It made no sense. “Mr Seafort!” I braced myself in the closet doorway.
“I hear him. Hold on, Kevin. We’re trying—just a—” A click. Silence. Kevin hammered at my shoulder blades.
“Captain, Janks here. Any shot that hits that—that—thing will go right through it and …”
With a frenzied effort, Kev twisted past me, faced the shifting figure. Desperately, I wrapped myself around his leg. “Mr Seafort, I can’t hold him—”
“Kevin?” An agonized voice. “Kev, this is Dad!”
“Daddy, it’s just staring at me. No eyes, but I know it sees me. You know what?”
“What, son?”
“I’m not brave enough.” He sounded hurt, puzzled. “I guess we’ll never have a fleet. I’m … so sorry, Dad.”
“Don’t do anything stupid—”
A wrench, that nearly undid my grip. “Mr Seafort, Kev’s pulling us toward—”
“Janks, take the shot!” The Captain.
“KEVIN! I LOVE YOU SO—” “Daddy!” A frantic kick. He slipped out of my grasp, made a shooing motion at the outrider.
The alien be damned. I launched myself from the closet, wrapped myself around Kevin’s neck. “No, Kev!”
He threw me off, aimed a wild kick at the quivering form. “Out!” His boot grazed the alien’s midsection.
The outrider convulsed, flowed toward Kev.
He screamed, fell back atop me.
“Fire!”
A whine in my suit speaker. A half-dozen holes pierced the alien form. It flew apart. Protoplasm flew past my faceplate, sizzled on the deck. I shrieked.
Kev bucked and heaved. His elbow slammed into my gut; even through the stiff suit it caught me a mighty blow. We toppled.
A shuddering gasp.
“Where’s my son? Captain, what’s happened to Kev?”
“I’m not sure, Chris.”
“Save him, God damn you!”
Slowly, almost deliberately, I got to my feet. My visor was fogged; my vehement exercise had overtaxed the cooling. I pounded the hatch control. The hatch opened.
On my radio, chatter, incoherent shouts, but I no longer listened. Carefully, I edged my way around the blobs of alien protoplasm, past white plastiflex boots.
I keyed my radio. “Ship’s Boy Carr reporting. To the bridge.” My voice sounded odd, even to myself.
“Randy—”
“I’m out of the cabin. My tank light is yellow. The outrider is … dead. Kevin’s … lying down. What do I do now, sir?”
“Janks, Class A decon!”
“Aye aye, sir. We’ll slap on a hull patch, flank, and re-air the section. Set up section four for full decon!” It sounded like an order.
“Get to it.”
“Sir?” My voice was shrill. Odd, but my hand was shaking. Nerves. I was all right, I thought. “That outrider?”
“It’s dead, son. Stay where you are, Mr Janks will come for you.
“Yes, sir. I mean, aye aye, sir.” There was something else I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t concentrate. I slid down the bulkhead, waited peaceably for decontamination. It would be easier if I had Kevin to talk with.
They sprayed my suit over and again with harsh chemicals. Then, ever so carefully, cautioning me not to touch the outer material, they bade me step out of it. My clothes were taken to be burned. A suited sailor hosed me down, first with strange-smelling chemicals, then with soapy water. Then a long, determined rinse.
In sickbay Dr Romez gave me two shots, then two more. I had to lie down, though I didn’t want to.
The Captain called from the bridge, but I chose not to answer. Instead, I curled in a ball on clean white sheets.
Tad and Mikhael came to sit with me. They were more gentle than necessary; I’d gotten over my shakes. I asked, “Where’s Kevin?”
They exchanged glances. Tad said, “He didn’t make it.”
The laser hadn’t hit him; I knew we’d toppled away from the hole in the bulkhead through which Janks fired. I asked, “What do you mean?”
“Kevin’s dead.”
He watched me, as if expecting me to bound screaming from the bed. Or perhaps dissolve into hysterics. How little he knew me. My only concern was that my hand shook a bit. I said, “Don’t be stupid, that can’t be.” A ship’s boy mustn’t be rude to a lieutenant. They’d probably find a way to punish me; make me stand in a corner until Kevin came back. I would do it, no matter how my calves ached.
Tad’s voice was implacable. “He’s gone.”
