Fluency

26

Jane perched herself upon the front edge of the oversized command chair and scooted back with a distinct lack of grace. It reminded her of being a child in an adult’s chair and she was glad there were no other eyes on her. She’d have to work out a more dignified way to manage the seat eventually. It had some mechanism of adjustment, but she was too nervous to mess with it at the moment.

The bridge of the ship felt absurdly large with only Jane’s solitary presence. She plucked and tugged at the complex latch to strap herself into the seat and noted there were four rows of glittering consoles and their corresponding empty seats in front of her as well as a large screen broadcasting the image of some asteroids and a distant grey ball she assumed was Jupiter. Ei’Brai had told her she didn’t need to physically be on the bridge, but it seemed like that was where she needed to be.

Her muscles ached with tension, but she was ready. If this went poorly, she had her seat belt on at least, she thought, shaking her head. Ei’Brai was waiting for her to begin, a palpable sense of excitement permeating his communiques.

She gave the command.

The bridge receded instantaneously. Her thoughts plummeted to the bowels of the ship with a sickening lurch. Time slowed to what felt like minutes between heartbeats.

She felt the engines flare to life—a white-out that temporarily blinded her. The ship rumbled around her, through her. The heat made her vision hazy. Something was spinning, momentum was building…microseconds ticked by…the energy actively transmuted to force and then to motion.

They were underway.

She could sense the movement herself, through him.

A triumphant laugh bubbled up out of her. She trembled, gripping the command console with white knuckles. I am doing it!

She felt a release of tension from Ei’Brai. He, too, reveled in the sensation of movement. Waves of approval flowed over her.

And from the third party within the Anipraxic circle, she heard wordless cheering. Warmth and pride gushed from Alan. She heard him utter, the whispered words caroming around inside her head but not really taking hold, “That’s my girl!”

Ei’Brai fed her the complex equations needed to move through three-dimensional space. Jane comprised the personification of the physical relay that was necessary between Ei’Brai and the ship’s computer to execute them.

She breathed deeply, striving to juggle this new level of control while staying in touch with herself and her surroundings. The distance closed quickly. The capsule came into view on the large screen in front of her. It was time to add another level of complexity to the mix.

“Please reestablish communications with Providence, Ei’Brai.” she commanded crisply.

“Hailing, Qua’dux Jane Holloway.”

Jane straightened in her seat, concentrating on the image of Providence. Ei’Brai sifted through data coming from arrays of sensors that converged on the capsule.

She was beginning to see the advantage of the Anipraxic link. It was pure genius, really. It reduced the amount of information that had to be articulated out loud—it was all right there—information streaming in real time. If Ei’Brai noted anything of importance, she knew it immediately. When every second counted, that could save lives.

“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.

It suddenly occurred to her that back on Earth, the maneuver she’d just performed would have been recorded. They also may have received some unsettling transmissions from Providence over the last few days. The folks in Houston and Washington were probably beside themselves with worry and apprehension. She’d need to send them a reassuring message ASAP. But that would have to wait a few more minutes.

“Ok. Let’s just stay here for a while, then,” she said abstractedly.

“Full stop, Qua’dux?”

Jane sighed. “Yes, full stop.”

“It would be advisable to don protective gear before approaching the vessel.”

“Ei’Brai—”

“Your colleagues are not themselves; their actions, unpredictable. I urge prudence, Qua’dux.” His voice vibrated with insistence.

Jane turned a corner and stopped short. A single suit of armor squatted in the middle of the hallway. Ei’Brai had sent it there to wait for her.

Jane shook her head, remembering Alan’s response to the armor. “I don’t want to frighten them.”

“That hardly matters,” Ei’Brai countered disdainfully. “A single ballistic missile could bring dusk upon you. Prevention is preferable to remorse.”

His reasoning was selfish, but he was right, she conceded. She’d harbored a childish hope that the ionic burst alone would instantly cure them. That wasn’t realistic. If she really was to save them, she had to protect herself from them. She stripped down, wadded up her clothing, and shoved it into an armored compartment, then stepped into the suit.

The suit conformed to and integrated with the brace she wore on her right leg. It enveloped her, squeezing her lightly, like a warm hug. The HUD came up. She silenced its prompts with a thought.

