Mutant Star (22 page)

“The lab’s ruined,” she said. “There’s no way we can continue the research. Julian, we’re finished. The program’s dead.”

***

“Alanna,” Jasper Saladin said. “I’ve assigned you to assist in the hydroponics until we get the problem with the steel worked out. Is that acceptable?”

She nodded at Saladin’s holoimage. “Sure, that’s fine.”

“Good. They’re expecting you.” Saladin winked out.

As Alanna hurried to the hydroponics lab she marveled at the view of Earth through the domed windows. It was like a blue and white jewel, she thought. A lapis lazuli globe. If anyone had told her a month ago that she would be living in space, she would have laughed at them. But hadn’t she wanted to taste real life? And here she was on Hawkins’s Pavilion. With Rick.

His changes intrigued and scared her. The null whose rough charm had attracted her at the Mutant Council meeting was now a multitalent more skillful than she was at telekinesis.

It’s too weird, she thought. But metamorphosis was a favorite subject of the great poets, wasn’t it? She should really be taking notes. Had her coming together with Rick triggered this odd change? The thought sent a chill up her spine. Imagine being a catalyst for something this profound. She almost hugged herself. Great art had the ability to change lives. But great love did, too.

She smiled and pressed the doorpad of the hydroponics lab.

The door slid open to reveal a vast green and gray jungle filled with steamy smells and the hiss of humidifiers. Alanna took a deep breath of her brave new life and stepped inside.

***

The workshop hummed with steady activity. Rick leaned against his bench and looked down the line at the other welders: focused, silent, protective masks over their faces. They bent over the tiny gas vials, as intent as surgeons.

Rick was working in the chem lab until the next shipment of steel arrived. The work was less demanding than what he had done for Shoggie, repairing screen-brains, and he didn’t have to work in vacuum. But this wasn’t what he had come to space to do. Sealing gas vials for transport, keeping the wedge separating the chambers and their dangerous mixtures in place. Child’s play.

He went through his quota before lunch and leaned over toward the welder nearest him.

“Want any help?”

“Float off, mutie,” she said. “I don’t need help from some damned fink.”

Rick recoiled. “Sorry.”

She ignored him, as did the other welders. When the lunch bell rang, they rose and left the room without a backward glance.

Some fun, Rick thought. I can’t blame them, either.

The sound of hissing distracted him. It was coming from his bench. No. From the bench nearest the door. He scanned the assorted vials.
There. That
one. A leak.

Rick could see the pinhole-sized punctures. Deliberate or an accident? All the ampules contained caustic gas, the kind that could eat through skin. Or walls. Rick slapped a t-field around the vial to contain the leak. Then he heard another hiss. And another. The room was filled with the sound of angry snakes.

Panic made his blood race. He couldn’t control all these leaks. The gas would kill him, maybe even rupture the shell of the Pavilion. He couldn’t do anything. He punched the wallscreen alarm. Nothing happened. Disconnected?

For one crazy minute he almost believed that the union welders had sabotaged the screen and the vials. Instead of going to the lunchroom, maybe they had all hopped on a spaceplane. A little murder before lunch. Then he shook his head. No, no. They wouldn’t jeopardize the entire Pavilion because of one nonunion worker. No, forget the paranoia, he told himself. It’s a design flaw in the vials.

Think. I can’t stop the leak. Can I stop the gas instead? Look, look.

Rick peered at the vial, through it, and into the gas. It was a pale yellow. Deeper. Saw the microscopic structure of it. Chains of molecules shifted like yellow beads. If he shifted this molecule here and that one there, yes, he could restructure the gas, remove its caustic properties. But all of it, at once? No choice. He shut his eyes to see more clearly. Bit by bit, the hissing stopped. He felt his strength flowing out like water. This was too much. He would spend himself, have nothing left. He sank to his knees concentrating, concentrating. Yes. Yes, that should do it. Just one moment more—only a moment. Yes. There was a terrible pounding in his skull. He had done it, but—God, his head! The way it ached. Everything was swirling. Just before he lost consciousness he heard footsteps coming closer, and voices calling his name.

***

The screenphone at the Retreat blinked madly: all fifteen lines were on hold. Rita Saiken watched the younger healers switch smoothly from line to line, funneling requests to appropriate departments, promising responses, noting casualties. Beside her, Hesta Doherty shook her head wearily.

“The earthquake is straining our capacity for response. I’ve got everybody working double shift, triple where necessary.”

Saiken nodded. “We can’t sustain this for more than a few days.”

“I’ve already sent a request to the East Coast Retreat for reinforcements.”

“They’ll go directly to Berkeley?”

“Of course.”

Kristof Jenner looked up from his screen and called to Doherty. “I have a priority call from Colonel Ethan Hawkins on line three.”

“He’ll have to wait.” Doherty was intent on a list of calls another healer had handed her. “It’s about Rick Akimura.”

“I’ll take it,” Saiken said. She moved quickly to a spare screen and pressed the keypad. Ethan Hawkins’s dark face, brow furrowed with worry, appeared. “Colonel,” she said. “What’s happened?”

“Rick Akimura has collapsed. He seems comatose. My doctors can’t awaken him. I thought a mutant healer would do better.”

“He collapsed without warning?”

Hawkins hesitated. “No. No, he was in the process of sealing a room full of leaking gas vials. He saved everybody on this pavilion.” Hawkins’s voice deepened. “I owe him my life.”

“Could be that he overextended his talents,” Saiken said. “Colonel, I’m sure you realize that we are barely coping with all the requests for help arising from the earthquake.”

“Terrible thing. But couldn’t you spare at least one—”

Saiken smiled a cat’s smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll put a shuttle at your disposal.”

