Lifeline (38 page)

Chapter 54

KIBALCHICH—Day 72

The command center around her was empty, comforting. Anna Tripolk closed her eyes, letting relief mask her fear. The decision rested strong in her—the one path out of her maze of contradictory thoughts.

When the callous thieves had come on board the
Kibalchich,
Anna realized more than ever the implications of the remaining colonies joining forces. The technicians had already dismantled three sleepfreeze chambers and hauled them back to Brahms. The weavewire yo-yo from
Clavius Base
was hurtling toward
Orbitech 1,
and she had heard a message about Filipino emissaries from the
Aguinaldo
riding solar sails and bearing down on L-5 even now.

Without pause for discussion or even consideration, Anna Tripolk felt left out on the fringe, brushed away while everyone else made decisions for their future. Things were getting away from her, moving too fast and out of control. She clenched her hands so that the fingernails bit into her palms. Her arms felt cold. “Computer, raise the temperature in the command center!”

Anna was thankful that only Dr. Langelier and the Barrera boy still remained on the
Kibalchich.
Brahms had recalled the other techs to work on the stolen sleepfreeze chambers over there, but Anna knew they would return to take more. She had no doubt that if
Orbitech 1
needed them, Brahms would pull out the sleeping Soviets and leave them to die on the infirmary floor.

Brahms had shown his ability to justify anything he required.

Barrera and Langelier had insisted on staying here, though. Brahms had asked them to return, but they had both requested to remain longer. By now they had been on the
Kibalchich
for weeks, eating Soviet supplies, reveling in their complete freedom. No wonder they did not wish to return, and Brahms did not seem inclined to press the issue. As commander of the
Kibalchich,
Anna felt well within her rights to send them back—even toss them out of the airlock if it pleased her. But she knew what would happen—a swarm of Americans would then ransack the Soviet station in vengeance, all with the approval of Director Brahms.

Anna drifted around the control room, pushing against the bulkhead to change directions. She reached out and grabbed the back of the command chair to pull herself down. Once strapped in, she turned to the holotank surrounding the station’s massive central axis. Consoles were set into the curving walls. Green ready lights outlined the dim screens, indicating their dormancy. The voice-activated main computer made it unnecessary for her to identify each separate station. When other people filled the command center, each working their own tasks, they used the old-fashioned direct-input method. But Anna Tripolk was alone now. The computer heard only her voice.

Alone.

She drew in a deep breath. She was alone with everything that had shaped her life, all her memories.

She spoke toward the holotank. “Computer: flashback image sequence from catalog—Novosibirsk, two years ago, spring. Display outside, then laboratory views. Whatever you have on record.”

Instantly the scene appeared in the holotank, the three-dimensional image overflowing into the control room. A flat river plain extended for miles about; squat buildings dotted the horizon; a crisp, cloudless sky seemed to envelop her; the lead-gray Ob River did not appear to be moving at all. She saw the buildings, the industry, the
Akademgorodok
where all the researchers had settled.

The image swept Anna into the main physics laboratory—scores of people milled around a new-generation tokamak, talking and smiling with excitement. But this was a standard image from the computer’s library, emphasizing the powerful magnetic fusion prototypes. She didn’t expect to see any highlights of her own biochemical work.

Anna spoke again, in a whisper. “Computer, same time, display Moscow, then dachas.”

The scene transported her to the center of Red Square. Graceful minarets, impossible arches, colorful Tatar-inspired onion domes.… Thundering footsteps pounded past her as if she stood in the center of a parade—standard images again, May Day, crowds of bright uniforms. She could almost feel the cool spring air, but she realized it was just the chill in the command center.

Tears streamed down her face as the holotank transported her across her homeland. Everywhere she saw the same scene: hard-working Russians, or Estonians, or Kazakhs, or Belorussians, or any of the other nationalities, proud of their work and unwavering in their values … at least according to the documentary films the
Kibalchich
had stored for years to come.

She drew back from the holograph, allowing it to play in front of her, instead of being immersed in its progression.
What is left of it all, then?
she wondered.
And what’s to come of us with all this activity on the other colonies?

She knew the answer—she only had to look at the demise of the Third World nations before the War. Entire cultures swept away, integrated into the superpowers’ way of life, run over by an economic steamroller.