“May I, sir?” Mik tapped his arm. “Randy, remember the men outside?”
“Janks. My jailer.” I curled my fingers. For a moment, my hand was still. Then, the tremor.
“When they fired their lasers, the alien came apart.”
“Pieces flew past my helmet.” I’d recoiled, desperate to avoid the acid.
“But not past his. It was quick, Randy. I doubt he felt any—”
“You’re lying.”
Anselm pulled him away. “Let him rest.”
I drew up my legs, lay on my side, stared at the bulkhead. I was in an obstinate mood; if they wanted me to sleep, I’d show them. I would stay awake.
Minutes, hours, years passed. The Captain stood down Olympiad from Battle Stations.
I tried not to doze.
“… me see him.”
“Sir, his body isn’t in condition to—”
“Move aside or I’ll go through you!” Mr Dakko’s voice was savage. “This instant, you fucking—”
A rustle. Silence.
“Oh, God! Oh, Kevin, no.” A deep rasping breath. Then another. “Oh, no.”
A sob. A terrible sound.
Slowly, I crawled out of bed. I found night shoes, slipped them on. I padded to the hatch.
In the next cubicle, Kevin lay on a bunk, zipped in a translucent plastic sack. Part of his neck was eaten away. One eye was gone. The other stared at eternity.
Mr Dakko sat nearby, his hand on his son’s.
I slipped into a chair, took his other hand, slipped his fingers into mine. “We’ll stay with him.”
Mr Dakko nodded, as if it made perfect sense. He started to speak, shook his head, squeezed my fingers so hard I started from the pain. He said, “I lived for him.”
I rested my cheek on his shoulder.
His voice was a croak. “And I failed him.”
“No, sir. I did.”
“Where are they?” Mr Seafort, outside.
Murmured voices.
His face gray and set, Mr Seafort hobbled into sickbay. He stopped behind Chris Dakko, rested his hands on his shoulders.
Mr Dakko leaped to his feet, charged the Captain, rammed him into the bulkhead. Mr Seafort’s breath caught.
Mr Dakko snarled, “Don’t speak! Don’t you dare speak!”
Paralyzed, I braced to watch the murder I hadn’t achieved.
Mr Dakko’s mouth worked. Slowly, his face crumpled. As he sagged, Mr Seafort caught him, pulled him close.
In exhaustion or defeat, Mr Dakko’s head fell to the Captain’s chest.
The two stood together. Mr Dakko’s shoulders shook.
At last the Captain murmured, “Chris, I’m so terribly, terribly sorry.”
A muffled voice.
“What?”
Mr Dakko cleared his throat, repeated, “Did I hurt you?”
“No. Not—well, a bit, but I’ve endured worse.”
A long silence. “Kev was my only son.”
“I know.”
“It’s years since I saw my daughter. He was all I …”
The Captain’s fingers flitted to Mr Dakko’s cheek, pulled away as if burned.
“And he died in terror.” Mr Dakko’s voice was bleak.
“Chris, it was over so fast, he didn’t …”
“Brave? Why in God’s name did he think he had to be brave?”
The Captain said gently, “Because you were.”
“Those years ago when they attacked Challenger, I was in
panic. I never told him otherwise.”
“You did your duty.”
“Look at him, torn apart by that—that beast. Why him and not Randy? Kev’s worth ten of that silly—”
“Not that way, Chris.”
A long shuddering sigh. “I know.” Again, to me, louder, “I know.” It passed for apology.
“He’s gone,” said the Captain.
“Christ, I know.”
“And you’ll miss him the rest of your life.” Mr Seafort’s gentle voice was inexorable.
A soft sound of despair. Mr Dakko’s head slumped to the starched blue jacket.
The Captain said, “May I mourn with you?”
An almost imperceptible nod.
“Come, Randy, help me kneel.”
I did, but when he beckoned me to join them, I shied away, retreated to my lonely cubicle, crawled into the bunk. Mr Dakko couldn’t abide the sight of me; my very presence was an indictment of his son. Very well; I’d live alone.
Now and forever.
I lay on my side, knees drawn tight. From Kevin’s room, murmured voices.
I tried not to hear.
“You’ll take him groundside?” The Captain.
