The Seeds of Time (28 page)

Zee was pulling her up, saying something. She was on science deck, and the emergency bell was clanging, deafeningly. “HULL BREACH IMMINENT. TWO MINUTES TO HULL BREACH. CLOSE SCIENCE DECK AND PROCEED IMMEDIATELY TO DECKS TWO AND THREE.”

Jesus, hull breach, did it say?

She stumbled to her feet. Zee was already on the terminal, querying.

“It’s the extravehicular instrument pallet,” he shouted. “It’s going to blow.”

Intercom crackled. Russo: “Move onto mid-decks, I’m going to lock the hatches. You copy?”

Clio swung to look at Zee. “We’ve got to take the samples with us.” She started toward the far end of the deck where the trays were still loaded with Niang specimens.

“We don’t have time to load out the haul, Clio!” He was unfastening Meng.

Clio glanced at the pallet. Looked normal, but it was failing. Her eyes focused on the quarantine doors, folded back against the bulkheads. She dashed for one side, unfastened the door, and pulled, shouting, “Zee, help me with these! We’ll section off quarantine, load up from there, and exit out the emergency hatch to equipment bay.”

“Clio, we don’t have time!”

Meng was dashing for the hatchway. Zee grabbed her.

Clio punched on the intercom. “Captain, pressurize the equipment bay, we’re coming through that way, you copy?”

“Goddamn it, Finn, that’ll take three minutes. You’ve only got two.”

“We’re fastening the quarantine doors to buy time. Do it, Captain. Out.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Meng screamed. “This place is going to tear apart!” She bolted for the hatchway, but Zee grabbed her, yanking her back. Drew his pistol.

“Pull the doors,” he ordered her.

“SIXTY SECONDS TO HULL BREACH, SCIENCE DECK.”

Meng flew to the starboard-side doors and yanked them across to meet the others, secured the latches. Zee activated the seals, and they pressed into place with a long hissing sound, barely audible in the clanging of the bells.

Clio hauled trays over to the emergency hatch and ran back for more. She glared at Meng. “Move it! Because we’re not leaving this deck until we get every sample.” Meng grabbed a seedling tray and raced for the hatch.

Clio charged over to the hatch with a tray, colliding with Zee as he stood up from where he had crouched to set down his load. Soil flew in every direction, the seedlings trampled underfoot as they stumbled to regain their footing. Clio looked in dismay at the precious semigreen shoots.

“Leave it!” Zee shouted, and ran for another load.

The clanging was replaced by a screeching horn. “HULL BREACH. HULL BREACH. SECURE SCIENCE DECK HATCHES.” An explosive crack shook the deck,
followed by a great roar. Crashing sounds from beyond the sealed doors mingled with the roar as Clio shouted into the intercom, “Bay pressurized?”

In the deafening noise, the captain was shouting. “Yes, you are clear. Get the hell out of there!”

Zee threw the hatch lever, swung himself through. Meng handed the trays to him recklessly now, as she watched the quarantine doors shudder from the giant vacuum behind them.

Clio shouted to Zee, “Take some of the trays on up to the launch bay. Quarantine’s going to blow, and might take this hatch with it.” Zee nodded and disappeared up the ladder to launch bay, balancing a box under one arm.

The trays and samples were all through. Meng climbed through the hatchway, with Clio right behind her, and then the hatch closed hard on Clio’s leg, and Meng was pushing her back into quarantine with a fierce strength. Clio lost her balance and fell, but her leg hooked over the hatchway. Meng was prying her leg up, shoving it, while Clio struggled to stand on one leg. She flailed for the wall grip, hooked it with her left hand and smashed through the hatch opening with her right hand, grabbing Meng’s arm.

The quarantine doors blew.

One half sailed away from its moorings and smacked into the gaping hole where the pallet had been. Every loose item on the deck shot toward the hole. With the hatchway door wide open, Meng plunged through headfirst, sucked into the ferocious vacuum. Clio was still holding on to the wall grip and clutched at Meng, grabbing on to her hair. Meng was screaming without sound. Then the piece of quarantine wall that had been temporarily plugging the hole in the bulkhead folded in on itself and flew out, and Clio’s grip weakened. Meng clawed onto Clio’s outstretched arm. The cloth tore free, and Clio’s fingers uncurled from Meng’s hair, their strength gone. And Meng was flying through the cabin. She slammed against the gap in the bulkhead, where equipment had formed a plug. Then the detritus shuddered and she was wedged between a loose computer monitor and a lab table, queuing up for ejection. She flailed
wildly for a grip on the bulkhead, her face frozen in a kind of surprise, as though she were losing at poker, and then the detritus made a pulsing, sphincter-like movement and she disappeared out the hole.

