Alien Earth (32 page)

Read Alien Earth Online

Authors: Megan Lindholm

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Alien Earth
2.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

[Help me not have Tug, then.]

“What?”

Shock resounded through Raef as the full implications of her simple request dawned on him. She didn’t want to ever go back to Tug, not even for a short time. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

[That is correct.]

He didn’t even know how to phrase the next question.

“But, uh, I thought you two were sort of necessary to each other. Part of each other. What would you do without him?”

[Tug is not part of me. I know this now. And I have Raef. So I do not need Tug.]

“But I can’t be with you all the time the way Tug is. I can’t do whatever it is he does for you.”

[You can. You do.]

She asserted it so calmly he could not doubt it was true.

“But I’m a Human, not an Arthroplana. I’d need time on my own, sometimes, and then what would you do? I’d like to help you, but I can’t. I can’t take Tug’s place.”

A long considering silence.

[It would be like a deal. Good for good. We will rescue John and Connie. And then you will take Tug’s place.]

Raef felt breathless at the finality of her offer. “I need to think.”

[I do not understand what you ask.]

“I need to be alone for a time. Just me in my mind. I need to think alone.”

He sensed her reluctance, but she did withdraw. Only then did he dare let his relief flood through him. What if she had refused? What if she had realized that he no longer had control over whether he stayed with her or not? With Tug out of the picture, her control was complete. He couldn’t wake up unless she chose to let him, could not even think privately anymore. She controlled the physical well-being of his body as well. Nutrients, oxygen, everything he depended on came from her.

It would be the most important decision of his life, and he had no time to think about it. Even now, John and Connie might be dying, or dead. So why do I give a damn about them, he asked himself, and had only the same answer he had given Evangeline. They were Human and so was he. It didn’t matter if it were love or duty. It was something he had to do.

So, if I say no to Evangeline? No rescue of John and Connie. And what else? He thought she’d let him wake up if he demanded it. And then what? He wasn’t sure. Just him on the empty ship, probably. Forever. A long time to think about how he’d let John and Connie die rather than risk changing anything about his own life. Or not so long, really. From hints Tug had dropped over the years, Raef knew that only Waitsleep kept his cancer dormant. Any extended Wakeups, and it would kick in again. How appealing was that, dying of cancer on an empty ship? Of course, toward the end when the pain got bad, he could go crawling back to a Waitsleep womb and beg entry, go back to sleep and dream himself to death. Shit. Didn’t look like he really had much to gain by saying no to Evangeline. It would only leave them both alone and hurting.

And Evangeline with no one to turn to except Tug.

He’d glimpsed the loneliness and emptiness of life as she knew it. The starkness of beauty with nothing to compare it to, and hence not beautiful at all. Any kind of company might be preferable to that. But he’d also glimpsed how she thought about Tug now, using the feelings and comparisons that he’d unwittingly schooled her in. His own fault. Seen from her perspective, Tug was a monster. He wondered if Tug knew how cruel he’d been, if he’d ever realized how intelligent and sensitive Evangeline was. If he did, then there was really no excuse for the way he’d treated her. He thought of the hundreds of years she’d endured, being ignored or stung to obedience, her own wishes dismissed as trivial.

Like Jeffrey.

The old memory, so long suppressed, burned like acid. He felt his muscles swell with his hatred. He should have killed them; he should have told on them. But he’d done nothing.

[Raef? Are you in distress? Your pulse and respiration are rising.]

Angry. He was angry, and he found his answer in his anger, as he had so often before. He’d been afraid of the price he’d have to pay for doing what was right. It had been the same damn decision. Back then, he’d decided he couldn’t risk the safety and sameness of his life to stand up for a friend. He wasn’t going to repeat that old mistake.

“It’s a deal, Evangeline. We’ll rescue John and Connie, and then I’ll protect you from Tug.”

 


Is that an order?”
she asked him pointedly.

“Yes,” John replied calmly. “It is.”

“Fine.” Connie snatched up her helmet and stood stiffly. “Awaiting your command, sir.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Leave your helmet here. It’s too damn heavy, and by the time we’re coming back, it’ll be too hot. The air out there is fine.”

