Part 42 (1/2)

But Banichi understood.

And called Jago. ”Jago. Jenrette is dead. Sabin-aiji is safe.”

Jago said something that made Banichi smile.

”Barnhart has found Gin-aiji,” Banichi reported. ”She has swum up to the camera and made encouraging signals. One believes she is in direct communication with Jase.”

”Get my wounded aboard,” Sabin said. ”I'll handle the fuel.”

”Get them into the lift,” Bren said. ”We'll manage. Fast as we can.-Banichi-ji. We are requested to take the wounded back as quickly as we can. Sabin-aiji will manage here.”

”Yes,” Banichi said, and relayed orders to his a.s.sociates in three positions.

They'd done it. His knees felt weak. They'd actually done it. It didn't feel feel done. They'd been attacked from two fronts and the middle, and the way down wasn't guaranteed safe-particularly sneaking a handful of very tall atevi back on board; but they did what they could. done. They'd been attacked from two fronts and the middle, and the way down wasn't guaranteed safe-particularly sneaking a handful of very tall atevi back on board; but they did what they could.

”I have Jase's key,” he confessed to Sabin. ”I need it to get them back.” Meaning the wounded, and the handful of techs in their keeping.

”You're just full of tricks,” Sabin said. ”Go lock those section doors with that key, Mr. Cameron-I trust you know how to do that-and then get that thing back aboard the s.h.i.+p. Fast.”

The lord of the heavens had his bailiwick and his arena of understanding; it didn't include s.h.i.+p's operations, or that fueling station, and when Sabin suggested locking the critical doors with an unbreachable lock, barring all station access to this place, it seemed a good idea to do exactly that, and fast.

Chapter Nineteen.

GO,” BREN SAID TO THEIR DETAINEES, once the lift car reached the mast entry level-one expected that to be the most desolate area of the station; but it was jammed with refugees, men, women, children carrying other children and parents carrying baggage-and their detainees vanished into jammed lines of refugees. Terror rippled the lines as unprepared stationers saw atevi exit the car, but they were locked in that essential fact of station life, the line, the line that gave precedence, the line in which all things were done and solved, the line which meant ent.i.tlement-in this case, to s.h.i.+p-boarding; and the line buckled.

”They're from Alpha!” Bren shouted. ”They are, and I am! Pa.s.s it on! We have injured people here-excuse us. We need through to medical immediately, please please!”

They didn't have access to station communications; but word of mouth rippled both ways in the moving lines-lines ultimately diced and packeted by the lift.

They had one of s.h.i.+p's security, walking wounded: Barnhart had an arm around him, helping him along. There were three who couldn't walk, one in bad condition, and Ilisidi's men carried them like children, gear and all-atevi protocols: Banichi and Jago had their lord present, and guarded him him, and that was the way of things. So he went, scaring evacuees-until humans saw a bona fide mission of mercy, and blood, and atevi carrying human wounded toward the s.h.i.+p. Then stares attended them, and confusion swayed the line, but no panic ensued.

”Excuse us,” Bren said, all the lengthy way up the line to the lift. ”Excuse us. We have to get to medical. Urgent. Excuse us.”

He was breathing hard, despite the lightest of station gravity. They reached the lift, and stationers there, next in line for salvation, clearly didn't want to wait-”We have children,” the head of the line objected.

”We have a man critical,” Bren said, in this contest of crises. ”s.h.i.+p's officer. We can take the children through with us, if you want. Rest a minute. Protect those kids' faces. It's a long cold on the other side.”

The man didn't half know. Frustration, fear and resentment of alien presence were all in that expression; but he was willing to argue with s.h.i.+p personnel and half a dozen towering aliens to get to a safety that-he hadn't thought it through-likely had more such aliens in charge; and Bren didn't altogether blame him for his confusion. If a station was going into critical failure, as these people began to realize, it was a very thin bubble in a very big dark, and anywhere with air, light, and power was life itself.

The lift car arrived. Bren crowded his own party in and punched the b.u.t.ton, no key. The car shot off, express for the mast; and they were alone for the moment, hoping that Sabin, upstairs, was managing the fueling station without interference.

But the more that line of refugees grew, the more people would begin to realize the station was in trouble, and when neighbors started leaving, people started calling those they cared about. By now, anyone calling Central might not get through. And a failure of communications meant a spread of rumor, in a station already half-dead, already having lost one essential a.s.set, and all protection from alien incursion. Families were taking the s.h.i.+p's offer. Individuals with non-critical jobs were. Probably a few with with critical jobs had begun to weigh staying and going, and if one bolted-more would. critical jobs had begun to weigh staying and going, and if one bolted-more would.

Faster and faster. More and more desperate. They'd gotten through a line reasonably well-ordered and willing to reason, in this early stage of the evacuation. Later-as systems started failing-panic was going to pack more and more people into that line.

