Children of Hope

by David Feintuch

  “That bitch!”

  Ms Skor eyed me sourly, but said nothing to contradict me.

  “What about Corrine?”

  “Station’s holding her ‘for clarification’; won’t send her groundside, won’t send her back. Get your suit.”

  I did, hating it. But mostly my thoughts were on Ms Frand. Was it her religious convictions that led her to betray Fath? Did she hope to head off the demand for Fath’s resignation? I shrugged. It made no difference. She was beyond trust. And what of Corrine? Why had she left, without an agreement that would safeguard Fath?

  Because Corrine knew Fath would never let her go, and seized her chance. No doubt she’d try to bargain from the Station, but would Colonel Kaminski send her groundside regardless? Anth had thought well of him, but …

  I sighed. We all make our beds, and lie in them.

  Fath gave his permission. I trudged down the corridor, hauling along a useless suit. I could just imagine asking Harry to wait until I climbed into it before decompressing us. TIME FIVE MINUTES. FOUR MINUTES EQUALS DEAD ONE-ARM.

  I had to drag my suit up to Level 1, and down the next stairs, to get to the hatch at the other side of our corridor; at our end, the only way through was to take down the barrier.

  Finally, in section three, which had been rigged for decontamination, I stood at the hatch. My shirt felt clammy, though I hadn’t run all that hard. Nerves. I wanted to see Harry, didn’t I? I’d volunteered. Yet some part of me prayed that the panel was broken, that the corridor hatch couldn’t be opened.

  Easy, joey. You’re overtired. An hour or so, then the humiliating decon, and you’ll be in your bunk. No, first you have to memorize those frazzing verses. Perhaps Fath will relent. Yeah. Perhaps outriders wear skirts.

  Silently, the hatch slid into its recess. I crossed into section four, trudged past the outrider’s nutrient tub. There he was, at the far barrier. I called, “Hallo, Harry.” Outriders had never responded to sounds; perhaps they couldn’t hear at all. But the sound was soothing, at least to me. I strode along the corridor. “Missed me, boy?” I dropped my awkward suit and waved. No response. To test the unfamiliar limb hanging from my shoulder, I waved my other arm as well.

  As I approached, Harry skittered madly across the corridor from bulkhead to bulkhead. He absorbed Fath’s ruined clock, spewed it forth again. A pseudopod jabbed at the dial.

  “Easy, joey.” My tone was soothing.

  “Not too close, Mr Carr.” Lieutenant Skor, safe behind the barrier. I halted.

  Harry drew a plate. OUTRIDER. ONE-ARM HUMAN.

  I said, “Jess, write ‘yes.’”

  The alien erased it. A new etching: OUTRIDER. NOT. TWO-ARMED HUMAN.

  “‘Yes’ again, Jess.”

  NO! Long after Harry had etched it, the plate smoked and sizzled. I felt the acrid scent of my fear.

  In the speaker Fath said, “Start backing away, son. Slowly, calmly.”

  There was nothing I wanted more, but this had to be gotten over with. “In a minute, sir. Jess, write what he told us before. One-armed man and outrider. Add ‘now.’”

  ONE-ARMED HUMAN NOT EQUAL TWO-ARMED HUMAN. OUTRIDER FEAR.

  “Randy, go to the hatch!” Fath’s voice was a lash.

  I was the one in the corridor; it made me the best judge of the situation, and it was my life. I stamped my foot. “See why I disobey? Trust me, Fath!”

  “The outrider’s upset. He might kill you.”

  “Christ, don’t you think I realize that?” I edged closer. “Please?”

  “Oh, God” A long moment. Then, “Get it done.”

  “Jess, quick. ‘One-armed human equals two-armed. No fear.’” Another step. Harry quivered.

  How could I make him under …

  Of course.

  I whirled about. Harry leaped aside. I launched into a manic dance, shaking every limb. For good measure I did my best to run up a bulkhead. Finally I ground to a halt, panting. “Got it, you stupid blob? It’s ME!”

  Harry’s quivering eased. He approached me, rippling on those nonfeet, those temporary pseudopods we found so eerie.

  Despite myself, I backpedaled into the bulkhead.

  An appendage began to grow.

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Ms Skor.” In the speaker, Fath’s voice was tense. “Distract him! Make noise, flash the lights.”

