City of Ruins - [Diving Universe 02]

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Bridge puts his arm around me, supporting me. Usually I hate to be helped, but his arm is comforting. I need the assistance.

  We walk through the main doors into controlled chaos. The furniture has moved. Some of the potted plants that had been on the counters were gone, bits of dirt still littering the floor.

  People are standing in front of the desk, the line five deep, the hotel employees looking frazzled. Many of the people at the desk are trying to check out. Others stand near the chairs, looking up.

  I glance up too. Nothing has fallen, nothing looks different, but I’m not sure of that.

  The elevators are blocked off, as are the mechanical stairways. We have to climb to the top floor.

  The muscles in my legs scream with pain. They barely function. Twice my legs wobble so badly that Bridge has to keep me from falling.

  Halfway up the stairs, Bridge asks, “What really happened down there, Boss?”

  “Gravity,” I snarl. I’m beginning to hate gravity.

  By the time we reach the top floor, I have decided that I’m not beginning to hate gravity. I do hate gravity. I hate it with every fiber of my exhausted being.

  Bridge leads me to the door of the suite. “Maybe we should wait a few hours before we meet.”

  Sensible, of course. But the team needs to know what they’re dealing with.

  Or do they?

  If they don’t know, they won’t let anything slip to the authorities in Vaycehn.

  “Tell Ilona to figure out how to get us down there again as soon as possible,” I say.

  Bridge is frowning at me. I want him to be taking notes. I want him to be nodding and agreeing. I don’t want him to look so disapproving.

  “We’ll also need some training on surviving groundquakes, and we’ll need better guides, some that will be able to help us get out should another groundquake occur.”

  “Boss, I don’t think that’s reasonable—”

  “It is,” I say.

  “You’re tired.”

  I pull away from him and draw up to my full height. He’s treating me like a child. Like a stupid child who doesn’t know her own limits.

  “We made the discovery of a lifetime down there, McAllister,” I say. “We have to get back to it and quickly.”

  “If it was there before, I’m sure it will be there later,” he says in that same damn patronizing tone. I’m grateful for that tone when he uses it with the Vaycehnese. I hate it when he uses it on me.

  “It wasn’t there before,” I say, “and it might be gone in a few days.”

  His frown grows. I get the sense that he doesn’t believe me at all. Damn the exhaustion.

  “I need rest,” I say. “We all need food. Then we need to meet and look over everything the team brought back. We’ll need a plan. But first, you and Ilona need to get us back to that room.”

  “When it’s safe,” Bridge says.

  “As soon as possible,” I say. “If you can’t follow that instruction, then find me someone who can.”

  He holds up his hands. “All right.”

  He waits as I unlock the door. I step inside the room. It’s cool and dry, the air on me like a caress.

  “You’re not going to tell me what you found,” he says.

  “No,” I say. “It’s better that you don’t know when you talk to the Vaycehnese.”

  “It’s that big?” he asks.

  “Bigger,” I say. “Much, much bigger.”

  * * * *

  THIRTY-TWO

  C

  oop kept Lynda’s team on the bridge for a ten-hour shift while his ^^ team rested. His entire team was up and ready for duty within eight hours, but he ordered them to take some downtime. Dix went back to his cabin to get more sleep. Yash decided to have a proper breakfast, something she hadn’t done in weeks. Both Anita and Perkins went to the gym for some much-needed exercise.

  He probably should have relaxed as well, but he wasn’t able to. His mind worked too hard. He felt like they were still in the middle of an emergency, which they were and they weren’t. Nothing actively threatened them—no attacks, no problems from the interior, no failures on board ship—but they still didn’t know where they were or what they were facing.

  He let Lynda run the bridge while he inspected various systems. He spoke with the engineers repairing the anacapa. The damage there was extensive, and they couldn’t wait to get into the sector base to use backup equipment to make sure everything was running.

  He didn’t tell the engineers that he wasn’t sure if the equipment was even in the base any longer, let alone whether or not it would be in any condition to use.

  The other repairs were going slowly, but the mood on the ship had measurably improved. His crew usually didn’t like leaving the Ivoire, but this time, everyone he spoke to questioned when they would be able to disembark.

  Being in foldspace, not knowing how long they were going to be there, or when (if) they would ever be able to leave the ship again had had an impact on everyone. They all wanted to leave the Ivoire for a short period of time, not because they wanted to visit the sector base or Venice City, but because they wanted to exercise their freedoms.

