The Seeds of Time (25 page)

Zee was looking down at her, his face contorted, saying something, she couldn’t quite make out what.

She tried to sit up. She was on the floor. Why was Zee shouting?

“What’s up?” Clio asked. Zee was usually so calm.

He was pressing the air pack over her mouth and nose.

She sucked in a deep breath, remembering. Finally, she pushed the mask away. “What’s the situation, we got air?”

“Yes. Take a deep breath, these packs have more oxygen than ship’s air, and right now you need it.”

Meng stepped into view, hovering next to Zee. She was out of her arm cast, and looking fit. The expression of sisterly concern was laughable. “I guess I was a little slow in getting the doors open.”

Clio stared hard at Meng until the woman broke the gaze. Meng looked over at Zee, said, “I think she’s still woozy. Let’s take her to her cabin.”

Zee and Meng each grabbed an arm, hauled Clio to a standing position. Clio slowly withdrew her arm from Meng, leaning on Zee. “Thanks for the help, Meng,” she said sweetly. Meng smiled tentatively, a question on her face. Clio smiled back, a big one. Best to keep her off guard. Confront her, accuse her, and Meng was at her best; now Clio would see how Meng did with a little bit of ambiguity. “Thanks for everything,” she said. Said it nice.

Zee helped her up to crew deck, to her cabin. Made her lie down on her bunk. “You feeling OK?”

“Yeah.”

Zee just kept looking at her. Scientific skepticism, maybe.

“No,” she said.

Zee pulled a blanket up to cover her. “Just rest.”

But Clio’s mind was racing. “However the biota spreads, spores, or whatever, it’s in the air system. And it’s hungry.”

“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way. It isn’t a monster. It’s just plant life.”

Clio let that one lie. “But it’s undermining small metal parts.”

“It’s not attacking the liquid oxygen or the nitrogen tanks,” Zee said. “Or the valves. Too big. Maybe it’s going
after the sensors monitoring the oxygen content of the cabin atmosphere; those are more vulnerable. We’d better take those off auto and go manual.”

Clio was silent a long while. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, staring at the panels with their stitches of metal rivets. “Two weeks. We got two more weeks, Zee. Hope this bucket can hold on a few more days.”

“Captain says Vanda is sending out a rescue ship.”

Clio raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised Brisher would go to that expense.”

“Captain says the company likes what they’ve heard about our samples. Got a whole flock of botanists lined up to talk to Meng. They figure Niang may be important.”

“They got that one right.” She pulled the blanket up under her chin, suddenly drowsy. “That should cut our time on
Starhawk
in half. So we got one week to go.”

“One week,” Zee said. “Ship can at least hold together one week, huh?”

Clio looked up at the rivets in the ceiling. “Shit, yes. Made in the U.S.A., man.”

Estevan lay dying. Clio sat beside him, had been, for three hours. Then she called Russo down, when she saw that he was going down fast. His breathing filled the room, pulling her own breath into the labor of it, as though she could show him how. But he was succumbing to pneumonia, had long ago given up his color, most of his consciousness, all of the fight.

Russo bent close to him. “Aurelio,” she said. “Is there anything you want me to do for you. Or say to your family?”

Estevan lay still, not responding. Finally, Russo left, leaving him in Clio’s care.

He opened his eyes, looked at Clio. There was a thin light in them as he moved his lips. Clio bent nearer.

“Shaw’s an asshole,” he whispered.

She nodded. That was true enough.

“Don’t let him be the one. Don’t let him sit with me, man.”

Shaw’s medlab shift didn’t come up again for another hour. Estevan wouldn’t last that long. “I won’t let him. No assholes in medlab. New rule.”

Estevan let out three coughing gasps, the dregs of a laugh. His hand groped on the blanket next to him, and Clio brought up her hand. He gripped it with surprising force. “You know, I always liked you.” His voice was a harsh whisper, and Clio leaned close to hear him. “You’re OK. Got balls, you really do. Just don’t turn into one of them, like Shaw, like Posie. Meng. They’re crazy, man. No
heart. You know?” He gripped her hand and shook it, looking at her with bright eyes.

“Know what you mean, man.”

