“Janks …” Fath’s tone was dull. “Kill him.”
“Pressure equalized, the hatches are opening.” Janks. “Sir, if I … Remember the Dakko joey? If the outrider blows apart … I can’t kill him without risking Randy!”
“Mr … Janks … The voice was lifeless, the words slurred through unwilling lips. “Kill … my … son. He’s in agony.”
Silence. Then. “Lord God save my soul. I can’t.”
“NOW, JANKS! Laser room, you too! Aim for the outrider!”
“Laser room, belay that.” Mr Tolliver. “Sir, why—”
“Edgar!”
Swimming in a fog of incomprehension, I yawned mightily.
“Olympiad, do you read Orbit Station?”
“Why is Randy kicking?” Tolliver.
“Reflex action, or …”
“Nick, if it’s reflex, he’s dead even if his body doesn’t know it, so you don’t need to shoot. If not, HE ISN’T DEAD! The acid hasn’t got him.”
Why couldn’t I see? More important, why wasn’t I dead?
I yawned again. The voices faded. Feebly, without thought, I twisted my air valve.
Cool air hissed. And it stayed within the suit.
I blinked. All was still black. But the world—its sounds, at least—came back into focus.
“But—you can’t know … damn it, we’re on open circuit.” A click.
Utter silence.
“Don’t leave me!” No one heard my plea.
“Janks to Bridge!” He too was suited, so I could hear him.
Nothing.
“Janks to Bridge, urgent!”
Fath’s voice was lifeless. “What is it?”
“Begging your pardon, the outrider’s heading for that big fish with the greenish blowhole. Decide right now whether you want the laser room to take it out.”
“Of course I do!”
“Does the outrider mean to kill Randy?”
“It means to kill all of us. And if the fish Fuses with Randy inside …”
My stomach coiled. I was dying alone. But if the fish Fused, “alone” would take on a new dimension.
But why hadn’t the outrider’s acid eaten through my suit? Harry was dying, he’d turned gray. Did it mean he hadn’t enough acid to …
Gray. Like the appendage he’d used to touch my cheek.
He’d flowed atop me, over the unsealed helmet. And now my suit held air.
Jesus God! He’d coated himself with that protective layer, made himself my seal. He’d meant to save me. Why, though? As a trophy? Prisoner? Hostage?
Ever so gently, I reached upward toward my helmet with a gloved hand. Something hard, outside my suit. I snatched back my fingers, felt no burning, no outrush of air.
“Sir, we only have a few seconds.” Janks. “If you laser the fish, where will the outrider go?”
“Nowhere. It has no propulsion.”
We’d float through space forever, or until Hope Nation’s gravity sucked us to blazing oblivion. On the other hand, by then I’d be long dead. I only had two hours air.
“Olympiad, this is Palabee at government headquarters in the Venturas. Report! How many fish, what are they up to?”
Idly, in a near dreamlike state, I wondered how Fath and Janks would decide my fate. I was utterly helpless, trapped inside Harry. They’d destroy the fish, or not. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do either way.
The hell there wasn’t.
I reached down to my chest, felt for switches, flicked the one I sought. I opened my mouth, shut it again. This might be their last memory of me. I ought to do it right.
“Ship’s Boy Randolph Carr reporting to Bridge.” My voice was crisp. “Please call the Captain.”
A voice, hesitant, as if in awe. “Randy?”
“Yes, sir. I suggest—respectfully suggest you don’t shoot the fish. Harry’s taken me for a reason. I’m not sure why, but he hasn’t hurt me. In fact …” My words falling on one another, I explained about my helmet.
“Laser room, do NOT fire on the stationary fish about eighty meters of our port side! Acknowledge.”
“Orders received and understood, sir.”
“Or on the outrider approaching it!”
“Fath, what’s happening? I can’t see a thing.”
“The fish that brought Harry is inert but alive. The outrider carrying you is going to hit it amidships. Other fish are after our tubes. The laser room is holding them off, killing them en masse. We’ve six banks of lasers dedicated to the tubes, but fish keep Fusing in. And…” Fath sounded uneasy. “… if a fish Defuses too near, it may get to our tubes before we—”
“Olympiad, please respond to Station.” Colonel Kaminski’s voice was plaintive.
