She was sprawled on the wall that had become the deck, not suffocating, but injured—her leg had been broken when she fell during the quake. With a sinking heart, he saw that it was a compound fracture; she had lost some blood. How were they going to get her into a spacesuit for the transfer back to Picard?
She was trying to speak; Terry pulled off his helmet so that he could hear. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered. “I guess my landing wasn’t stable enough—the ship fell over after I got back in it, and I must have hit my head—there was a roaring noise and I blacked out.”
“Your landing was fine,” he assured her. “There was an earthquake.”
“Earthquake? The others—”
“They’re okay. We’ll be taking off in Picard.” Sensing her anguish he asked quickly, “You’re not in pain, are you? You remember how to stop suffering from pain?”
“I—I tried to, but it doesn’t seem to work like it did with Aldren.” It wasn’t working at all; she was in agony. Terry recalled that Aldren had said it would not work with a semi-conscious person or one too sick to judge danger. He would have to do it for her. It was like healing, he perceived—you didn’t do it to someone, you just showed the way. . . .
Shutting out all thought of their situation, he relaxed and reached out to Mikaela’s mind. As the link was made he was suddenly struck by fierce pain in his own leg; he almost fell. Desperately he shifted into altered consciousness, letting the pain envelop him and then cease to hurt. Follow me, Mikaela! Mesh your mind with mine, and it won’t hurt any more. . . .
He knew from her face that he had succeeded. “Captain . . . you—you did what Aldren did, I felt it! How—? I’m all right now. Only—I can’t get to Picard, you know. You’ll have to leave me behind.”
“We won’t do that.” At the moment he did not see how to avoid it, but there must be some way.
Suddenly the ship began to sway again, first gently and then with a lurch that threw Terry down beside Mikaela. He seized his helmet and managed to get it back on just as a sharp jolt hit, rocking the ship violently; everything not already dislodged slid toward them. The airlock burst open and Drew, who had just finished cycling it, fell through, landing on top of Terry. The shaking continued for a long time.
This was not an aftershock, Terry realized. It was the main quake; the earlier one had been merely a foreshock. God only knew how much havoc was occurring outside.
As he thought this, Zuri’s scream came over his helmet comm. And then, “Captain, the ice just cracked! A crevasse opened up and Picard . . . fell into it.”
~ 28 ~
Terry felt the blood drain from his face. Oh, God—Picard . . . Dizzily he scrambled up to the airlock, grasping the seats anchored to what had been the deck, and waited the interminable time it took to cycle it. When he climbed out there was no escaping the worst of his fears; Picard was only half visible, its upper portion sticking out at an angle from a wide crevasse that not been there before. The engine section was undoubtedly crushed beyond repair.
His ship. He had lost his ship. That was all he thought of in the first few seconds, before it dawned on him that without the ship they were all going to die.
“Zuri, get into the shuttle,” he commanded. “Fast, so I can go back in myself.” It was a miracle that the airlock still functioned; if it had been damaged they would have only minutes of life remaining. As it was, they might have hours. No longer than that, for the shuttle didn’t carry many extra tanks. The main supply was aboard Picard, and even if those tanks were intact, it would probably be impossible to retrieve them.
When he reentered the shuttle he found Drew down beside Mikaela, holding her leg with his hands. “It’s still bleeding,” he said despairingly. “I don’t dare put a tourniquet on for fear of what that might do to the bone.”
The bleeding wasn’t severe enough to require a tourniquet, Terry decided; she wasn’t losing a significant amount of blood, and strong pressure on the leg might cause the bone to splinter and do worse damage. But it couldn’t be allowed to continue, and Drew could not staunch it indefinitely. Tristan’s words came back to him: In an emergency, the ability to aid the injured might prove useful . . . you must act, Terry. He had been shown how to do it. The last thing he wanted in the middle of this other crisis was to become a healer . . . but a crisis, after all, was what it took to enhance latent psi power.