“Something else.” He closed his eyes for so long she thought he had gone under, but he opened them again. “My share. I want you to have part of my share of the haul. Niang is the best haul. It’s like Hillis said, its regreen on wheels. Make Leery haul look like hothouse tomatoes, man.” He grinned in an awful way. “Except for you, none of us would have made it. So you can all retire, man, you’ll be farting through silk. And Shaw and Posie and all the rest can just stuff it.” He laughed again, looking at some scene on the ceiling. “And Meng too, that bitch.” His voice had grown so soft, Clio could hardly make out what he was saying. He closed his eyes.

Clio’s hand had grown as cool as Estevan’s. She placed her other, warmer, hand over his, and waited with him. He fell into a deep sleep then, his breath rattling in his throat. He never woke up again.

The whole crew assembled on science deck for the funeral. The whole crew was now just four people, five, if you counted Shaw, who was patched into the ceremony from the flight deck. Besides Clio, the mourners were the captain, Zee, and Meng.

Estevan lay in a shroud on a lab table. It was silver-colored, with a zipper from head to foot, and a green and yellow Biotime logo emblazoned across the chest, as though Estevan were a specimen from a foreign world.

Meng’s eyes were red, and she kept dabbing at her nose with an embroidered hanky. This, Clio found hard to believe, both that Meng gave a damn about Estevan and that she actually had a handkerchief, with lace, no less. Russo swung her eyes in Meng’s direction, hearing her snuffling, but didn’t quite make eye contact. Probably Russo couldn’t believe it either.

Russo swept them all quickly with her gaze and began: “Aurelio Estevan wasn’t a religious man, but he’d want a few words said at least. Aurelio was a scientist, and a fine one. He was a father and husband, as much as anyone can
be who joins Space Recon. He was a man who loved his work, stood by his crewmates, and took his injury bravely. Some of us standing here owe our lives to his strength of character. Space Recon is a dangerous service. Aurelio accepted that, as we all do, and I believe he wouldn’t have chosen any other way to die than in service. I’ll miss him.” Russo grimaced, looked up at the others. “Anyone want to say anything more?”

In the ensuing silence, Zee and Clio rolled the table over to the extravehicular instrument pallet, and shifted Estevan’s body onto the platform.

Meng let out a loud scraping sob and buried her nose into her hanky.

Clio found herself patting Meng’s shoulder.

Meng jerked away. “Leave me alone.”

“I feel as bad as you do, Meng.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Meng backed up, away from the group. She waved the balled-up hanky at Estevan. “You think I’m crying for that crock of shit? Is that what you think? I’ll tell you, he was such a loser. He was chauvinistic, boorish, and jealous of anybody better than him. He was a lousy shot and he cheated at cards. That’s why he’s dead, and not me.”

Russo’s face had crumpled into a livid scowl. “Meng,” she said, “you are out of order. Pull yourself together.”

“I’ll tell you why I’m crying,” Meng went on. “It’s the haul. It’s a crock of shit!” She spun around to face the quarantine doors, gesturing at them. “The stuff’s no good, not viable. Not one goddamn little plant. I’ll tell you what’s wrecking the ship, it’s this haul! It’s invading ship’s systems. It’s a bust, boys and girls. A bust!”

Clio panicked. “You’re hysterical. You always were crazy, Meng, always crack under a little pressure. We oughta trank you good.”

“You will go to your quarters, Specialist Meng, or I’ll have Lieutenant vander Zee drag you there,” Russo said, barely moving her mouth.

Shaw’s voice on intercom: “You need help down there, Captain?”

“I’m
crazy?
I’m
crazy?” Meng shrieked at Clio. “You’re the one that goes running through camp armed to your gills, getting everyone to choose sides until everybody kills everybody!” Meng was sobbing now, sunk down on a chair, her arm draped on the pallet, bumping up against the corpse’s feet. “It’s all a crock of shit,” she kept whimpering. “Every single goddamn plant.”

Clio wanted to shut her up. Wanted to bad.

“Might as well dump the whole fucking tray of plants out the door with Estevan.…” Meng waved an arm in the direction of the pallet.

Russo nodded to Zee. He walked over to Meng, took her by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. She let him take her up the ladder off science deck without a protest.

Left alone with Russo, Clio stared at her feet.
Damn Meng, damn her anyway
. The whole game was up, the whole damn game.

Eventually, Zee came back down the ladder. The captain nodded to him and he keyed in the rotation of the instrument pallet, and it rolled slowly around, releasing Estevan’s body to its spacey grave.

