Lifeline (40 page)

Chapter 58

ORBITECH 1—Day 72

The hallways were free of people, as Brahms marched with his escort to the docking bay. The watchers had been thorough for the last few days. The usual graffiti and petty vandalism confirmed a general aura of unrest, but Brahms had set up maintenance teams to be even more rigorous in cleaning up any sign that all was not well on
Orbitech 1.
He had to put up a good show for Duncan McLaris’s return.

He suspected McLaris’s arrival had something to do with the growing restlessness of the people. Plenty of other colonists probably felt as he did, still angry at the man who had stolen the
Miranda.
No wonder people were getting worked up, letting off steam. But Brahms had insisted that the watchers maintain order. A sweep of the halls ahead of him removed any chance of an incident.

However, another mood seemed to bubble through the colony over the past few days—one that pleased him. A good director kept in touch with the attitudes of his people, and now he sensed a feeling of enlightenment, of hope. The joining of the colonies again, the sleepfreeze chambers, the
Phoenix,
and even a second expedition from the Filipinos, seemed to show the people on
Orbitech 1
that things were indeed getting better. They had reached the light at the end of the tunnel. They had a future again.

Brahms had seen them through. Despite the enormous decisions weighing on him, he had led them safely through a time of great crisis. He felt his face flush as he smiled.

A yell made its way through the corridor, reverberating in the unusual emptiness. “McLaris is coming back!” One of the watchers peeled off to track down the woman.

“Leave her!” Brahms snapped. He didn’t want anything to spoil the triumph of this day, but he wondered why the voice had sounded relieved instead of angry.

Brahms purposely ignored it. When he arrived at the spoke-shaft elevator, he punched the controls himself. He wondered why he felt afraid of McLaris. He held all the cards; McLaris was little more than a sacrificial lamb.

But Brahms still had not decided what he was going to do.

He stepped inside the waiting cubicle and allowed three watchers to follow him. The group remained silent during the ascent. What does McLaris really want? Why is he coming here of his own free will?

When they reached the shuttle bay, Brahms pushed out into the huge, weightless chamber. Other people worked at the edges of the bay. They were his people; he trusted everyone here completely. A team of workers waited outside, out of sight, inspecting the other end of the weavewire and the machinery used to reel it in.

He let a smile flicker across his face. All he would need to do was have someone dissociate part of the cable, snip the thread to leave McLaris and the yo-yo floating nowhere for all eternity. But he dismissed that thought as the coward’s way out. He would face his enemy in front of all the watching eyes on
Orbitech 1.
McLaris would have to make an accounting for his actions.

As he drifted up into the hanger area, Brahms swiveled to view the control room. A cadre of watchers in green jumpsuits manned the boards. Allen Terachyk was not among them.

Brahms called down to Nancy Winkowski. “Dammit, track Terachyk on the intercom and tell him to get up here. This is important!”

She nodded and pushed off to the communications console on the wall.

As he floated in, Brahms looked around with a sudden flashback to one of the other times he had been here—the time he and Linda Arnando and Allen Terachyk had watched the recording of a broken and terrified Roha Ombalal reading the speech Brahms had written.

It had been less than three months since the RIF, since an angry mob had killed Ombalal. Luckily, the uprising had not spread, and the watchers had maintained order through the dilemma.

Now the people had hope again. Everything was coming together for them all.

Except for Duncan McLaris; he was the unknown factor. What would the people do? Brahms had kept the colonists occupied, working at their normal schedules. But he didn’t want order to break down, especially not now.

Adrenaline rushed through his body. He thought briefly of ordering McLaris executed when he arrived, so the people would have no clear center for their anger, no one to rally around.…

No!

Brahms drew in several breaths to calm himself. Despite the risk, he simply did not do cold-blooded acts like that. His action would not have great enough justification—it would look like a personal vendetta, to get back at the man who had humiliated him.

And worst of all, Brahms did not want to leave the people with some sort of a martyr. The Filipinos at L-4 had given him a lesson with their own history—he didn’t dare give them an Aquino to rally around. McLaris’s situation already reminded him too much of Douglas MacArthur returning to the Philippines: an emancipator.

Inside the bay, the other workers did not notice his mental gymnastics. Brahms decided he would let the people decide what to do with McLaris. After all, if
Orbitech 1
contained the remnants of the American system, he should at least give some semblance of a democratic process.