He knelt next to Mikaela and laid his hand gently over Drew’s. Closing his mind to everything else, he visualized the healing pattern, the mind-pattern he had seen in sessions both with Aldren and with Tristan. If you ever need to call on the skill, you’ll have an underlying memory of the state of consciousness it demands, Aldren had told him.
Mikaela, listen to me, listen in your mind! Terry urged. You don’t need to go on bleeding, you can stop it, just like we did with the pain. . . . As vividly as he could, he imagined the flow stopping. . . .
“Take your hand away now,” he told Drew. “She’s not bleeding anymore.”
“I don’t understand—she was just a minute ago, and I didn’t press hard—” Drew broke off, staring at Terry. Zuri and Mikaela, too, were staring at him. They had enough telepathic sensitivity to know it hadn’t stopped by chance.
He realized that he would have to say something. “You know the Maclairnans have capabilities people don’t usually have,” he explained, “and we’re being trained in some of them. The pace is different for different people, but it doesn’t stop with physical skills like those we’ve all gained so far. I’ve been given extra training on Maclairn because the mentors want me to take on special duties. Eventually, you too may learn to use mind powers you haven’t been shown yet.”
They were silent, regarding him with awe. Finally Drew said, “What you told us over the comm about using less oxygen—you said a mentor had taught you that. And what you said about sharing minds, about reaching Mikaela . . . that wasn’t just talk. You meant it literally.”
“It worked, didn’t it, Drew? Everybody has latent telepathic ability. Aldren told me some people find that idea frightening, that’s why he doesn’t mention it until there’s good reason to. But it’s how we learned what we did from him—didn’t you wonder how merely looking at patterns could have enabled you to acquire mind skills?”
Drew nodded slowly, and his eyes met Mikaela’s. Terry added, “Stress brings it out in people. And so does love.”
Zuri burst out, “It’s not fair that we’re gaining these powers only when we’re going to die!”
“If we die, it’s for a good cause,” Terry declared, “because protecting Maclairn is the only way to help spread them to other worlds—someday to everyone. But I’m not ready to say we won’t live through this. Shepard will come for us when they realize we’re in trouble.”
“Will they?” Zuri questioned. “Will Fleet move a cruiser out of orbit on the long chance that a few officers might have survived whatever caused their comm to stop transmitting?”
Terry wondered. He had reported the earthquake, stating that he was about to land Picard to pick up the shuttle crew. When they didn’t hear from him again they would naturally assume he had crashed, because if he hadn’t he could have sent another report from the ground. And they knew the shuttle hadn’t enough oxygen to last until they could reach Five. Moving Shepard away from Maclairn would be a major step and a rescue would require risking at least one more shuttle and its pilot. They would not do it merely out of curiosity about his fate. They would need a reason to think there were survivors.
“I don’t know,” he lied, “but we can’t just give up. We’ve got to try to salvage some oxygen tanks.” They were so impressed by his psi powers that they thought he could do anything he attempted, Terry saw, and it would be better to act as if they could save themselves than to sit still and wait for death. “Zuri, stay with Mikaela,” he ordered. “Try to get her to eat something; she needs to keep up her strength. Drew, follow me out as soon as the airlock’s free—and bring a rope.” He
himself took a laser gun, thankful that he had followed standard explorer ops procedure and seen to it that the shuttle was stocked with basic emergency equipment.
Terry and Drew quickly ate some protein bars, then went outside, taking flashlights. The sun, at this distance little larger than a bright star, was setting; though the dim eerie light of Five was enough to illuminate the terrain, if they got into Picard they would need them. The vast expanse of blue ice was more unnerving in semi-darkness than it had been earlier. Knowing themselves unlikely to see daylight again, they were more chilled by it than by the thought that the temperature outside their spacesuits was at least two hundred degrees below freezing, or by the occasional mild aftershocks that were still occurring. Ongoing comm contact with Zuri and Mikaela helped; still, by the time they had made their way to the crevasse that had swallowed Picard they were trembling from more than fatigue.
