Regeneration (Czerneda) (55 page)

She cocked her head, listening for any sign of life, hearing only the labored breaths of her companion.

Then dropped her head to her knees.

“Is anyone in there? Dr. Norris. Dr. Connor. Are you in there?”

Mac raised her head, looking to the door, but the voice was inside the lev.
The console.
Lights were flashing in various patterns, more lights than she imagined simply receiving a transmission would require. “This is Dr. Connor,” she replied, hoping she didn’t need to activate any control to be heard. “Who’s this?”

“Your escort from the
Joy
.”
Nothing could have sounded as good.
“Lieutenant Lee Halpern. Dr. Connor, is Dr. Norris with you?”

“No. He’s been killed.” Mac checked the Wasted. Given the proximity of the Trisulian ship, she wasn’t about to announce his presence on an open com. He showed no signs of consciousness but was breathing.

“Are you in immediate danger?” Sharp and to the point.

“No. I don’t think so,” Mac qualified. “You can get me out of here, I hope?”

“Already on it. Intersystem craft have an auto retrieve function—safety feature. The captain asked Dr. Norris for his remote codes before you left. Ship’s systems will reverse your course and head back to the
Joy.
Stand by.”

Mac sat by, relieved beyond words. But as time continued to pass with only the same light patterns taunting her, that relief faded.
If she counted the number of times auto-anything had failed in the field . . .
She leaned over the console. “Halpern. I’m guessing there’s a problem.”

“We’re working on options, Dr. Connor. The codes activated the retrieval of a probe, Dr. Connor, not your ship. Where are you exactly?”

Norris had made sure he wouldn’t be stopped short of his goal,
Mac realized, feeling more pity than anger.

“Inside the
Uosanah
. Parked in a hangar,” she sighed, leaning back in the chair. “We entered through the middle of a row of round doors inside a mass of what looked to me like container-handling equipment. But I’m no engineer.”

“Is there any way for you to determine the presence of hostile forces?”

The Ro?
“The one I know of is dead. And,” Mac took a steadying breath. “Dr. Norris is outside the ship, too.”

“Is the area secure?”

“Of course it’s not secure. That’s why I’m locked inside!” Mac glared at the lights, then shook her head.
She wasn’t at her best.
“I’m sorry, Halpern. It’s been a little—I’m out of my depth here. I don’t know if there are more of them. I’d really rather not go and look, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t want you to, Dr. Connor—may I call you Mac?”

The situation was
that
bad?
“Yes.”

“Mac, I don’t want to alarm you—”
Didn’t people realize how terrifying that statement was?
“—but things are a bit complicated out here as well. The captain launched tacticals at your distress call—they could get inside the derelict, deal with whatever—but the Trisulian commander won’t let them approach. The Sinzi-ra is doing his best to change that.” The tone was matter-of-fact. Mac winced, well able to imagine the furious negotiations. Everyone in the system probably heard Norris’ distress call—including the part about Ro on board.

The idiot faction, trying to send diplomats; the rest preparing to blow up the
Uosanah
and the other derelicts.

And one trapped biologist.

She wasn’t the only one at risk.
Halpern’s tiny shuttle was a provocation to all sides, simply by being near the Dhryn ship. “How about you?” she asked. “Can you stay?”

“Not going anywhere, Mac. Not without you.” A pause. “I don’t suppose you’re a pilot.”

“No. Why?”

“Oh.” A pause. “If you were, and if you could find and access the protocols Dr. Norris used to enter the hangar, you could set the bay to auto. You’ll drift out and I’d snag you and take you back to the
Joy
.” Halpern grew enthused. “Maybe I can talk you through it.”

And if she could breathe vacuum, she could walk.
Mac sighed. “Norris locked the controls. Even if he hadn’t, you should see this thing, Halpern. It’s modified from standard. There’s research gear, scanners . . .”

A hand brushed her foot and Mac stopped to glance down. The Wasted was still unconscious.
But breathing.

“Wait.” She bit her lower lip, then nodded to herself. “There’s someone with me who might be able to make sense of it.”

“Who?”

A dying Dhryn who’d survived this long on the bodies of his former crew?
Mac thought fast. “Charlie. Charlie Mudge. He wanted to come along and we snuck him on board.” Dead silence. Mac prodded the Wasted with her toe. “I know it was against regulations,” she babbled on, “but he’s flown starships.”

“Regulations be damned. Let me speak to him.”

“Give me a minute. He’s—he’s been hurt.” She reached down and shook the Wasted, obtaining a low moan. “Charlie,” she urged, careful to use Instella. Her hands slipped over fluid and flaccid skin. She gripped harder. “You have to get us out of the hangar. Do you understand? I need you.”

“I—do not—exist.”

“He’s not himself,” Mac said loudly. She got out of the pilot seat and crouched as close to the alien’s head as she could. “Listen to me,” she whispered. “This is your ship. You must know how to launch a shuttle—please,
Lamisah
.”

An eye opened and regarded her, its yellow almost white.
“ ‘Lamisah?’ ”
His bleeding lips twisted in what might have been scorn. “You are not-Dhryn.”

“And you don’t exist.” Mac rested her hand on his chilled shoulder. “A great pair. Can you do it?”

