Ericho opened a line to the downdeck lab that Hardy and Faye were working out of since the melt. Hardy came on speaker. Not surprisingly, he sounded annoyed.
“We’re busy, captain. What is it?”
Ericho explained the problem and asked for Hardy’s help with the analysis. The science rep went ballistic.
“Do you really think my time is so inconsequential that I would drop important work for such a simplistic task? Do you?”
“We need your expertise.”
“Don’t patronize me!” Hardy shrieked. “If you think you’re getting back in my good graces, you are deeply mistaken. Your incompetent leadership has jeopardized an important scientific mission! And your unwillingness to return to Sycamore to procure samples of the bacteria can only be ascribed as the actions of a complete fool!”
Ericho kept his anger in check. “We need the pool water analyzed immediately. I’m making this an order.”
“Fine! I’ll send Faye. When I’m testifying at your court-martial for your malfeasance throughout this mission, I wouldn’t want it said that I wasn’t cooperative!”
Hardy cut the circuit. The bridge was silent for a moment as the three of them exchanged puzzled looks. The science rep could be arrogant, but they’d never heard him so infuriated.
“The man needs some happy time in the dreamlounge,” Rigel said.
Ericho recalled June’s concern that they all were being impacted by psionic forces. Perhaps Hardy’s way of dealing with an ongoing subconscious assault was to unleash simmering rage.
He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the beginning of a headache. Its likely cause was lack of sleep rather than Hardy’s tantrum. In any event, the bridge could do without him for a short time. He’d be able to think more clearly after a bit of rest.
“I’ll be in my cabin. Give me a wake-up call in ninety minutes or when Faye has an update on the pollution.” He paused at the airseal and clarified the order. “Sooner if there’s new trouble.”
CHAPTER 17
I’ve fallen out of bed.
The thought wiped away the last traces of sleep. LeaMarsa was on her back on the floor of one of the private treatment rooms, garbed in a nightgown, her legs tangled in a sheet whose other end remained tucked in.
She couldn’t recall how she’d gotten here. There was a vague memory of June asking her to come to medcenter this morning after what had occurred in the nutriment bath. But everything beyond that remained a blur.
Twisting free of the sheet, she retrieved her jumper from the closet. Underpants and shoes were nowhere to be found. She accessed the room’s PYG recep and ordered new versions of those items. Seconds later they appeared in the output tray.
Dressing quickly, she opened the door and exited into the corridor separating the treatment rooms from medcenter’s main expanse. A pair of ovoid windows provided a view into June’s office. It was empty.
LeaMarsa left medcenter and entered downdeck’s main corridor. A hundred meters toward the stern lay the containment. Just around a bend in the other direction was the mech shop.
Important places. Odd impressions trickled through her, fragmented thoughts of recent events. She remembered something from a few weeks ago.
The Alchemon had still been on its approach to Sycamore. Tomer Donner had been standing in the mech shop in front of a secure cabinet. The corridor airseal was open and LeaMarsa, passing by, had glanced in.
The lieutenant had stuck a safepad to the wall and apparently had used a command override to unlock the cabinet. He withdrew a Higgs cutter, lovingly caressed the barrel before tucking the weapon in his pocket.
He turned toward her, as if knowing she’d been watching. A sad smile came over him.
“We are but pawns within the realm of luminous dark.”
With that cryptic remark, he’d brushed past her and headed down the corridor. At the time, she hadn’t assigned any significance to the event. Only now did she understand. He’d been planning the destruction of Bouncy Blue even before they’d discovered it. But how could he know what they’d find on the planet?
The answer was obvious. Donner had been in psionic contact with Baby Blue. LeaMarsa had functioned as a superluminal conveyor, unconsciously transmitting the creature’s thoughts to the lieutenant.
Tragedy. She hadn’t merely touched the future and perceived his fate. She was partly the cause of it.
A familiar terror rose from the depths. Waves of fear washed through her.
“No,” she whispered, dropping to the deck to begin a series of frantic pushups. But the reek was too potent this time. The odor of dead flesh filled her nostrils. She struggled to breathe as those strangling hands tightened around her neck. A more rigorous counteraction was needed.
She lifted her long jumper, dug fingernails into her thighs, raked the flesh until she drew blood. The pain did its job. She felt the reek retreating into the abyss.
“LeaMarsa, what are you doing?”
Startled, she lowered her jumper, hiding the bloody claw marks. Hardy Waskov stood two paces away, glaring down at her with stern disapproval.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered, getting to her feet.
“I’ve been looking for you. Why haven’t you responded to my queries?”
She didn’t answer.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re to come with me. I need your assistance with some experiments.”
With everything that was happening, with the ship under deadly threat, Hardy was still trying to behave like a detached researcher. LeaMarsa stifled an urge to laugh. There was something insanely humorous about that.
“What kind of experiments?” she asked, struggling to keep a straight face.
“Telepathic enhancement. We’ve set up a research lab in the port storage pod adjacent to the lander hold. You’ll wear an isolator hood and attempt to establish contact with the creature. We must not forget the scientific purpose of this mission.”
The laugh broke through her defenses. Hardy scowled.