The cracks in the ice near the ship were too wide to stride across and there was no way to anchor the rope; they had no choice but to leap, despite the all-too-real possibility that the ground would shake before they could land. The rope, however, proved essential in gaining access to the tilted Picard. It took many tries to lasso a handhold designed for EVA use in space, but once the line was firmly attached Terry was able to climb up and open the outer hatch. As he expected, there was no power for cycling the lock. “I’ll have to drill and release the air pressure,” he called. Loss of the ability to pressurize the ship wouldn’t matter, since it couldn’t fly and they couldn’t get Mikaela into it anyway. All the same, as he triggered the laser gun, he felt the pain of destroying any part of the ship he had cherished.
Once inside, he lowered a ladder for Drew. He didn’t bother to visit the bridge, as with the ship unpowered there would be no means of transmitting a distress signal; instead he managed to clamber into the compartment containing the stored oxygen tanks. Enough had been filled to last three people through five more eight-hour surface expeditions, and without power there was no way to fill any more—nor were empty tanks available. That would give them little more than a standard day of oxygen beyond what the shuttle now contained. Shepard could get here in a day, if it started soon; it was a much faster ship than Picard. The likelihood of its coming was small, Terry thought; but a day of life was better than nothing.
Handing thirty oxygen tanks down the ladder to Drew, one at a time, took nearly an hour. They were forced to rest before attempting to get them across the ice cracks, which they did in batches, wrapped in tarps from the ship, with the aid of more ropes. It was impossible to drag more than half of them back to the shuttle; they would have to return later for the rest. First, Terry knew, they would need sleep; there was a limit to how much energy could be mustered even through the control of internal biochemistry on which they’d been relying.
The sight of the orange marking surrounding the sensor station was welcome, for it meant they were almost there. The station, surprisingly, had been spared by the quake; it was erect and probably still functioning. At least they had accomplished what they had come here for; Maclairn would know if any intruding ships passed this way. . . .
Suddenly, with a thrill of hope, Terry realized what that meant.
The transmitter was sending a periodic all clear signal to Shepard. But if it could be made to send the alert signal, Captain Vargas would understand that this couldn’t be coincidence. The chance of an intruder appearing near Five at the same time as Picard’s landing was incalculably small. He would realize that if the signal had changed, someone had survived to change it.
“Lieutenant Kifeda,” Terry asked quickly on the comm link, “Can you force the sensor station to switch to alert mode?”
“Yes, Captain,” Zuri replied, “I can, though I can’t test it without Picard’s receiver.”
“Then get out here fast and do it,” Terry said. “If Shepard picks up an alert they’ll know we’re still alive.”
The signal wouldn’t reach Shepard for more than half an hour, of course, and no reply could be received. They would have to wait while their oxygen supply lessened, not knowing if rescue was on the way. But there was a chance. It would be worth the ordeal of intentionally lowering their metabolism, not moving, eating or even speaking, because help might arrive if they could hold out long enough.
Except for the trip to get the remaining oxygen tanks, they lay quietly in silence, doing their best to ignore slight aftershocks that sent shudders through the ship. With a mixture of awe and dismay Terry realized that only his crew’s trust in him, and the telepathic projection through which he kept them calm, made this possible. The stress of their peril heightened the latent sensitivity that had been awakened by their initial training; and toward the end he felt that Drew and Mikaela, at least, were beginning to exchange thoughts knowingly.
Though he knew it was pointless to keep track of the time left, he couldn’t help calculating in his mind. There were barely two hours remaining when the shuttle’s comm came alive: “Picard, this is Shepard. We are in orbit and we see your marker. Do you read us? Over.”
Terry, who had lain down with the remote mike in his hand, replied quickly, “Roger, Shepard, we read you. This is Captain Terry Radnor. Picard cannot be salvaged but we are all alive. We need immediate pickup as our oxygen is almost gone. There are still aftershocks from the quake, so be careful. Over.”
