Resurgence

Ben was right, of course. Hans glanced at the monitor in his own suit to confirm the pressure reading. A few moments ago it had been a flat zero. To his surprise the suit readout now showed a small positive value. As he watched, it flickered higher. The suit’s sensor, tasting the composition of what lay outside, indicated a mixture of oxygen and nitrogen, plus a couple of percent of inert gases, helium and argon.

“Darya, what is going on here? We’re getting an atmosphere.”

“We’ve seen it before, Hans, on Glister and on Serenity.” Darya’s tone was satisfied, almost smug. “I said it’s a Builder artifact, and I’m right. This proves it. Artifacts can tune themselves to the appropriate life form requirements. Wait a minute or two, and I bet we’ll have air that we can breathe.”

“Where is here? I assume we’re somewhere inside Iceworld, but you remember how big it is. There could be billions of rooms like this. We could spend our whole lives wandering around.”

“We could, but I don’t think we will have to. Look about you, Hans. This place has no doors and no windows. Remember the games that the Builders can play with space-time connectivity? I wouldn’t be surprised if every grid patch on the surface of Iceworld leads to the same interior chamber. I don’t think we need to go looking at all. It will be enough if we sit tight and wait.”

That sounded too optimistic for Hans. In any case, there was a job to be done, and sitting tight wouldn’t be enough. He looked in through Ben Blesh’s faceplate and saw that the pupils of the other man’s eyes had contracted to black points. The drugs were taking effect. Ben should be able to talk and think, but he would soon be free of the worst pain.

“Don’t try to move. I’m going to take a look at you.” Hans began to ease the suit open.

“I’ll help as much as I can.” For someone in his desperate condition, Ben seemed at ease. “Can’t move my right arm, not one bit. When I try to, something grates around inside. Broken bones, I suppose.”

Hans eased the suit away from the right shoulder and upper body. The arm was easy, a simple impact fracture of the humerus with no sign of bone projecting or broken skin. He could not splint it, but the upper arm of the suit itself could be stiffened to form a kind of exoskeleton. The bone would have to be set properly later, but for the moment holding the arm in a fixed position would be enough.

The ribs were another matter. From the feel of them at least four were broken. The good news was that none had been driven inward to puncture a lung. Hans could use the suit’s own supplies to pad and strap them. That might do the trick. In olden times before antiseptic methods, when it was dangerous to cut deep into the body, strapping had been the accepted and safest method of treating broken ribs. It could work here.

But where was here? As Hans worked on Ben, he glanced around the room. Darya was prowling the featureless perimeter. A successful job on Ben would leave the injured man, like Hans and Darya, free to die of dehydration and starvation. The room had breathable air but no sign of food or drink. The suits would feed them for a week or two, but eventually supplies would be exhausted.

Hans reached down to touch the floor. His gloved hand disturbed a thick coating of dust. This room had been unoccupied—for how long? Thousands of years, maybe millions. Perhaps the last time anyone had been here, this whole stellar system had been alive, with a blazing star at its center.

Hans opened his own suit—no point in using its air supply when the room they were in could provide for them. He did everything he could for Ben, then slipped the other’s suit back over his body and right arm.

“Now I want you to try to stand up. Can you manage that?” He watched closely as Ben came to his feet. Hans had allowed the suit to continue to provide the medication needed to compensate for shock, but he had set a slightly lower level of painkillers. He wanted Ben to be aware of and favor his injured side, while still not suffering excessive pain.

Ben raised himself. He moved slowly, but smoothly.

“That’s good. Can you sit down again—close to the wall?”

“I think so.” Ben moved all the way to a sitting position.

Hans nodded approval. “That’s right. Now stay there. You’ll be better off leaning against the wall and resting.”

And so would Hans himself. Suddenly he was bone tired. How long since they had last eaten? He said to Ben, “Can you drink something?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t really want to.”

“Make the effort. See if you can manage a fortified drink.”

Ben nodded. Hans took his own advice, sipping slowly and carefully and rolling each sip of tart liquid over his teeth and tongue before he swallowed.

“Darya, why don’t you come and sit down with us?”

She glanced back at him and shook her head. She had to be running on adrenaline—he had seen her like this before, too wound up to sit or even to stop moving. She would pay for it later.

If they had a later.