  “No, Fath, I mean, Captain!” My lips were dry. “Wait it out.” It was too late, anyway. If they startled Harry now, Lord God knew what he’d do.

  “Sir?” Ms Skor.

  “I don’t … all right.”

  Harry edged closer. To my infinite relief, the appendage began to crust over, darkened to gunmetal-gray.

  It touched my real arm.

  I found my voice. In fact, I found myself babbling. “Jess, a new plate, hurry! ‘One-arm equals two-arm.’” Throw it at his feet.”

  “Referent not understood. The being has no feet.”

  “Don’t go glitched on me, you rusty bucket of chips! Draw it, and throw it on the deck as close to him as …”

  Absently, his appendage still waving, Harry flowed over Jess’s new plate.

  Suddenly Harry’s “hand” rasped across my belly to my other side. I flinched. It probed at my mechanical arm.

  I tarped the plate hard with the toe of my boot. “One-arm equals two-arm.”

  Harry flowed over the plate. Slowly, as if doubtfully, the appendage withdrew.

  I sagged. “Thank you, God.” I might, at that moment, have meant it.

  “That’s enough for tonight, Randy.” Fath.

  “Yes, sir.” I agreed wholeheartedly. As soon as Harry gave me room to edge clear …

  A new appendage emerged from Harry’s ever-changing skin. Resigned, I waited for it to coat over.

  It didn’t.

  Harry seemed to flow upward. Inexorably, his acid appendage extended toward my torso. If it splattered me, I’d be dead.

  I sucked in my stomach. “Fath, talk to me!” My lips were dry as desert sand, and my knees threatened to buckle.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  It helped, but not nearly enough.

  Harry’s appendage shot out. It flowed across my prosth. The mechanical hand sizzled.

  “NO!” I jerked back, but I had nowhere to go; I was already pressed tight to the bulkhead.

  In my new arm, something shorted. I yelped. Of its own volition the prosth began to buck and twitch. Harry flowed backward. His appendage began to reabsorb. The pseudoflesh of my prosth dripped and sizzled. I tried to hold it away from me, but it no longer responded to commands. Awkwardly, I leaned to my left, desperate to keep acid and bubbling metal from running down my leg.

  Harry flowed over a plate. ONE-ARM EQUALS ONE-ARM.

  “Fath?” Clammy with sweat, my pulse racing, I giggled. I must be going into shock. “I don’t think he likes my prosth.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think—”

  Alarms shrieked.

  So did I. My heart pounded my ribs. My spittle flew.

  “Battle Stations! All hands to Battle Stations! Captain to the bridge!” Sarah Frand.

  Outside the barrier, Ms Skor was already racing to the distant ladder, and her duty station abovedecks. Why the hell wasn’t her duty to protect me?

  “Randy, get out!” Fath.

  I cast a longing glance at the hatch, but Harry was too close. I’d never make it.

  “All hands, all passengers to suits. Prepare to Repel Boarders! Prepare for decompression!” Ms Frand reeled off commands.

  I edged along the bulkhead. Finally I reached a porthole.

  A dozen fish. More.

  “Duty Stations, report!”

  They jostled about, squirting propellant, nosing toward our fusion tubes. One was already extruding an appendage. Soon it would swing about, then break off. Its acid would eat through our hull.

  “Pilot to the bridge!” Fath, breathing heavily; he must have run all the way. “
Engine Room, emergency power to thrusters!”

  I spun to Harry. “You b—b—bastards!” I pounded the bulkhead. “Why?” But he only watched impassively. “Jess, a plate! ‘Why war?’”

  For a moment, I thought the puter wouldn’t respond, with Olympiad on full alert. Then a servo etched the plate.

  “Sealing corridor hatches!”

  NO WAR. OUTRIDER LIKE ONE-ARM. Or perhaps it was, OUTRIDER NO FEAR ONE-ARM.

  “Twelve fish war.”

  Harry erased the plate. NOT UNDERSTAND.

  “Jess: ‘twelve fish war ship. Here, now.’”

  “A moment.” The speaker went dead. The bridge must be making heavy demands on Jess’s resources.

  “Priority circuit! Draw it now!”

  A servo came to life, drew my plate. I hurled it at the outrider. He skittered aside. It fetched up against a bulkhead. After a moment’s quivering, Harry tasted.

  And went berserk. He flew about the corridor, quivering, jerking this way and that. After a moment, he careened into the airlock.

