Lifeline (27 page)

The red light began to blink. The process was going wrong—he had to do something. He couldn’t figure out what it meant. He felt sweat prickle down his back. A second blank touchpad flashed red. He stared up at the instructions again, as if something might have magically appeared there. He had to do something.

Acting instinctively, holding his breath, Ramis pushed the flashing red light. It must be some sort of signal. The control panel had sensed an emergency situation and indicated the button he would have to push.

“Please, please, please!” he muttered to himself.

The numbers on the readout continued to rise. The red alarm lights kept flashing. Another red light blinked. Ramis pushed that one, too, then pushed the other one again.

He was panicking. He tried to fight it down, but everything was slipping out of control, falling through his fingers. He didn’t know what was going on. He couldn’t react to it; he couldn’t think fast enough and find a solution because he didn’t know what he had done.

“What am I supposed to do!” he shouted.

A tiny curl of smoke spiraled up from the electrode on the man’s sternum, then a minuscule blue arc popped the electrode off the skin, leaving a burned mark in the center of his chest.

Suddenly, inside the chamber, the Soviet man shivered and vibrated, bucking with his spine and banging his elbows against the sides of the coffin. His lips drew back and his teeth clenched in a seizure.

Ramis could not decide what to do. He couldn’t get inside the coffin. He tugged at the control panel end, hoping he could yank it off and pull the man free, though he had no idea what he would do then.

“Help me!” Ramis called.

The
Kibalchich
had no one to hear him.

He banged on the glass, trying to break it and force his way in. “Help!”

The Soviet man lay still, rigid with a contorted expression on his face. His eyelids had popped wide open. He stared through the glass at the ceiling, but saw nothing. Tiny blood vessels had hemorrhaged, smearing his eye whites with red blots.

All the lights on the control panel had turned red. Two of the numerals fell back to zero; one remained at twenty-four.

With a hiss of pressurized air, the control panel end slid down, opening the chamber. The man did not move.

Ramis slumped to the floor and sat with his legs crossed, pressing his knees against the cold metal. He began to shiver uncontrollably.

***

Chapter 36

ORBITECH 1—Day 41

Karen Langelier put her head down and closed her eyes. She could imagine Ramis’s fear, sitting in an abandoned space station with hundreds of frozen bodies—it must be like a giant haunted house in orbit. There was one dead man in the airlock, and now another in the infirmary with wide eyes, staring at the person who had killed him by not understanding the sleepfreeze process.

Or was the process itself flawed? Maybe Ramis wasn’t to blame after all. But what would happen when the other Soviets did awake, only to find Ramis with their dead comrades? He wouldn’t stand a chance.

If the Soviets could indeed be revived. Biological researchers had pursued suspended animation for decades, and it seemed an odd topic to be pursuing in an orbital research station.
That work could have been done as well on Earth, where laboratory space was not so precious.

But Karen knew what it was like to dig into an idea, spend months or even years on a false trail, perhaps give an entire life over to a single problem, only to learn that someone else had made the same discovery weeks before. Then you had to suffer the frustration of throwing yourself back into the whole crazy cycle again with a new idea.…

As competent and quick to learn as Ramis was, Karen didn’t believe he could intuitively guess all the necessary steps to revive the Soviets, and she was furious at Brahms for forcing him to try. More detailed revival information probably resided in the
Kibalchich’s
main computer, but she was certain it would all be in Russian.

Ramis had to have help.

Karen opened her eyes. The past few months weighed her down—her separation from Ray, her mourning for those on Earth, and now Brahms’s incessant pressure to produce.

She could get out, too, just as Ramis had.

And who better than she to go to the Soviet station? She was proficient in Russian, as were other people on the scientific staff, but that was only icing on the cake. She would be the first person to test out her weavewire ferry system. And the kicker was that she knew Ramis better than anyone else on
Orbitech 1.

One thing gnawed at her: the thought of flying unprotected and alone across the gulf of space. But if she didn’t trust her weavewire, no one else would.

Fear kept her feet riveted to the floor in front of Brahms’s outer office. Months ago—
days
ago—she would have lacked the courage to approach him.

