Lifeline

Chapter 4

ORBITECH 1—Day 1

Fifteen minutes! Duncan McLaris fought with himself not to call up the time again. He sat in the plush viewing chair in the Orbitech 1 observation alcove. His five-year-old daughter Jessie squirmed and tugged her hand from his grip.

“Not so hard, Diddy!”

He had turned all the lights down so that the reddish glow did not interfere with the panorama of stars. Normally the ocean of space filled him with awe, made him forget all the trivial problems of being Production Division leader. Now, those “trivial problems” outweighed anything he had ever endured before.

The first scattered reports implied that a good portion of Earth’s population had survived the War, but most communications were wiped out from the electromagnetic pulse. As McLaris had guessed, they were utterly incapable of sending any more supply ships, probably for years. That didn’t surprise him: when only one of the early NASA shuttles had exploded, the entire nation’s space program was grounded for three years. This disaster was much more extensive than a single explosion. Their entire industrial base had probably been knocked to its knees.

As Orbitech 1 rotated, the great shining ball of the Moon swung into view. It seemed so bright, like a bowl filled with hope. Clavius Base lay on the Moon’s surface. The oldest of the space settlements, it had been set up as a stepping-stone for the Lagrange colonies. And since supply shuttles had a vastly more difficult job entering and leaving the Moon’s deep gravity well, Clavius Base had been forced to become self-sufficient much sooner than the other colonies.

“Diddy, what star is that?” Jessie’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

McLaris looked where his daughter pointed. Her little finger smeared against the crystal, but he had learned to sight along her arm. “That’s called Fomalhaut, honey.” He wasn’t certain, but he knew she’d be disappointed if he didn’t come up with some answer for her. “The Arabs named it.” She giggled at the strange-sounding name, but seemed satisfied.

She wore her reddish-brown hair in braids. McLaris had never been able to decide if Jessie really preferred her hair that way, or if she just wanted her father to spend the time braiding it.

The first time he had tried it, back when his wife was still on Orbitech 1, McLaris had done nothing more than make a tangled mess of Jessie’s hair. Taking it upon himself as a father’s duty, he sat up late by the light of a small glow-lamp, toying with strings in his hand, studying the diagrams and instructions he had called up on the big screen of his terminal, practicing how to braid hair. Diane slept restlessly in their bed beside him, probably dreaming about hills and trees and fresh air.

McLaris glanced at his watch again in the observation alcove. Close enough. “Ready to go, Jessie?” He tried to sound cheerful, to keep the quaver out of his voice. “Take a last look.”

“Ready.” She grasped her toy synthesizer/keyboard (she called it her “keeburd”) like a teddy bear. McLaris had built it for her from a kit, and she played it relentlessly. He had told Jessie she could take only one of her toys with them tonight, and her decision had not surprised him.

He drew a deep breath and stood up, adjusting the lights in the observation room back to normal. He blinked, waiting to become accustomed to the brightness. Jessie rubbed her eyes but grinned. She didn’t look at all worried—she seemed to have a lot of faith in her daddy’s abilities.

McLaris didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to think. He would become frightened if he wasted too much time thinking. This was not the type of decision one made rationally.

The others would realize the implications of the War soon enough. Brahms probably already had, but hadn’t yet decided what to do. And if McLaris was to have a chance to save himself and Jessie, he had to do it now, before Brahms decided to act.

McLaris forced his breathing to become even and shallow, though his heart continued to pound. He grasped Jessie’s hand, almost dragging her along with his rapid steps. She clutched his fingers and followed as best she could, uncomplaining.

He kept a complacent half-smile on his face. Some of the workers in his Production Division greeted him, but most looked shocked and disturbed, too wrapped up with the very idea of the War itself, the devastation of their home planet.

You’re all doomed, McLaris thought. Have a nice day.

He and Jessie stepped into one of the rapid-lift shafts that led through a spoke of the habitation torus to the central core. At this end of the colony, the zero-G core contained the docking bay for the supply shuttles.

McLaris squeezed Jessie’s shoulder. “Remember what I told you, Jessie. This is very important.”

“Yes,” she said with a confidence and dignity that made him want to hug her again.

Their survival would depend on it.

As the spoke-shaft elevator took them from the rim to the zero-G core, they felt disoriented as gravity decreased. They fell half a mile in only two minutes. Jessie clung to McLaris’s side, quiet and obedient, but wide-eyed with excitement. The doors opened to the docking bay, and Jessie’s face glowed with wonder when she saw the Miranda.

McLaris breathed a prayer, relieved that he could see no one else. Though only an hour had passed, Director Roha Ombalal had declared a holiday while he consulted with the division leaders. Unfortunately, McLaris would not be able to make the meeting.

Stephanie Garland floated out of the shuttle, then looked at her watch. McLaris nodded.

“Come on inside, Jessie.” The pilot held out her hands.

McLaris picked up his daughter. Jessie giggled in anticipation. He counted, “One … two … three!” then, bracing himself, tossed her in the zero gravity toward the shuttle-tug. Jessie loved it, laughing all through her brief flight. Garland snagged her, swung her down to the hatch, and took her inside the Miranda.

After ensuring they were alone in the bay, McLaris sealed the spoke-shaft elevator door. He heard the forceful hiss as the airlock frame set itself against the impending vacuum of space. Moving surely, he pried off the lift’s control panel plate and plucked out the operating wires. As fast as he could maneuver in the zero-G bay, he circled to the remaining five spoke-shaft doors and deactivated them as well.