Orbitech 1,
with Curtis Brahms at its head, was setting itself up as the center for a new order, a new America to swallow up all the other colonies. With
Clavius Base
and now the Filipinos joining forces, nothing would remain of the old ways, the dreams she and others like her had had. She would not allow her dream of the Mars colony to be stolen away once again.

Who could know what Brahms’s new order would decree about what remained on the
Kibalchich,
the assets that could be distributed to the highest bidder? Her station at L-5 would become nothing more than a salvage yard to fuel the collective power of the other groups that were even now joining forces.

Tears flowed down her face.

Orbitech 1.
She had an out.

Now Anna knew that from the first construction of the
Kibalchich,
the designers had prepared for the possibility of outside aggression. They had taken advantage of the
Kibalchich’s
configuration to include their weapon.

The other colonies could not be permitted to join forces against her. Earth still smoldered by itself as a testimonial.

She had a chance to prevent that from ever happening again.

She couldn’t.

But yet … she had to.

Anna’s voice wavered when she spoke again. “Computer: begin detonation sequence Alexander.”

“{{AFFIRMATIVE. PLEASE PROVIDE AUTHENTICATION.}}”

“Authentication phrase
Narodnaia Volia.”

“{{GIVE CODE NUMBER.}}”

“Eighteen eighty-one.”

Anna allowed herself a small smile at the quaintness of the procedure. The
Narodnaia Volia,
or “the People’s Will,” was the radical group to which the original Nikolai Ivanovitch
Kibalchich
had belonged—the group that had assassinated Tsar Alexander II in 1881. Which had led to
Kibalchich’s
arrest and imprisonment. Leaving him free to dream of rockets carrying people to the stars.…

“{{DETONATION SEQUENCE ALEXANDER INITIATED. PLEASE STATE SPECIFIC OPTIONS.}}”

Anna’s voice tightened, but she swallowed and kept going, reciting what she had planned after studying the specifics of the weapon. “Prepare for a one-burst sequence, use normal procedure. Limit yield strength to seventy-five kilotons. Firing coordinates to follow. For now, prepare a radar lock on the object approaching
Orbitech 1
from lunar orbit.”

“{{AFFIRMATIVE. ALEXANDER SEQUENCE IS ACTIVE. WEAPON PREPARATION ACTIVE AND PROCEEDING. DETONATION IN TWO HOURS.}}”

A warning siren ran up and down the scale, startling Anna. As she recovered her position, she kept her eyes riveted on the holotank as an image of the yo-yo vessel came into view, reconstructed by Doppler radar imagery. The craft’s image shined a false hue.

As she watched it hurtle toward
Orbitech 1,
she imagined the sequence of events occurring deep within the
Kibalchich:
robot arms removing a thermonuclear warhead from storage at the bottom of one of the pools of water. The nuclear devices had been undetectable, their characteristic neutron and gamma emissions hidden by the water that covered them, and masked by the tons of shielding rock that filled the outer, nonrotating hub. The preprogrammed robot arms automatically prepped the warhead—a two-hour sequence necessary to activate its detonation mechanism, set the yield to seventy-five kilo-tons, and perform other detailed checks. And after the warhead had made the journey down the central core to below the massive solar shield, it would detonate, channeling its awesome energy up the
Kibalchich’s
core to power an x-ray laser. The
Kibalchich’s
mirror would provide the final link. Even as the mirror itself melted under the huge energy flux, it would direct the coherent radiation toward its target. Down at the opposite end of the core, the solar shield would provide partial protection from the nuclear explosion; the tons of lunar scrap rock in the outer hub would provide the remainder. The system was designed to be used only once—it was worth the two-hour wait.

The approaching yo-yo vessel from the Moon would be stopped by the x-ray laser, vaporized by gigajoules of radiant energy.
Orbitech 1
would probably survive the burst. This action was to stop them from their grandiose plans—a warning shot—not to destroy them.

“History,” Anna whispered to herself. “I must make a record for future generations. For what they do not remember, they are doomed to repeat.”

The warning siren reverberated throughout the station. Speakers set into the bulkheads rang out words that at first made no sense. Karen recognized Anna Tripolk’s voice.

“There is nothing you can do—I control the command center. Do not attempt to communicate with
Orbitech 1.
”

Ramis bolted upright from his nap. “Karen!”

