Lifeline

Chapter 60

L-5—Day 72

The sight from the external monitor showed the sail-creatures barely moving with respect to the rotating Kibalchich. Luis Sandovaal held his breath out of anticipation. The cluster of sail-creature bodies showed as glimmers against the starry sky. Sandovaal caught only a wisp of the organic sails as they extended across the gravity well, aiming for the heart of L-5.

The armada reached past Orbitech 1 and the Kibalchich, like a giant piece of tissue separating two armies. The sails would not appear to be a formidable foe, but the symbolism in the gesture should be clear to everyone on the two colonies. Any act of violence between the Kibalchich and Orbitech 1 would have to destroy the sail-creatures, and would thus be directed against the Filipino people as well.

Sandovaal pressed his lips together in a grim line. “Dobo, I hope you are ready to be brave,” he said into the direct communications link. “We will show these people that no one can stake a political claim again. Our actions affect all of the survivors away from Earth. We cannot behave like children on a playground.”

It was the only way they were going to survive, he knew. If anyone went against the unified body, then the human race might not survive. United we stand, and all those other patriotic sayings, he thought to himself.

Dobo’s voice came over the speakers. “I am glad you are here, Dr. Sandovaal. I hope Ramis will be all right.”

Sandovaal wondered why Dobo put up with so much from him here, so far away from the Aguinaldo. “I am glad you are here, too, Dobo,” Sandovaal whispered, but he kept his voice so quiet that he doubted Dobo could hear. Which was what he had unconsciously intended anyway.

Sandovaal watched the monitor. The Kibalchich and Orbitech 1 continued to orbit around L-5. The sail-creatures slid between them, a wall of passive resistance.

Luis Sandovaal switched the monitor from external back to the open intercolony ConComm. Orbitech 1 personnel yammered about the armada of sail-creatures being off course, but admitted that sails were difficult to steer anyhow. Sandovaal snorted. A separate window on the channel remained devoted to the ascent of the Phoenix.

The Aguinaldo had done its part in bringing the colonies together. And now Clavius Base had joined in the task. Sandovaal envisioned all the colonies connected by a lifeline of sail-creatures and weavewires. He felt confident that his ploy would work in preventing the Kibalchich from any aggressive act—if, in fact, it could be prevented.

Sandovaal felt warm, satisfied that his life’s work had played an integral part in the unification. The rest of the journey, and even the remainder of his career back on the Aguinaldo, would be spent tying up the loose ends of his work. He punched off the ConComm and moved to transmit a message that he had altered his course on purpose.

But as he reached for the control, his right arm went numb, ice cold. All feeling stopped. He tried to flex his hand—nothing. No pain, no feeling. He started to twist and felt a stab across his rib cage, through his stomach.

Heart attack, he thought. Strange that I feel no chest pain. I must contact Dobo and let him know.… He felt tired. Thoughts flashed into blackness, as if they were leaking out of his head. Dobo. Yes, Dobo can carry on. He had, after all, studied under one of the greatest biological engineers of all time.

Sandovaal coughed. Blood came out of his mouth, bubbling, boiling in tiny swirls and globules in zero-G. He had trouble breathing. Air whooshed past him. His eardrums pounded.

He noticed a small slit in the sail-creature cavity, growing wider. Air rushed out, water vapor crystallized, leaving a thin sheen of ice covering everything in the cavity.

They had flown into the weavewire.…

Unlike MacArthur, he knew he would never return.

As he died, Sandovaal cursed himself for his idiotic incompetence.