“Captain Radnor, can you come to the point marked by the orange circle?”
“Negative, Shepard. Lieutenant Orlov is injured and will require an enclosed stretcher. We will meet you at the marker to carry it; no emergency medical care is needed.” He hoped they would know better than to risk a stretcher bearer’s or medic’s life in addition to the pilot’s; Mikaela’s leg could be healed soon enough by the mentors on board the cruiser.
“Roger, Captain. A shuttle will be on its way ASAP. We will keep you informed of its progress. Out.”
Less than two hours later they were aboard Shepard. Terry was too relieved by the crew’s safety to look back, but as the cruiser broke orbit he could not help feeling a pang of sorrow at knowing he had seen the last of Picard.
Part Three: Promise
29 - 30 - 31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46
~ 29 ~
Once Shepard was back in orbit above Maclairn, Terry was ordered to report to Captain Vargas for a more thorough debriefing than the one immediately following the rescue from Five-C. He dreaded it. He wasn’t used to failure; he had experienced self-blame only during the brief hours when Aldren had forced him to confront his inability to display superhuman endurance. Now he had lost his ship, and a captain who had lost his ship, no matter what the extenuating circumstances, was never viewed in quite the same way by Fleet as one who had not.
They went over the details of the mission, but for Terry it came down to that one point. “I lost my ship, sir,” he said finally, realizing that the captain had made no direct reference to the fact that it was unsalvageable. “And we need that ship. I’m responsible for whatever problems are caused by our not having it.” Not to mention what the mentors have hoped I might achieve by remote viewing while I’m traveling around this solar system, he added silently.
The CO regarded him thoughtfully. “You lost your ship, but you saved your crew,” he said. “Do you think I’d rather have it the other way around?”
“Of course not, sir. But if I’d picked a different moon to land on in the first place—”
“It was the same one I’d have picked. That quake couldn’t have been foreseen, Lieutenant, not on a world with no signs of recent seismic activity. Your willingness to accept responsibility is commendable, but save it for a time when you’ve really made a mistake.”
What now? Terry wondered. He would become a patrol leader as originally planned, he supposed. But there were already enough patrol leaders, and that job seemed even less appealing than it had before he’d served as an explorer captain.
Captain Vargas went o
n, “I have talked to the members of your crew. They all feel you deserve a medal for risking your life to keep them alive, and I agree. I will recommend you for it in my next dispatch.”
Terry was so astonished that he said nothing. Vargas continued, “You’ll be happy to know that Maclairn’s ambassador returned from Earth while you were gone.”
“Yes, sir, that’s good news.” He hadn’t been sure whether Kathryn would be back by now. Perhaps, he thought, if he wasn’t needed right away he’d be given longer leave than a weekend, even though he’d recently had one.
“She brought dispatches from Fleet headquarters. I have been informed that the captain of the Maclairn Foundation’s ship Promise wants to retire, and they don’t think it would be wise to let another hired crew in on the secret. Therefore, they have asked Fleet to crew it, which would have the additional advantage of allowing it to be armed—there’s probably no need, but the civilian passengers have expressed some concern about pirates. Since there are no officers at headquarters who have had mind training, the request has been passed on to me. My first thought was that we have no one qualified to pilot a jump ship apart from commanders who are needed here. But now that you are free, I’ve reconsidered. Would such an assignment interest you?”
“Copilot of Promise? Oh yes, sir!” It would mean that he would travel with Kathryn; they would never have to be separated. It was too good to be true.
“Well, copilot was not exactly what I had in mind, Lieutenant,” Vargas said, smiling. “It’s my intention to make you captain.”
Stunned, Terry burst out, “Captain? Of a passenger ship? But sir—” He couldn’t have heard right; no mere lieutenant could command a passenger ship, let alone one carrying an ambassador and high-ranking civilians.
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 18