  He understood that. If he were a more impulsive man, he would have left the ship already, inspecting the sector base and trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

  But being impulsive was the worst thing he could do there. He had a hunch that his presence—the crew’s presence, five hundred strong—was an advantage he could keep from the outsiders. They had no idea how many people were on the Ivoire, whether or not there was anyone on the Ivoire at all, let alone the people who belonged on the ship.

  He was going to maintain that advantage for a while longer, until he had a sense of the outsiders.

  He stopped in the science labs last, just before he returned to the bridge. The science labs were a warren that ran along the belly of the ship. Each lab had protective walls so thick that nothing could get through. Each lab also had the capability of running its own environment separate from the ship, which enabled the scientists to run the occasionally risky experiment without endangering everyone else on board.

  Coop inspected the labs twice a year, but otherwise he rarely went deep within them. He usually left the management of the labs to his chief science officer, Lay la Lalliki.

  Lalliki was a tall, thin woman with large dark eyes and dark hair cut so short that Coop could never figure out what color it was. Her skin was pasty, and her gaze always seemed distant, as if she was never really looking at anything in front of her, always seeing something in her imagination instead.

  Still, she was a superb officer, and despite her occasional vagueness with nonscientists, she was very good at handling her staff. The scientists were a temperamental lot, and many of them were annoyed at serving on the Ivoire instead of the Pasteur, the Fleet’s premier science vessel.

  Fifty percent of the Fleet’s best scientists scattered among the regular vessels, like the Ivoire. The rest went to the Pasteur and engaged in cutting-edge research—or so he was told.

  He never really paid much attention. He was just happy to have excellent minds on board his ship. The brightest minds were spread among the various ships for just the reason he was encountering here—sometimes the Fleet’s ships got cut off from each other. If all of the best scientific minds had congregated on the Pasteur, it would have done him no good.

  He had brilliance here, and he knew he could rely on it.

  Mostly the science team worked on their various projects, even while the ship was in a state of emergency. Not all of the geneticists, for example, needed to focus on foldspace or the current location of the Ivoire. They kept to their work and seemed content with it.

  But several members of the science staff had been pulled to work on the sector base issue, as well as on those particles.

  Lalliki managed all of it.

  She met him outside the labs at his request.

  She looked tired, the shadows under he
r dark eyes deep. He wondered if he looked as exhausted as well, then decided not to think about it.

  “Lynda tells me that you think those particles are unbonded nanobits,” he said.

  “We have no idea,” Lalliki said, sounding annoyed. “We have unbonded nanobits that we pulled from the airlock, but we have no idea if they’re ours. We discovered that the Quurzod weaponry had loosened some of the nanobits on the exterior after we entered foldspace. For all we know, they could have coated inside when we were doing the grab from outside the ship.”

  He usually liked her caution, but on this day, he wanted some certainty.

  “Those nanobits couldn’t be the particles we’re seeing, then?” he asked.

  “Oh, they could be,” she said. “Or that could be something else. It’s just not safe to say.”

  He suppressed a sigh, then nodded. Normally, at this point, he would have asked about some of the other ongoing work, but he simply didn’t have the energy or the interest.

  Instead, he said, “As soon as I decide that we can enter the sector base, I’m going to need three of your people to investigate what’s going on. In addition to good minds and great researchers, I’ll need people who are good in an emergency. There’s the possibility that we could get surprised once we enter the base, and I want to make sure the scientists can respond with force if need be.”

  Lalliki gave him a sideways look. “You think that these outsiders you’ve been monitoring could be hostile.”

  “There’s that possibility,” he said.

  “We could lose people, then,” she said.

  “There’s that possibility, too.” He kept his voice soft. He understood her dilemma. Unlike other sections of the ship where the crew had redundancies, the science labs had individuals who specialized, and people who supervised them. Those who supervised often had better minds than those running the experiments.

  A loss in the science labs meant the loss remained until the ship hooked back up with the Fleet. Even then, there was no guarantee. The loss of one particular scientific researcher might mean that research halted for good.

  “I’ll have names for you when you’re ready,” she said.

  She didn’t complain. She didn’t argue. She knew how important this was. He appreciated that. He occasionally got arguments about his assignments from the medical staff. But Lalliki was much more professional than that.

  He also knew she would struggle with the decision as she tried to figure out who would do a good job, who was good enough to back up the advance team, and who, at the same time, was expendable.

  “Thanks, Layla,” he said. “I’m hoping this is going to be an easy one.”

  She let out a small snorting laugh, the sound she made when someone said something too good to be true.

  “It hasn’t been easy so far,” she said. “I don’t know why things should change now.”

  Because I want them to, he almost said, but didn’t. He knew that what he wanted and what was going to happen were probably two different things.

