Despite his supposed experience, the Pigeon’s captain was clumsy, and it took him four tries to match up the hatches. Tom Rom began to grow nervous, looking at the countdown in his pod. By now he could feel the fever coursing through him, the tremors, the nausea.
When the hatches cycled open, Tom Rom pulled himself across, and sealed his own pod behind him. Entering the Pigeon, he felt weary, but he squared his shoulders and summoned the additional strength he would need for the next few minutes. Everything had to be done properly.
The supportive captain and his wife looked worried for him. “What happened to your ship,” asked the wife. “How did you end up out here?”
“It exploded,” Tom Rom said. “Engine overload. Sabotage I think.”
“You’re safe now,” the old man said. “Was it piracy? Some kind of attack? You’ll need to report this. We could drop you down at Vuoral, and you can go through the Klikiss transportal network back to civilization. Or you can hitch a ride with us to our next destination.”
“We’ll help in whatever way we can,” said the wife.
Behind them, he heard his escape pod automatically detach from the Pigeon and tumble away with a small burst of thrusters. The couple was startled. “Your pod just broke loose!”
“I detached it. I won’t need it anymore. I have your ship now.”
The captain and his wife were confused. They seemed to think Tom Rom was not thinking straight.
After ten seconds the countdown ended, and the small explosive charges destroyed the escape pod and all the virus inside it. The shock waves jolted the Pigeon sideways, and the captain grabbed his wife for stability. “What the heck?”
Tom Rom removed his hand weapon and shot them both dead. There was no point in wasting time. He needed their vessel. Besides, he had exposed them to the plague. From the moment he stepped aboard, the bearded captain and his plump young wife had been as good as dead. Tom Rom had simply skipped to the inevitable outcome. It was the most efficient way to solve a problem.
While he still had the strength, he hauled the bodies into the airlock chamber. He glanced at the woman’s face; her startled expression made her look like a little girl. He ejected the two bodies into space, though he could just as well have kept them in storage aboard the Pigeon. He always thought out second-and third-order consequences, and he decided that getting rid of the bodies would raise fewer questions than keeping them.
The courier ship had only one deck, two cabins, a common area, and a cockpit. Everything had small homey touches, colorful bouquets painted on the walls, even the sweet flowery scent of potpourri added to the ventilators.
Tom Rom studied the pilot controls and was disappointed by the engine speed. For a courier ship, the Pigeon wasn’t very fast. He input the coordinates for Pergamus and ran three different routines, using a few tricks to minimize the flight time. He could feel the progress of the plague through his body; the virus had settled into his tissues and was eating away at him. Black blotches would soon start to show.
When he activated the stardrive, the acceleration pressed him back into the pilot’s chair. He raced off at the Pigeon’s top speed, determined to get back to Zoe Alakis before it was too late.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE
ORLI COVITZ
After Tom Rom’s ship flew away, DD went back outside to finish his work on the Proud Mary’s damaged engines. The little compy was determined to accomplish his task and fly away from the asteroid field before Orli died.
She curled up in her bunk with the intercom on because DD kept up a polite and friendly conversation, chatting about which components he was replacing and how many more hours he thought it would take. She could barely respond, drifting in and out of sleep, but it was a comfort just to hear his voice and know he was there.
Even before her symptoms began, Orli had studied the records of the Onthos disease. She knew exactly how her body would break down, and now she followed each stage like a grim blueprint. But she didn’t need those records to tell her when she was in the final phase—she could figure that much from the crushing weight of pain throughout her nerves, her head, her thoughts.
Her memories became tinged with delirious echoes, but she tried to hold on. Orli Covitz did not give up.
The vibration of the ship and the rumble of engines penetrated her dream, and she felt the Proud Mary lurch away from the crater floor and up into space. She fought her way to consciousness to see DD at the piloting controls. He looked very small sitting in the worn cockpit seat designed for Mary Coven. He could barely reach the controls.
Seeing her awake, he said, “I’m sorry I disturbed you, Orli.”
She eased herself into a sitting position on the bunk, then struggled to her feet. “That’s all right, DD.” When she reached the cockpit, she grasped the back of the pilot chair to keep her balance. “You fixed everything by yourself.”
“I was aware of your wishes. I wasn’t able to restore the Proud Mary to its full pristine capabilities, but it should be sufficient to take us to a place where we can transmit our data.”
“Where is the closest inhabited settlement?” Orli asked. And will we make it there before I die?
“I am not precisely certain. I set course for a nearby star system, even though our records don’t indicate any human or Ildiran colonies there.” He paused. “But it is the only place we can reach within the appropriate time frame.”
“All right, let’s have a look then.”
The compy swiveled out of the pilot chair so that Orli could take his place. “If we don’t find a settlement there, you know what to do.”
“Yes, Orli, I know what to do.”
Even if she died, DD would fly the Proud Mary to a known human outpost, transmit the priceless records, and then like the brave compies that had disrupted the reactors of the Onthos city, DD would detonate the ship to erase any last sign of the virus.
“I’m glad you’re here, DD,” she said.