Karen met him outside his cabin. “I don’t know what she’s doing.”

Though he had shorter legs, Ramis passed her by springing up steps three at a time to burst onto the first level. The command center hung above them, up the connecting shaft. Ramis waited for her as she joined him on the lift platform. But when he pushed the controls, the lift refused to function.

“She’s deactivated it,” Karen said. “And probably the doors up top, too.” She felt concern and fear growing in her. Anna Tripolk had never adjusted to her new situation, but kept herself isolated, begrudging any contact. She seemed a bitter woman. But now Anna was apparently doing something that would endanger all of
Orbitech 1.

Ramis decided to forego the lift platform, and raced up the hand rungs instead. Karen watched him ascend, then hauled herself, rung by rung, feeling her weight drop away as she climbed toward the zero-G center. Ramis floated outside the sealed command center door, banging against the black plasteel while holding a hand grip to keep himself steady.

Karen arrived, panting. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Ramis pressed his ear against the metal doors. After a minute, he pulled it off again. He, too, was out of breath from the climb. “I can hear the vibrations through the metal, most of the words. She is deploying some sort of weapon that will detonate in a hundred and twenty minutes. She’s going to destroy the yo-yo.”

“How can they have a weapon? This is a research station! They’re not supposed to—” Karen began to pound on the door
,
feeling hysterical herself.

Ramis gasped under his breath. “If she is going to fire a weapon at
Orbitech 1,
Dr. Sandovaal and Dobo and the sail-creatures could be hit! They are on their way!”

He spun himself around in a way that made Karen dizzy, then scrambled back down the rungs. He shouted up at her. “I will suit up and go outside. Perhaps I can do something there. Stay here and try to talk to Anna! You must stop her if you can.”

Karen interrupted, listening to her voice grow shrill. “She is locked inside, Ramis! She controls all
Kibalchich
communications from there! And this weapon—my God, Ramis. If she can destroy
Orbitech 1,
then it’s probably powered by a nuke.”

“Then I must get outside and contact
Orbitech 1
and Dr. Sandovaal directly. I’ll use my suit radio.”

Karen put her fingers against her forehead. She wasn’t good at making snap decisions. She had never seen herself in a leadership role. “Ramis, if she hears you radio a warning, then she’ll target
Orbitech 1
instead of just the yo-yo. What are we going to do?” Panic grew like a living entity in her. She bit her lips, using the sharp pain to focus her thoughts.

“Get back inside as soon as you can. If the weapon detonates in two hours, you’ll be unprotected from the blast—you’ll fry if you’re caught out there.”

Ramis crooked one elbow over a rung and called back up at her; Karen had to strain to hear his voice. “Dr. Sandovaal was very … important to me, and to everyone on the
Aguinaldo.
What good is living if my family dies?”

Karen pushed back, speechless. The command center door pressed unyielding against her back, sending her drifting in the shaft. “Ramis …”

But he turned down the corridor out of sight, back into the torus. Karen wasn’t sure if he was ignoring her or if he hadn’t heard her.

But he had left her alone to try and reason with Anna Tripolk.

***

Chapter 55

ORBITECH 1—Day 72

Brahms stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the sleepfreeze chamber. Someone had cleaned the lab room, making everything ready for his inspection. Overhead, an air-recirculating vent whirred to life. The black technician saw that Brahms was smiling, and smiled back. The tech placed his hands palms-down on the surface of the chamber.

“So, you think it’s all ready?” Brahms asked. He squinted his eyes and poked a hand inside the chamber, feeling the rough material of the resting area. It didn’t seem a very comfortable place to spend a great deal of time.

“Well, we repaired the electronics that were sabotaged. That part was easy. Everything else seems hooked up properly, as far as we can tell. That Soviet doctor lady was as much
help as a disease. Wouldn’t tell us anything. But with Dr. Langelier’s help translating some Russian records, we figured it all out. The technology is straightforward.” The technician spread his hands, still smiling.

Brahms was annoyed that the tech did not wear an ID tag, and even more annoyed at himself for not being able to remember his name.

Nancy Winkowski scowled at the tech. “So, it’s ready then? That’s what the director asked.”

Brahms glared. She did well in her duties as Watcher, but sometimes she got carried away. Cowed, Winkowski fell silent. Brahms looked at the technician, waiting.

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.”

***