“Pardon me if I don’t share your optimism.”

“It’s not my optimism. The computer analysis backs me up. The atmosphere out there is safe to breathe.”

“Pardon me if I don’t share your confidence in our computer,” she countered coldly. “Who knows how the sabotage affected it? For that matter, Earth Affirmed may have programmed it to say the atmosphere was safe no matter what, just to make sure you’d go out in it and get their precious samples.”

He just looked at her. Ever since he’d confessed the true nature of their mission to her, she’d been angry. He had calmly admitted their whole situation was his fault, and humbly offered his apologies while she had listened, too numbed to do anything but breathe. By the time she had recovered enough to feel outrage, and to think of all the things she should have said, he was out of range. He’d gone out to collect his damn samples.

By the time he came back, she was ready for him. In a cold and logical way, she had pointed out the irresponsibility and immorality of his actions. She’d figured the illegality was too obvious to bother going into. She’d ranted while he nodded and gone on carefully stowing the samples he’d collected in the hidden storage compartments in the shuttle. He hadn’t been ignoring her; every now and then he’d turn and nod gravely to some particularly telling point she made. But he
hadn’t paused in putting away the meticulously packaged and labeled samples. And in the end, when she’d run out of things to say, he’d replied, “You’re absolutely right. We both know it and there’s no arguing it. I did it, and I apologize to you for it. I’m going to do the best I can to get us out of this mess. If we survive to get back to Delta, and then get caught, I’ll take full responsibility for everything. And if we don’t get caught, you’ll get a full crew share of whatever I can squeeze out of Earth Affirmed for their mess-up.”

He’d been kneeling by the concealed lockers, and as he spoke, he looked up and met her eyes directly. There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or condescension in his voice. For a moment it left her speechless.

“Oh, yes,” she finally managed. “And you think that makes it all right, do you?”

He stood up and advanced on her until he was scarcely an arm’s length away. She stood her ground, wondering if she were afraid. I shouldn’t have pushed him, she thought. I shouldn’t be arguing with him about this.

But he stopped still and although his eyes glinted, his voice was level. “No. It doesn’t make it right. But it’s all I can do. Connie, we have to start with the situation we’ve got. You’ve done your blame assigning, and I accept it. I apologized for it. Now we’ve got to get on with trying to get out of this mess. I’ve got to take my responsibilities as captain, and you’ve got to handle your duties as crew. And that’s the most we can do right now. So, Crew, with your consent, we’ll let the accusations and apologies be finished for now, and concentrate on what we can do to live through this.”

“And you’re going to go on gathering your samples, just as if there’s a chance we’re ever going to get out of here?”

He shrugged. “It’s better than sitting around doing nothing while the ship tries to heal. I want ninety percent recovery before we try to take off from here. I’m hoping that by that time, we’ll have heard from Tug.”

“Hoping,” she said bitterly. “Pretending is more like it. Captain, crew, none of it means anything down here, John. You know what I think? I think down here you’re just a pube trying to justify the stupid, impulsive things your delayed adolescence got us into. You say you’re sorry? What good does that do me? I’m stuck breathing who knows what kind of tox
ins, wondering if we’re going to die down here because your hormones kicked in and you decided to be all manly and adventurous and take on a mission that anyone else could see is totally ridiculous. And you know what really stinks? I never even knew what I was getting into. I never had any say at all!”

His face had been getting redder and redder. “I never asked you to come along!” he suddenly barked out. “I had no intention of you being down here. You’re the one who argued her way onto the shuttle! If you’d listened to me, you’d have stayed on the ship, safe with Tug. And then none of this would have happened, because there would have been someone on board to talk the shuttle in when things started to go wrong. So it’s just as much your fault as mine that we’re down here!”

She’d gaped at him, unable to believe that he had found a way to make it all her fault. And then, to her shame, she’d burst into tears.

John had stared at her, face going as white as it had been red before. For a second she thought he was going to reach out for her and hold her, comfort her. But even before she could decide what she’d do if he did that, his face changed. “Now who’s acting like a hormonal, adolescent pube?” he demanded, and gone storming out of the shuttle.

