Lifeline

Karen drew in a single gasping breath. The holotank showed Brahms’s face again. He looked drained.

“I don’t want you to think of this as a reign of terror. Our future lies in the people of Orbitech 1, on our skills and our abilities. There is no prejudice in survival—all are equal here.

“You have the ability to prevent another RIF, but you cannot prevent it with lies.” He paused and swallowed. When he spoke again, his voice sounded dry and cracked. “We’re all in this together.”

The picture of him winked off, to be replaced by the gaping starlit maw of the open shuttle-bay doors and the empty, empty chamber where Linda Arnando and Daniel Aiken had been only moments before. A patch of smeared frost stood out on the polished floor.

Ramis watched, appalled and sickened. He stared at the vastness of black, cold space where Aiken and Arnando had now set their sails, but they had no Sarat to catch them. A giddiness swirled up around Ramis, and he muttered quietly, but loud enough for Karen Langelier to hear, “I do not want to stay here anymore. I want to go home.”

Karen went looking for Ramis after he fled the lab complex. The Filipino boy moved stiffly, reeling and uncomfortable, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed.

Karen knew the shock the other people on Orbitech 1 were feeling—the stunned resignation and growing fear that the nightmare would never end. But Ramis seemed worse off. He had not been there for the first RIF; he had not suffered the horrified astonishment that the rest of them had. He had heard about it, but that was not enough.

Karen felt sorry for the boy in an almost maternal way as she searched for him. She smiled at that. She and Ray had never had any children, which was no surprise—they couldn’t find enough time for each other in the relationship, so how could they possibly have introduced a wild card like a child?

Karen had wanted children, though. She and Ray had discussed it, but always conditionally. We’ll talk about it after this. Or we’ll wait and see how that turns out. After they had been married for five years, Karen had had the estrogen implant on the inside of her left arm removed, theoretically making her fertile again, but nothing had happened.

She looked for Ramis in the Japanese garden, the obvious place for him to have gone to find peace. But Watchers were there, planting some confiscated plants and inspecting the progress of the wall-kelp.

Karen found him on the darkened observation deck in one of the plush lounge chairs, staring out into the blizzard of stars. The smoky belt of the Milky Way swept across the view along the Galactic plane, but the spatters of outlying stars were impressive even in the dimmest areas.

Karen didn’t see him at first, with his dark hair, sitting so still in the chair. “Ramis?”

He didn’t get up. He must have heard her approach. “I’m just looking at the stars.”

She lost her voice, and had to cough before words would come out again. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I can’t stay here anymore.” His words sounded sad and devastated. “The embryos I brought with me will not be ready to go for a year. I cannot return to the Aguinaldo.” She didn’t know what to think, or if she should humor him. “I have found where I want to go.”

Then Karen saw he had raised a hand and pointed out the window. With the broad sea of stars, it was difficult to follow exactly where he pointed, but she knew he meant the brilliant point of light, brighter than anything in view.

“Look in the observation scope,” Ramis said.

She stepped forward and pressed her eyes against the cushioned eyepieces. The shining torus of the silent Soviet Kibalchich burst into view.

“Ramis, you can’t get over there—you can’t go over there. I don’t think they’ve made contact with us since just after the War. They warned everyone to stay away.”

He didn’t look at her, didn’t move in his chair. “I can get there. It is only a hundred kilometers. I can Jump.”

For the first time, Karen realized that Ramis was serious, not just fantasizing. Then a deep fear for him struck her. She put her hand on his shoulder; he flinched, then relaxed.

“Ramis, that’s too dangerous. It’s foolish! You can’t—” She cut herself off and remembered that Ramis had indeed flown by himself all the way from L-4.

“It can’t be any worse than here.” His next words were spoken in a soft, cold whisper. “The most frightening part is going to be asking Brahms for permission.”

ORBITECH 1—Day 37

In the director’s office, Ramis tried to remain still. He sat up straight and met Brahms’s gaze. Karen Langelier remained beside him, giving him moral support, but Ramis knew this was his show—the confrontation would be up to him.