Across the Sea of Suns (39 page)

So Ted had conned him into the therapy, knowing it would help build a file on him, suspecting it would turn up a glitch in the medical profile. Quite clever.

and as many of you know he has held on in hopes of proving his personal and rather eccentric model of the situation humanity faces

Nigel walked as quickly as he could toward the big bowl auditorium where the bulk of
Lancer’s
crew would be assembled. He would confront Ted there, have it out.

but that hope has vanished and it would be a kindness for him to not let him wither out here, getting mean and withdrawing even more from the fellowship of his

Quite shrewd of Ted to slip it in before a big discussion of Earthside news, when everyone was champing at the bit to hear.

so though the medical situation is not really bad I still recommend

He hurried. Ahead two ship’s officers leaned against a bulkhead. Nigel slowed. They might not know anything, but then again—He veered down a roundabout route. And hurried.

he be put into the Sleepslots until we make Earthside. I’m sure it would be more poetic if he died out here but simple humanity

He was getting close. There would be discussion and that would give him time.

so I throw it open to discussion before we take up the Earthside

He was within sight of the auditorium doors when three women from the senior crew saw him.

his absence from this gathering of his fellows speaks volumes about his attitudes and, yes, I think his own shame at his childish deception he has

The women started toward him. He backed away and walked rapidly toward a drop tube.

well it appears no one wishes to counter my recommendation and therefore

Nikka! Why hadn’t she said anything argued—

pass on to the fresh news of a Swarmer offensive against all mainlands and indications of their concerted biological campaign

Whatever she thought of him, surely the thing with Carlos could not have made her go along with this. Nigel refused to think otherwise. He fell three decks at maximum speed in the drop tube. He came out next to a work gang carrying a thruster housing and fell in behind them unnoticed. When the women came out of the tube he was bent over, pretending to adjust the magnetic sled’s balance. He ducked into a prep-up room and waited. Then he doubled back on his trail. The women were gone.

as well as, we are told, continuing provocative allegations about cooperation—yes, I know this is hard to believe—between the Chinese and some elements of the Swarmers

He sent a query to their flat, but it answered that no one was home. He kept moving. If she was not at the meeting, then—Of course.

and since the newest information on this biological transformation of the enemy may tie into or provide a clue about their planetary origins, I think we should move immediately to review this data in the light of

He approached the medical complex quietly, carefully. He found Nikka arguing with an administrator. He waited until she looked around in exasperation, caught her eye, and signaled for silence. She said nothing until they were out of sight of the big med center archway.

“I came to get you! What took you so long? Ted has called a—”

“I know.” He explained in rapid, clipped sentences, feeling a sure anger come welling up. “And there’s no point in barging in there now. That lot won’t give me a hearing.”

“You’ve
got
to.”

“Ted hasn’t the power of a captain, but the consensus is clearly with him. And consensus, luv, is everything.”

“In a free discussion—”

“Right you are. But getting it free, there’s the rub. Ol’ Ted’s been quite pissed at me for some time, I gather. He’s a very smart man.”

“He is unprincipled, short—”

“Has it occurred to you that all I’m resisting is a soft ride home?”

“It’s more than that. This is, well, your
life
.”

“Was.”

“It still can be.”

“Hard to see how to beat him.” He took her head in his hands and kissed her on the forehead with a wan, distant affection. He felt strange energies building in him, a resolve he had thought lost.

“We can go home, refuse to let them in. Request time on the group net to discuss your case.”

“There’s plenty of evidence for Ted’s position.”

“Empty facts.”

He sagged against a bulkhead. Under pressure he had been dealing adequately with the inverted vision, but the strain was beginning to tell. Turning his head rapidly brought on nausea. Upside down, people’s expressions were alarming, grotesque, usually impossible to decipher.

“Y’know, I
am
rather a bastard. Surely it’s not escaped your notice.”

Nikka grinned and looked determined. “They don’t—”

“Wait,” Nigel held up a palm. “Listen. Shipcomm.”