Hell of a way to hold a funeral
. Clio poured herself another drink, shook her head. Hell of a way. The scotch wasn’t half bad, tasted all the better for being contraband on ship. She raised her glass. “To you, buddy, brave-hearted and true.” Shit, she was stupid sentimental already, after only two drinks. But two stiff drinks, no doubt about that.

She wanted not to think, hoped the scotch would help. Wanted not to think about the whole disastrous trip, spiraling down to calamity. The mission had its chance, up until an hour ago, had its chance to redeem everything, regreen on wheels, bring that sweet green Eden back to Earth. Maybe a long shot, but a chance. Give Hillis’ work, his death, a meaning, maybe. And her little trip to the quarry, a meaning for that too.
I did my share, Mom. Went down fighting
. Shit, really sloshed by now. She poured another drink.

Thing was, she wasn’t finished with this mess yet.
Couldn’t just get ripped and let the chips fall where they might.
Starhawk
still carried the Niang payload. It was still down on science deck, sprouting away, wafting its spoorish messengers all over the ship, still blue-green and growing. Still viable, in the ultimate sense. And she was its protector, its only chance to make it. Call it a slim chance, damn slim. Clio pictured herself taking the captain aside, spilling the whole truth, convincing her to bring it home. Convincing her to sneak it through Vanda quarantine, keep the whole thing quiet, put the fear of God into Meng and Shaw … Clio put her glass against her forehead, squinted her eyes to drive off the pounding in her skull.
Fucking hopeless
.

Somebody was knocking on the cabin door. Zee. He came in, all worried. Saw the bottle, eyebrows arching way up.

“It’s Estevan’s,” she said. “Told me a few secrets before he died.” She held out the bottle. “Get another cup.”

“No. Rather not.”

Oh damn, he was going to stay sober and ruin her party. He sat down next to her, looking miserable. He really did need a stiff drink.

“Captain and Meng are up on the bridge, talking it out.”

“Figures.”

“Meng sounds pretty sure of herself. She must have found something.”

“Right.”

“It doesn’t look good.”

“Nope.”

As if in answer, the lights surged a moment, then dimmed low.

Zee’s face dropped another notch. “Electrical surges again.”

“Shit. Can’t see my own drink in front of my face.”

Zee expelled a long breath. Fumbled for a chair, brought it over by her bunk. “They’re going to dump it, Clio. They might dump it.”

“We can’t let them do that, Zee. Can’t let them dump Niang. We gotta talk them out of it.”

“How? The stuff is eating us alive. Biotime won’t let it anywhere near Vanda. They’ll flashburn the ship if they have to. It’s Russo’s duty to dump it before it ruins the ship.”

“Well it’s
not
ruining the ship. We’ve got some computer malfunctions, that’s all. It could be a virus, sabotage of some kind. And Meng is unreliable. She’s just a tech. She’s hysterical. Her behavior on Niang proved that.” Clio took a drink, looked up at Zee over the edge of her glass. “Sound convincing?”

“No.”

“Well, what’s your plan, then? You got a better idea?” He was starting to get on her nerves. Why was it always up to her to solve things?

“Clio, maybe they
should
dump it. There’ll be other planets; Niang isn’t our last chance. Space Recon doesn’t end with this mission, we’ll keep looking.…” His voice faded, seeing the expression on her face.

“We’ve
been
looking, and now we’ve found it. Hillis said that Niang was a gift, a gift from the universe. I think it’s our last chance. I’m not giving up.” She could see that he didn’t understand. Shit, why should he understand? He was young, had his career, didn’t know what desperate meant, didn’t know about nothing left to lose. “Zee,” she said. “I’ll tell you a thing. Tell you what drives me. You want to know?” He nodded, slowly. And she launched into it, telling him how Biotime and DSDE were waiting to snap her up, waiting to yank her pilot patch and slap her hands, slap them hard. How they knew about her medicine, long time back. Connived together to clear her in the Crippen affair, to keep their doggy running on the track just a little longer. Then Zee was sitting on the bunk next to her, looking pretty blurry by now, but holding her hand as she talked. And she spun out the rest of the story, all the way back to the night Mother heard the noises on the front porch and sent her and Petya running upstairs to the secret closet with the window. And Teeg’s story of the ending of it all.
And then they were lying together, and Zee’s arms were around her, and when she looked at him, she thought he might be crying, but it was hard to tell. She was, for sure.
Damn booze
.