“Mademoiselle Mayakenska,” the voice said. She recognized it as belonging to the vice president with the colored glasses and the dzhinsi pants. She nearly answered him, forgetting the eighteen minutes it would take her words to reach Earth.
“The Committee—or rather, the Board—has decided not to take your advice. It is our conclusion that the mechanism is located somewhere within Frontera Base itself, and not in some distant cave.We find the idea that such a device could be the work of children to be preposterous.”
“Idiots,” Mayakenska said.Tears of anger ran down her face.“Idiots.”
“Therefore your instructions are as follows. If Curtis seems set on his threat you will destroy Frontera Base with the laser.You will do so before the expiration of Curtis’s deadline, and you will do so without telling anyone there on the ground.Also, from this moment forward I expect you to maintain a continuous radio link with Mission Control, detailing all your actions. I trust this is all sufficiently clear.”
“Chaadayev?” Mayakenska said. He was the one who would actually have to fire the laser.“Were you listening?”
“Yes,” Chaadayev said.
“They’re insane.You’ve seen what the weapon can do. I want you to make the ship ready to leave orbit.”
“I’m sorry,” Chaadayev said.
“What does that mean?”
“I agree with Moscow. Besides, it isn’t my place to question orders. I suggest that you already be in your suit when you make your final communication with Curtis. Have Valentin in the ship, ready to go.We’ll
start with the north end of the dome at 23:25 exactly, which will give you time to get to the ship and rendezvous with us.” “Chaadayev, I order you to disable the weapon and lay in a course
for home.” “I am genuinely sorry,” Chaadayev said.The radio went dead. Mayakenska looked at her watch.Ten forty-five.The ship was locked,
all systems powered up, ready for immediate launch in case of an emergency.With constant thrust and a low trajectory, she might make it. The living room was still dark.Valentin paced the floor, pretending
nonchalance.“I trust you overheard,” she said to him. He glared at her, then shrugged.“Only by accident.” She had no time to waste on this feinting for position.“Your opinion?” “It’s not my duty to have an opinion.” She nodded and went to Blok’s room. He slept with his mouth open,
his face bruised and lined with pain. She shook him gently. “Hmmm...what?” “Blok, listen carefully.At eleven fifteen, that’s just half an hour from
now, I want you to go outside. Go to the nearest alarm and push the
Abandon button. Do you understand me?” “Abandon?” he asked groggily.“What’s happening? Why—” “You must trust me, Do not let anyone or anything keep you from
doing this.” He sat up, holding his neck and twisting his head to pop the vertebrae.
“They’re going to burn the dome, aren’t they?” “Don’t ask questions. Be a soldier.Will you do this for me?” “Yes, but—” She touched his lips with one finger.“Once you’ve sounded the
alarm, if you can...see that Valentin gets out alive. If you can.” “Your lover,” Blok said. Mayakenska shrugged. “Ah, my colonel, you have such a weakness for lost children. I’ll do
what I can.” She left him. “I’m going outside,” she said to Valentin.“I want to take a closer look
at that rock.There must be no possibility of a mistake.” “I’ll go with you,” he said, reaching for a mask. “No,” she said.“There’s...another broadcast at 2300 hours.” “What difference does that make now?”
“Everything,” she said,“must be as usual. Do you understand?”
“All right,” he said.
“The call sign is Taymyr. 2300 hours.”
She ran for the airlock. Her legs, swollen and aching from the blood that gravity had pulled into them, would not obey her brain. She tripped over nothing and rolled into a soggy field of young spinach. She came up with ammonia fertilizer soaked into her coveralls and one ankle painfully twisted.
She limped into the changing room, forcing herself into a suit and through the airlock.The wind was a genuine force now, buffeting her, throwing her weight onto the bad ankle.All she could smell inside the suit was the bitter tang of ammonia and the stink of her own fear.
She fell down twice in the darkness. She could still see the lights of Frontera behind her, keeping her from losing her direction, but she could not find her ship.
She bumped headlong into something metal, squinted, and saw it was the American lander. Hers was not far away, then. She staggered on, and a moment later she saw the circle of light leaking from the porthole.
Clinging to the side of the spacecraft, the wind ripping silently at her arms and legs, she pried open the cover of the magnetic lock. Her fingers fumbled the combination, cleared the memory, tried again. Every second, she thought, every mistake, could be the one that lost her her chance.
The hatch opened and she climbed in, surrounded by swirling dust. She slammed the hatch and fell into the pilot’s sling, her fingers already snapping switches on the panel above her.
Stop them, was all she could think. Further back in her mind she knew she might be too late, but she refused to deal with that thought until she had to. For now she only wanted to get to the Salyut, get on board, and stop them from firing the laser.
Any way she had to.
The computer released its hold on the countdown with 15 seconds left. She frantically punched in the parameters for the fastest possible ascent to the Salyut, stopping only to buckle her harness as the first jolt of acceleration shook the ship.
The winds boiled around her, hammering the shell of the ship with rocks and dirt, threatening to destroy the careful balance of engine thrust and send her tumbling out of control. She fought the T-shaped pitch and yaw control for stability, trusting her dangerously atrophied
instincts to keep her right side up.
“Climb, you prick,” she whispered.
The G forces leaned into her, sickening her, and within seconds she was out of the turbulence.
Gently she took her hands away from the controls and let the computer guide her into a low, fast orbit. Lifeless, frozen wastes flew past the windows as she hurtled toward the sunrise, thinking, I did what I could.
She wished she could believe it would be enough.
Kane ripped open the front of his chest pack and took out the Colt. The boy who called himself Pen of My Uncle shrank against the wall of the cave.“Oh shit,” he said.
Kane ignored him,The gun completed a neural circuit, and he could see one step further ahead. First the circuit board and then, he knew, the rest would come to him.
He circled toward the ladder, and the boy scurried away toward the opposite side of the cave.
Someone was already climbing toward him.
Kane eased back into the darkness, the gun in front of him, his gloved finger snug in the trigger guard.
“Kane?” said Takahashi.“Kane, are you up here?”
“Come on up,” Kane said.“Move slowly and don’t do anything to make me nervous.”
Takahashi clambered up onto the catwalk and stood uneasily, keeping his hands away from his body. He was sweating and his nostrils flared with suppressed tension. Kane had never seen him so nearly out of control.
“You okay?” Takahashi said.
“Okay?” Kane asked.“Okay? What the fuck do you think, man? You and my uncle have been using me like I was one of the robots out of his factory.You move me around like a piece of furniture, you even try to reprogram my fucking brain, and you ask me if I’m okay?”
“Easy,”Takahashi said.“You think I set you up for this?”
“You knew about it.You spent nine months in your rowing machine, knowing they were still alive up here, knowing about that goddamned circuit in my head, knowing about this machine that...that scrambled Reese and just blew him away...” His metabolism was devouring itself. He mopped sweat from his forehead and wiped at his running nose.