft. She flipped it and headed straight back to the center of the explosion, the only area in all this seething mess that was relatively free of debris. With her left hand on the control stick and her right skimming across the console, she initiated a broad sensor sweep, scanning for beacons and life signs. She read five on the first pass. Better than expected. They might all be alive.
Kena exhaled a shaky breath. Voices on the comm channel registered.
Someone said, “I’ve got visual of the nav module. Somebody’s piloting.”
Had she missed something?
Jorlit’s voice came over, firm and clear. “Beta command, what is your status?”
“My aft module shattered. Krdn and eight scientists were in it with their life support fields active. I’ve read five signals from my crew, all with life signs. Make that six. I’m sending coordinate and trajectory data. All craft, scan and send me your data. Report your status while you’re working on it.”
Kena’s chest relaxed as they reported. They’d been battered, but everyone else had escaped serious damage. Two more beacon signals with life readings showed up on her display, complete with trajectory data. Warmth spread down her arms. Only one was still missing.
Kena broadcast her main channel so everyone in a life support field would be able to hear it. “Jorlit, take over support for me until I get Krdn back. Collect the status info while I organize pickup.” She dropped her voice to a soothing tone. “To my crew—who so suddenly parted company from me—please don’t worry. We are tracking you and will pick you all up in a few minutes. Your comm channel control is at the very center of your belt. I want each of you to press it and give Jorlit your status. Other than that, there is nothing you need to do, so just relax. You are still safe.”
Presh’s voice, quivering on the edge of hysteria, shouted across the channel. “You call this safe?”
Jorlit answered him firmly. “You are perfectly safe inside your life support field. What is your—”
“There’s at least two rocks heading straight for me!” he screamed back.
Jorlit’s pitch held steady. “We’ve tracked your position. We’ll rescue you long before anything can hit you. Now, control your panic. State your name, whether you are injured, and nothing else.”
Kena released another worry at Jorlit’s masterful use of tone to quell or encourage each of her crewmembers.
A quiet voice spoke within her. I’ve given my angels charge concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.
She absorbed the comfort even while she dispatched craft to rescue her free-floating crew. She assigned each of them to retrieve one or two specific people. Some of the maneuvers were tricky, but navigators executed without mishap.
Kena searched, ever mindful of the brief window still available for a stable exit corridor. When three craft had welcomed half of her crew inside, she ordered them back to the Ontrevay. In a few more minutes she’d be able to send the others back, but still no signal appeared from Krdn. His field had been active—she was sure of it. Why couldn’t she find him? She altered her position for the second time to scan from a different angle.
All the while, voices spoke over the comm channels. Jorlit had sent a status message to the Ontrevay. Perhaps they’d been able to decipher it, for Ghent’s voice responded in bits and pieces, not much more than syllables and occasional words. The communication systems were set to repeat long-range messages, while the receiving computer filled in more and more of the words as it replayed.
Kena ignored it. Her position wasn’t getting her significantly more data. She headed farther out.
Jorlit’s voice came over her comm channel. “Kena, you need to alter your course back around toward the exit corridor. I have one person left to pick up. We can accomplish full rendezvous within another forty-five seconds. We’ll just barely be able to make it into the corridor in time.”
“Quite right,” Kena said. “I still have someone to pick up, too. Don’t wait for me to rendezvous. Head for the Ontrevay as soon as you’ve got Thrayl inside.”
“Kena…” The strain in his voice matched her own tension.
“I know, Jorlit. You’re no more willing to leave me than I am to leave Krdn. But I have to draw the line somewhere. You, and all the craft with you, are returning to the Ontrevay. The next word I expect to hear from you is, acknowledged. Then, I want confirmation that you have Thrayl and all three craft are heading out. That is all I want to hear.”
When the hull shattered, debris hit Krdn and swept him away. The impact stunned him, and it took a few minutes to recover his senses. He blinked several times. What? Where? Oh, yes. Oh, no! Pinned in the cavit
y of a rock? His pulse raced.
He glanced at the rock at his back and then ahead. The region looked particularly lethal. Collisions occurred as he watched—five already. The rock that carried him jerked several times. Unseen objects must be pelting it. The cavity that held him was little more than an indentation. It could not protect him.
