Dawn of Procyon (13 page)

Chapter 24

PSD 29-213: 0906 hours

By the time Cait reached Minus Four, the girl was beginning to stir. Her movements were weak at first, but soon she began to moan and try to lift herself up from Cait’s shoulder.

“Just stay still,” Cait told her, placing her free hand on the girl’s back. “I’m taking you to people who can help.”

The girl only struggled more at the sound of Cait’s voice, but she was too weak to put up any real resistance. Cait kept up her pace as they got closer to the infirmary.

Minus Four was a neatly arranged system of tunnels that housed the Infirmary, as well as a cafeteria and several offices devoted to Outpost Control. There was also a recreation area accessible only by the wealthier inhabitants of Proc-One. A group of these emerged from a nearby entranceway, all five dressed in sweat-stained running shorts and matching tank tops. At the sight of Cait they stopped dead, staring at her in bewilderment.

Optechs dressed in EVA suits hauling around limp children weren’t a common occurrence around here, it seemed.

“Excuse me,” she said as she hustled past them.

Around the next corner she was relieved to see the doors of the Infirmary not far ahead. After her exertion with the bender and her mad dash across the complex with the child, she was beginning to tire. Emerging from within the Infirmary were a group of six medics dressed in whites and lugging gurneys, and at the sight of Cait and the child they hurried forward.

“This one from the breach site?” the first medic said. He was an older man with bushy eyebrows and streaks of grey hair above his ears.

“Yeah, still breathing.” Cait laid the child on the gurney and stepped back. “What’s taken you guys so long?” she said, a little more sharply than she’d intended.

“We were under lockdown,” a woman with dark skin said, leaning over the girl. When she straightened, Cait saw a gold name tag with
Nagarkar
on her breast. “We were under instructions not to leave the Infirmary until the area was safe.”

“Are there any more back there?” the grey-haired man said.

“I don’t know, I . . .” Cait thought of the dead men lying on the floor in the epidermis. “I saw three, but I don’t think they made it. There could have been more.”

“I’ll take this one,” Nagarkar said. “The rest of you sweep the area for any more survivors.” As the other medics headed off, she turned to Cait. “Give me a hand here. Take the other end of the gurney.”

Cait did as she was instructed, and together they wheeled the girl through the doors and into the Infirmary. Cait had been here once before, when she’d sliced her arm while operating an arc-saw. Her stay had been brief: a few stitches and she was back at work within the hour.

Now, as she walked deeper into the facility, she began to realize how large it really was. The foyer opened out into a grid of gleaming white corridors that fed into operating theatres and recovery rooms, almost all of which were occupied by patients. Most of them had the lean, well-muscled look of Marines. As she passed one of the rooms, she saw a young man on the edge of the bed wincing as he rotated his foot. He glanced up at Cait for a moment before easing himself onto the floor and stepping gingerly over to a nearby chair.

“My name is Dr. Nagarkar,” the woman said as she drew the gurney into a small ER room.

“I’m Cait.”

“You’re with the Marines, right?”

“Huh?” Momentarily confused, Cait glanced down and realized that her uniform had been hidden by the EVA suit. “Oh. No, I’m from Maintenance. One of the Optechs. Cait Underwood.”

Nagarkar didn’t answer, preoccupied with the task at hand. She brought the gurney to rest by the bed, and together they eased the girl off the gurney. The medic reached for a scanning machine with a long arm jutting from its crest, and as she lowered it, the edges began to glow with a soft blue light. With the press of a button she ejected a small silver disc, a wireless monitor of some kind, and attached it to the girl’s chest.

“So, what’s the story with this one?” Dr. Nagarkar said as she began her examination in earnest. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

“I found her in a box out in the breach zone.”

“A box?”

“Yeah. A storage unit. Looked like she sealed herself inside.”

The girl was stirring, and her eyes began to open. “She’s showing signs of exposure to atmosphere, no question.” Nagarkar drew an oxygen mask from the machine and placed it over the girl’s nose and mouth. “Looks like you found her just in time.”

“Is she going to make it?”

Dr. Nagarkar consulted the display on the machine. “Scans are showing tissue damage is minimal. We’ll need to run more passes over the brain to make sure there’s no damage there either, but the early signs are promising. That’s about all I can tell you at this point.” She gestured to the bench next to Cait. “Hand me that heat-mesh, will you?”

Cait passed her a silver blanket from the bench and watched as the medic smoothed it over the girl’s body and tucked it under her chin. The scanning machine began to retract.

“Thanks for bringing her to us,” Dr. Nagarkar said with a sigh. “We’ve been run ragged the last few days.”

“Yeah, it looks like rush hour out there,” Cait said. “What gives?”