He launched himself toward the other side of the bay to where the great titanium doors stood closed against the vacuum. Feet drifting from the floor, McLaris fumbled with the control box and activated the bay door sequence. Rotating magenta lights went on at all four corners of the bay, bathing the silver walls with a flickering glow, like a rippling sunrise on Earth. Red skies at morning, sailor take warning.

A klaxon sounded twice, paused, then sounded again. A synthesized voice blared from the intercom. “Warning! The airlock sequence has been activated. Please evacuate the chamber at once. The airlock sequence has been activated….”

McLaris entered the control code on the wall keyboard. Being a division leader had its advantages. The main computer accepted his command. He set the airlock timer to open in one minute.

When he pushed himself back to the Miranda, he judged his trajectory incorrectly and almost missed—which would have sent him floating to the other side of the cavernous bay. Right now, he had no time to lose on clumsiness. He managed to snare one of the shuttle’s struts, reorient himself, and propel his body feet-first through the hatch.

He sealed the shuttle door from the inside. With a glance around, he saw that Jessie had already been strapped in. She sat rigidly quiet, looking terrified.

“We’ve got less than one minute,” McLaris announced as he eased himself into the copilot’s padded chair.

“One minute! That’s not enough time to depressurize the chamber!”

“We’re not going to cycle through. I’m dumping it—explosive decompression.”

Garland’s eyes were wide.

“It can be done. Emergency procedure.” McLaris shrugged. “It would take an hour to drain the air out of here if we did it by the book. We don’t have that kind of time. Somebody would stop us by then. They can replenish the air from the leftover lunar rocks they’ve got floating around here. I’m just worried it’ll push the colony out of orbit.”

Garland shook her head sounding practical again. “No way. The air doesn’t have enough momentum. And besides, the Orbitech stabilizer jets would compensate.”

McLaris glanced up and saw three faces at the observation windows of the docking bay control room. The figures gestured wildly at the Miranda. Soon they gave up and pounded on the glass window.

McLaris smiled to himself. He had already disconnected all the wires from the appropriate control panels. He had done no damage, nothing that couldn’t be fixed—but it would take them hours to get it working again. By then it would be too late. The Miranda—McLaris, Jessie, and Stephanie Garland—would be long gone.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Garland said. Her voice had taken on a panicked high pitch. “It’s only been an hour. What if it’s a false alarm? What if things aren’t as bad as we think?”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“News reports always get exaggerated in a crisis. What if—”

McLaris glared at her. “Do you have a weapon on board?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell them I took it, held you hostage, and forced you to fly out. There, your ass is covered. Happy now?”

McLaris flicked the external intercom, and suddenly klaxon sounds filled the cockpit of the Miranda. The computer voice blared from the intercom again.

“The airlock will open in twenty seconds. You have fifteen seconds to evacuate. Emergency. Evacuate immediately.”

McLaris strapped himself into the copilot’s chair and reached behind him, extending his fingers toward Jessie, but the straps kept him from touching her. He waved instead. “It’s okay, baby. Just be brave.”

“I am, Diddy.”

“I’m going to lift us up,” Stephanie Garland said. She looked beaten and very frightened. “When those doors crack, we’ll be blasted out of here with the rest of the air.”

McLaris nodded. “The sooner we get away from here, the better.”

Garland moved one of the joysticks. The craft hesitated, then jerked free of its moorings. McLaris could hear the attitude jets. The hissing sound cut off, but the Miranda continued to drift slowly upward, without gravity to pull it back down.

“Five seconds …”

McLaris swallowed, but his throat felt raw. It should be just about—

The giant docking bay doors slid open, and the crack widened like a yawning mouth. The blackness of space spun under them. As the air rushed out, McLaris could imagine he heard the howling wind.

The Miranda lunged forward, buffeted from side to side. Like a roller coaster ride, the shuttle-tug burst through the opening doors.

The air froze into a silvery mist of ice crystals that floated around the shuttle. McLaris gripped the arms of his seat, but the acceleration wasn’t great enough to cause discomfort.

Garland slapped at her control panel, igniting the thrusters that pushed them away from the colony.

McLaris looked down at Orbitech 1—the majestic Lagrange colony he had called home for nearly a year—as it dropped away behind them. The colony looked like two spoked wheels fastened to each end of a thick axle: two giant counter rotating toruses, each half a mile in radius, connected through the center by a mile-long cylinder that did not rotate. The central cylinder provided a large zero-G environment for labs and manufacturing areas.

Floating above the entire colony shone the broad but delicately thin mirror, discontinuous to reflect sunlight to the louvered mirrors on the rims of both toruses. McLaris turned his head away from the colony and looked instead for the Moon. Their survival lay there.

Garland flicked on the radio, and a hubbub of angry chatter burst at them. Disconnected shouting, dismayed and astonished questions: “Miranda, where are you going?” “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

McLaris had taken them by surprise. He allowed a satisfied smile to creep onto his face. Relief filled him like ice water, and he felt ready to melt. They were going to make it—they had passed the major challenge. The shuttle was free of Orbitech 1.

One sharp voice cut though the babble on the radio. The other voices fell silent. McLaris felt his heart pause with animal fear as he recognized the voice of Curtis Brahms.

“Damn you, McLaris!” He could not possibly have measured the amount of anger and betrayal in the associate director’s voice. “Damn you!”

McLaris desperately reached forward and switched the radio off.

Behind him, Jessie cried.