I asked, “Can you Fuse to safety?” I’d soon suffocate; Olympiad ought to save herself.
“We’re too close.”
To Hope Nation, Fath meant. No ship could Fuse near a large mass; the gravity cancelled the field. The formulas had bored me to tears, in math. Now was an insane moment to ask, but … “Fath, how can the fish do it?” Here I was, en route to my death, and quizzing Fath on principles of Fusion. Well, my life never had made much sense.
“If only we knew.” A pause. “Randy, the instant their attack lets up, I’ll send a launch to rescue you. I’ve called for volunteers.”
I snorted; how would they communicate with the fish? “Have them bring a plate asking Harry to let me go?”
“Don’t you DARE be flippant, you ill-bred young clod!” Fath’s voice was tight. “Every middy aboard is ready to risk his life saving you. Including Mr Yost, whom you hate!”
“I don’t hate …” I gave it up. “I’m very sorry, sir. Thank them, especially Mr Yost.”
“Randy, you’re about to hit.” His words tumbled in haste. “I take back what I said. You’re no clod. I love you, son. Godspeed.”
I bit my lip so hard I tasted salt. “Fath, I—”
BUMP.
I yelped.
“Randy?… Randy!”
“I’m …” I marveled at it. “Still here.”
“The alien’s skin is swirling; it’s going to absorb the outrider. But it’s changing. Harry is … oh, Lord God, he’s oozing around your suit!”
Even as he spoke, a rubbery membrane flowed over my legs. The suit speaker hissed and crackled. My body convulsed in a galvanic spasm that failed to break me free. “No! Not yet!” Cringing, I tensed to endure the unbearable.
“Rand … beg your …” Fath’s words faded in and out. “Speak to me … Jesus, I pray thee … merciful!”
I tried to curl into a fetal ball, but the suit restrained me. I floated, helpless, cursing Harry. Wrapped around my suit, he cut off half my radionics.
A vague pressure, something like a thump. Blind, cocooned, in zero grav, it was impossible to get my bearings. And my stomach ached.
“Station … tenant Skor… Captain is … occupied.”
“Ma’am, should we feed target coord … government? … unified fire control, but … might fire on Olympiad?”
“Fath, Ms Skor, anyone! Can you hear—”
“… gives a spaceman’s damn whether … you coord … fire on us and we’ll blow you to fragments!”
“Because I’m going to scream and I won’t be able to sto—”
“… love of God, Randy, answer!”
“Olympiad… Lieutenant Riev … by for message from … miral Kenzig in Central …”
The pressure on my legs eased. My arm came free.
“—I can’t see it coming, and the wait—”
“Gotcha, you son of a bitch!”
Something scraped my helmet.
“Laser room, stay off this freq—”
A dim light. I could see!
But then, a horrid rush of air. A chill, around my unclasped helmet.
How long can you hold your breath? How long is a lifetime?
My prosthetic arm thrashed and scrabbled against my ribs. In a moment my ears would pop, m
y eyeballs would—
My breath expelled with explosive force.
I gagged.
The air was horrible. Unbelieving, I took another breath. Even if it had oxygen, I couldn’t live long on …
Wait, you idiot. Frantically, I clawed at the recalcitrant clamps. This time, they closed with ease, and the helmet seal light blinked. But my suit was filled with a stench that … urk. To clear it, I turned the valve as high as it would go.
Randy, you’ll need that air! Reluctantly, I turned it down.
“Admiralty House to Olympiad, respond.” The voice sounded familiar. Alon Riev.
My helmet defogger labored. My visor began to clear. I peered this way and that. Where the hell was I? Where was Olympiad?
A vague orange glow. Spots. Swirls. Where was Harry?
Without a handhold, it’s hard to twist around in zero gee. No, not hard. Impossible. And the nearest thing to grab was … I recoiled. The fish. I was inside the fish. “Jesus H. Christ!”
“Randy!” Shock and surprise.
Between me and the … the what? Wall? Skin? … swam a formless black shadow. In the suffused light I couldn’t tell whether it was large or small, near or far.
Abruptly my perspective snapped into place.
It was Harry.
No, I only knew it was an outrider. It might be any of them.
“Go ahead, Admiralty House.” Ms Skor.
