“I can’t tell, Ei’Brai. Are they still moving?”
“Only under momentum. There is very little electrical output onboard. Channel is now open. You may speak.”
If the thrusters were no longer burning, that was a good sign, she hoped. Jane cleared her throat because she hadn’t spoken aloud for at least a day. “This is Jane Holloway. Providence? Are you there?”
Worry sat like lead in her stomach. Would they ignore her this time? Had Walsh been so angry after their last communication that he’d decided not to respond when she called back?
He’d been curt last time, dismissive, and barely able to make coherent arguments. It seemed clear that he was infected. This could be a rough encounter. He was opposed to coming back aboard. She was hoping that in the intervening hours Ajaya had softened him up.
Jane tapped her fingers on the console impatiently. Was it too late? Had there been some kind of catastrophic failure onboard? “I repeat: Providence, come in. This is Jane Holloway. I’m ready and able to provide assistance.”
Nothing.
She leaned forward, the straps adjusting, moving with her. “Over?”
Silence.
They’d already conceived of several ways to deal with an unresponsive Providence. None of them were good choices. If the capsule was still traveling at a high velocity, that made everything very complicated for her and very dangerous for the people inside that vessel.
Why weren’t they answering? Could Walsh have gone nuts? Had they all gone catatonic shut up in such a small space together? Had someone made a fatal mistake? Oh, God—I should have done something sooner.
“Do you sense them, Ei’Brai?” she asked him silently.
He responded coolly. “I perceive three individuals. There appears to be a fracas in progress.”
Jane knit her brow. “So they heard my transmission?”
“I believe so, Qua’dux Jane Holloway.”
“And the channel is still open?”
“Affirmative.”
Jane sat up straighter, never taking her eyes from the capsule on the screen. Some kind of drama was playing out over there and she was powerless to help. “Providence. Jane Holloway. I want you to know that Dr. Bergen has devised a permanent solution to the nanite problem. Here, on the Speroancora, we will eliminate all of them at once with a tightly controlled EMP. If you can’t or won’t dock with us in a timely fashion, I’ll be forced to use another method to bring you aboard. I won’t allow you to transmit the nanites to Earth. Please respond.”
Again, minutes rolled by.
Alan’s mental voice exclaimed, “Jane, we don’t have time for this shit. The clock is ticking on teeny-tiny nanite bombs with big booms.”
Ei’Brai silently grumbled, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any clear articulation.
Jane frowned. “I know, I know.”
Alan sounded impatient, “Just scoop them up, like we talked about.”
She sighed. “Alan, I don’t have the finesse you seem to think I have.”
“Jane, let me out of this damned thing!” His frustration was immense. Then he softened. “I want to help you.”
“There’s nothing you can do out here. I have to make these decisions. I have to do this.”
She shut her eyes, concentrating on the distance between the capsule and the ship, turning many miles into feet, until it loomed large on the view screen in front of her. She wished she could see inside.
Then she remembered. She slipped her consciousness closer to Ei’Brai. It was like a mouse sidling up to an elephant. She knew it. But it didn’t matter, because this mouse was master over that beast. “I want you to show me what’s going on in there,” she told him.
“Inadvisable,” he responded instantly.
“Why?” Jane narrowed her eyes, but he was an open book. He may recommend she not go there, but he wouldn’t stop her, if that was her decision.
“You are emotionally attached to your colleagues. At best, the experience could have a negative impact on you psychologically. At worst, it could be injurious to your nascent experience of Anipraxia. There is no need for such risk. There is significant evidence that they are not as they were. In my estimation, they are incapable of performing as you’d hoped.”
She nodded, centering herself more fully inside herself. It was disappointing, but she was mentally prepared for this scenario. “All right. We’ll match their speed, like we discussed.”
Alan’s voice tickled in the back of her head, a whisper, “I know you can do this, Jane.”
Her mouth pursed in concentration, she put all her mental energy into channeling the commands correctly. The Speroancora eased forward to match the speed of the Providence.
She told the ship’s computer, “Open the external service hatch on Deck 37, chamber 2-4-6, and terminate synthetic gravity to that chamber.”
She sensed it opening, slowly, a giant garage door in space. Ei’Brai confirmed the gravity was cut.
As each second passed, Ei’Brai labored over extensive calculations. They flowed past her. She waited patiently for him to calculate the best formula as they adjusted course.
“Trajectory and velocity are currently optimal, Qua’dux. You may proceed with lateral thrust.”
This was it. If Ei’Brai’s calculations were wrong, or if Jane didn’t execute them correctly, all would be lost. Even at these low speeds, the capsule wasn’t that robust. It was not made to endure impacts at that kind of magnitude. It would crumple like aluminum foil. Pressurization would fail. The three of them would be dead almost instantly in the vacuum of space.
“Yes,” Ei’Brai conceded. “Yet no other option exists. They’ve met dusk already if we do not act. You give them hope.”
Jane lifted her chin. “Right. Engage lateral thrust.”
The nose of the ship maintained course and speed alongside the Providence, acting as the fulcrum, while the tail of the ship swung around laterally toward the capsule.
Jane held her breath.
Ei’Brai switched the source of her view screen feed to a camera inside chamber 246. Providence grew in size at an alarming rate. Her heart pounded a tattoo.
“Prepare to terminate lateral thrust,” Ei’Brai reminded her gently.
“Yes, yes—terminate lateral thrust on my mark,” she told the computer.
Speroancora pivoted inexorably.
Jane bucked against the straps. “It’s not going to fit!”
“Steady. My calculations are impeccable. Standby, Qua’dux.”
There couldn’t be more than inches of clearance.
Her hand went to her mouth, physically keeping herself from screaming, “Abort!”
Her eyes widened as the Providence scuttled across the floor of chamber 246.
“Qua—”
“Mark! Mark!”
The Providence bumped against the far wall of chamber 246 and bounced around, but Jane and Ei’Brai, joint in thought, didn’t think it was enough to cause much damage. It settled into place near the open door. It hovered there, slightly cocked at an angle, just a few inches from the floor as the forward momentum of both vessels equalized.
Jane exhaled in a whoosh. “Close the external service hatch on chamber 246, repressurize the chamber, and reinstitute synthetic gravity. Execute ionic pulse.”
Jane unlatched herself and headed for the door.
Ei’Brai’s voice rumbled in her head, “Ionic pulse has been successfully effectuated, Qua’dux. Squillae transmission has gone full-silent. The pulse was successful.”
“We’ve got them. We should be out of the woods, so let’s find a safe place to park,” Alan said.
Ei’Brai’s mental voice sounded flat, resigned. “This location will serve, Qua’dux, if that is your wish.”
Jane shrugged as she tapped a key in the nearest deck transport. They hadn’t even discussed what they needed to do next. The priority had been the ionic pulse and the rescue, that wasn’t even complete yet.