“It’s always busy right before the troops head off-world,” Dr. Nagarkar said. “A few come in to fix up niggling injuries before they leave, but most are here for tune-ups on their augments. Muscle stims, optic and reflex enhancers, that kind of thing.” She took out an omni-device and reached under the heat-mesh. “Those need recalibration at least once a year. Minor operations, but time-consuming just the same.”

She grabbed the girl’s hand and drew it out, then pressed the thumb against the omni-device. There was a harsh beeping sound, and Dr. Nagarkar scowled. She tried again with the same result.

“Okay, we’ll do this the hard way,” she muttered.

“Well, I should get going,” Cait said. The mention of the imminent departure of the Marines had reminded her that there was a mountain of work awaiting her back at the workshop. She knew that Dodge, being the cretin that he was, certainly wouldn’t appreciate that she’d spent all this time helping a kid. He only cared about work lists and schedules, and she doubted that he would suddenly grow a compassionate side when she told him where she’d been.

“Yes, of course.” Dr. Nagarkar drew the machine down again and pried open one of the girl’s eyes, directing the scanner at her face. “If you’ll just—” Her omni-device beeped once more, and she glanced sharply up at Cait. “What’s going on here?”

Cait looked between the girl and the medic, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“There are no records for this child. She doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean, she doesn’t exist?”

“She’s an illegal.”

Cait almost got the impression that the medic was blaming her for this surprise. “I don’t know anything about that. Like I told you, I found her out in the breach—”

“Who was she with? What were they doing?”

“I don’t know,” Cait said, exasperated. “I’m just an Optech, all right? I was out there sealing the epidermis, and I found the girl in a box.
That’s it
.”

“Wait here, please.” Dr. Nagarkar took her omni-device and promptly left the room, leaving Cait staring stupidly after her. She glanced around helplessly, wondering if she should walk away, but after a moment she realized that to do so might look like an admission of guilt.

I haven’t done anything wrong, have I? I rescued a kid, that’s all. Just wait a little longer, get the all clear from the Medic. Then go.

Feeling hot and sweaty inside the EVA suit, she began to wriggle out of it. When that was done, she dropped the suit on the floor and reached for the fabric of the coverall at her neck, peeling it away from her skin and flapping it a few times to cool herself down.

What a day
, she thought.
What a day
.

She leaned over the girl again and looked down at her serene face. It certainly wasn’t the face Cait would associate with an illegal, a
criminal
. Surely there was just some sort of administrative mistake to blame. The girl had slipped through processing somehow, or her record had been accidentally deleted.

It was probably something they would all be laughing about in ten minutes, when everything was straightened out.

Cait glanced at the doorway. Maybe she could find Dr. Nagarkar and tell her that she was in a hurry. She could leave her contact details—

As Cait began to move away from the bed, she felt something cold close around her wrist. Startled, she looked down to see the girl’s fingers clutching her so hard that it hurt.

“Hey, what—?”

The girl reached with her other hand and drew the oxygen mask from her face with trembling fingers, and Cait saw the reason for her deathly grip.

The girl’s eyes were wide with terror.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered. “They’re coming to kill me.”

Chapter 25

PSD 29-213: 1527 hours

Landry edged closer to the downed dogfighter, scared out of his wits. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so petrified. There had been yesterday, of course, when he’d faced up against the Argoni, but that had all happened so quickly. There had barely been time to consider the ramifications of what he was doing. It had almost been a matter of instinct, of reaction.

Today, things were different. As he approached the downed Argoni ship, dragging the life support gear behind him, he had plenty of time to imagine any number of nasty scenarios. Mostly it involved the Toad hearing his approach and suddenly appearing beside the wreck. He pictured that moment maybe a hundred times, wondering how he should react when it happened. Should he pick up a rock and try to threaten the Toad, he wondered? Try to find cover?

He wasn’t sure if any of that would help.

As he continued to tug the load across the sand, something strange happened. A memory triggered in his mind; a memory of a day several years ago when he’d been similarly scared out of his wits, hauling a load behind him. Although on that day, the location had been far different—a hospital corridor on Earth—and it had not been an alien monster waiting for him, but instead a frail young woman lying in a hospital bed.

He’d been terrified that when he arrived she would already be dead.

“Do you need a hand with that?” a nurse said as he’d pulled the case behind him. The wheels were busted and it was scraping noisily on the floor.

“I’m okay,” he puffed. “Almost there.”

Five steps to the doorway. The case slid forward. Four. Three.

With a final yank, he reached the doorway, panting.

Freida looked over at him from the bed, pale and completely bald, a shadow of the woman she had been a few months earlier. She smiled weakly.

“There’s my little pack mule.”

Landry stooped and gathered up the case, struggling with it over to the bedside table. “This thing weighs a ton. I had to drag it for the last bit.”

“You should work out more.”