“My duty has always been to serve, to provide companionship and guidance when possible. I have had several extremely kind masters, but I think you were the best.”
Orli’s eyes filled with tears.
As the Proud Mary flew on, she tried to decide whether she regretted where she was. She could have stayed on Relleker, tended the orphan compies that came in . . . or she could have traveled to the Ikbir colony with LU, MO, and her other compies. Matthew could have been with Orli in her last days, out of some sort of guilt or obligation, but that would not have been more comforting to her. She could have had a long uneventful life if she hadn’t bothered to do anything. She had wanted more adventures . . . but this one had a tragic ending.
They reached the next solar system with a bright white star and no interesting planets, according to the star atlas. As they cruised in, DD studied the sensor readings for any sign of habitation or activity, scanned the territory around the sun—and was surprised to spot energy readings. “Orli, there appears to be an industrial outpost on the outskirts of the system. It’s far outside any planetary orbit, but is moving down toward the star.”
Orli shook her head and had to think about what he said. “A human outpost?”
“It appears so. I picked up communications transmissions, and they are speaking trade standard.”
“That’ll have to do. Adjust course. Let’s fly close enough to introduce ourselves.”
The Proud Mary arrived among ships, habitation modules, storage tanks, pumping stations—and a cluster of strange inflated sacks that drifted through space.
“From markings on the structures, this appears to be an outpost of Iswander Industries,” DD said.
“As long as they’re willing to receive our information, I don’t care who they are.” She adjusted course, shut down the engines, and used reverse thrusters to slow the ship as she drifted to the perimeter of the industrial operations.
“Three ships are approaching us, Orli. We have been detected. They are asking us to identify ourselves.�
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They didn’t look like military ships. Orli couldn’t tell if they even had weapons. Her fingers shook as she remembered how Tom Rom had stalked and attacked her. She fumbled with the comm controls before finally managing to activate the system. “This is Proud Mary, under quarantine. We are a plague ship, and I’m dying from an alien disease. Please do not approach.”
The security ships hesitated, circling her vessel. “We have limited medical facilities, Proud Mary. We certainly don’t have the capability for full quarantine.”
“Not asking for that.” She hardened her voice. “But if you don’t back off, I’m prepared to destroy my ship rather than let you come aboard.”
She glanced at the little compy. DD gave a silent nod. This time, they had prepared for an easy initiation of the self-destruct sequence.
The pause was long enough that she guessed there must have been an intense discussion on secure channels, and no small amount of consternation. The three Iswander Security ships backed off and held their position. “What is your intention, Proud Mary? What do you need?”
Orli took a deep breath. “I need to transmit a database of vital information—scientific, archaeological, anthropological, and medical data. I also have final messages for a few friends.” Her voice hitched. “I need your promise that they’ll be delivered.”
She stared at the screen and knew she must look haggard, her eyes red, her skin covered with dark blotches. “And then I just need to be left alone so I can die in peace.”
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX
GARRISON REEVES
It was going to get ugly, Garrison knew it.
He and Seth had avoided the catastrophe on Sheol; they had escaped from the exploding bloater cluster out in empty space; they had even, by a miracle, survived the Shana Rei shadow cloud.
But now that the Iswander ships had returned to the ekti-extraction field, assessed the damage, and counted the casualties, Garrison knew that Elisa was going to fight him over Seth. Though Lee Iswander made no threats, he impounded the Prodigal Son so that Garrison couldn’t leave.
During the panicked scramble to evacuate, thirty-seven people had lost their lives through mishaps and the brief robot attack. But Garrison had watched the industrialist during the crisis, how he had responded. Iswander had stayed behind and saved as many of his workers as possible—maybe he had learned his lesson after Sheol. Garrison couldn’t exactly blame the man for not preparing against the Shana Rei. It wasn’t something any operation would have planned for. In fact, no one could understand how they had escaped total obliteration. The Shana Rei had just . . . left.
But that didn’t solve Garrison’s personal problem.
“Once everything gets back to normal, we’ll figure this out,” said Iswander. “For now, you can stay here with your son.”
“As a prisoner, you mean.”
Iswander folded his hands together, serious, businesslike. “I’ve checked on you. I know what you’ve been doing since you left my employ—minor and unfulfilling work in the lunar rubble around Earth. You’re better than that. Don’t you want something exciting, engaging, and on par with your abilities?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but continued, “If you’re willing to set the past aside, I’ll wipe your personnel record clean. A second chance for both of us. I could use another good man on my crews here—work any part of the ekti processing you like. That way, you and Elisa both get to stay with your son, so the boy isn’t in the middle of a tug-of-war. Besides, I keep Elisa as a happy and undistracted employee, and I don’t have to worry about you keeping these operations secret. Everybody wins.” He smiled. “You have to agree, it’s the best possible solution. No need for the situation to get any messier.”
“You make it sound so simple,” Garrison said.
Iswander shrugged. “I’ve run the numbers.”
Grudgingly, Garrison said he would review the list of possible jobs at the extraction field, though he was careful not to give a final answer. He knew Seth wanted to stay with him, but would never say he wanted to leave his mother. Garrison wouldn’t force the boy to choose.