Krdn groped at his EVA belt, pulled the control module up, and spread it out for use. He accessed the spatial display. His own position was pinpointed on the short-range scan. No other man-made object registered. No wonder he couldn’t hear the others. He was on the far side of this rock from the rest of the beta crew.
Options? He was all but helpless. Still, he was a navigator and, therefore, responsible for his crew. Could anyone’s life depend on his actions? Slim chance of that, but he must confirm it. He deployed the simple jets, designed for EVA maneuvering, and deactivated his homing beacon. Brief thrust nudged him away from the rock, and he veered off to one side. When he cleared the rock’s horizon, the voices of his crew reached his ears, choppy but intelligible.
He listened carefully and soon deciphered that all of the scientists from his ship had been located. Another minute was enough to reveal Kena’s rescue plan. She directed the others to pick up all eight while she herself kept scanning.
Conflicting emotions warred within him. It was her duty to search, but part of him was amazed that she did so. Even as her own risk increased, she continued to search. The hope that he would not be left to die tried to rise within him. He suppressed it.
Using his miniature console, he confirmed what he already knew. He had been swept far from the escape corridor. The rock, which bore him away, must’ve been impacted by the mysterious, volatile substance that wreaked such havoc. It had propelled him from the collection area. Kena was at least ten minutes away, probably more. Not enough time to reach him and get out again. Worse yet, flying this region was far beyond the safety margin for any navigator, even Kena. If she took the time to rescue him, the escape corridor would be almost as bad.
Krdn made his final decision. He would not turn the homing beacon back on. There was nothing left for him, but to watch the craft complete the rescue and head for the Ontrevay. And to compose himself for death.
He’d read this phrase in Grfdn literature. It had sounded fitting, even courageous. Could anyone actually do such a thing? Regret and grief swirled to the surface. Maintain control. Focus on the idea that my silence enables my partner to escape death.
The thought failed to console him. Beyond doubt, such a claim of noble self-sacrifice also belonged in literature. Literature of the dead, where the subject of grandiose eulogy could no longer refute it.
Perhaps he should get it over with, lest bitterness consume his final moments. His life support belt contained a simple emergency medical unit. It could induce sleep, thereby slowing oxygen consumption. The intent was to increase time for rescue when things went wrong. Not very useful for someone trapped in a maelstrom. The drug could serve another purpose that no one spoke of.
Ahead, Kena’s craft shifted position again. Krdn welcomed the distraction. As he watched, his brow tightened. Kena drew farther from the corridor. What was she doing?
Her voice came over his comm channel. “Krdn, I can’t pick up your homing signal. Respond verbally.”
No. He couldn’t let her. She’d leave if she couldn’t locate him—wouldn’t she? He maintained silence while Kena addressed him repeatedly. Her voice grew pleading, almost desperate. Krdn’s worry increased with every word. Then, she ordered Jorlit to leave without her. No!
Kena uttered a passable imitation of a Grfdn growl and declared, “Krdn, I know you’re in that swarm, and I don’t have time to waste looking behind every rock. You’ve turned your beacon off, or I would have found it by now. That means you’re alive, and I am not leaving without you. So answer me, now!”
Krdn’s thoughts sped. She had likely realized he could only be in the dense region. She couldn’t know for certain that he was alive, but she did have reason to assume it. If she came looking for him, it would ensure her death. After a few seconds of indecision, he finally opened his comm channel. “Kena, you cannot possibly reach me. Return to the Ontrevay. That is an order.”
“You forget, you gave command to me. Now, turn your beacon back on. That is an order.”
“I will not. My death is already certain. Your attempt to rescue me cannot succeed. It will only cause another unnecessary death.”
“I know what I’m capable of better than you do. Turn that beacon on and let me decide.”
“Kena, your flying today has convinced me that you are, by far, the best navigator I have ever seen. But this area is too dangerous, even for you.”
“I will not leave my partner.”
Krdn sighed and said quietly, “Then, you must go back. Hrndl is your partner, not I.”