—
I’ve just been handed an emergency signal from Earthside. I’ll read it: “Nuclear weapons were used today in a military confrontation off the coast of China. The combatants are China, the USSR and USA, as well as smaller fleet forces of Japan and Brazil. Damage is unknown. Satellite recons shows the engagement is continuing and spreading, with apparently all major forces engaged. Cause is unknown. May have been triggered by attempt to inhibit Swarmer landings on sea coasts. Will advise shortly on possible implications for space communications net.” Well, I don’t know what to say—

Nigel smacked his fist against the bulkhead. “That’s it.”

“Wh-what?”

“They’ve bitten into the apple. Not much good our information’ll do ’em now.”

“This, this may be a mistake—”

“No mistake. All quite predictable, I expect. If any of us had been half swift …” He sighed.

“Well …” She blinked, confused. “Let’s, let’s go home. We can forget about our problems …”

He nodded grimly, putting his arms on her shoulders, peering into her lined, coppery face. “But don’t you see? That message is years old! We can’t influence events there. We’re on our own.”

“Well, yes, but …”

“Whatever happens, ol’ friend Ted will still carry out his precious policy. So we might as well do as we like, too. Earth’s another issue.”

“I, I don’t know … everything’s … so fast.”

“Look, it’ll be awhile before we learn more from Earth. The big satellite transmitters have got other things to do than beam to us.”

“Yes, I suppose …”

“So Ted’s going to go on with business. And so should we.”

“Let’s go
home
.”

“Right. For a bit. But there’s really only one place left for us now, luv.”

NINE

They crouched together in the freight elevator, hemmed in by crates.

“Are you all right? Your eyes?” Nikka asked.

“I think I’m integrating the change. Resting helped.”

“I’ve heard something about that medtech error. It’s a common one, easy to make.”

Nigel chuckled. “Gratifying to know.”

“I don’t think I can fix it.”

“Not without microsurgery tools, no.”

“I remember that the brain adjusts, though. Eventually you’ll see upright images.”

“How long?”

“A few days.”

“Um. I say, it seems that long since I went merrily off with smiling Ted. How long was I gone?”

“Half a day,” Nikka said. “They came and told me. I argued with Ted but he was busy. Carlos was there.”

“What was his reaction?”

“Sad. He went down to Pucks on the morning shuttle, just after you left. Reporting for his new job. A chance to put his training into action. I think he wants to—”

“Wash his hands of it all. Quite so. There’s still you, waiting here, after he’s done.”

“Nigel, that’s not fair.”

“Who said I was fair? Carlos is confused, but he’s not dumb.”

“Can’t we forget that? With all that’s happening—”

“No, we can’t. Might have to use it.” He slapped the portable medfilter resting between them. The elevator whine reverberated in the sheet-metal floor. It had taken over an hour for Nikka to strip Nigel’s jury-rigged device down to essentials, and then wedge it into a carrying case. Their apartment was no longer a candidate for
House Beautiful
.

He hoped the filter would still work. It was touch and go getting out of the apartment, too—Ted hadn’t put guards on their door, but Nigel was sure someone would lay hand on him if he showed his face in public.

“You’re going to have to keep the dockmen busy while I get this on,” he said.

She nodded. “Our chances aren’t good.”

“So what? Haven’t any choices left. Ted will nab us in hours if we stay.”

The elevator groaned to a stop in near-zero gravity. The door lurched open, revealing the aft ship’s lock. No one in view.

“I’ll nip across,” Nigel said. He slipped into the darkness of the shuttle’s hold. Nikka drew a deep breath and went in search of the crew.

Pocks was gunmetal gray. Long white filaments stretched across it, rays of debris from ancient meteors. Crusts of rock blotched the dirty purple ice fields.

Nigel could feel the chill through his servo’d suit. He moved carefully across the crumpled plain. Nikka pointed to the spherical submarine berthed at the edge of an orange-green lake. “That’s where the log says Carlos is on duty.”

Nigel picked up the pace. Between them they carried the portable medfilter.