“When it’s over.”
“For you, it’s over, Chris.”
“No, it’s not!” A pause, and Mr Dakko’s voice softened. “Captain, let me—no, I have to stay. To see this through. Else his death means nothing.”
“That’s not rational.”
“Forty years ago you wrecked my life!” Mr Dakko’s voice was fierce. “You and the God damned fish! Don’t scowl, I’ll say what I like!”
A murmured reply.
“Yes, wrecked it. I had security, doting parents, confidence, an ordered world …”
“… my fault?”
“Oh, you saved us, sir, but Christ, the cost! Remember that poor middy, Tyre, who died ramming the launch into a fish? That deluded woman you shot?” For a moment, silence. Then, “Over time, as an adult, I became rather proud of what I’d done, what I’d been.”
“That’s as should be.”
“Bah. On Challenger, for once I faced myself. That was all the heroism I could muster.”
“You rose above yourself.”
“For what? I survived, and built a life here in the colony. Now it’s wrecked, and there’s no retrieval. My poor Kev!”
“Easy. Here, squeeze my hand. Let it hurt us both.”
“No, I’ll have all my life to grieve. But I’m staying aboard, do you hear? Until the last fish is dead, or you Fuse for home. Before that, you’d have to stun me and carry me off.”
“You know I’ll do no such thing.”
“Who knows what you’d do? Not I. Not Tolliver. Certainly not the Elders of the Church, or the U.N. electorate.”
A chuckle. “Nor I, at times.”
“Sir, give me a laser console, that’s all I ask. Until they stop coming. I suppose you’ll have to enlist me.”
“Why?”
“Years ago you insisted you wouldn’t trust Challenger’s safety to civilians.”
“That was a long time past. Now I’m more … flexible.” A pause. “Very well. I can’t imagine what to call it in the Log. I’ll have Tolliver write the entry.”
“I can stay? You mean it?”
“I mean whatever I say. I’ve never known how to do other.”
A whisper. “Thank you.”
“Do you want Kevin sent ashore?”
“No!” A cough, that might have been embarrassment. “I’m sorry. No, sir. If I might sit with him during off hours, perhaps I could get through …”
“I understand. He’ll have to be kept in the cooler, when you’re not with him.” The Captain’s voice was gruff. “Chris, no matter what, you mustn’t open the body sack. There seems to be no virus and everyone aboard’s been given precautionary vaccine, but nonetheless there’s a risk of—”
“I’ll only touch him through the plastic. Unless you prohibit that too, you son of …”
A long pause.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Mr Dakko’s voice was unsteady.
“It’s all right.”
“Do you know, Mr Seafort, if I were sure, absolutely sure, of God’s existence, I’d join Kevin this moment.”
“What you need is sleep. Romez will give you a sedative.”
“To make me a zombie like Randy Carr?” His snort held contempt. “No, I’ll wallow in my sorrow.”
“As you will. I’ve got to resume the bridge.” A rustle, and a gasp. “Oh, that hurt.”
“Shall I walk with you?”
“Stay with your son.”
“I’ll call Randy to help you.”
“He’s gone to sleep. I’ll—” a grim chuckle. “—wallow in my aches.” Mr Seafort’s footsteps faded.
A long while passed. At one in the morning, nominal ship’s time, I slipped out of bed, donned my shoes, tiptoed past the Dakkos’ forlorn cubicle. I made my way out to the corridor, half expecting someone to stop me, but no one paid me heed. After all, I was ship’s boy, and had leave to pad about in the night.
The ladder wasn’t far.
Level 2 bustled with activity. I wandered as far as section six, found the corridor hatch to five sealed.
Frederich Stoll, one of Janks’s detail I’d known from my imprisonment, folded his arms. “Can’t go in, joey. Shouldn’t even be this close.”
“The hull’s patched.”
“Yeah, but …” He grimaced. “Even with Class A decon …”
“Doesn’t matter. I was exposed.”
Involuntarily, he took a step back, licked his lips. “Never thought I’d live to see a frazzin’ fish.”
I nodded. “They’re scary.”
The corridor hatch slid open. Lieutenant Frand looked weary, her gray-streaked hair awry. “Is the outer hull airtight, Hanson?”