And if another mob formed, as with Ombalal, they would take care of McLaris anyway. Maybe Brahms would even quell them and once again come across as a voice of reason, a peacemaker, a true leader they could all depend on.

Brahms snapped at the nearest watcher. “I have decided on a change of plans. This is a truly historic occasion. Broadcast a general announcement that anyone who wishes to be present up here for the recovery of the
Phoenix
is welcome, space permitting. They may join me down in the shuttle bay.”

Nancy Winkowski’s eyes widened. “Mr. Brahms, the security—”

“Do it. Now.” He felt suddenly tired, and wiped a hand across his forehead. Exhaustion clung to his bones. Too many things were happening—there were too many decisions, too many memories, but he could not rest yet.
Orbitech 1
depended on him. “Those who cannot attend are urged to view the ceremony on the holotanks.”

Winkowski blinked at him, but couldn’t seem to form her concern into words. Brahms sighed with tired impatience. “You heard my orders?”

“But, sir, you can’t—”

“Do it.” He felt exasperated.

Winkowski stood her ground. “Mr. Brahms—you have our allegiance. You know that. But this is suicide. What if the people rally around McLaris and try to overthrow you!”

Brahms laughed, astonished. “McLaris stole the
Miranda
and ran away from us at our time of greatest need.”

She looked around and spoke quickly. “Am I allowed to call in reinforcements? Arm the guards—”

“Absolutely not! This is not an armed camp. If we begin to do things like that, people will grow restless. It will become a self-fulfilling prophesy.”

Brahms glanced around the shuttle bay, struck by the relatively few watchers present. Winkowski might indeed have cause for concern, but he decided to stick to his beliefs. He had been strong; he had made tough decisions before. But all the time a nagging thought in the back of his mind kept questioning. Was he slipping, after all?

Brahms forced a whisper. “All right, limit the number of people in the shuttle bay to fifty. First come, first served. Get maximum coverage of the arrival over the holotank.”

Looking somewhat relieved, Winkowski turned and pushed off for the elevator.

Brahms floated in the bay, waiting for word of the
Phoenix.
The holotank above the main access projected a visual from ConComm. Holocameras displayed the yo-yo as it approached
Orbitech 1.

Any moment now Brahms expected to see the awkward rockets ignite. He could make out more and more of the old
Miranda’s
hull. It seemed ironic that McLaris would return in the same vessel he had fled in. But instead of a gleaming new spacecraft, the
Phoenix
looked like a broken body—just as McLaris was returning a defeated, broken man.

Anger began to glow in Brahms again. Seeing the wrecked shuttle would probably stir the people up even more. McLaris wouldn’t have a chance.

A sudden noise caught his attention. He searched the shuttle bay, saw everyone turn at the same time toward the elevator. Three limp bodies, surrounded by blood spinning in red globules, were pushed into the hangar area. Seconds later a crowd poured from the exit. They must have climbed into the shaft—

He heard more shouting, then a figure pointed at Brahms up in the control bay. The man bent his knees and shot his body upward, followed by a shouting crowd. Brahms froze, unable to understand what was happening.

As they drew close, he recognized Allen Terachyk leading the way.

***

Chapter 59

KIBALCHICH—Day 72

Karen punched at the intercom controls, trying to get
anything
to work, to open up the control room. She ran through different combinations of buttons on the tiny panel. No response.

“{{NUCLEAR DEVICES INTERLOCKED, READY FOR PRIMARY AND SECONDARY DETONATIONS. AUDIO OVERRIDE NOT REQUESTED, COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING. ONE THOUSAND SECONDS TO DETONATION. ANNOUNCEMENTS WILL CONTINUE AT INCREMENTS OF ONE HUNDRED SECONDS UNTIL THE FINAL ONE HUNDRED SECONDS.}}”

Karen kept pounding at the panel; still nothing. She pleaded into the intercom.

“Anna, please don’t do this—you can stop it! Think of
all
the people who are going to die. Think of how that’ll harm the future of the entire human race. You’re someone who looks toward the future. Don’t you believe anymore? We can all work together and make our dreams real.”