She’d had herself under control by the time he returned, hours later. She’d been monosyllabic, John coldly correct. There hadn’t been much in the way of conversation since then, only necessary questions and answers. They’d spent the days since then in monitoring the ship’s self-repair, and lending a hand where manual interference would be constructive. John had continued to collect his samples. He hadn’t asked her for any help with that, and she hadn’t offered any. Instead, while he was gone, she monitored the radios and pretended that it was useful to do so. There had been no answer to her beacon, or to her radio attempts to contact the Evangeline. It was as if the ship had never existed.

And now John stood looking at her silently, waiting for her to set her helmet aside and follow him out into the predawn grey. His present errand was two-pronged; to recover the spacesuit he’d left behind on the day he first ventured out, and to bring back fresh water. Ship supplies were getting low,
not because the shuttle’s recycler wasn’t working full-time but because they both seemed to require more water from the physical work and the heat they endured. The recycler couldn’t keep up.

She set her helmet aside, but kept her suit on. He was dressed in tunic, trousers, and boots, and had fastened a blanket into a hood that covered his head and flapped down his back. His hands and forearms were bare, already scarred to darkness by the sun’s rays. She opened the medical supplies box and took out a purification mask. He watched with a trace of amusement as she put in on and snapped the activator capsule.

“Make sure you bill that against your wages,” he said as he turned and led the way to the hatch. She gritted her teeth and followed him. A metal container with a screw-on lid dangled from his arm. Earth Affirmed had intended it to hold samples; John had decided it made a fine water bucket. Privately, Connie had already resolved to not drink any water from this planet. Bad enough that it would reach her system indirectly. She just hoped the shuttle recycler would really purify it.

He cycled the hatch open, and she followed him down the collapsible stairway that was little better than a ladder. For a long moment she stood on the bottom step, watching him walk away. His booted feet scuffed small clouds of reddish dust. He didn’t attempt to avoid stepping on the plants. She felt a queasy reluctance to step clear of the shuttle. “What about the radio?” she called after him. “What if Tug tries to reach us?”

“I left a message on the computer, and it’ll record any messages that come in. Come on, Connie. If Tug decides to call us after all this time, he’ll keep calling until we answer. The beacon is still working, so he’ll be able to pinpoint where we are. There’s really no reason for you to stay in the shuttle.”

She stepped off the ladder and followed him reluctantly. Plants crunched under her feet and snagged on her suit. She put up a hand to push her breathing mask tightly to her face. “And no good reason to leave it, either,” she muttered.

He heard her.

He paused and waited for her. As she came up alongside
him, he said, almost pleadingly, “Will you just take a look around yourself? Everything you see is made of the same stuff we are. Once we were a part of this planet; an intrinsic part of the ecology. We didn’t get in trouble here until we forgot we were a part of things, and tried to run the place, like we have to run Castor and Pollux just to make it work. But here it was the wrong thing to do. Half the time, when we thought we were helping, we were just messing it up worse….”

His words ran down as he met her cold stare.

“And your point is?” she asked.

“My point is that if we do survive this and get back to Evangeline, twenty or a hundred years from now, you’re going to wish that you’d stepped out and taken a look around.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “And maybe not,” she added when he continued to stare at her. She still hadn’t forgiven him for calling her a hormonal pube. Today’s new sincerity was as grating as his previous abrasiveness had been. She suspected he finally felt bad about making her cry, and that hurt her pride. But her attempt to sting him out of it failed, for he only shrugged and resumed walking. She fell in behind him.

John set a pace that she forced herself to match. In a short time, she was sweating. Although dawn was just breaking, the temperature of the air was too warm to be comfortable. The breathing mask was an added impediment. It was an effort to suck in air through it, and beneath it her face was even sweatier than the rest of her. She looked up at John’s back a dozen meters ahead of her, muttered “Dick,” and pulled the mask down to dangle around her neck. She opened the suit to maximum ventilation. She was still uncomfortably warm, but she’d cope.

Other books

Conclave by Harris, Robert
Sail of Stone by Åke Edwardson
Rewind by Peter Lerangis
Flying Backwards by Smith, Jennifer W
Malice by John Gwynne