Zee was pulling Clio back through the hatchway. The reason, she realized, that she had lost her grip on Meng. He slammed the hatch shut.

Clio slumped to the floor, put her hands to her ears where a warm liquid was trickling out. She gasped for breath as the cabin atmosphere normalized. Zee crouched down beside her, folded his arms around her.

Shaw’s voice was on intercom, shouting something. They let him shout for a while; then Zee got to his feet and hit the switch. “We’re in equipment bay. Me and Clio.” He looked at Clio; she quickly formed “Meng” with her mouth. “And Meng,” he said. “We’re going up to launch bay and through to crew deck. Is the launch bay pressurized?”

“Yes,” came Shaw’s voice. “You’re OK to come through. This ship is now crippled, Lieutenant. I hold you and Finn personally responsible. If any harm comes to Specialist Meng, I’ll add murder to your account. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Zee said. “I see what you mean. We’re heading up now. I suggest you and the captain stay off crew deck. Just to avoid any misunderstandings. Out.”

Clio forced herself to stand up, took a box of seeds underarm, and started climbing the interdeck ladder. Shaw’d be pissed when he realized they’d brought the Niang plants with them. But, for sure, he was going to be real upset anyway.

She and Zee carried what was left of the Niang specimens up to the launch bay. Here, the lander slept out the long ride home, its convex side bulging into the bay in its usual nesting position.
Babyhawk
was the ship’s partner in the Recon enterprise, and its life raft. In some ways the lander was more complicated than
Starhawk
herself, and almost as expensive, with its maneuverability and atmospheric flight capabilities. Clio cocked her head, thinking
about
Babyhawk
. Life raft, that was a funny concept. They had never conceived that
Starhawk
would need a life raft.

Zee and Clio looked at each other.

“You’re bleeding from the ears,” he said.

“Has it stopped?”

“Looks like. You OK?”

“Could be worse.” She looked down at the trays. “We could leave the specimens in the bay here.”

“And then they can dump them at will.”

“Think they’d sacrifice
Babyhawk
to junk this stuff?”

“In a minute. Sure they would.”

Clio nodded.

Zee said, “So let’s take them through to crew deck.”

Clio smiled at him. “You’ve become very protective of our little demons, haven’t you?”

Zee grinned. “Like a mother hen.”

Clio unfastened the hatch, reaching for the gun in her belt. Gone. Probably halfway to Mars by now. Zee saw her movement, stepped forward, his own gun drawn, and opened the hatch. He stepped through, eyeing the cabin doors of crew deck. Clio stepped through, after him.

“Zee.” Clio touched his arm. He turned to face her. “That time on Vanda. When you slept with Hillis …”

A frown dented his forehead. He nodded, as if to say, I wondered when we’d get around to that one. But he remained silent, waiting for her question.

In truth, what was there to say? But Clio wanted something said. She decided on, “Well … was it love? Or what?”

“How many people could I be in love with at one time, right?”

“Something like that.”

He sighed, sat down on a large carton of seed packets. Clio winced. He noticed, slid off the carton onto the floor, back against the bulkhead.

Clio crouched down, facing him. “Is it so hard to answer?”

“Yes. Depending on how important the answer is to you.”

“Well, there’s only one answer to give, right? The truth. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“That’s a lot sometimes.” He looked past her, at the opposite wall, thinking. Then turned back to her. “OK, Clio, I loved him. I loved you both. I know that’s hard to understand. Sometimes I don’t understand it myself.”

Clio moved in closer to him, embraced him, pressing her face against his. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.” She smiled. “It’s better than any other explanation. Only …”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Only, I’m not sure he loved you. You know? I could almost guarantee that. Or me either. Didn’t love me either.”

“His loss.”

“Yeah, on both counts.” She wiped her face on her sleeve, stood up. “Not sure what that settled, but I feel better.” Zee nodded slowly; maybe he felt better too. “I’m going up to the bridge, Zee. Alone. I’m gonna tell them about Meng. And see where we stand. ’Cause we’re not headed in a very good direction; looks like the tape didn’t make a big impact on Russo. Shaw neither, obviously. We’re about at the end of our rope, I figure.”