Ei’Brai’s voice vibrated in an effusive manner that she hadn’t heard before. “This endeavor has proceeded more than satisfactorily, Qua’dux Jane Holloway. We work proficiently together, despite our nascent alliance. As I predicted, we comprise a union far superior to the sum of its components. An illustrious future awaits us. There will be elaborate tales woven into great tapestries of narrative about this exalted day. The female Terran, Quasador Dux Jane Holloway and the sislix Kubodera, Ei’Brai.”

Jane didn’t reply. She wasn’t in it for fame and glory on some remote planet. He knew that.

He wasn’t really either—well, not much anyway. It was just easier for him to say these kinds of things than to express gratitude for her companionship, for accepting the role he knew she didn’t really want. But she knew how he felt. It was an undercurrent in every conversation. She wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet. It was too fresh.

She stretched and flexed within the suit, retrieving the muscle memory she needed to operate it smoothly, and turned to resume her course toward chamber 246.

The capsule was locked from the inside. No one responded to her attempts at communication. Standing outside, she could hear muffled voices. From time to time the capsule vibrated.

Finally, Jane activated a cutting tool embedded in the armor and carefully circumscribed the outline of the hatch. There was a loud hiss as the pressure between the two environments equalized. Jane grasped the hatch and lifted it outward with exceeding slowness, so as not to alarm anyone inside.

Even with Ei’Brai’s preparation, she was shocked. Walsh was slumped in a corner, his eyes vacant and glazed over. Ajaya was perched on top of Gibbs, hammering a fist into his face, repeatedly. Gibbs pulled his knees to his chest and used them to push Ajaya off him. Ajaya picked up a piece of analytical equipment and raised it over her head when she caught sight of Jane.

Jane backed up a step. “Ajaya? It’s me, Jane, inside this suit.”

Ajaya growled. Her eyes had gone feral. She launched herself at the opening in the hatch, clambered through, and knocked Jane to the floor.

The HUD flashed several options. One of them was an anti-combatant sedative injection. That sounded like a fantastic idea. The suit calculated Ajaya’s mass and prepared the dose.

Ajaya raged on top of Jane, spittle flying, hair whipping around her face.

Jane stayed limp and rocked in the suit until the dose was ready so she wouldn’t inadvertently hurt Ajaya.

A sound came from the capsule. It was Gibbs climbing out of the hatch. His face was bloody, contorted and swollen. Ajaya ceased beating Jane’s armored head against the floor and turned, eyes wild.

It was the perfect opportunity. Jane injected her in the stomach.

Ajaya bucked and screamed, but fell limp on top of Jane a second later.

Jane eased Ajaya to the floor and rolled to her feet. She held out a hand. “It’s me, Ron. It’s Jane.”

He shook his head slowly. He circled her in a crouch. He was like a coiled cat, ready to pounce, but warily exploring his options before deciding his next move.

Jane realized he might slip out the door into the hallway. She didn’t relish the idea of chasing him around the ship. Ei’Brai shut that door before Jane could even formulate a question.

That seemed to make the decision for Gibbs. He barreled into Jane, knocking her back into the capsule with a crash. She was ready with the sedative. It was over a second later.

Jane slipped Gibbs to the floor and staggered back to survey the scene. She felt a little weak from the emotional turmoil of the day. What would she have done if the decades-old sedative hadn’t worked? She didn’t want to contemplate that.

Ei’Brai was silent. The nanites had not been his fault. She couldn’t blame him for this. They’d taken a million different risks when they stepped aboard the Speroancora and a million more when they’d gone in without protective suits. The nanites were programed to seek out and attach themselves to humanoids. It was a small miracle that she and Alan had remained clear.

The tight quarters of the capsule must have allowed the nanites to infect all three of them and replicate rapidly. Ei’Brai had been correct when he’d dissuaded her—she wouldn’t want to be in any of their heads right now. All three of them needed some quality time in the Sanalabreum. She just hoped it would be able to reverse the damage done to them.

She slipped back into the hallway for the stretcher she’d left there and piled all three of their bodies onto it. It was undignified, but they’d never know as long as she got them all to the medical chambers as soon as possible.

She retracted the helmet as she pushed off for the nearest deck transport. The worst of this business was over. It was time to tie up the remaining loose ends from her past and look ahead.

The future seemed inscrutable, formidable, frightening, but…exciting.

She couldn’t wait.