Lifeline

He had taken special interest in the vacuum welding shop since pointing out Harhoosma’s situation to Brahms.

Terachyk looked around, placing his hands on his hips. His spring-green jumpsuit had not been washed in days, but the bright fabric looked fresh as new.

He watched the conversation and movements take on a different character, like a ripple moving through a pool, as they noticed his presence. They knew the chief assessor had come to see someone in particular.

“I need to speak with Sigat Harhoosma,” he announced. At first he didn’t see the man, dressed in his protective clothing against the glove-box wall.

Terachyk thought he heard a collective sigh of relief from the others, and then an intense curiosity … but no one would dare speak out loud until well after he had gone.

Harhoosma pulled his arms out of the dangling gloves and switched off the hydraulic-assist waldoes outside. He turned, straightened his uniform, and pushed off toward the door where Terachyk waited. Harhoosma was short and compact, with dark eyes and skin, thick salt-and-pepper hair. He held himself in closed body language. He avoided looking at anything except some imaginary fixed spot on the floor.

“Relax, don’t worry,” Terachyk said under his breath; he felt flushed. He was expected to do random inspections and interviews, but it made the co-workers nervous, wondering what Harhoosma might say about them in confidence. What if somebody hears us? Terachyk thought.

“Let’s go into the conference room,” he said, extending a hand. Harhoosma nodded and pulled himself along the corridor toward a room with a red-enameled door. Inside, a glossy-surfaced table occupied most of the space, with fixed chairs mounted to the floor, each with restraining bands so people didn’t drift out into the room with every conversational gesture they made. LCD screens and contact noteboards were embedded into the table surface. A large holotank took up the opposite wall.

Terachyk sealed the door behind him, cutting off all outside noise. In the silence, he wondered if Brahms had rigged listening devices into any of the rooms.

Now who was getting paranoid?

Harhoosma moved over to one of the chairs, pulled himself down, and slipped the restraining loop over his thigh. He waited in silence. Terachyk sat beside him, close enough to make the other man uncomfortable.

Terachyk didn’t know where to start. “This isn’t what you think,” he said. “Brahms does not know I’m here, and I must have your word that you will repeat none of this conversation to him.”

The sharp stab of danger raced up Terachyk’s spine. He knew he could be killed for this. Brahms would have no qualms about it. Terachyk was risking his life to talk to a man he barely knew.

Terachyk remembered Harhoosma’s report, about his invalid wife who had come here to live in the lower gravity, who had been one of the victims in the first RIF. Terachyk had never seen the woman, though he had looked at her image in the files, wondering what she was like.

Harhoosma looked up at him, puzzled. “I do not know what you mean. Is this perhaps a trick of some kind?”

The thin, accented voice quavered. Terachyk decided to continue, even without securing Harhoosma’s promise. He had already committed himself to his course of action.

“Mr. Harhoosma, there is something I am going to tell you—no one else knows about this. Your name is on the list, a new RIF list. Brahms has decided to keep you in the bottom ten percent of people on this colony. You know what that means.”

He met Harhoosma’s glittering, dark eyes. The man seemed appalled, disbelieving.

“Brahms and I disagree about this. I pointed out your extenuating circumstances, the trauma you’ve undergone, the … loss of your wife.” He paused. “Under the circumstances, I think you’re performing remarkably well. My own family was killed in the War. But Brahms insists that we perform up to the same standards as before.”

Several times, Harhoosma began to say something, but the words seemed unwilling to fall into place. Terachyk waited for him. Finally, the other man said, “But Director Brahms chose me to help Dr. Langelier on her Jump to the Kibalchich. He selected me out of every person on this place to assist her! Is this not true? I believed this was some kind of reward. Why would he do this thing?”

Terachyk shook his head. “Brahms has already made up his mind that you’re expendable. You weren’t really qualified to do that task, although I think you did an admirable job. Why would Brahms send you out like that, when he had plenty of more experienced people to choose from?”

Terachyk raised his eyebrows before giving his answer. “I think he was hoping you would slip up. Of course, he would never admit that. But I think he sent you out there, placed you in danger, because if something disastrous happened, then he would not lose anyone he considers valuable. Does that make sense to you?”

Harhoosma nodded slightly.