Marlowe and the Spacewoman (12 page)

“Doing something like this is terribly hard on the car’s generator, but because of the magnetized rebar, it can stick to the wall.  It amps up its gauss field, aligns the field with the building’s, and presto, automotive fly on the wall.  Of course, if I didn’t have tires on my car, that’s all it would do – stick.  Tires allow my car to move on vertical surfaces.  Modern tireless cars will just clamp themselves to the wall and sit there, wondering how to get down without falling over.  Actually, that’ll probably be a problem for us too.  Cross that building when we come to it.”

“We didn’t have this problem with buildings in my day.  Isn’t society supposed to advance technologically over time?  Why don’t you build structures the old fashioned way?”

“Greed.  Good building materials are hard to come by these days, and the electricity suppliers like the added revenue of maintaining magnetic fields.  The builders save money on materials, the power company makes money.  Everybody wins, supposedly.”

Marlowe placed Tray on his chest, and then fished out the bottle of bubbles.  “You hanging in there, Tray?”

“So itchy,” Tray blew back.  “If you’re gonna do something, you better hurry.”

Marlowe wondered grimly if he’d even know what hit him when Tray succumbed.  The reaction was supposed to be very, very fast.  There were definitely worse ways to die.  At the Ministry of Policing, at least forty slow deaths came immediately to mind.  And probably twice that number that Marlowe didn’t feel like coaxing to the forefront of his awareness.  Let them hide in the dark corners and try to come out in his nightmares.  The nano probes had a drug for that too.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you put the soap in your pocket?”

“He has to be able to see me, or he detonates.”

“Oh.”

The Studebaker halted at the lip of the roof.  Marlowe climbed out first, placing Tray on the edge before clutching and clawing his way over.  After flopping onto the roof, he picked up Tray and forced his head over the barrier, hoping to stop Nina before she followed him.  Naturally, he was too late.  She landed with a thud next to him.  

“Nice view.”

“I wanted you to stay in the car.”  He noted idly that the surface of the building had tire tracks running up its length, leading to the back of the Studebaker.  Such was the structural integrity of  StyroCrete.  

The roof had a tar and gravel surface that crunched with each step.  It formed a perfect rectangle, or would, if the building wasn’t sagging.  An air handling unit, a polished steel box two meters by two meters by three with vent grilles on all four sides, interrupted the undulating surface of the roof like a square boulder dropped dead center into the middle of it.  Actually, with current installation methods, that probably did explain the wavy surface.  Marlowe was leaning against a solid concrete barrier, about a meter high, that ringed the perimeter of the roof.  At two meter intervals, thick multi-strand beryllium cables stretched up, converging fifteen meters overhead at the base of a zeppelin.  The zeppelin bobbed gently, almost rhythmically in the wind, a giant silvery melon.  Where the cables converged on it, a small platform could be seen.

Nina looked around the roof.  “So this was your plan.  Move the bomb up here, where it wouldn’t do as much damage.  Very noble, saving lives that way.  We can leave the bomb here and maybe survive ourselves, you know.  Back down there.”

Marlowe shook his head.  “No.  This was a one way ticket for me.  You can go back down, but like I said in the car, if Tray can’t see me, he blows up.  Besides, I’m not quite done ascending yet.”

Realization broke on Nina’s face.  “You’re going to climb up to that blimp, aren’t you?”  She laughed.  Actual, doubled over, face red laughter.  It made Marlowe more than a little angry, having his act of self-sacrifice ridiculed.  

Nina’s face was purple with the exertion of her laughing.  “How are you going to climb?  Hand over hand?”

“I’ll manage,” Marlowe said stiffly.  “I have to.”

“While holding a bar of soap?  Even if you put him down, your hands must be incredibly slippery right now.”

Marlowe ignored Nina and bubbled encouragement to Tray.  “Just a little bit longer, Tray.  Can you manage that?”

“It’s soooo itchy, Marlowe.  I just want to scratch a little.”

“Try thinking about something else.  Imagine you’re in the shower with a beautiful woman, and she’s just started soaping up her breasts with you.”

“Don’t have to imagine that.  I’ve lived it.”