Elisa ignored him, as if she assumed the problem was solved. Meanwhile, he spent time with Seth, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be here. He had seen bloaters explode, and he knew they were dangerous—even the green priest had demonstrated that.
During the chaotic evacuation, Aelin had flown to one of the bloaters, following some siren’s song only he could hear. He had immersed himself in it—and then climbed back out of the protoplasm into the inspection pod. He sealed the hatch and somehow found the presence of mind to operate the craft.
Aelin flew back to the modular complex and landed the pod in an available hangar in front of an astonished crowd. The green priest glowed with warmth and an expression of blissful wonder. Now, whenever Aelin looked at any individual, his eyes seemed to have a hypnotic power.
“I have been baptized in the blood of the cosmos. I am rejuvenated.” He didn’t resist as the two flustered doctors led him back to the infirmary. . . .
The following day, Iswander Security forces detected another intruder at the bloater-extraction field and raced out to intercept an unidentified ship. As soon as the unexpected pilot began transmitting, Garrison knew she was no spy come to uncover the secret ekti operations. From the quiet admin module, Garrison and Seth watched the drama unfold. The woman was dying from a plague.
When Orli Covitz introduced herself, Seth lit up with surprise. “That’s the compy lady! Don’t you remember her?”
Seth was right. Although her face was haggard and sickly, Garrison recognized the compy researcher from Relleker who had done so much crusading to support compies. Seth, who watched many of her reports, often showed them to his father in hopes of convincing him to pick up one of her misfit compies. Garrison remembered how beautiful, how intense and animated Orli had been when she spoke in the video recordings about her compies.
Garrison had never expected to find her out here on the edge of a far-flung star system. Yet here she was, with a Friendly compy beside her in the cockpit.
Orli transmitted the files of medical data about the disease, the alien race, the lost derelict city . . . and the dead Roamer clan. Garrison felt a chill as he realized that this was the same plague that had killed clan Reeves.
He went over to the comm screen. “I need to talk with her. She was at the derelict city where my whole family died.”
The technician frowned at the interruption, but Lee Iswander gave a quick nod, and Garrison nudged the comm officer aside. When he told Orli that Olaf Reeves was his father, that he and Seth were possibly the last survivors of clan Reeves, he watched her expression fall. “I’m sorry,” she said. “They were all dead when I arrived, but I have recordings from your father and some of the other clan members.” Orli’s eyes drooped, and her head swayed. She was clearly in pain. “Olaf Reeves did everything he could to prevent the spread of the plague. The derelict city should have been vaporized before I got there, but it was just bad luck and bad timing. The sickness ends with me. Here.”
Garrison planned to review the records, listen to Olaf’s last words. Though he doubted he would hear any apology, it was still his obligation to listen to what his father had to say. He leaned closer to the screen, and his voice was hoarse. “Thank you for bringing this back.”
When Garrison looked at Orli, everyone else in the admin center seemed to fade away. He concentrated on her, felt her intensity.
“I need you to do me a favor, Garrison Reeves,” she said. “There’s a woman, Rlinda Kett—tell her I’m sorry about losing her ship. I should have just stayed on Relleker.” She heaved a breath, her shoulders shuddered.
Joining his father at the comm, Seth spoke to her. “I like compies. We listen to your reports sometimes. I always wanted to meet you.” Then he smiled. “Is that DD?”
The Friendly compy perked up. “Yes, I am DD.”
Garrison asked, “Why did you leave ther
e in the first place? You had your compy work.”
Tears filled her eyes. “My husband, Matthew . . . everything broke apart and it was too painful to stay. I wanted something else. I guess I should have picked a different midlife crisis.” Orli let out a bitter chuckle. “It won’t be long now. DD is ready to self-destruct the Proud Mary. He has his orders.”
“Don’t give up yet!”
“That’s what I’ve been telling myself for days.”
Seth’s brows drew together, and he spoke urgently to DD. “A good compy takes care of his master. DD, you need to take care of Orli.”
The little compy turned his optical sensors at the screen. “I promise, I am doing all I possibly can.”
Orli said, “There’s nothing DD or I can do. And I refuse to let anyone else catch this plague. Nothing can cure me.”
Garrison ignored everyone else in the admin module. “We can talk as long as you like. We’ll keep the comm channel open. I’ll be here.” He didn’t even notice the silence that fell in the admin module followed by startled whispers.
The green priest came up to stand between Seth and Garrison. Aelin had a warm smile and bright, intense eyes. “I can cure her. It’s simple.”
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN
MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H
As the leader of the Ildiran Empire, the heart of the thism, and the focus of his people, Jora’h could not waver. His personal strength had to be an anchor for all Ildirans. Despite his resolve, a cold blade of fear lanced him as he went with Nira and Tal Gale’nh to the site of the massacre in the human enclave. Yazra’h and Muree’n insisted on accompanying them, armed and armored, alert and angry; they had made it clear they trusted no one else to keep the Mage-Imperator safe.
The Dark Between the Stars Page 59