Part 12 (2/2)

Rocky took a step toward her, bringing his face so close to hers that she took an involuntary step backward, giving him room to slip past her. ”I wanted a chance to talk with you alone,” he said.

She reluctantly got two mugs, poured the steaming hot chocolate, and sat down on her couch, pulling her robe together as one bare knee tried to peek out. ”What can I do for you, Commander?” she asked, using the t.i.tle to set a military tone.

”We always seem to be on opposing watches lately,” Rocky said. ”We've never really had a chance to get to know each other.”

Jackie's first reaction was to tell him to go away and let her get to bed. The words formed, but for some reason she hesitated. ”You pick a h.e.l.l of a time to want to socialize, Commander,” she said.

”Let's drop the service formalities,” he replied, with an engaging smile. ”I know you're tired. I'll get out of here in a minute and let you get some sleep. I just want to tell you that you have been doing an excellent job.”

”Thank you,” she said. She had been surprised to see Rocky at her door. He was a married man, and at first she had thought that he was there on s.h.i.+p's business. Even when he started talking in that smiling, friendly way, she took him at his word. It wasn't a convenient time, but it was good service policy for a more senior officer to get to know his junior officer better. She was unprepared for Rooky's next gambit.

”You look great in uniform,” he said, ”but in something feminine, like that robe, you're extraordinary.” ”Thank you again,” she said, standing.

Rocky was not a subtle or a patient man. ”And we have a lot in common.”

”Oh?”

”We've both been pa.s.sed over,” he said, his handsome smile a bit crooked.

”I'm afraid I don't understand.”

He rose, finished his hot chocolate at a gulp, smiled at her over the mug. ”Think about it,” he said. ”I hear you're quite a tennis player. The courts are under construction. Be finished in a couple of days. I'll give you a call when they're ready.”

She closed the door behind him, and when he was gone she let irritation and puzzlement show on her face. Then she shrugged and got into bed. She had not been pa.s.sed over for promotion. She did not have enough time in grade to be due a promotion. He could have meant only one thing.

Her face flushed. Was it that obvious to everyone on board? She tried to put it all out of her mind, but it was difficult. She still remembered Duncan Rodrick's first overture toward her, just after they'd finished the rocket-firing sequence that had sent theSpirit of America away from Earth. He had smiled at her and asked her to join him in being the first to try out the s.h.i.+p's swimming pool.

Jackie was a proud woman; she'd held her own all her life, and the fact that she had been chosen for the Spirit of America expedition was proof that she had done well. She'd never had any difficulties in her relations.h.i.+ps with the opposite s.e.x. In fact, she had fully understood that, as a member of the s.h.i.+p's crew, she'd be expected to have a family after the colony was established. With healthy curiosity she'd checked out each single male colonist even before the s.h.i.+p left Earth. In her survey of available men, she had, of course, looked at the captain, but military thinking had excluded Duncan from her speculations. A full captain, a s.h.i.+p's captain, just didn't fraternize with the junior officers. In Duncan's arms she realized that all the old rules had been left behind when the s.h.i.+p accelerated outward toward the far limits of the solar system.

She tossed on her bed, seeking sleep, trying not to even think about how good they had been together.

She felt a great resentment toward Rocky for stirring it all up again. She had just about had her hurt under control. For some reason Duncan had gone, well, not cold, but indifferent, and she'd spent an agonizingly long time wondering why. She was not egotistical, but she knew she was a beautiful woman. He had very definitely enjoyed her company. During the early part of the voyage he had sought her out-not just for lovemaking, but for companions.h.i.+p. He had never totally loosened up with her, she knew, but before the big chill he'd been very comfortable with her- they'd had long talks about things past and future, about his ex-wife, his hopes for a new world, and although marriage had never been mentioned-come to think of it, he'd never even told her that he loved her-it was, at least on her part, understood that it would be Jackie Garvey and Duncan Rodrick together on the new world.

Pa.s.sed over?

She remembered the look on Rocky's face as he'd used those words. A crooked grin. He'd said, ”We've both been pa.s.sed over.”

She shook her head. No. Duncan wasn't the type to go after a fellow officer's wife. But why was Mandy Miller always on the bridge during times of crisis or interest? Looking back, she could remember a lot of times when she'd seen Duncan and Mandy Miller together, and times when he'd left word on the bridge that he could be reached in Dr. Miller's office. But Mandy was head of the Life Sciences department, a very important department. Duncan would, naturally, have need to consult her on matters in her field.

Rocky's crooked grin, and his words, stayed with Jackie as she fell into that state of near sleep. That grin had the look of a proud man trying to hide his hurt-or his shame. He had said they had been pa.s.sed over.

She decided, just before falling asleep, that it was possible that Rocky knew something she didn't know.

And the last feeling she had before sleep was a shamed anger, a suspicion that she had been used.

Someone was yelling at her. Theresita opened her eyes and saw an endless expanse of the greenest jungle she'd ever seen. There was a roaring whistle in her ears. She couldn't understand what Ivan was trying to tell her. She looked over her shoulder. The hull had been ripped open by a piece of the disintegrating wing. Ivan punched her on the shoulder and pointed down.

”Water-” That was all she understood over the roar of the wind in the slowly expanding hole in the hull, and then she was thrown forward again. The s.h.i.+p slowed. The sound was not so loud now.

”Rocket fuel low!” Ivan screamed at her. ”Used too much to slow us. ” He pointed toward the water. It was a wide river, brown, slow moving. To all sides was endless jungle extending flatly to the hazy horizons.