”We still cannot reach Asicho, nandi,” Jago said.

”Soon, at least, Jago-ji,” he said. ”One believes Gin has relayed rea.s.surances to Jase. And perhaps Sabin-aiji has gotten through.”

Warning lights flashed red. The car began deceleration and the comfortable illusion of up and down s.h.i.+fted, an a.s.sault on a stomach already uncertain-he didn't like this, didn't like it, stared at the indicators for proof of their location in time and s.p.a.ce, rea.s.surance of destination imminent.

The car stopped. They were weightless. And a startled Phoenix Phoenix crew member met them. crew member met them.

”If you've got com,” Bren said, ”advise Captain Graham we're coming, with injured crew.”

”Yes, sir,” the crewwoman said.

The lighted conveyor ran past them. Bren grabbed it one-handed, felt it take the ma.s.s of Banichi and Jago behind him and then, presumably, Barnhart and one crewman; and Ilisidi's men, with two of Sabin's, as best they could.

There was little stress on the arm, enough to prove they were moving, while all he could see was the glowing ribbon winding through a vast, numbing-cold dark: an illusion of infinity, that ribbon interrupted by silhouettes. In the far distance, dots that were families interrupted the glow, refugees, holding together, half-frozen and caught in, nothing, in nowhere-thank G.o.d, Bren thought, that the lighted ribbon did move, and moved with a fair dispatch, because if ever some one of the refugees let go and became lost off the ribbon, they might lodge up in the unseen recesses, helpless, to freeze before rescue could find them. The conveyor was designed for the able-bodied.

Clips, he thought. They ought to find clips somewhere.

The ribbon had an end. Or a returning-point, where it doubled back. And there were were a few clips floating past, attached. Someone was using his imagination. a few clips floating past, attached. Someone was using his imagination.

There were crewmen at that end-point. Safety. And nothing would hurry this line. Bren watched the crew help one after another clumps of people into the tube, and onto the next conveyor line.

Their turn came. Crew had seen them coming.

”We've got wounded,” Bren said. ”For two-deck.” And the masked, parka-clad crewmen delayed them not at all, only sent them up the umbilical connection to the s.h.i.+p itself.

Faster trip, this.

”Mr. Cameron, sir.” Welcome voice, behind that mask: Kaplan met them on two-deck; Kaplan and Polano; and medics, instantly taking charge of the wounded.

”Sabin's alive. At the fuel station,” Bren said. Kaplan deserved that information. ”Need to see the captain.”

”Go right on up, sir.” Kaplan held the lift door for him and his, and let the door shut once they were inside.

Light. Glorious, brilliant light, and warmth. Air that didn't feel like the same substance as that burning chill outside. A solid feel to the deck under his feet. It was like emerging from near drowning. Everything was sharp-edged. Every familiar sight was new.

And the handheld worked, if numb fingers could get it out of his pocket and hold on to it. It gave him a series of images his watering eyes couldn't quite bring into focus; one dark. One was an animation. They were talking to the alien s.h.i.+p. One-one was a suited figure in a lot of dark, beside machinery. Gin. He didn't know how to bring in the audio, and lost the image.

”d.a.m.n!” he said, then, conscious of his companions, and then of the fact their personal electronics were in contact again, and that Asicho, belowdecks, was likewise receiving: ”Asa-ji, we are all well.” And to his immediate company. ”My fingers are numb. But they seem to be talking to the foreign s.h.i.+p and Gin-aiji seems still at work outside. Perhaps Jase-aiji wishes now to move the s.h.i.+p closer to take on fuel, but with people coming aboard in bitter cold, impossible to hold them off.”

”This s.h.i.+p cannot in any wise maneuver,” Jago observed.

”One believes,” he began to say, but the lift reached its destination and let them out on the bridge: him, his bodyguard, Barnhart, and the dowager's men, all of them, he suddenly realized, in the pristine cleanliness of the bridge, b.l.o.o.d.y and sweaty and reeking of fumes as their clothes thawed, their whole party laden down with all sorts of battle-gear.

Jase met them the moment they cleared the short part.i.tion, met him and seized him by the shoulder. ”Bren. What's the story over there?”

”Sabin's at fueling ops, the archive's blown, Central's out, and we left word on several levels to evacuate-which people seem to be doing, fast as they can. What's this side?”

”We're running out of pictures to send, that s.h.i.+p's still moving in, and Gin's out there in short-range communication. We've got fuel if we could move to get it. If the station doesn't go unstable before we can get the fuel off. That's our problem. Yours is down on five-deck. We need our houseguest to talk to that s.h.i.+p out there. We need time, Bren. We've got to get an emergency crew onto the station to keep it stable and keep it running.”

”It's not secure over there. Braddock's still alive. Jenrette isn't. But Sabin's got the section doors locked on the fuel center. There were several tries at us while we were taking it.”