“That’s what I figure, too.”

“So I’m going up to parlay.”

“We’ve got nothing left to parlay, Clio.”

“Maybe not.” A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t hurt to talk.”

Zee stood up, handed over his gun. Clio shook her head. “Nah. I’ll never get on the flight deck if I’m armed.”

He slid his arm around her back, kissed her.

She walked down the corridor toward the bridge. By the mid-decks hatchway she hit the intercom.

“Captain Russo, this is Lieutenant Finn. Permission to come to the bridge. Truce, OK?”

Clio waited, tapping her fingers on the metal intercom box. The housing was still hard as nails. Maybe someday, she thought, in the way distant future, nobody would know what that meant, hard as nails.

“Captain, we got to talk. I’m unarmed.”

Shaw’s voice then: “You can come up, Lieutenant. Come up real slow, hands over head.”

How can I climb the freeping hatch ladder with my hands over my head, you jackass?
Clio climbed through to the galley and up the ladder to the flight deck. Shaw hovered over the open hatchway, a length of pipe in his hand. As Clio emerged through the opening, he jerked her arm, forcing her to her knees.

“Lie on your stomach.”

Clio lay on the deck while Shaw searched her, searched her good.

“That’s enough, Commander.” Russo’s voice.

Shaw backed off. Clio stood on the bridge. Stood there again after what seemed like a hundred years. The curved bank of instrumentation nestled against the inside nose of the ship, sparkling with light. Russo sat in the captain’s chair, enthroned in metal technology. The room glowed, blurring. Clio bit her tongue, hard. Couldn’t speak.

Russo held the silence.

Finally, Shaw said, “You going to talk, or do I have to beat it out of you?” His head was wrapped with a bandage, headband style.

“I got to report, sir, that Meng is dead.” She flicked her eyes to Russo, then back to Shaw. No reaction. “She got blown off science deck. I tried to grab her, but I couldn’t hold on. I told you she was OK because we thought if you knew it was only me and Zee you’d shunt us out of launch bay.”

Shaw nodded. “Yeah. Maybe we would have. Good idea. Now you’ve got the contaminants on crew deck, is that right?”

“Yessir.”

Shaw looked at Russo, clenched his mouth. Had to let the captain speak on this one.

She didn’t speak. A ripple of uncertainty made its way over Shaw’s face. He took the lead. “You got five minutes’ truce, Finn. Then if you’re still here, I’m going to disable you with the only weapon I have.” The pipe twitched in his hand.

Clio registered the threat in her stomach. Backed up a step. Looked at Russo.

“What I came to say is that I had information that you didn’t, sir. Information about a threat to our country, our planet. I acted on that, knowing it might sacrifice the ship.”

Shaw charged in: “That damn
haul
is the threat, Lieutenant! You just don’t get it, do you?”

“I get it sir. I get it that the Niang haul eats metal. And also that we got no future at all without it.” She turned back to Russo, who was still silent, eyes turned in Clio’s direction but bordering on vacant. “I’m asking you to bring this haul home, Captain. That’s what I came to say. I came to say that we can Dive back a day or two, and take
Babyhawk
in for a landing, Earthside. Plant the Niang seedlings. See if maybe we have an alternate future. That’s what I came to say.”

A burst of air erupted from Shaw. “You really
are
crazy. Crazy as Meng said, crazy as Teeg said. You’re paranoid as shit, Lieutenant. You ran amok in camp, and then you ran amok on this ship. You’re disaster on two legs, just like they said.” He had come closer with each statement, shouting at her, shouting louder the closer he got. It was the animal sound of his voice that scared Clio. She backed up a pace, avoiding looking in his eyes. He was losing it.

“Back off, Commander.” This from Russo.

Shaw pushed Clio in the chest, lightly, like a street fighter warming up. “You want to drive this reeking hulk back to Earth, do you?” He pushed her in the chest again. “That right? You want to come off ship, guns blazing, that right?”

“Knock it off, Commander.”

“You want to bring this plague onto station, that it?” He was screaming at her, his spittle hitting her in the face. “You want to perform a Dive in local space and risk a paradox that could kill us all?”

Clio was backed into the console now, saying, “Nosir, nosir. That’s not it. We sneak in under cover of night, aim for a wilderness area. One-day Dive, two days max. No paradoxes.”