“I’m very serious, LeaMarsa. I refuse to allow our efforts to be crippled any further by an incompetent captain. With a revamped experimental roster, we can still return to the solar system as a successful expedition.”
His words oozed rationality. Yet Hardy remained oblivious to the psionic storm that swirled around them.
Still, she would participate in his experiment. It would keep her occupied, keep her mind from being assaulted by the one thing that never could be allowed to break into consciousness.
CHAPTER 18
Ericho sat in the pilot’s seat of the lander but he wasn’t in control. The presence of gravity, as well as vibrations and crackling noises, cued him that they were in a descent. But the window shields were down. He had no idea what planetary atmosphere the lander was plunging through.
The automated descent seemed too fast. External temperature gauges indicated heat shields were close to the danger zone. But, somehow, he knew he was safe, as were the other three members of the crew. He could sense their presence behind him, securely strapped in.
He started to turn around, intending to reassure the trio that everything would be all right. But before he could swivel far enough to make out their identities, the shields peeled back.
They were plunging through a pocket of dense clouds. Moments later, vivid blue skies appeared as the lander broke free. A few thousand meters below was a vast desert. On the horizon beyond a range of mountains, streaks of amber, red and mauve revealed a sky ripening into dusk. Sunset over the Mojave, a beautiful sight.
He recognized the area by rock formations below and the contours of the mountains toward which the lander soared. In his younger days, he’d been stationed nearby, at Pannis’ southeastern California base outside of Barstow. He’d flown numerous training flights over the area.
Yet something was wrong. He should have been able to see Barstow’s most impressive skyscrapers piercing the heavens beyond the mountains. Like many Earth cities of the late Helio A
ge, adding illusory height via holographic extensions to buildings already hundreds of stories tall had become a competition among metro areas. It was as if the cities themselves yearned to reach the stars.
The tower of mega BNSF, with its distinctive holo of an animated steam locomotive chugging upward into the heavens, should have dominated the vista. But there was no tower, no locomotive. As the lander swooped over the mountains, he realized the entire city was gone.
Ericho bolted upright in bed. Sensors read his abrupt awakening and brought ceiling lumes to full power. He glanced at the antique mantel clock on his dresser, a gift from his parents. He’d been asleep nearly ninety minutes. Overcome by tiredness he hadn’t even bothered undressing and had flopped across the covers.
The desert imagery clung to him as he got to his feet. He sensed it was important, that it was more than just a typical dream. But whatever meaning it might hold remained elusive, as shrouded from view as the mystery of the missing city of Barstow.
Could the dream be related to the swirl of psionic forces impacting them? It seemed possible. If so, he supposed he should be thankful not to be suffering the more horrific nightmares plaguing June.
Perhaps his dream was merely a yearning to return to those enjoyable years he’d spent at Barstow. His days had featured live suborbital flights as well as starship training in simulators. The nights had been given over to dance clubs and the bedrooms of numerous young women.
He headed into the bathroom, unable to stop dwelling on the dream. It seemed to possess a transcendent quality unlike any he’d ever experienced. Could it be related to what June had shared with them about her nightmares? Could that invisible force she’d spoken of have brought down Barstow’s towers?
No answer was apparent. He stripped and entered the shower. As alternating jets of air and water blasted, scrubbed and dried his body, the dream’s imagery drifted farther away. By the time he emerged and donned a clean uniform, only vague hints of it remained.
Jonomy came over the intercom. “Your wakeup call, captain.”
“Any new developments?”
“Relatively peaceful. The unknown vessel continues to parallel us at three hundred thousand kilometers. Faye retrieved samples of the natatorium pollution but has not yet isolated a specific cause. Initial analysis indicates an esoteric mixture of biochemical ingredients that were introduced into the LSN feedwater system.”
“Introduced from where?”
“Various other systems and subsystems.”
“Is the Alchemon aware yet of the pollution?”
“Yes and no. The natatorium malfunction continues to display confusing parameters. Most of the network is now cognizant of the trouble. But in order for that to have happened, I had to indoctrinate the Alchemon with the concept that it was experiencing a serious malfunction.”
“I don’t follow.”
“In essence, I had to create a new feedback loop within the system so that data emanating from the pool was routed back into the network. Once that was accomplished, EHO, the system with overall responsibility for the natatorium, was able to respond. EHO now recognizes the existence of the problem. However, other systems maintain that there is nothing wrong with LSN. Overall, the situation would seem to indicate that we still have major glitches somewhere in the network.”
“Is the pollution still limited to the pool?”
“Yes. And to err on the side of caution, I had Faye set up a contamination monitor and had Alexei mount additional cameras down there. The signals from those devices have been routed directly to the bridge on backup circuits that bypass the afflicted systems.”
It was reassuring talking to Jonomy. He always seemed to have things under control. Of course, considering the extent of their troubles, a captain’s faith might be little more than a pleasant illusion.
“On my way to the bridge,” he said.
He left his cabin, thinking about strange pollutants, crazed robots and a starship where none should be. But in the back of his mind remained an image of sunset over the Mojave and the troubling mystery of what had happened to Barstow.