  But he wanted to hold onto the illusion of control a little longer.

  Even though he had a hunch it was an illusion they could ill afford.

  * * * *

  THIRTY-THREE

  F

  ive hours later, I’m at the head of the conference table in the big meeting room in my suite. The entire team has gathered. It’s a repeat of our first night—sort of. We’re all ragged.

  I’ve had four hours of sleep that, while not refreshing, at least took the edge off of my exhaustion. Except in my muscles. I tried to get out of bed, and I could barely move. My upper thighs had seized up, my knees ached, and I couldn’t lift my arms over my head.

  My second shower since I returned from that cavern helped, but didn’t make it completely better. I got some movement back. Now, at least, I can walk around the suite without groaning like a sick person.

  In the past, I’ve gotten exhausted diving into wrecks, but my muscles have never seized up. Some of the team tells me this is normal for people who exercise in gravity. If so, I don’t see the point. As great as our discovery is, I am really beginning to wish it had happened somewhere in space, without all the hazards of sore muscles, groundquakes, and falling rock.

  The hotel staff is surly. While they’ve put out a spread for us, they act as if we’re being inconsiderate. Maybe we are, eating well while the city’s in crisis, expecting service in the middle of an emergency.

  But the staff hasn’t gone home, nor is anyone from that staff out working with the emergency crews. Some of my people volunteered to do so. Bridge told me that as we tried to set up this meeting. I was worried that some of my team wouldn’t be available, but they all are.

  The City of Vaycehn refused all outside help, even though a few of my people had expertise in ground emergencies. The Vaycehnese don’t want outsiders to see the damage that groundquakes can cause. They don’t want us to know what really happens when death holes appear.

  In fact, they initially asked us to leave Vaycehn altogether.

  Apparently Ilona fought that battle while she was trying to get us out of the cavern. Of course, then she was arguing that she had no idea what had happened to us and that if we were missing, then of course our people had to stay.

  I have no idea how her most recent discussion has gone.

  I stand while I wait for the last of my people to filter into the room. I have my back to the conference table. I’ve already eaten—in fact, I’ve eaten enough to sustain me for the rest of my life. I was starved when the hotel staff brought in the food. I ate more than I’ve ever eaten in one sitting. I think some of that is a reaction to being alive, and some of it comes from the extreme exertion.

  That’s one of the reasons I don’t want to sit down. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll have trouble standing up again.

  The other reason is spread out before me.

  Every night, I’ve looked at the City of Vaycehn through these windows, sprawled across the hills and mountainsides. I’ve become familiar with the buildings, the skyline, the way the lights flicker.

  Tonight the lights are in different places. The lights move, and they don’t flicker. They’re dimmer than they’ve been, because the air is still filled with dust.

  In fact, a dust cloud still hovers over the edge of the city where the death hole blew an opening in the ground and swallowed an entire neighborhood.

  One of the hotel’s waiters told me that they believe fifty are dead. “But,” he said, “in cases like this, the numbers always climb.”

  The number of wounded is staggering—in the hundreds, maybe a thousand or more. For a city that is prepared for groundquakes, these numbers surprise me.

  The staffer told me that the death rate used to be a lot higher than it is now. Then the others shushed him and got him out of the room.

  I thought of those numbers. I’m still thinking about them.

  When I take tourists on dives, they complain about the danger. They hate the lack of gravity. They hate carrying their own environment.

  I love it. I love the solitude, the self-sufficiency. Yes, I might die out there. But in some ways, the possible deaths in space seem merciful compared to the ones that happened here today. Crushed by rock. Suffocating beneath a building. Melted or evaporated or something equally horrible by the explosion of the death hole itself.

  I shudder, then sigh.

  I want out of here. I hate being on the ground.

  At the same time, I want to stay forever—or at least until we can take the Dignity Vessel with us.

  “Everyone’s here, Boss,” Ilona says.

  I turn. Everyone is here, and they’re not in their usual positions. Ilona sits near my right hand. Bridge sits to my left. The Six sit near each other, and look so exhausted that I’m afraid they’ll pass out before the food reaches them.

  Some of the archeologists look tired, too. Mikk has deep circles under his eyes. Roderick lifts his water glass slowly. His arms must hurt like
mine do.

  Only a handful of people seem all right. Tamaz seems relieved that he hadn’t accompanied us below. I’m relieved, too. While he’s an excellent diver and pilot, he wouldn’t have been able to lift the rocks the way Roderick and Mikk did.

  The scientists look all right as well, if a bit worried. Some of them volunteered to help with the rescue efforts—one of them even has medical training I did not know about—and they were very angry at the rebuff.