Part 27 (2/2)

He was hungry and thirsty. Wet. They didn't have shelter or clothes, and the only gun they had, they'd need to haul around a dead man to shoot. Until his body got cold, anyway.

”Well, f.u.c.k,” he said. ”Where do we go from here, right?”

Clarissa extended a thin arm, pointing her pale finger to the sky. There, struggling behind the clouds and stratospheric debris, a perfect, pale disk. ”Luna,” she said. ”Staying on the planet's going to mean dying when the food runs out. And the water.”

”I was thinking that too.”

”There are yachts. I know where the family kept them. But it's a s.p.a.ceport for rich people. Tons of security. We might need help breaking in.”

”I know some people,” Amos said. ”I mean, y'know. If they're still alive.”

”That's a plan, then,” she said, but didn't move. Her slur was going away, which meant she probably wasn't bleeding into her brain. So that was one problem he didn't have. Amos s.h.i.+fted, lying back on the dead man's rib cage, the crown of his head touching hers. A little rest seemed like a fine thing, but they'd have to get moving soon. It was a long walk back to Baltimore. He wondered if they could find a car. Or, failing that, a couple of bicycles. His ear was starting to lose its angry throb. He'd probably be able to walk soon.

In the black sky, the pale circle dimmed behind a thicker roil of cloud and ash, then vanished for a moment before struggling back.

”It's funny,” Clarissa said. ”Most of human history, going to the moon was impossible. A dream beyond anyone's imagination. And then, for a while, it was an adventure. And then it was trivial. Yesterday, it was trivial. And now, it's almost impossible again.”

”Yeah,” Amos said, ”well...”

He felt her s.h.i.+ft, tuning her head as if to see him better. ”What?”

He gestured up toward the sky. ”Pretty sure that's the sun. I get what you're saying though.”

Chapter Twenty-seven: Alex.

His head hurt. His back hurt. He couldn't feel his legs. It was all distressing until his mind came back enough for him to realize it meant he hadn't died. The medical bay chimed, something cool pumped into his arm, and his consciousness faded away again.

When he woke this time, he felt almost human. The medical bay was huge. Easily five times what they had on the Rocinante, but smaller than the full, multiunit hospital of the Behemoth. The anti-spalling coating on the walls was the soft brown of bread crusts. He tried to sit up, then reconsidered.

”Ah, Mister Kamal. Are you feeling better?”

The doctor was a thin-faced, pale-skinned woman with eyes the color of ice. Her uniform was MCRN. He nodded to her more out of social habit than because he was feeling better.

”Am I going to be okay?” Alex said.

”Depends,” she said. ”Keep eating like you're twenty, and it'll haunt you.”

Alex laughed and a spike of pain cut through his belly. The doctor grimaced and put a hand on his shoulder.

”You did get a little surgery while you were out. That burn you were on made your ulcer way worse.”

”I have an ulcer?”

”You used to. Now you have a reconstructed stem graft, but it's still settling into place. Give it a few days, and it'll be much better.”

”Yeah,” Alex said, resting his head back on the pillow. ”I've been under a little stress lately. Is Bobbie okay?”

”She's fine. They've been debriefing her. I imagine they'll want to chat with you too, now that you're back around.”

”What about my s.h.i.+p?”

”We pulled her into the hangar. She's being refueled. You can get her back when we're clear.”

That brought him back. ”Clear?”

”Those gentlemen who were taking potshots at you? Our escort's back making sure they don't get too happy about following us. Once the relief s.h.i.+ps actually get here, I expect you'll be on your way.”

”You got some coming, then?”

”Oh my, yes,” the doctor said, with a sigh. ”Half a dozen of our finest. Probably more than we need, but we're not in a place where anyone wants to take risks.”

”I'm right there with 'em on that,” Alex said, closing his eyes. The silence felt weird. He opened them again. The doctor stood where she had been before, her smile as it had been, her hands clasped lightly in front of her. There were tears in her eyes.

”Some things happened while you were out,” she said. ”You should probably know about them.”

Bobbie stood up and hugged him hard as soon as he walked into the debriefing room. She wore a flight jumpsuit just like the one they'd provided him. They didn't say anything at first. It felt strange, being enveloped in her arms. She was much larger than him and stronger besides. He would have imagined that being held like that by an attractive woman would have had some erotic element, but all he felt was a deep sense of their shared vulnerability.

He'd never been on Earth. He didn't know it there. Until now, he wouldn't have said he had any particular connection to the place. That he was wrong about that was a revelation. A quarter billion dead between the strikes and the tsunamis. And many more soon. Already the newsfeeds were reporting failures of infrastructure, and surface temperatures were dropping toward freezing in the springtime northern hemisphere under the vast clouds of dust and water and debris. The major cities had fusion reactors for power, but everywhere that still relied on distributed solar was running out of battery reserves. Billions more lights going dark. The secretary-general was dead, as were an unknown number of a.s.sembly representatives. The military was calling back s.h.i.+ps from all parts of the solar system, making a cordon around the planet in fear of further strikes. The failed coup on Tycho and the dark fleet that they'd stumbled into, it all felt like a footnote to what had happened to humanity's home world.

And the worst thing was no one knew who'd done it all. Or why.

Bobbie let him go and stepped back. He saw the same hollowness he felt reflected in her eyes.

”Holy s.h.i.+t,” he said.

”Yeah.”

Everything about the debriefing room expressed safety, comfort. The lights were indirect and shadowless. The walls had the same warm brown as the medical bay. Crash couches surrounded a small, built-in table instead of a desk. It was the kind of s.p.a.ce Alex a.s.sociated with psychiatrists' offices in films. Bobbie looked around too, seeming to see the place anew now that Alex was there. She nodded to a small alcove opposite the door.

”You want some tea? They have tea.”

”Sure,” Alex said. ”Okay. Are you all right?”

”I'm fine. I mean, I'm a little shook, but they didn't put me in the med bay,” she said. ”What kind do you want? They've got orange pekoe, oolong, chamomile -”

”I don't know what any of those are.”

”Me either. So. Okay, you get oolong.”

The machine hissed. She handed him a bulb. It felt warm in his hand and had a subtle smell of smoke and water. Alex sat at the table and tried a sip, but it was too hot. Bobbie sat beside him.

”That was some pretty amazing flying,” she said. ”I'm almost sorry I wasn't there to see it.”

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