The seaman at her side was grizzled, his cheeks hollow. “Randell’s crew buttoned up two hours ago.”
“That’s it, then. All passengers are reassigned belowdecks, their belongings irradiated. Everyone’s inoculated. Get some sleep. What are you up to, Randy?”
“Nothing, ma’am.” I tried to look innocent.
“You did well today. Pity about the Dakko boy. Let’s hit our bunks, Hanson, before you-know-who calls us to Battle Stations again.”
“Lord God forbid.” With a perfunctory salute, the rating trudged off. Lieutenant Frand strode down the corridor without a backward glance.
Before the guard could object, I scuttled through to section five. He made as if to stop me, thought better of it. Perhaps he was afraid to touch me, despite the decon I’d undergone.
The section looked normal, except for the bare deck plating. They’d taken up the carpet in five, the easier to conduct full decon.
Cabin 257 was sealed shut; no amount of fiddling with the panel would budge the hatch. A shiny new alumalloy plate covered the jagged hole through the bulkhead melted by the outrider.
Frustrated, I sat on the deserted corridor deck, leaned against the bulkhead, drew up my knees.
“Kev’s worth ten of that silly Randy Carr.”
How had I failed to save him? By being too slow. By worrying about my own skin instead of my responsibility.
In the lounge, Mr Dakko glowered at my cuffed hands. “You contemptible piece of shit!”
Was the truth that obvious? Had they all known beforehand?
I’d held Kev in my grasp. I’d pulled him into the closet, safe and sound. Then, somehow—I was inexpressibly tired, and my mind couldn’t grasp how I’d achieved my folly—I’d let him go. I wiped my eyes.
Mikhael snarled, “What are you crying at, you vile bastard?” In my bleak cell, he stood over me, fists bunched.
At what, indeed? At Kevin’s loss? At my own stupidity? At Chris Dakko’s unquenchable grief?
“You’re an arrogant, spoiled child.”
Yes, Mr Branstead. You’ve got that right.
“I ought to take you ap
art bare-handed.”
Do it.
No one answered.
I said aloud, “Do it!” I banged my head backward, hit the bulkhead with a satisfying thump. It felt good. I shut my eyes, did it again.
“Stop that!”
“No!” Which ghost was that? No matter; in time they’d all gather to haunt me. I nodded my chin to my chest, rammed my skull back to the alumalloy plate. This time, it rather hurt. Better.
Soft fingers interposed themselves, rubbed my locks. “No more, Randy.”
I blinked. Corrine Sloan, the Captain’s wife. No, she was merely Janey’s host mother. “Leave me alone,” I said.
“I’ll take you back to your cabin.”
“I’ve got to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because …” I groped to explain. Because Kevin’s soul might linger. Because this was where he’d ended, and I couldn’t leave until I’d faced my culpability. Because …
“Come along.” Gently, persistently, Corrine pulled at me.
“No!” It sounded too harsh. “No, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll sit with you.” To my astonishment, she slid down the bulkhead, made herself a place at my side.
I asked, “How’d you get past the guard?”
“What guard? I came by way of section four.” She shrugged. “Taking a walk. No one quite knows what they’re doing, this hour.”
I said bitterly, “Do they ever?”
“Yes, Randy. Nick—Captain Seafort—is quite vigilant about training.”
I flushed. “He’s not the incompetent one.”
“Who is?”
I played with my fingers.
“Ah, I understand. That’s why you were banging your head? Randy, it wasn’t your fault.” Corrine’s fingers flitted to mine, with a gift of undeserved comfort.
“And who told you?” I pulled free.
“The whole ship knows. They’re talking of nothing else.”
“How I killed Kev.” There. It was said.
“He was too scared to wait for rescue. He dragged you so close to the fish that when Janks fired …”
“It’s called an outrider. The fish was Outside.” If I filled my tone with contempt, perhaps she’d leave.
“Kevin was the one who panicked, not you.”
“Of course! He was on a strange vessel, didn’t know his way. That’s why …” I pounded my leg. “Don’t you see? I’m crew, he isn’t. Wasn’t. I was ordered to take him to his father. That made him my responsibility. Expecting a groundsider to look after himself… do you know he’s never been on a ship before?”
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