“Well, then remember it.”

“Marlowe,” bubbled Tray with intense concentration, “if you should somehow survive all this, tell my family I loved them, that I went out thinking about them.  Especially my kids.  I want them to know I was thinking about all of them.  Promise me that.”

“I promise,” said Marlowe.

“Just don’t tell my wives about each other.  They might not understand that.”

Marlowe raised an eyebrow, but wasn’t terribly surprised.  Tray struck him as the type.  “I won’t tell them.”

A small window popped into Marlowe’s field of view, asking if he’d accept a message from Tray.

“What’s this, Tray?”

“Addresses of my wives and kids.  I didn’t exactly use my real name with most of them.”

Marlowe blinked his assent and accepted the file.

“Marlowe,” interrupted Nina, “I’m serious.  How can you climb if you’re holding him?”

Marlowe brushed some of the grime off of Tray and popped the smooth, soapy end into his mouth.  Almost immediately, he spat the partially reconstituted bar back out.  “Bleech!”  He winced as the nano probes struggled to neutralize his taste buds.  “Damn, that’s nasty soap!”

“Listen to me,” said Nina.  “Even if you could keep that in your mouth, you aren’t fit enough to climb up there.  I am.  Give me the bomb, I’ll carry it up.”

“That’s very noble of you, but as I said, he’ll blow up as soon as he loses sight of me.”

“Hmm.  Can you hold onto me?”

“What?”

“Can you hold onto my waist while I climb these cables?”

“You need to get back in the car,” shouted Marlowe, pointing back the way they came, “and ride this out.  I’m transmitting all of this in real-time to House, as evidence.  You’ll be safe.”

Nina’s mirth had faded, and she looked deathly serious.  Appropriate, thought Marlowe, given the circumstances.  “No arguing with me, Marlowe.  Let me help.  Let me help increase the odds of successfully reaching that blimp up there.  I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you kicking and screaming if I have to, but I will help.  I have nothing to lose here.  My world disappeared a long time ago.”

Marlowe studied Nina, her determination rising up like a tsunami against his will.  The lingering, bitter taste of soap served as the last nail in his resolve’s coffin.  He shrugged, and put on his best face.  “Well, I have to admit, compared to climbing the cables myself, hugging you and holding on will be a piece of cake.”

“Then lets do it.”

Marlowe explained their plan to Tray, and then he and Nina walked over to the cable that had the least number of frayed and snapped tendrils.  Nina reached up and grabbed the beryllium line.  Marlowe stood in front of her and wrapped his arms around her chest just under her arms, clasping his hands tightly behind her back, Tray nestled between his fingers.  At the same time, he hooked his chin over her shoulder, resting his cheek against hers and ensuring Tray could see him.

“Ready?” asked Nina.

“Go.”

Nina began the ascent, cords of muscles in her neck bulging as taut and tight as the cable she traversed.  Marlowe felt the lean hardness of her body against his, like stone.  Warm, sweet smelling stone.  Her face flushed with the exertion, beet red and pouring out heat.  Marlowe allowed his attention to dwell on the pleasant sensation of her cheek against his.  He closed his eyes and tried to take in every aspect of what would be the last nice moment of his life.  Her chest heaved against his with every warm breath that fell across his ear and neck, and he found the weightless sensation of nothing under his feet strangely soothing.

In an effort to prevent any slippage, he instructed the nano probes to secrete a localized paralyzing agent into his arms, locking the embrace.  It had been awhile since he’d let a woman get this close to him.  The last time had led to yet another bout of resurrection, once the nano probes had worked the blade out of his back.  Yeah, Stella had definitely been a mistake.  Pretty, but still a mistake.  Now, pressed up against Nina’s body, feeling her move against him, he remembered the wonderful sensation of just being with a woman.

“Almost there,” gasped Nina.

Me too, thought Marlowe.  He laughed at the absurdity of the moment while ordering the nano probes to prevent any embarrassing responses to Nina’s physical proximity.  “What do you need me to do?”

Nina spoke through clenched teeth.  “Get ready to grab the platform and climb up.  Then pull me up, and we’ll ride this one out together.”