  I stalked after. “Yeah, run away, you sneaky oversize amoeba!”

  Near the outer hatch, Harry remained still, as if waiting for the lock to cycle. It wouldn’t, of course. The inner hatch was still open.

  “Fath, flush him out!”

  No reply.

  I frowned. Was he mad at me? Should I have called him Captain? No doubt: we were on duty. But he wouldn’t make an issue of it when we …

  You idiot.

  The corridor mikes fed the holo in our cabin, and Fath had gone to the bridge. I snatched up the caller. “Ship’s Boy Carr calling brid—”

  Harry rocketed: out of the lock.

  “You frazzing maniac!” I edged toward the hatch to three. Fath would open, if I called him from the hatch panel.

  The outrider skittered past me, circled his nutrient tub, plunged into it.

  Now what, Randy? To get to the hatch I’d have to pass within a meter of him. His behavior was so erratic I wasn’t sure I wanted to try.

  “Attention all hands and passengers.” Fath’s voice was tight. “We’re under attack by a flotilla of fish. They Fuse in and out, and more keep coming. Our fire is destroying those near our tubes, but …”

  My God, what was Harry doing? He’d sucked up the entire nutrient tub, and was growing before my eyes.

  I retreated past a cabin, and another. Then past the airlock. Not long before, I’d been trapped in that same—

  “… But there are a lot of fish.” It sounded an admission of defeat.

  My skin crawled. It wasn’t just the lock; the entire section could decompress at any moment. I’d abandoned my suit on the deck, about … I risked a glance. Twenty meters behind me. Watching Harry, I backed toward it, nearly stumbling when I reached it.

  I laid the suit in a sitting position against the bulkhead, maneuvered my feet in. It isn’t easy to get into a vacuum suit one-handed. I knew: I’d tried.

  One-handed, though, is nothing. Try climbing in with a metal and pseudoflesh arm that won’t do what you want, and won’t hold still. I finally grabbed the half-melted wrist with my other hand, tried to force it into a sleeve. It wouldn’t cooperate; I couldn’t get it far. Finally, I pinned it against my side, thrust it into the suit body with me. The damn hand fluttered against my torso, twitching like a dying fish. Ugh. Find a better image, joey.

  Harry skittered down the corridor, zoomed into the airlock and out again.

  “Master-at-arms Janks, report to bridge from the nearest caller. Mr Carr’s in trouble. Proceed to Level 2 section four and free him, if you have to kill the alien to do so. I’ll open corridor hatches for you when I know where the bloody hell you are.” Then, after a moment, “Sorry.”

  “Jesus.” Sweating, I redoubled my efforts. My legs were in. Now my real arm. I started working clamps.

  Harry raced past me, reversed direction. He was bigger than before, all right. By about a third. And he was awfully fast. But then, they’d always been.

  “Get away from me, you slug!” Luckily he’d shot past me toward section five; my way was clear to the section three hatch. Grabbing my helmet, I shuffled down the corridor. One doesn’t run in a suit.

  As I neared the airlock, I tried to fasten my helmet. One-handed, I couldn’t manage. It slipped from my fingers, rolled across the deck. I scrambled after it.

  As I snatched up the helmet, Harry skittered past, blocking my way to section three. Well, it wouldn’t be long before Janks came and shot him. I was glad of it. I might get splattered like Kevin, but …

  Minutes ago, I’d begged Fath to talk me through terror, but at the moment I didn’t much care. “I’m not afraid of you, pusbag!”

  A pity Harry didn’t understand.

  “Out of my way!” I stamped my foot, hoping he’d retreat. Instead he surged forward, and instantly my newfound courage fled. I stumbled back.

  The speaker crackled. “Randy, do nothing. Janks is on his way. Another minute or so. Secure your helmet!”

  Part of me marveled that with Olympiad under attack, the Captain could spare me a glance. “Aye aye, sir.” I fumbled for the clamps. “What’s going on Outside?”

  “Van Peer, thrust our stern to starboard, flank!” The speaker went dead.

  Harry grew an appendage. The wrong kind. Fath was probably right, telling me to wait. If I tried to twist past the outrider to section three, Harry might melt my suit, and me with it. Come on, Janks.

  Taller than I, quivering, the outrider drew near. His appendage probed. Hastily, still fumbling with the helmet, I retreated. The appendage extended again. I backpedaled.