The bridge seemed inordinately crowded when Ericho arrived. Alexei was on the treadmill in the bulky link suit. Rigel stood nearby, ready to help him don the clamshell helmet. Jonomy was in his usual chair, umbilically linked. June paced in orbit around the HOD, her arms crossed tightly, her expression grim.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“LeaMarsa suffered some sort of breakdown in the nutriment bath,” June said. “And I did something unethical. I gave her a high-dose injection of Loopaline B4.”
“You vegetated her?”
“Good for you,” Rigel said.
But guilt marred June’s face. “I didn’t tell her what I was doing. I told her it was a sedative to help her sleep.”
“So, she’ll be out like a baby for nine months,” Rigel said. “Don’t worry, if it comes down to having to justify your actions to some dickhead Pannis investigating committee, we’ll all testify you had no choice.” He smacked the top of Alexei’s clamshell helmet as he snapped it into place. “Ain’t that right?”
A hearty “Yes sir” came from the trainee’s suit speakers.
June grimaced. “There’s a bigger problem. The drug didn’t work. She woke up ten minutes later.”
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Ericho said.
“It’s not supposed to be.”
“What did she say when she awakened?”
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. I’d stepped out for a few minutes and she left. Apparently, she ran into Hardy. He persuaded her to don an isolator hood to assist with some experiment.”
“Get down there,” Ericho ordered. “Tell LeaMarsa she has to return to medcenter.”
“I tried. Hardy wouldn’t let me into the lab.”
“Asshole,” Rigel grunted.
Ericho balled his fists, trying to hold back a wave of anger. He’d had just about enough of their intractable science rep.
“As soon as the containment’s vacuumed, I’ll deal with Hardy.”
“Sir, are you going to tell him we’re dumping Baby Blue?” Alexei asked.
No one answered. Rigel tapped the trainee’s helmet. “Concentrate on your task. You ready in there?”
“All green.”
“Remember, take your time walking. Keep one boot in contact with the hull at all times.”
“No problem. Even if I do step off the hull, I’ve got the emergency jets for maneuvering.”
“Yeah, but don’t count on those. These robots aren’t designed for external environments. They can be tricky in zero-g so stay on the hull.”
“Got it.”
Ericho would have been more comfortable having Rigel do the link EVA. But the tech officer felt the trainee was up to the task. More importantly, Rigel believed he could better function as a coordinator of the virtual spacewalk, monitor any unforeseen obstacles and adjust Alexei’s mission parameters accordingly.
The task was simple. The linked robot would do what Ericho in retrospect should have authorized immediately after the melt: depressurizing the containment and venting the entire hot mass into the void.
Alexei would stay as far away from the containment as possible, which hopefully would prevent Baby Blue from taking control of the robot. He would walk the virtual machine only as far as the outer lock. After opening that hatch, he would fire the robot’s Higgs cutter at the inner hatch until it was weakened enough for the containment’s internal pressure to blow it open.
The trainee lifted the link’s right boot and stepped forward. The treadmill compensated by slithering in the opposite direction. In short order, the trainee was walking briskly, heading for airlock three.
Ericho gazed at the main screen behind Jonomy, which displayed the view from the robot’s eyes. Alexei halted in front of the airlock and waited for Jonomy to open it.
“When you exit the lock,” Rigel instructed, “you’ll walk seventy-five met
ers toward the starboard quarter. The main sensor channel needs to be bridged so be careful when you step across it.”
“Got it.”
The robot entered airlock three and awaited depressurization. The outer seal parted, and Alexei nursed the machine out into the void. Ericho turned to the HOD. Jonomy had activated 3D video from the hull cams to monitor his progress.
“Approaching main sensor channel,” Alexei said.
The channel was one of the depressions running across the width of the Alchemon. The robot paused at its edge.
“Preparing to cross.”
On the treadmill, Alexei raised his right foot. Onscreen, the robot’s corresponding leg mimicked the move. Alexei stepped across the depression, planted the robot’s leading boot firmly on the other side.
“Halfway there.” There was a long pause, then: “What an incredible starfield. I can see Sycamore in the distance–”
“Pay attention to what you’re doing,” Rigel snapped.
“Right. Got it.”
Alexei lifted the link’s left boot. But instead of completing the crossing, he stopped in midstride.
“Something’s wrong. I can’t move my left leg.”
In the HOD, the robot seemed frozen, one boot across the channel, the other suspended. Alexei’s position on the treadmill matched the odd pose.
“Unknown malfunction,” Jonomy said. “Losing grip adhesion.”
Alexei compressed his right leg, the one still planted. With a violent thrust, he leaped into the air and hopped off the treadmill. The link’s boots made a resounding crack as the trainee touched down on the deck two meters away.
Onscreen, the robot mimicked Alexei’s move and shot away from the hull. Ericho could only watch helplessly as the linked machine drifted into space.
“What the fuck are you doing!” Rigel hollered.
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Alexei, activate the emergency harness system,” Jonomy instructed.
“No good. The pitons and cabling won’t extract. Nothing’s working.”
Ericho whirled to the lytic. “Override it.”
“I cannot. The entire CYB system has entered multi-failure mode. I am attempting to reroute and bypass the problem.”
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