“Krdn—”
“No more, Kena. I’d prefer to have a few more minutes to live, but if you don’t head back immediately, I’m going to deactivate my life support field. I’ll turn the homing signal on so you can pick up my life signs and see when they stop.”
“No! Wait!”
“I suggest you set your initial bearing for 74.18.331. I’ll give you a count of five to initiate. If you don’t, I’ll shut down my field. One…”
Her anguished whisper reached him. “No!”
“Two.”
“Please don’t make me leave you.”
“Three.”
“Krdn, please!”
“Four.”
Kena shouted. “I’ll do what you ask. Just don’t die that way. It’s worse than you know.” Her tiny craft flipped and thrust away.
Oh, no! Why had he mentioned death by vacuum? If she had a relapse now, she’d never get out. He changed to a soothing tone. “I won’t. My medical unit is functioning. I’ll die in my sleep before the field fails.”
Kena gained control of her frantic voice. At least no one would see her tears. “I—I really wanted to bring you back.”
“I know,” Krdn said. “Focus on navigation. It will make this easier.”
He was right. In fact, she had no choice. A cloud of debris had almost reached the corridor opening. “Jorlit, what’s your fuel status?” she asked, her voice dull.
“I have plenty for both of us.”
“Send the other craft in first then follow them into the corridor. Keep your load high, so I can come in beneath you. I’m going to burn my fuel fast.”
Jorlit confirmed courses with the other navigators, while Kena rocketed toward them. Insane to speed through that much debris, but she managed it. She was soon in position beneath his craft, well within range of his energy beam.
Jorlit murmured, “Wish I could pull you inside.”
“Now, that would be cozy. Trust me, I’m much better off out here. I’ve got precious little power left; you’d better engage the field now.”
Kena settled herself for the trip home. She soon had nothing to do. Her tiny module was helpless, and she was so tired, she yielded to Jorlit’s request to take command.
Her thoughts bounced like jostling debris. What bothered her most? Exhaustion or despair over leaving her partner behind? She didn’t even like him. That only made her feel worse, for his final act was above reproach. Tears pooled in her eyes. She felt so alone, isolated more by grief than by space. Yet, this could be nothing to the loneliness Krdn must be feeling.
Far away, he floated, no longer tracking the others. He set himself slowly spinning. The chaotic power of this bizarre and deadly area revealed itself before his eyes. He didn’t allow himself to consider when he should inject the drug that would send him to permanent sleep. When he was ready, he would simply do it. Suppressing memories of the last few weeks proved much harder. He focused on the kaleidoscope panorama, trying to block them out.
When Hrndl’s voice reached his ears, he thought it was an errant memory. But no. The words were broken, with long pauses. Comm interference on a liv
e message. Amazing. A woman didn’t send messages during her seclusion. Why would Hrndl send him a message anyway? He silenced the audio and waited. The computer continued to receive, to assemble the pieces into a full, smooth message. Finally, the display flashed a completion signal. He hesitated, then played it.
“I hope I’m not too late,” Hrndl’s voice said. “I know you forced Kena to return to us. She would otherwise have died trying to save you. Instead, it is you who have saved her. I…I will not insult you by pretending to approve of recent events, but…in the end…you are as you were when I first knew you.”
Quietly, he answered. “Thank you, Hrndl. Goodnight.”
The words transmitted through the cold void then slowly reassembled for Hrndl. She would comprehend his last word. It could have only one meaning.
“Goodnight, Krdn,” she whispered.
Her fragmented words came to him, replaying again and again, as he drifted in slow motion through a dense fog. His eyelids drooped, and memories fell away. His thoughts turned into a dream of Hrndl, beautiful and desirable, whispering in his ear as he slept beside her.
Part Two
Chapter Thirty
Kena sat cross-legged on her bed with a pillow shoved between her back and the wall. Ten hours of sleep, breakfast, a bath, and the coffee she sipped had returned her to a sense of normalcy. It did nothing to change the facts.
Navigators sometimes died. They had a high-risk job and knew it. That didn’t make this any more pleasant. She’d been one breath away from death herself. More than once. The idea of her own death didn’t trouble her nearly as much as that of a non-Human. Physical death was not the end for a Human—her creator loved her and would draw her to himself. But what became of those of other races?