Once, as a little girl, Karen had come upon her cat after it had cornered a field mouse. She had been shocked to see the monster it had transformed into as it glared down at the mouse.

Brahms wielded the same kind of power. And Karen found herself unable to turn, to hide. The door slid aside.

“Dr. Langelier. I’ve been expecting you. Please come in.” Brahms’s smooth voice seemed to waft around her, twist about and pull her into the office. Karen was determined to win his favor—but why did she already feel defeated?

A sudden image of the trapped mouse vaulted into her mind, her cat licking its chops.

Karen stopped a few feet from the corner of Brahms’s desk. The director moved around the side of his desk and indicated a chair for her. He grasped her hand with both of his, wrapped his fingers around her wrists, engulfing her with his presence.

“Sit down, please.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

Brahms perched on the edge of his desk, leaning back. He slid his glasses on, as if assuming a different persona. He had repaired the broken lens. “You’ve come to talk about Ramis.”

Right to the point,
she thought.
What else does he know?
“That’s right.”

Brahms drummed a finger on the desk. Karen studied the man while he seemed to be pondering something. She had never noticed it before, but the glasses made him look older. He was ten years younger than she, but their lives, their career paths, had diverged wildly. Still, both were trapped on
Orbitech 1,
having to make the best of their situations.

Brahms narrowed his eyes. “Dr. Langelier, when did you first meet Ramis?”

Karen shrugged. “A day or so after he got here.” A pause, then, “I guess I know him better than anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Silence. Brahms studied the holotank. “I’ve been going over the records. You’re quite proficient in the Russian language—at least, written Russian. I assume you are competent conversationally, too?”

She nodded. He was leading her along exactly the line of reasoning she wanted.

“Dr. Langelier, I need—
Orbitech 1
needs—access to those Soviet scientists and whatever records they may have left behind. We’ve got to wake them. You can read and interpret all those things Ramis doesn’t understand. Maybe he did something wrong when he tried to revive that first man
.
Do
you think you could help him if you went over there?”

Karen’s heart yammered at her; she kept her mouth from forming a smile.
He knows
—
he’s got to know!
She thought. She stammered out an answer, tried to keep her composure and think straight.

He called up a memo on screen and scanned it. “Our medical staff says it would be best if someone knowledgeable in the language is actually there to help Ramis—get him to tell you what he did the first time and try to learn what he did wrong.”

Brahms scowled and looked at the metal ceiling as he spoke. “Plenty of the physical scientists are fluent in Russian, but not a single one of our medical people or biologists. Apparently nobody considered new Soviet medical research worth reading about.”

“The Soviets managed to come up with suspended animation before anybody else,” Karen said.

“That’s right.” Brahms looked angry, but he laughed to himself. “Well, it hasn’t been proved yet. Any moron can freeze people—it’s reviving them intact that has always caused the problems.”

Brahms rocked back. “Ramis was a loner here—self-sufficient and not too friendly. But I knew that if anyone was going to succeed over at the
Kibalchich,
it was him.”

Karen blinked and tried to keep her expression neutral. Brahms sounded as if he had talked Ramis into going.

“But now I’ve got this introverted kid over there, scared half out of his wits. If I send the wrong person over, he might crack.” Brahms paused for a moment. “You’re one of the few people here that Ramis would trust. You’ve built up quite a relationship with him. He’s asked about you.”

Karen nodded.
He’s talking me into it. But this is just what I hoped would happen
—
there has to be something up his sleeve.
“Ramis has become a good friend.”

The acting director stared at her, his lips drawn to a tight thin line. The
Kibalchich
would give her sanctuary from Brahms.

She drew in a breath. “I’ll do it. For
Orbitech 1,
of course.” Karen stood. “When should I make the journey?”

“As soon as you can.” He toggled down to another memo on his screen. “You had an idea about using the weavewire, without it cutting through everything?”

Karen answered tiredly. “Something like Ramis’s harness. There is a way to knit the weavewire into a mesh loop—I can tie one end to a dolly and loop the other end over the line to the
Kibalchich.
That way I’ll just ride the dolly over.”