Via the PDI, Marlowe instructed the nano probes to neutralize the paralysis agents in his arms.  The nano probes were rather put out, having just released the agents a few moments earlier, but obeyed.  Marlowe gritted his teeth as a tingling sensation started to burn through the suddenly unmedicated appendages.  He clasped Nina even tighter.

“Tell me when.”

“Almost there.  Hang on.  I’m almost there.”

Marlowe waited, thinking about cricketball.  That took his mind off the agony in his arms.  The tingling had progressed into the distinctly unpleasant sensation of several million needles and spikes jabbing his flesh.

“OK, I’m there.  Get a move on and climb up.”

Marlowe carefully moved one hand from around Nina, slipping a little bit but compensating by clutching her even tighter with the other arm.  His free hand, shaking slightly because of the soapy cargo it carried, moved up her body, letting the contours of her side and then her arm lead him to the platform.  He found it and gingerly placed Tray on the nearest level spot, optical sensors pointed outwards.  Relieved of his explosive burden, his hand patted around in search of a handhold and grabbed something protruding from the platform. He worked his way up, getting both arms over the top and pulling himself higher.  His head cleared the platform, revealing that he’d been holding onto a large bolt securing the anchoring cable to the building below.  He moved his feet onto Nina’s shoulders and pushed and pulled himself onto the platform.  Then he turned around and extended a hand to Nina.  She released one hand from the cable, grabbed his, and then pulled herself up next to him.

The platform was small, about three meters by two meters, and felt pretty crowded with the three of them up there.  A strong wind blew over them continuously, and if Marlowe let go, he knew he’d be carried off.  Steel pillars in each corner of the platform rose up to the zeppelin, merging into an exo-skeleton wrapped around the dirigible’s surface.

“Now what?” asked Nina.  “We just wait?”

“No, now we start working on these cables.  The ones securing the zeppelin to the building, not the ones securing the platform to the zeppelin.”  

Nina snorted.  “Well duh.  I figured that much.”

Marlowe moved Tray away from the edge and  plopped him safely in the middle of the platform.  “How much longer can you hold on,” he queried.

The stream of bubbles Tray emitted were small and jerky.  “Could you apply pressure to my spine?  Just a little?  It would help.”

“Think about cricketball, it sometimes helps me,” replied Marlowe as he pressed down momentarily on an exposed portion of Tray’s exoskeleton.  Then he turned his attention to the cables.

The bolts all had quick-releases, a fact enormously relieving to Marlowe, who didn’t have any tools with him.

Nina smiled grimly.  “Release the cables and then ride up into the sky, further minimizing the damage caused by the bomb.  Not a bad plan, even if it does still get us killed.  You are probably the most noble person I’ve ever met.  And not just now.  In my entire life.”

“That’s great, but less talk and more quick-releasing.”  Marlowe snapped one of the releases, and the cable sliced away from the zeppelin, whizzing back down to the roof.  The zeppelin shuddered heavily and the platform canted downwards, given Marlowe a much clearer view than he would have liked of the cable as it curved downwards, humming through the air until it slapped into the side of the building, leaving a deep gouge in the StyroCrete and bouncing a few times before before settling against the wall.  Marlowe and Nina gripped a cable tethering the platform to the zeppelin to hold themselves in place until the oscillations diminished.  Tray, unable to grab anything, slid first towards one edge of the platform, and then as the rocking motion peaked, started towards another edge.  Marlowe managed to get a foot on Tray, just behind the optical array, arresting the motion.

“Damn,” gasped Marlowe as the rocking subsided into an almost imperceptible bobbing, “that was close.”

“Marlowe,” said Nina, looking as pale as Marlowe felt, “I need to get something off my chest before I die.  I’d ask for a priest, but there aren’t any around, and I’m agnostic anyway.”

Marlowe stopped the video feed to House.  When House protested, he muted the entire channel.  No more distractions, and there didn’t seem a need to record anything more for posterity.  He sensed that Nina was about to reveal something very private and personal.  They might actually be heroes when word got out what they’d done.  Why spoil that with unnecessary revelations and, Marlowe hoped, naughty tawdry details?