Lifeline

Sandovaal wondered why Dobo put up with so much from him here, so far away from the Aguinaldo. “I am glad you are here, too, Dobo,” Sandovaal whispered, but he kept his voice so quiet that he doubted Dobo could hear. Which was what he had unconsciously intended anyway.

Sandovaal watched the monitor. The Kibalchich and Orbitech 1 continued to orbit around L-5. The sail-creatures slid between them, a wall of passive resistance.

Luis Sandovaal switched the monitor from external back to the open intercolony ConComm. Orbitech 1 personnel yammered about the armada of sail-creatures being off course, but admitted that sails were difficult to steer anyhow. Sandovaal snorted. A separate window on the channel remained devoted to the ascent of the Phoenix.

The Aguinaldo had done its part in bringing the colonies together. And now Clavius Base had joined in the task. Sandovaal envisioned all the colonies connected by a lifeline of sail-creatures and weavewires. He felt confident that his ploy would work in preventing the Kibalchich from any aggressive act—if, in fact, it could be prevented.

Sandovaal felt warm, satisfied that his life’s work had played an integral part in the unification. The rest of the journey, and even the remainder of his career back on the Aguinaldo, would be spent tying up the loose ends of his work. He punched off the ConComm and moved to transmit a message that he had altered his course on purpose.

But as he reached for the control, his right arm went numb, ice cold. All feeling stopped. He tried to flex his hand—nothing. No pain, no feeling. He started to twist and felt a stab across his rib cage, through his stomach.

Heart attack, he thought. Strange that I feel no chest pain. I must contact Dobo and let him know.… He felt tired. Thoughts flashed into blackness, as if they were leaking out of his head. Dobo. Yes, Dobo can carry on. He had, after all, studied under one of the greatest biological engineers of all time.

Sandovaal coughed. Blood came out of his mouth, bubbling, boiling in tiny swirls and globules in zero-G. He had trouble breathing. Air whooshed past him. His eardrums pounded.

He noticed a small slit in the sail-creature cavity, growing wider. Air rushed out, water vapor crystallized, leaving a thin sheen of ice covering everything in the cavity.

They had flown into the weavewire.…

Unlike MacArthur, he knew he would never return.

As he died, Sandovaal cursed himself for his idiotic incompetence.

Chapter 61

ORBITECH 1—Day 72

Brahms exited the control bay with as much grace as he could muster to face the uprising. He held himself rigid to quell his anger and astonishment. His expression was like a mask of ice. The watchers in the control bay had bolted out into the maintenance corridor upon seeing the attackers—mutineers?—charge out the spoke-shaft elevators.

Two bodies drifted in the docking bay, surrounded by droplets of blood. They had murdered two of his Watchers! They had killed two people.

Brahms forced his outrage down. He wished he had his eyeglasses to hide behind, to make him look dignified.

Allen Terachyk floated up to Brahms. A mass of his supporters followed, and dozens more emerged from the elevator shaft. Terachyk wore a defiant, victorious expression.

Allen Terachyk—his only remaining division leader. They had all failed him—McLaris, Arnando, and now Terachyk. And Brahms himself had RIFed Tim Drury, perhaps the only one worth keeping.

As Brahms watched the approaching group, he drew himself up. He grasped the handhold on the wall, but found it slippery with his sweat. He would not—could not—allow the mutineers to know they had frightened him. It was the easiest way to lose control. He had come so close to bringing things back to normal, and now Terachyk was going to ruin everything. Brahms took a moment to center himself, to clear his thoughts. This was going to be the most difficult negotiation of his life.

The people behind Terachyk pushed off from each other. Brahms recognized a few of them, but couldn’t pin down names. The motion sent them spreading out in a pattern that surrounded Brahms, above and below. Two women hit the bulkhead and bounced back out into the shuttle bay, coming in over his head. They must have practiced the effect.

Brahms scanned the faces. Some had their eyes open wide with fear and uncertainty, others carried a righteous anger, some just stared back diffidently. He realized that Terachyk must have contacted the low scorers on the Efficiency Study and convinced them that another RIF was in the making. Perhaps he had also banded together those who had lost friends or family in the first RIF. What most surprised Brahms was that Allen Terachyk had actually done it. And he had chosen a time when the entire colony would be watching.