Part 4 (1/2)
”Crazy to hope?” he said.
She stared at him. ”You think he's right?”
”What I think, cousin, is that I'd rather be blown out an airlock trying to live free than be worn down and burned out like your mother and mine. In fact,” he added with a grin, ”I'm not sure I wouldn't rather be on Glory.” And he went to join the group around her brother.
After a watch that had seen seventeen cargo pods, two of them major repairs, all Awandi wanted was sleep. But she had spotted Soje heading for the inter-spoke transport, and so she went instead to his cubby to talk to Izu.
”You are afraid,” Izu said, and gestured Awandi to sit beside her on Soje's bunk. She was smiling, but it was hard for Awandi not to see her pale face as a mask hiding lies.
”You aren't afraid?”
Izu lifted a hand in a kind of shrug. She was so small and her gestures so graceful she made Awandi feel the size and shape of a pod. She said, ”One is always afraid, on Glory.” Then she smiled. ”Even more afraid in the cargo pod. When I woke up wrapped in a body bag, it seemed as if the worst had already happened. I've already died and gone to h.e.l.l; even if it didn't quite happen in that order, it's hard to see what there is left to fear.”
”Easy for me,” Awandi said. ”I have more than just my life to lose.”
”You imagine I do not? Should your company cease to transport the CW supplies, no one on Glory will survive.”
”Not even the denanos?”
Izu studied her a moment, a smile hovering at the corners of her eyes. ”They are surprisingly human. They need food, and air, and love, the same as everyone else.”
”But they can survive on Glory, even outside the catacombs, can't they?”
”The nans can cope with a great deal, it's true. Yes, the denanos can survive in the open for short stretches of time, but-”
”What about injunies? It's dangerous on Glory, isn't it? The dust storms and the criminals and the quakes. I bet they can heal pretty good, too, huh?”
Izu swallowed. ”It depends on the injury, but yes, they-I mean, I understand they can-”
”What about decompression?” Awandi interrupted. ”Can they survive that?”
Izu's eyes flickered, then dropped to her folded hands. ”Perhaps. For short periods. They-” She broke off at a thump on the cubby's door, relieved.
So, Awandi thought. But then, she was relieved to open the door, to have an excuse to put s.p.a.ce between herself and the other woman. Relief died a quick death, though. The instant she saw Chouss and Wen, and the battered, blood-soaked man that hung lolling between them.
”Move, girl,” Chouss said, low and fierce, and Awandi stepped belatedly aside. The five of them crowded the cubby, even once Chouss had lowered the man to the bunk. It was Soje.
”What...” She couldn't make her voice work.
”He was in alpha spoke,” Wen said, lifting Soje's feet to the bunk. Chouss was checking his pulse, her frown like a chasm between her brows. ”Somebody put him on the transport,” Wen continued, sitting wearily by Soje's feet. ”Just luck I found him.”
”How is he?” Her voice still wouldn't rise above a whisper. Chouss said without looking up, ”Not good. Weak pulse, cold skin, bubbly breathing.” She sat on the floor by the head of the bunk and propped her head on a b.l.o.o.d.y hand. ”Not good.”
Wen leaned his elbows on his knees. ”Got the s.h.i.+t kicked out of him.”
”Who? Security?”
Wen shrugged. So did Chouss after a minute. ”Them or scabs.”
”Well. Did you call medical?”
Again just a couple of shrugs. Awandi started to shake. Instead of venting her rage on them, she turned and called medical, careful to press the b.u.t.tons gently instead of pounding them through the wall.
EMS. State the nature of the emergency.
”My brother. He's injured.”
Name and location, ”Aramin Soje, delta spoke, residential section four, cubby number eight-one-three. Please hurry.” Her voice staxted to die again, trapped Eke her heart in her throat. ”Please hurry.”
The faint hiss of an open line. Then a different voice said, Repeat that name and location.
”Soje. Aramin Soje. Delta spoke, residential...”
But the light on the com panel had died. The line was dead.
”So much for medical,” Wen said, and put his face in his hands.
Awandi sat on her brother's bunk, holding his hand and watching him die. He had their mother's hands, as she did. The same long bones and big knuckles, the same calluses and scars, the same sharp line between the brown of the back and the pink of the palm. The hand she held lay slack in hers, cold as the rest of him. All his energy was in his lungs, trying to breathe. Trying to breathe.
Weary with grief, she asked Chouss, ”Isn't there something you can do?”
Chouss propped her graying head against the cubby wall and closed her eyes, her only response.
”Wen?”
He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, shook his head. No.
No. Awandi lifted her head, feeling the pull of the station's spin, and looked at the pale woman from Glory standing in the corner, arms wrapped around her chest as if she were cold. It was hard to ask. ”Izu? Isn't there something you can do?”
Izu looked at her, at Soje, breathing pink froth through his shattered mouth. Slowly lifted her hand to cover her eyes. ”No.”
As if she hadn't spoken, Awandi said, ”I'll help you get to your s.h.i.+p. I promise. Even if it... Even if it doesn't work.”
”Wanda,” Chouss said. ”Don't. She's as helpless as the rest of us.”
”No she isn't.”
”Let her be.”
Awandi let go her brother's hand and stood, noticing again how she towered over the other woman. ”Please,” she said. ”Please, Izu.”
”Wandi,” Wen said painfully. ”Let it go.”
”No.”
Izu was staring at her, eyes wide and fixed.
”It was because of you,” Awandi told her. just one step and they were face to face. ”I don't say that to lay blame, Izu. It was his choice. He did it for his own reasons. But still. If you hadn't come.”