Brahms pushed himself up from his desk, landing lightly on his feet. He didn’t seem at all interested in the technical details. “I’ll throw the engineering branch at your disposal. Priority work.”

“That won’t be necessary—”

“Dr. Langelier,” Brahms interrupted. His voice was soft, but his eyes penetrated her. “I made a mistake with McLaris—I won’t do it again. Before you go, I want to have unlimited access to this new weavewire extraction process of yours, get the engineering branch up to speed on what you’re doing. We can’t afford to lose your technique. What if something happened to you over at the
Kibalchich?

“Let us begin by drawing out as much of the fiber as we can. I want to have a good stockpile on hand, no matter how much storage space it takes up. The people over on the
Aguinaldo
have requested a supply of their own, and I’m happy to give it to them if they’ll come get it. After all, Ramis brought us the
Aguinaldo’s
wall-kelp. We might also want to offer some of it to
Clavius Base
as a goodwill gesture. Maybe that’ll get the Moon people to break their silence. It’s starting to wear on our morale here.”

“You won’t need to store the weavewire—my new laser extraction technique can draw out a few thousand kilometers an hour.”

Brahms smiled faintly, as if he had lost interest in the subject entirely. “Then it shouldn’t be any problem. Good day, Dr. Langelier.”

Once outside the office, Karen felt nauseated. Every time she interacted with Brahms, it seemed like a game of one-upmanship. She had walked away with everything she had wanted; Brahms had given her free rein to pull it off.

So why did she feel like she was being used?

***

Chapter 37

CLAVIUS BASE—Day 42

The six-pack bounced over the lunar surface at twenty-five miles an hour. Dust kicked up by the wheels floated back to the ground. Metal mesh covered the passenger area, and a reinforced roll bar outlined the enclosure, permitting safe driving at such breakneck speeds to and from
Clavius Base
. Otherwise, the hundred-fifty-mile journey out to the telescope site would drag out twice as long as the six hours.

Clancy watched as Shen, sitting next to him, checked the radar-guided autopilot. “Forty-five minutes to cross the plain,” she said. “Empty as a bureaucrat’s head. All this nothingness reminds me of traveling across Nevada. Ever been there?”

“I flew into Vegas once.”

“You haven’t died of boredom then. There’s a stretch of highway between Utah and California that goes straight for a hundred friggin’ miles—no towns, cows, or anything else.”

“No cows here, either.”

“Good point.”

They sat in silence for some moments. Clancy had a feeling Shen wanted to ask him something; she finally broke the silence. “Were you serious about needing a celestial mechanics expert?”

“Yeah.”

“And you can’t use my help?”

“Not for the question I have in mind. I’ll ask Rockland when we get back to base.”

After a moment of contemplation, Shen spoke up again. “Okay, what gives?”

Clancy chewed it over in his mind. The idea seemed so crazy. Maybe bouncing it off someone would give him a new angle to show that he was wrong.

If
he was wrong.

Through the front shield he saw the flat span of crater, broken only by shuttle tracks from the once-a-day run to and from the Bigeye excavation site.

“I need a minimum-energy orbit from L-5 to the Moon.”

He couldn’t see much of Shen’s expression behind the coated visor, but her voice sounded perplexed. “What for?”

“An orbit from L-5 to here. You know, connect the dots.”

“Yeah, I heard that part the first time. But why? There’s no reason for a min orbit. You can’t get anything from them without a good enough guidance system, unless you’re thinking of having them do the Filipino wall-kelp bit. Or we could throw rocks up at them with the mass launcher, but that method is configured to use a relay station at L-2.”

“That’s why I need a celestial mechanics expert. I don’t even want to blab my idea until I know if it can work. But I think it will.”

“Boy, I thought I changed gears fast.” Shen turned her helmet to one side. “Go ahead and tell me. I’ll keep my trap shut.”

Clancy stared out at the lunar landscape. “Remember, I’ve still got to check this out, details and everything.” Taking a deep breath, he started to explain.