“This isn’t my fault,” he said. “Do you know how many paperbacks are in this thing?”

“Twenty-seven. All of the classics.
Pride and Prejudice
,
Great Expectations
—”

“You realize they make eBooks these days, right?

“
The Stand
,
Slaughterhouse-Five
—”

“And eBooks weigh a lot less than paperbacks.”

“I still have twenty-three books to name, if you want to hear them.”

“In fact, you could fit twenty-seven
thousand
books on one e-reader and it would weigh practically nothing.”

“These are very dear to me. They came from my Nana,” Freida said.

“What was she, a weightlifter?”

“I like paperbacks. I like the smell of the paper, and the feeling of a real, solid book in my hands.”

“Okay, okay. But it’s your job to carry these back out of here when you’re better, okay?”

The smile faded from Freida’s face and she turned away. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sensing the awkwardness, Landry pulled the zipper and began to rummage around inside. “So, which one do you want?”

“I don’t feel up to reading right now. I’ll get one out later.”

“You sure? It’s no trouble.”

“It’s fine.”

He moved around the bed and sat on its edge. Freida’s skin had become so pale that it seemed almost transparent. The veins in her bony arms and scalp were her only source of color, a sickly pale blue.

“This is one of the rotten days, huh?” he said.

Freida nodded. She’d told him just last week that her days were now divided into two categories—‘rotten’ and ‘okay.’ It seemed the okay days were becoming less and less frequent, despite the treatment the doctors had been giving her.

“How’s your Grandpa doing?” she said, obviously hoping to change the subject. “You said he was picking up again.”

“Grandpa’s about the same as always. Well, the same as he’s been since Grandma passed. He sits on his couch and watches daytime TV, then falls asleep.”

“He doesn’t get out into his garden anymore? I thought he loved it out there.”

“He did, but . . . I don’t know. It’s like he lost his willpower when Grandma died. Or maybe just his ability to see the good in the world. I still see him three or four times a week, but I don’t know if he cares that I’m there anymore.”

“He cares.” Freida reached out and touched his hand. Her fingers were cold, nothing but skin and bone. “You know he does.”

He placed his hand on hers. “Yeah. I know.”

She was silent a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was even quieter than before. “We still haven’t talked about you and I, Landry. We have to face what’s coming.”

“What’s there to talk about? The doctors have you on this new program, and they’ve had great results with other patients. You’re going to get better.”

“Landry, I’m not.”

“You’re going to walk out of here with that truckload of paperbacks over your shoulder. Strong as a freakin’ gorilla.”

“Landry. We have to face up to the truth.”

There were tears welling in his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “You’re going to take me deep sea fishing, remember? And I was going to take you to next year’s Moon Rally—”

“You can’t keep making these plans, Landry. You’re going to be a parent soon.”

“We’re
both
going to be parents.”

“You’ll have responsibilities toward our little boy.”

He scowled. “How do you know it’s a boy? The embryo is the size of a pinhead.”

“I called the clinic last week. They told me it was over ninety percent chance of being a boy.”

“What? Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to know.”

“You should have asked me before you called.”

“It’s my child, too, Landry. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course it’s your child. Don’t you think I know that? You’re the one who’s going to carry it in your womb. You’re the one who’s going to bring it into this world.”

“No, Landry,” she said sadly. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Living in a fantasy world.”

“It’s not—”

“They have artificial wombs. He can still be thawed out, grown and born without me.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Honey, it’s the only way–”

“It’s
not
going to happen!” he said sharply, getting up from the bed and stalking across to the window. Outside, the city seemed drained of colour, like a monochrome rendition of the world rather than the real thing. Freida went quiet. Landry stared out across the skyscrapers, wondering what had happened to his future. It had all been so bright, but then . . .

He was already regretting the way he’d spoken to Freida, regretting the way he’d bumbled his way through their conversation with all the grace of a sledgehammer. She didn’t need this kind of aggravation, not in her weakened state.

He was supposed to be supporting her, not causing more pain.

He was ashamed, yet still he couldn’t turn around and apologize. He couldn’t face her.

“There’s a part of me that will live on,” she said eventually. “You know that, don’t you?”

Yeah. Memories live on
, he thought bitterly.
What kind of substitute is that?

“I know that,” he said, more softly than before, but in his heart he knew it wasn’t true.

“In a way, I’ll always be with you,” she said. He could feel her eyes on his back. “And you’ll always be with me.”

The hospital room dissolved, Freida’s voice nothing more than an echo in his mind.

He was back on Proc-One, hauling the load across the sand, sweat running down his face, his limbs aching from the exertion.

It was only the tears welling in his eyes that had survived the transition from that old world to the new one.

The wreck of the dogfighter loomed closer than ever. He gritted his teeth and kept going.