”This b.u.t.ton!” Ivan yelled. ”I'm going to use the last of the rocket fuel in the front retros to try to stop us just before we hit the water. There'll be only a four-second blast. When you hear the rockets cut off or we hit the water, push the b.u.t.ton. It blows the hatch. Then hit your harness's quick release and get out.

The water looks deep.”

”I understand,” she yelled back.

The water was coming up very fast. Ivan was tense, his finger poised over the rocket-fire b.u.t.ton. He had no time to program the on-board computer. He would have to judge the distance himself.

”Brace yourself!” he yelled.

She was jerked violently forward into the harness and things dimmed, but she did not black out entirely.

Then there was another jerk forward as the scout's bow struck the water with a mighty splash. A small explosion sounded as Theresita triggered the hatch's quick release, and explosive bolts propelled the metal hatch away. She pounded on the quick release of her harness even as water swirled in with a roar-but she took a deep breath and bided her time, knowing that she could not move against the in-rus.h.i.+ng water. She reached out and found young Ivan's hand as the water rushed in. The scout sank deeper, and just as the water reached her chin she took another deep breath and looked at Ivan to see a metallic shard imbedded in his throat, and his arterial blood pumping from the jugular vein. He had been hit by a piece of the hatch when it had been blown off. She'd seen enough men die to know that there was no chance for him. Now the water closed over her head, and she pushed herself away from the couch, pulling upward toward the open hatch. She went out headfirst, kicking upward with all her strength, not knowing how deeply the scout had sunk. She felt a light blow on the back of her right thigh, and there was a stinging sensation there as she kicked upward. The water was brown, no visibility, even though her eyes were open. She seemed to go up and up forever and then, knowing that she was reaching the limit of the usable air in her lungs, she stopped kicking and let her natural buoyancy and the momentum she'd built up carry her upward and upward endlessly until her lungs burned and she fought their spasming efforts to suck water.

There were large areas of blackness in front of her eyes when she at last burst free, coming out of the water almost to her waist, and then gulping life-giving air even as she fell back with a splash.

She tread water with small movements of her hands until she had her breath back. She was almost in midstream, and the banks seemed to be far away. She estimated that the river was at least half a mile wide. Which bank? The current was moving her slowly downstream. It didn't really matter which bank.

She remembered the look of the jungle, dark, endless, an almost iridescent green. It had extended to the limit of visibility in all directions. It didn't matter which bank.

She began to swim with a b.r.e.a.s.t.stroke, the least strenuous one for her. Her leg was stinging. She floated on her back for a moment and put her hand down. She could feel the cut. Her finger went into flesh for a good half inch, and there was immediate pain in that spot that grew as she began to swim for the sh.o.r.e again. If she was losing enough blood, she might never make it to the bank of the river. And what kind of life was in the murky, brown, muddy waters? Something that would smell her blood and come to feed?

She remembered seeing films of South American fish with huge, teeth-filled mouths ripping and tearing.

Crocodiles on the Nile. They had grown fat and brave feeding on the bodies of the dead during the attempted Egyptian uprising. Sharks. No, this was fresh water. But still her imagination stocked the muddy waters with ripping, tearing teeth, and she found herself flailing away in a frenzied crawl that was depleting her energies rapidly.

She forced herself to relax, to float. She felt her thigh. The cut was about four inches long, and deeper in the upper end. She could not feel a large outrush of blood, so there was no arterial bleeding. Blood had shot out into the brown water from Ivan's throat. She hadn't even known his last name. And Ilya was dead. All of them, dead.

She let the current do most of the work and used her strength sparingly to angle slowly toward the bank to her right. The river entered a gentle curve to the left and aided her, bringing her to within swimming distance of the bank. She kicked herself in, then caught an overhanging tree branch. There was no distinguishable bank as such, only a maze of huge trees and ma.s.sed roots in mud and shallow water. She pulled herself up to cling to the roots of a tree and gasped tiredly, even as she looked around. A crash of thunder followed a vivid lightning bolt, and it seemed that the heavens opened. Rain thundered on the jungle canopy high over her head. Even with the rain dripping down from the roof of foliage, it was hot and steamy. She clung to the tree roots and rested.

A splash from the river behind her caused her to jerk her head around. A very large torpedo-shaped thing leaped in a high arc from the water. A second torpedo shape leaped, and she thought,Fish . A third fish left the water, then with an eruption of foam a huge square-tipped, all-teeth thing followed to s.n.a.t.c.h the leaping fish in midair. After exposing an enormous, ovate trunk behind the square, toothed head, it fell back with a splash that might have been audible for miles.

Theresita tried to crawl up onto the tangled tree roots, wanting to get even her feet out of the water. Theemergence of that water monster gave her new strength. The thing came slowly toward her, its body's awesome bulk hinted at by ripples behind the extended neck. She scrambled to her feet and waded, stumbling over the tangled roots, away from the river. She kept going even after she could no longer see the river. She was, of course, soaked, but her clothing did not even begin to dry because the sweat poured from her in the steaming heat.

She had gone, she estimated, a hundred yards when the water that surrounded the trees became shallower. She sank to her knees in mud and fell backwards, pressing her thighs and rump into the soft, warm mud. She struggled back to firmer ground, detoured, and gained soggy ground that gave way under her feet from an acc.u.mulation of decaying vegetable matter. The cut on her thigh was packed with mud. She used the side of her hand and her fingers to clean away as much as possible, wincing from the pain.

Off to her left something moved. She froze. The sounds came from deep undergrowth, which began not far from the edge of the river swamp, and they were being made by something big. She had no weapon.

She waited until the cras.h.i.+ng sounds died in the distance.

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