The six-pack bounced, causing Clancy to grab onto his seat as he spoke. Shen checked the instruments to confirm they were still on course. Clancy felt embarrassed. “I know it’s kind of crazy—”

“It’s great!”

“But let me check it out first, okay? I don’t want people to get their hopes up.”
Nothing worse than false expectations,
he thought.
Especially when you’re desperate for them.
It was hard enough getting the crew’s morale back up with the radio-telescope project. No telling what would happen if an even larger project fell through.

Shen’s voice came over the radio, sobered. “There’s something even bigger on the line than people’s hopes.”

“What’s that?”

“Your credibility.”

His footsteps echoed in the empty tunnels. Light fixtures splashed shadows at angles on the smooth-bore walls. Duncan McLaris found the walk enthralling, vigorous.

He knew that walking was supposed to be better exercise than running—he’d gain the same aerobic benefits but without destroying his knees, ankles, and feet in the meantime. Not that he should worry so much in the low lunar gravity anyway. Lately, he’d taken to walking the length of the colony—five miles in all, counting the new section of tunnels that contained the wall-kelp.

Most people stayed out of the kelp tunnels, but McLaris loved the feeling of being alone in the caves. It marked a turning point in his life—a return to grace and full restoration of his inner being. The twisted path he had taken to get here, the wrong turns, the dead ends—it was a lot like his life.

He felt the thickening beard on his chin. It was stiff and prickly, but it had passed the itching stage. He couldn’t imagine himself without it when he looked in the mirror now. He hadn’t shaved since the
Miranda
crash.

He hadn’t been able to build himself back up until now—until Chief Administrator Tomkins had showed faith in him. The crux of it all lay in the new tunnels, the paths that led in different directions away from darkness.

The sound of an electric cart came from behind him. McLaris stepped over to the edge of the tunnel and allowed the vehicle to whir past. Moments later he turned toward the administrative offices and the brighter lights. As he entered the office complex, two people rose from their chairs to greet him—Dr. Clancy and one of his crew.

“Cliff, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be back to Clavius so soon.” McLaris steered them to his office.

He offered them some tea brewed from reconstituted wall-kelp. There was enough glucose in the concoction to make it pleasant.

Shaking his head at the offer, Clancy got straight to the point. “Duncan, I think we might have hit on something big. It’s a crazy idea.”

“No, it isn’t,” the woman accompanying him said. Her name tag said Shen. “Crazy, I mean. It’s certainly big enough.”

McLaris settled back in his chair and took a sip of his own tea. “This is bigger than the radio telescope, and you think it’s possible? Let’s hear it.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Shen said.

“I’ll need some computer time. But I think Rockland can verify it.”

McLaris smiled at their enthusiasm. “Do I have to guess what this is, or are you going to tell me?”

He had been the Production Division leader on
Orbitech 1,
in charge of enough incentives and bonuses to keep production moving at its peak efficiency. But Clancy’s crew presented a special problem to him. The construction engineers saw themselves as only guests on
Clavius Base
, pulled off their “real” project of building
Orbitech 2.
Part of McLaris’s effort had been to get Clancy’s crew motivated into working for the benefit of
Clavius Base
. That meant allowing them to “hobby shop”—work on pet projects and crazy schemes.
So be it,
McLaris thought. Maybe something would come of it after all.

Clancy moved to the front of his seat. “We’ve found a way to get to
Orbitech 1,
if the computer models pan out. And if our experiment is successful, we could have trips from L-5 to Clavius on a regular basis.”

McLaris’s mouth drew out in a tight smile. “We haven’t been in touch with
Orbitech 1
since the RIF. Are you serious?”

“Of course he is!” Shen said. “Dr. Rockland can verify the physics within an hour or so. His celestial mechanics group was going ga-ga when we explained it to them. They were so excited, half the group rushed off before we were finished.”

McLaris continued to rock in his chair, increasing the frequency. Outwardly, he wore a smile.

Reestablish contact with
Orbitech 1.

Damn you, McLaris!
Brahms had said as they rocketed away in the stolen shuttle. Brahms was still up there.

Inwardly, McLaris’s heart felt chilled.

***