“Mac? How’s Charlie?”

“Oh, getting there.” Halpern sounded anxious.
Good thing there wasn’t a vid link.

The Wasted sucked in air and held it. He rose, gripping the chairs and her knee for purchase, then almost fell again. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to avoid the larger fractures. As he leaned against her, she could barely make out his whisper. “Internal com. Command . . . I can command . . .”

She raised her face to the lev ceiling. “Charlie’s accessing the codes.”
He didn’t need to know which ones.

“Hurry,” Halpern responded, distinct stress in his voice. “It’s a little busy out here, if you get my drift.”

“Can you do it from here?” Mac asked the Wasted. She took his slow reach for the console as yes.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered and put her hand over the Wasted’s to stop him. “Wait.”

Halpern heard. “Doing what, Mac? There’s no time—”

“Stand by.”

Moving quickly, Mac dumped the tools and scanners from one of Norris’ bags, slinging it over her shoulder. She grasped the umbrella firmly and went to the door. The Wasted turned his big head to watch her unlock it. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, and threw open the door.

Once again, the odor of decay and death filled her nostrils. This time, instead of being hidden, the bodies were steps away. Before she could hesitate—
as in come to her senses
—Mac walked down the ramp. She took her time and poked the air around and in front with the umbrella, feeling like a fool but unable to move unless sure she wasn’t walking into a Ro or its invisible servant.

The silence should have been reassuring.
It made it hard to breathe.

“Way too much imagination,” she panted.

She reached Norris, and gently laid the umbrella beside him.
He’d said “Ships don’t die empty.”
She didn’t think he’d mind resting in this one for a while longer.

Mac put the bag over her real hand and headed for the other corpse. Every second counted. “Just another specimen,” she told herself, hunting for something to grab that wouldn’t cut through the fabric. One of the clubbed limbs looked promising. Both her hands shook so badly she couldn’t touch it on her first try. “Call yourself a biologist,” she muttered. “It’s another dead specimen. Doesn’t even smell. Much.”

A lunge and her fingers wrapped around what felt harder than ordinary flesh. Without pause, she pulled back, her artificial hand clenching so tight she felt something give. The body resisted, then moved, sliding along the deck, remaining limbs waving aimlessly.
scurryscurry

Mac froze, then realized the sound had come from the corpse, as if parts rubbed together. “You’re dead,” she reminded it, and pulled.
scurryscurry
She took a step and pulled, wishing for more slime. “Wait . . .” And again. “Till . . .” She grunted a word with each effort, as much to keep herself company as to cover the sounds from the corpse. “They . . .” The thing outmassed her, though not by much. “See . . .” Keeping it moving was easier, though her arms were already aching with strain.

“You!”

Her foot hit the end of the ramp. Stepping up, she blinked sweat from her eyes and heaved. The corpse came partway, then stuck fast.

Abandoning her prize was unthinkable.
They’d never be given a chance to examine it.

Then Mac smiled. She’d loaded and unloaded levs in the middle of blizzards.
There were a few tricks.
“Wait here,” she told the corpse, and ran into the lev.

The Wasted hadn’t died while she’d been gone.
One relief.
“Be ready, Charlie,” she told him, then went to the ramp control, tossing the bag from her hands. The air moving into the lev made her shiver despite the warmth of exertion. The open door was like an invitation.

But, at long last, Mac-friendly technology.
With a cry of triumph, she reversed the closing sequence, overrode the load safeties, and hit the emergency retract.

With a machine protest, the ramp snapped itself up against the ship before the door could shut.

And with a
skitter . . . scurry . . . POP!
the corpse answered momentum and rolled into the lev, Mac jumping out of its way.

“Always works,” she said with satisfaction, turning to her companion.

The Wasted’s eyes were huge and his limbs trembled so violently they clattered against the console.

“Don’t worry,” Mac soothed. “I can fix the door.” She let the ramp back down, reset the controls, and let the door close properly.

“That—that—” The Instella stopped and the floor vibrated. Not that there was much floor left, the corpse having sprawled into a nasty mass of appendages, several either broken from her handling or with implausible joint structure. Or both.

“We do not think of it,” she told the Wasted, slowly and clearly, making sure his eyes were on hers. “Do you understand me?”

“Mac!” Halpern’s disembodied voice was close to a shout. “What’s going on? Where did you go? Charlie didn’t answer—has he passed out on you?”

“Lamisah,”
she whispered. “This one thing and you can rest. I promise.”

Eyes blinked at her, then shifted to the console. “I am—here, Halpern,” the Wasted said, the effort to speak at all plain to Mac. Her throat tightened in sympathy. Withered fingers touched a blue button among the dozens, slowly input numbers, methodically pressed a sequence of other controls.
How well could his mind function, given the wreck of his body?
Mac judged this an unproductive line of thought and dropped into the passenger seat.

The ship gave that characteristic lurch and she leaned with it, as if encouraging it to continue moving.
Last chance to stop us.

“Sending us into the bay now,” the Wasted said. “I’ve—I’ve set auto launch to put us—put us beyond the freight area.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.” Halpern, quick and sure. “Good work, Charlie. Can’t wait to shake your hand.”

The Wasted gave Mac a look she had no problem interpreting at all.