“Fine, Colonel. A healer will come.” She blanked the screen and turned to the First Healer. “Hesta, Colonel Hawkins has an emergency on his orbital pavilion. I’ve offered to go and …”

“Impossible,” Doherty sniped. “I can’t spare you, Rita. Have you lost your mind? Whatever Hawkins’s problem is, he’ll have to wait.”

Saiken’s face grew red. “But it’s serious. Rick Akimura is comatose and Hawkins’s doctors can’t rouse him.”

Doherty shook her head. “Nonmutants. What do they know? It’s a shame about Akimura, but we’ve got bigger problems down here.”

Desperately, Saiken grasped at one last straw. “If I can’t go, then at least allow me to arrange for another healer to attend him.”

“Very well. If you can find one. But make certain you don’t cheat cases that are more urgent. And, Rita, I think you’re developing an unhealthy fixation on that null. When this is all over, we’ll talk about it.”

Saiken waited until the chief healer had gone sailing out of the room, lavender robes flapping. Then she hurried away from the din of the phones into her private office. A quick touch of the keypad and she was looking at Paula Byrne, Book Keeper of the True Host.

“Sister,” Saiken said. “Do you still remember your healer training?”

Byrne inclined her head, white hair bouncing round her face. “It was long ago but one never forgets the precepts. How can I be of use? Is it the earthquake?”

“No.” Saiken took a deep breath. Her heart pounded with triumph. “It’s Rick Akimura. You have to go to him. At once.”

***

Paula Byrne turned back to the still body on the bed. Rick Akimura was deep in a healing trance, apparently self-generated.

Byrne tried a gentle telepathic probe.

Rick? Can you hear me?

For answer she received only the echo of her own thoughts.

A deeper probe then.

RICK! WAKE UP.

Byrne winced as the deafening echo rolled back at her. She hadn’t expected him to be this resistant.

Summoning her strength, she threw a mindbolt of considerable ferocity at him. It bounced back so quickly that she was nearly singed by her own probe.

Remarkable, she thought. Rick Akimura’s mind was safely hidden from her behind a thick gray wall: a formidable interlocking shield similar to those used by the Healers Guild. Rita Saiken was right. Akimura was a most unusual multitalent. Ethan Hawkins had told her briefly what Akimura had done: a feat of which few mutants were capable. Very promising.

She turned to the screen and pressed in Saiken’s code.

“I’m with Rick Akimura,” she said.

Saiken’s eyebrows rose. “How is he?”

“As you thought, he went into fugue when overextended. He’s self-healing even now. But I encountered remarkable shields when I probed him.”

“I’m not surprised. He ransacked and copied mine.”

“When he awakens, shall I contact him for you?”

“No,” Saiken said. “Just send me a tissue sample.” Her eyes glittered. “I’d like to run a few tests.”

“I understand.” Byrne smiled. “And I rejoice in the promise of deliverance.”

“Then you think he’s the one?”

“He seems likely.”

“You will stay with him?”

“Of course.”

Saiken nodded. “Yours in the Book.”

“In the Book, Sister.”

***

“I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Ethan Hawkins said. He-watched the white-haired healer onscreen as she bent once more over Rick Akimura. “It all seems like witchcraft to me.”

“And she’s the witch?” Leporello said.

“Looks it, doesn’t she? But thank God she came. I can’t afford to lose Akimura. Not now.”

“Colonel, Eva Seguy is returning your call.”

“Put her through.”

Leporello vanished. In his place, Eva appeared. Her face was pale and her eyes looked dull and glassy.

“Eva, thank God you’re all right!”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was flat. “But the lab’s ruined. The program’s finished.”

“I’m terribly sorry. Was the damage so complete?”

“It was bad enough. And with all the rest of the damage to the campus, we aren’t exactly high on the list of repair priorities.”

“I don’t suppose I could put in a word …”

She shook her head. “Not a good idea right now. There’s still the memorial service for the students to get through. Private agendas have to take a back seat. But thanks for offering.”

“It must have been terrible for you.”

“I’m grateful to have survived. The worst part is, Julian warned me. He saw the quake through a flare. But I didn’t believe him. Didn’t believe that my own research program could actually forecast danger.” She managed a smile. “I guess I’m pretty shaken up.”

“What will you do next?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’ve got to come here right away.”

“I don’t think—”

“I do. There’s nothing for you in Berkeley, now. You can’t help reconstruct the lab. I can use your talent. And it’ll do you good to get away from that mess down there.”

“You’re very kind.”

“I’m not kind at all, Eva. But I intend to do what’s best for you even if you can’t see it just now.”

She looked flustered. “I really should stay here.”

“Nonsense. I’ll send my private shuttle for you. You’ll be my guest, for as long as you like.”

“Ethan, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Just come.”

* * *

Rick drifted through the void, oblivious to chill, to pain, to need. Occasionally a dim voice intruded as someone attempted to make contact. But he ignored it and soon the voice went away.

Within the shelter of his body, his heart beat out a ferocious tom-tom, a message of life. Of power. Such power. Rick contemplated himself in wonder.

The big-bellied Earth, cloud swirls obscuring the blue of its oceans, hove into view. Rick stared, fascinated.

A bolt of energy came whistling toward him and cleaved the void beneath his feet. Rick plunged through a vast space from darkness to light. He passed over strange, sand-swept lands, moving slowly toward a green belt of trees and mountains. A clearing, roughly circular, revealed the peaked roofs of small huts. And Rick was on the ground now, at midnight, the stars winking above. A great golden orb burned in the sky as it passed overhead. The wind screamed in the hills and startled birds fell out of the trees to alight, fluttering, in darkness.

Flash!

He was standing outside the birthing hut when the midwife, white-faced with horror, presented his newborn, firstborn son. The infant sleeping in her arms looked ruddy-cheeked and healthy. The child awoke and looked up at his father with bright golden eyes.