“Fath, I’m … scared.” I could have kicked myself. Of all the dumb things to say. I might be the first human brought inside the enemy. I should have said something noble like … like, “I offer myself as a sacrifice to peace.” Or something.
Not only that, it might have been my final utterance. What last memory did I want to leave Fath? It certainly wasn’t “I’m scared.” Shit. Too late to take it back.
“Kenzig here. Where’s Seafort?”
“Randy, what are they doing to you?”
“Ignoring me. There’s an outrider … whoa, make it two! Three!” They oozed, one by one, through the fish’s flesh. My forehead beaded with sweat. I wanted out. If by some miracle I could communicate that to Harry … but which blob was Harry? Impossible to tell.
“Put Seafort on or I’ll relieve him on the spot!”
“Just a moment, sir.”
“Do nothing to provoke them, son. I’ll be back in a moment. Joanne, stay with him. Yes, Admiral? Captain Nicholas Seafort repor—”
“Where the hell have you—never mind. Palabee wants Olympiad, Kaminski’s Station, and his own ground defenses to coordinate.”
“Under whose command?”
“His.”
Don’t provoke them. Great advice, but what exactly might provoke them? They were drawing closer. I couldn’t kick; I wasn’t touching the fish; a kick in zero gee accomplished nothing. And if I managed to make contact, I’d be bathed in acid.
I’d like to wake up now, please.
“Is that your order, sir?”
“Randy, this is Joanne Skor. Captain Seafort’s on the horn to Centraltown.”
“I hear him. It’s an open line.” Fath’s absence was the least of my worries. If I touched the damn fish …”
“Oops.”
Urk. I was touching it. Leaning against it, sort of. And I wasn’t burning. Was that a good sign? Never mind that, try to communicate. Harry, would you loan me a plate and an etching tool? Perhaps I’d been a bit impetuous going to section four to show Harry his old friend one-arm.
“Well, we ought …” Kenzig’s tone wavered. “Mr SecGen, what’s your advice?”
“Sir, I’m under continual attack; it’s not a moment to debate policy. But the Navy’s never put its ships under command of an independent power. Never.”
“Independent? By order of McEwan, Hope Nation is again a U.N. colony.”
“Goofjuice.” Even from Fath, that was a bit much. He was speaking to an Admiral, who’d just threatened to relieve him. “McEwan is Ambassador, not Governor. He has no authority to sweep aside a government recognized by the U.N. Assembly. Neither has that ass Scanlen.”
“Mr Seafort!”
“Van Peer, come about; wait any longer and that bloody fish will have us! Sir, I told you I have no time for subtleties.”
“Neither have I. They want me to order you groundside, you know.”
“Will you?” Fath sounded merely curious.
“Not while you’re fighting off fish.” Kenzig cleared his throat. “I’m under great pressure to cooperate, in fact Scanlen’s sending another delegation this afternoon. Personally, I don’t care to face a heresy charge. Just between us …”
I snorted. Someone had goofed, by not going to secure circuit. Just between them, and everyone in the frazzing worlds I’d manage to tell.
“… I saw no evidence the Branstead government had collapsed. McEwan was a touch overeager.”
“Sir, may I Log that?”
Who cares, Fath? I’m trapped in a fish with three skittery shadows while they argue over their hors d’oeuvres.
A long pause. “By Lord God, go ahead.”
An outrider launched itself in my direction, growing a pseudopod as it neared. Christ, not again. To my relief, the appendage turned gray. The other outriders swam closer.
I tried not to flinch. “Ms Skor, they’re touching me. First one, then another.” I tried not to make it a complaint.
“Hang on, joey.” Her voice was gruff. “We’ll have you out of there if it’s humanly …” Yeah, that was the catch. If it was humanly possible.
An outrider planted itself before me, quivering.
“You’re scared? What about me? Stop poking my bloody suit!” Now I was sounding like Fath. I rolled my eyes.
“Admiral, we’re holding them off, but any moment that may change. If I must choose, shall I protect Hope Nation or ourselves?”
“Yourselves, Mr Seafort.” The reply came faster than I’d expected. “To lose another ship such as Olympiad would be unthinkable.”
The outrider prodded at the fish’s … deck? … stomach? His movements left lines. I squinted in the dim glow.
ONE-ARM NO FEAR. Or it could have been, NO FEAR ONE-ARM. We really hadn’t worked much on syntax.
