Lifeline

The man raised his eyebrows. “It’s ready as far as I can tell. We were able to bring back a few vials of the serum they used to put themselves under. I’m not a biochemist, but the lab tells me it’s something to slow down the metabolism. We brought along the low-freezing blood substitute and hooked everything up. Of course, people aren’t standing in line to volunteer for testing it.” He let out a nervous laugh.

Brahms nodded. “We may not need it after all. If everything else works out right.” He extended his hand to the tech, who shook it uncertainly. Brahms glanced up at the chronometer on the wall. “Good work, but I have to go now. The Phoenix is due to arrive soon. And who knows when the Filipino solar sails will get here.” He realized he was talking to himself.

“Please keep me informed.” He gestured to Winkowski. “Come with me.” They left the lab space at a brisk walk. He saw scrub marks on the walls—fresh patches where more graffiti had been removed. Winkowski knew enough to remain silent as he pondered.

Everything was happening all at once. The yo-yo arriving from Clavius Base, bringing McLaris back. The sleep-freeze chambers ready for testing. The Filipino sails coming around for their rendezvous to take a package of the weavewire.

“Is the weavewire ready for delivery to the Aguinaldo representatives?”

Winkowski looked filled with her own importance, which made Brahms think less of her. “It is easier to let the Filipinos take a weavewire unit back with them than to store the unbraided strands. They can use their own raw materials. They don’t have the capability on their colony to construct a new unit—”

“Yet.”

“That’s right, not yet. According to their transmissions, it will take a few weeks to mature enough sail-creatures for their return trip. During that time we should be able to query them about bioengineering techniques so we can duplicate their efforts. The staff insists it would be too difficult to learn through holotank transmissions. Besides, Sandovaal wants to check on the embryos the Barrera boy brought with him, to make sure we’re taking care of them properly.”

Brahms cut her off impatiently. “The colony has been informed of the arrival time for the Phoenix? Broadcast ready for the PA holotanks and for transmission to the other colonies? You don’t know how I hate to have everybody watching all the moves I make!”

“It’s ready. My sense is that we’re all getting pretty excited about the arrival.”

Brahms pondered that. “Yes, won’t it be wonderful to have McLaris back?” He clamped his lips together to quell further sarcasm. “Have you tracked down Terachyk yet?”

Winkowski averted her expression. “Nobody seems to know where he’s gone. All I get is a bunch of people who can’t remember if they’ve seen him or not.”

Brahms felt the anger overwhelming his anxiety again. “It sure would be nice if I could find out where my own chief assessor is. I hope he’s not hiding under the covers at a time like this.”

He picked up the pace toward the docking bay. “Come on. We’ve got a lot happening today.”

Chapter 56

KIBALCHICH—Day 72

Ramis ran over a final suit check as the airlock hissed and cycled. He felt the suit ballooning around him, the soft sounds of outgassing. The airlock seemed to take forever.

Through his helmet, he heard a muffled voice coming from the PA system—maybe Karen had learned how to use the intercom—but the words faded into silence as all the air left the chamber. He had cut himself off. Karen would have to come outside and use her own suit radio if she needed to contact him, or else get inside the command center.

The outer airlock swung open, leaving him with a dizzying depth of stars in front of his faceplate. The view spun around as the Kibalchich’s torus rotated. The broken rubble shield cast flickering spots on the hull, like leaf shadows on a forest floor.

Breathing shallowly, Ramis pushed out of the chamber and worked his way over the Kibalchich’s hub. The graphite axis rod extended from the mirror above to the massive solar shield below.

Ramis could feel a strange sensation in his suit, against the hull where his feet were anchored. It seemed as if the Kibalchich vibrated to a new motion; the central graphite rod seemed to jitter with the resonance. Anna Tripolk had activated some sort of weapon, whatever it was. He whirled around, then caught himself to keep from spinning. The airlock door closed and sealed itself—he felt an enormous “click” through contact with the hull. Ramis bent forward and punched the Cyrillic open switch above the airlock.

Nothing.

Undaunted, he flipped the manual override switch. Again nothing. Anna had locked him out.

Ramis felt cold, and his stomach tightened. As Karen had reminded him, if he couldn’t stop the weapon, or at least get back inside before it detonated, he would fry from the radiation.