They began to puff with the effort. Boots crunched on the purple ice. Nigel stepped up his opticals to see what the surface looked like unaugmented. It was barren, lit by an angry red dot. High up he caught the gliding gray smudge of the Watcher. The
Lancer
analysis net had stopped calling the moonlet by that name, but he refused to. Was there a shifting glimmer where the weak sun struck the ancient hull? He blinked. Perhaps a facet catching the light. Or more probably, he reminded himself, a trick of his eyes. He was catching, seeing better, but there were still illusions, distortions.

They were five hundred meters from the descent craft. As yet no one had tried to stop them. There had been questioning looks from the shuttle crew, but Nikka had made up some apparently plausible story. They had counted on the fact that aboard
Lancer
there were no security measures, any more than there were guards on an ordinary naval vessel. But once Landon and that lot worked out where they must have gone—

“Hey!” Nigel stopped dead still, startled by the shout. He turned. No one behind them. It came from a figure trotting toward them from the submersible. His helmet overlay winked a color-coded ID: Carlos.

“What’s this about you coming down? Nigel shouldn’t be out—”

“Explain inside,” Nikka said roughly, and pushed Carlos back toward the submersible. “Quick!”

Nigel panted hard beneath the black sky. It was difficult going and something about it satisfied him. He did not ask Carlos to help.

Bubbles bulged and popped on the lake and then it went glassy and smooth again beneath the ember glow of Ross 128. Near the lake a sulfurous yellow muck sucked at their boots. “Outflow,” Carlos said. “Like a tidal flat, only worse. The lake’s all liquid ammonia, but every few days it belches. Potassium salts, sulfur, have to wash it off at the lock—”

Nikka waved him to be silent. She glanced behind them; no one following. Nigel felt secure; she looked as though she could handle anyone.

It took over ten minutes to shuck their suits and get to the cranny where Carlos slept. He turned on them, blocking the doorway, and said, “Now let’s hear it. After I got your message I checked the shuttle manifest. You two weren’t on it.”

“Last-minute holiday,” Nigel said. “Simply caught the first thing out of town.”

Nikka smiled tolerantly. “You can tell when things are desperate,” she said. “He always makes a joke.”

“That’s what jokes are for,” Nigel said, stretching out on Carlos’ bunk. He rested while Nikka sketched in the jumble of events. He enjoyed hearing it all played back from another perspective. It was particularly pleasant to relax utterly and let someone else take charge, as Nikka had been doing ever since they nonchalantly walked aboard the shuttle. She had done marvelously well at persuading the pilot. However this might come out— and he had few delusions on that score—it was delicious to be moving and acting again. The worst part of age was the feeling of helplessness, of being disengaged from life. The middle-aged treated the old with the same serenely contemptuous condescension they used for children. That unthinking attitude was what lay behind Ted’s actions.

“You’re stupid,” Carlos said bluntly. “
Stupid
. Whatever you think Landon was doing, you’re building a great case for him by—”

“Shove off that, eh? If we’d stayed on
Lancer
we’d be swimming in a slot by now.” Nigel stretched lazily, though he did not feel tired.

“
You
, maybe. Not her.”

“We’re together,” Nikka said simply.

“Not necessarily,” Carlos said carefully.

“I would protest Nigel going into the Slots. If I failed to get him revived, I would follow. So that we will lose no time together.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” Carlos said. “You still have work to do here. And you and I, we need each other too, you have to—”

“We’ll get bugger-all done if we recycle our stale statements while the clock runs,” Nigel said forcefully. “I need shelter, Carlos. That’s the nub of it. Either you give it to me or you don’t.”

Nigel watched conflicting emotions in the man’s face. He’d done the classic male-challenge thing, of course—interrupt Carlos, and abruptly shift the subject, to boot. Not wise, generally. But Carlos was a deeply conflicted person, uncertain how to respond to those signals. This was precisely what Nigel had hoped: that the deeply embedded responses of each sex would get tangled, and in his confusion Carlos would yield. Nigel recalled Blake’s notion of the ideal human: Male and female somehow blended in the same body, anima and animus united, entwined. He wished the poet could be here to see the result. Dreams were best when not made concrete.

Carlos dodged. “I can’t do anything. In a few minutes somebody’ll—”

“I’ve filed a formal complaint. Put it into shipcomm from our apartment. That
has
to be heard—even Ted can’t block that.”