Karen fell silent for a moment, then continued, this time with an angry, exasperated tone in her voice. “That’s right, don’t answer me! If you don’t respond, you don’t have to justify your actions. Just stay locked inside there and hide. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it, Anna? Hiding! When the War happens and things look grim, instead of trying to work with the rest of us, you and everyone aboard the
Kibalchich
just go to sleep and wait until somebody else solves the problem. If you hide under the covers, maybe it’ll get better all by itself. You’re a coward!

“What about your Mars colony? I know that’s what your work was about. It can be more than a dream if all the colonies come together. Don’t throw everything away!”

The intercom remained silent. Anna Tripolk ignored her. Karen looked wildly around.
What else can I do? Come on, think!

Were there any other access doors? Was there another master control panel, or a hidden air vent? She swept her eyes around the curving walls. There was nothing. The command center remained sealed.

In the command center, Anna’s eyes widened at the appalling stupidity of the Americans. She couldn’t speak in her astonishment, but then everything broke through and she screamed into the intercom speaker.

“This is the Mars colony!
The
Kibalchich
itself!” Anna sucked in a deep, gasping breath. “How could you be so blind? All the sleepfreeze chambers were here for testing
and deployment!
As soon as we were certain they worked, all two hundred of us were to go into hibernation, except for Commander Rurik and a few monitors.”

She pounded her fist on the arm of the command chair. “The warheads we carried were supposed to be used for
thrust
—detonated against the shield to accelerate us out of Earth orbit on a long, slow journey to Mars! Why else would we prepare for such a long period of isolation? Or strengthen our equipment for lateral accelerations? Think!”

The words rolled out. She had always loved talking about her dream, but now the words wounded her as she spoke them. “When we got there, an initial team of colonists would be awakened to set up base camp on the surface. Our reflecting mirror was designed to detach and go into Mars-stationary orbit, where it would focus sunlight onto our colony and down into a power substation. We were going to revive more of us as rapidly as the colony could handle them.”

She laughed. “It was beautiful, beautiful! All the while, the rest of you thought we were just a research station here. Mars was going to be ours.”

Anna realized she had begun sobbing. At least Langelier had stopped talking. “But now, that will never happen. You have stolen our sleepfreeze chambers. You are ganging up on us. Even my own people had other plans for the
Kibalchich
—as a weapon against your colony! And now I have no choice but to use it, to save the future.”

Anna drew in a breath and closed her eyes, shivering with the cold in the room.
Orbitech 1
held seven times as many people as the
Kibalchich …
but numbers held no weight. If the death of two people in the yo-yo would pave the way for her dream, then how was Rurik’s situation any different? If one death is justified, then why not two? Three?

Or even more? What makes the measure of an ideal, a lifelong dream? Her mind crunched through the rationale, sounding like a different voice in her head. Can a true dream be measured by any number of souls? And how is one death any different from a thousand?
But she was only going to stop the Phoenix.

It would be on the Barrera boy’s conscience then. It was his fault the others would die—not hers.

Anna’s head pounded. Her throat felt raw. Her breathing came faster. She was hyperventilating. She was a doctor; she should know what to do. But her vision grew fuzzy with the crushing weight inside her head.

“Computer, display
Orbitech 1
from exterior monitors.”

Once again the holotank flashed.
Orbitech 1
appeared as a wavering blob, blurry. Anna wondered if tears had ruined her vision, but after knuckling her eyes she realized the image itself was distorted.

Something big blocked the view.

“Computer, focus! Center on any debris between the
Kibalchich
and
Orbitech 1
that might cause a visual distortion. What is it?”

The holotank blur grew sharp, showing a long dark green object like an old Havana cigar but with stubs on the side, expanding out to a translucent matte that extended past the holotank’s edge. The computer drew back the view. A vast cluster of sail-creatures, like leaf butterflies, all hung together, gracefully settling down into the center of L-5. She saw dozens, connected in a mosaic pattern, immense and graceful.

She had never seen anything so awesome, so beautiful.

So fragile.

And as they drifted between the
Kibalchich
and
Orbitech 1,
directly in her line of fire like an impossibly delicate shield, they seemed to stop, to break apart.

Tears streamed down her face as she let out a moan, trying to block the nightmarish vision from her memory. Her lips trembled and she whimpered Rurik’s name to herself. She collapsed back into the command chair, shivering, and squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing herself in blackness.

“{{NINE HUNDRED SECONDS TO DETONATION.}}”

***