“You’re Harry!”
“What, joey?”
“Nothing, Ms Skor.”
Not that it really mattered. Even if I knew what to say to him, I had no writing tool save my boot, and no way in hell would I try to scuff a response into the fish’s living flesh. The thought gave me shudders.
NO WAR.
“Yeah, right.”
Harry’s gray appendage thrust itself at me. All I could do was stand there. Float there. In zero gee, in its home environment, the outrider was far more agile than I. Hell, it was more agile even on our own ship.
The appendage probed at my hand. I thrust my arm behind me, touched something soft and giving. I squawked, snatched back my fingers. Thank God I was suited.
The pseudopod jabbed at me, forced open my fist.
“What? You want me to shake hands?” Reluctantly, I made my fingers close around the cold gray substance. With scorn that overcame my fear, I pumped as if introducing myself to one of Anth’s cronies.
The appendage came off in my fingers. “Jesus!” Horrified, I flung it down. The outrider shrunk, picked it up, returned it.
“I don’t want your fucking hand!”
“Olympiad, Vince Palabee. My government demands you help form a unified, coordinated defense. Admiral Kenzig says he ordered you to cooperate.”
“Did you, Admiral?”
“Eh? What are you …”
“Play it back, Ms Skor; Palabee’s on another frequency.”
I glared at the appendage. “All right, I’ll take it. What should I …” I stopped dead. Was it a hand, or … a tool?
Cautiously, I bent, braced a shoulder against the fish’s flesh.
“No, I didn’t say that, Captain, not quite in those terms.” Kenzig.
I drew, “One-arm fear. O
ne-arm no-Fuse ship.” We didn’t have a word yet for “go.” “No-Fuse” was as close as I could get. I hoped he’d understand.
I waited for Harry to taste. Instead, a reply. FISH. NO FISH. NO OUTRIDER.
I made the erasing gesture. “I don’t understand.” Then, “One-arm. Ship. Now.”
Something indecipherable.
“Christ, damn it, Harry, I’m lost in here! I can’t see anything but you!” I jabbed with the stick/tool/hand. Did we have a word for “see”? “One-arm no taste ship. Fear.”
The outrider touched his fish. Abruptly the outer membrane thinned. It became translucent, then transparent. I’d be damned: a porthole. I peered wistfully at the beautiful lights of home. Olympiad. I swallowed.
More portholes appeared. In one, Hope Nation swam, green and distant, unachievable. In the others, a swarm of fish, Defusing, squirting propellant, Fusing. Ughh.
ONE-ARM AND OUTRIDER NO-FUSE. Abruptly he herded me to a membrane. Go where?
“Hey, wait.” Was that the outer skin? Was he ejecting me?
“This is Palabee. I want an answer, Seafort.”
“Centraltown, tie your lasers to the Station. We’ll coordinate with their—”
The membrane opened just as we reached it. A compartment, a larger one. It was infested with outriders. I balked, windmilling my one working arm. Harry nudged me through.
“What is it, boy?” Ms Skor. I didn’t know I’d whimpered aloud.
“It’s … they … record, please, ma’am. We’re inside the fish; they moved me from a small chamber to a large one. The place is swarming with outriders. A couple dozen. No particular order; they sort of attach themselves to walls and intestines and God knows what. I’m about to throw up.” I swallowed. One didn’t vomit in a suit; the consequences were drastic.
“Olympiad, we’re in the Venturas, not Centraltown. We moved the government to—”
The outer membrane swirled. New portholes appeared.
Harry was behind me. I looked for a place to draw him a message.
“Very well. Colonel, coordinate with Venturas Base.”
Another outrider shot out pseudopods. Like a sailor using handholds in zero gee, it skittered across projections and recesses in the fish, stopped just short of my feet. OUTRIDER
I peered over my shoulder. “I thought you were Harry.” No response, of course. I bent to erase, hesitated, erased just the one symbol that made no sense. “Ms Skor, still recording? They want to do something to us. A squiggly symbol, like a snake with a head at each end.” Not a snake, exactly; more like a sperm. Inside my suit, I blushed to the tips of my ears. I’d die before I’d say that to Ms Skor. But what did it mean? “Outrider fuck human”? They were certainly trying hard enough.
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