  Right into the airlock.

  Harry followed. With his waving acid pseudoarm, he herded me to the outer hatch. I fetched up against the control panel. He grew taller, wider, blocking any hope of escape.

  “God damn you!” It came out a croak.

  The porthole was just past him. My eyes widened. A dozen fish? Well, now there were thirty.

  Harry’s appendage shot out. I flinched. It stretched past me to the hatch. Desperately I tore at my suit clamps. The helmet was jammed; I’d have to yank it off, reset it on my head.

  The hatch plate began to sizzle.

  “JANKS!” My scream echoed in the tiny chamber.

  When Harry burned through, we’d decompress. Unless I got my helmet clamped, I’d die.

  Harry’s colors swirled. A whole segment of him turned gray. Good, you slimeball, maybe you’ll die too.

  The helmet slithered from my grasp. I caught it between a knee and the hull. Get it on, quick, before … you idiot, it’s backward! Easy, joey, you’ve passed a dozen suit drills. All you have to do is … where the hell is Janks?

  Too late. Any second, Harry will burn through. Janks won’t be in time. I’ll feel what Dad felt, those last agonized seconds.

  Inside my suit, my useless prosth fluttered against my side.

  Steady, son.

  What, Fath? Oh, it’s not you. Dad, I’ve missed you so. Would you stay with me, ’til the end? That’s all I ask. And if you could put your arm around me …

  The hatch smoked and sizzled. When the acid ate through, would explosive decompression squeeze me through the hole? We’d lose the air not only from the hatch, but all of section four. If the attacking fish damaged nearby section hatches, scores of passengers would die.

  Cursing a God who didn’t exist, I let go the helmet, stabbed at the hatch panel. The inner hatch slid closed. Sorry, Janks. You’ll miss your shot.

  The way to the corridor was blocked. Now, Harry would only decompress our airlock.

  I would never get the frazzing helmet clamped in time. I grabbed the emergency lever from its socket, scratched on the deck, “One-arm die.”

  His pseudopod still sizzling on the hull, Harry flowed atop my words. When he moved aside, the smoking deck had a reply. NO WAR.

  What the hell did that mean? Dozens of fish were after us. Had we ever understood a word the other said? I slam
med the helmet on my neckpiece. It caught.

  “Janks, run! They’re in the lock!”

  “Laser room, we’re coming about. Shoot on—”

  Tinny voices in the suit radio; someone had left it on. Feverishly, as Harry’s acid ate through the outer hatch, I clawed at the remaining clamps. It was harder than you’d think. I was pressed tight against the hatch, and Harry, half gray and dead, loomed above, off balance, ready to bathe me in agony. My fingers were sweaty. I hadn’t yet turned on the air; the suit was stifling.

  “Olympiad, we have the shot.”

  “Take it, Station!”

  “Olympiad, Vince Palabee, on behalf of the colonial government. I call on you to protect—”

  “Stow it, Palabee. We’re doing what we can.” Fath’s tone was sharp.

  Two more clamps, the hardest to reach.

  “Return us control of the Station!”

  “That’s between you and the officers—”

  A hiss. A rush of air escaping the hatch. In a second I’d gasp, then my eyes would bulge, then—

  Harry fell atop me.

  “Aiyyyee!” My shriek soared into the upper registers. The helmet fogged. The clamps weren’t done; the suit couldn’t hold air. It wouldn’t matter. I could almost hear the bubbling of my suit, almost feel the heat as Harry melted through. In seconds, I’d dissolve.

  I tried to flinch from the skin of my suit, wondering where the acid would burn first.

  “JANKS TO BRIDGE, IT’S GOT RANDY!” Labored breaths. “The only way I … should I shoot through the hatch? We’ll lose the section. Nobody’s in it.”

  “Yes!”

  I panted. The air was stale and useless. I could move my arms, but didn’t dare. If I so much as touched Harry, it would be the end.

  A lurch. I was falling, blind, dying, alone.

  “Sir, it’s just launched from the hull! Jesus God, the boy’s alive! Suited. He’s … his head and shoulders are embedded in the outrider. He’s kicking like mad. I’m blowing the inner hatch!”

  No, you idiot. I wasted precious seconds closing it. Don’t make my death a waste.

  “Captain, Kaminski here, on Orbit Station. Palabee wants access to our puter, to coordinate defense. Should we allow it?”