If Tomorrow Comes

CHAPTER 13

Marianne rubbed the small of her back with her left hand. She’d been standing at her improvised “lab bench” for hours. I’m too old for this, she thought for the hundredth time. Although weariness sagged the faces of even the younger people.

She had lost track of how many doses of vaccine they had made, or could make before they had to begin administering it. All the data was fuzzy because it was built on still fuzzier data. Would the vaccine protect humans at all? If it did, how long did it take to become effective? How would they give it to just children without a riot from the childless adults in the camp? How much would the Rangers cooperate in keeping the process orderly instead of protecting the Terrans by keeping them prisoner in the compound? What would everyone do after the spore cloud hit and they had hundreds of dead bodies to—

Don’t think that far ahead.

Ka^graa said from his workstation, “You to go sleep, Marianne-mak.”

She shook her head, forcing a smile. Ka^graa was learning English, even though chances were strong that he would be dead soon and all language with him.

It wasn’t like her to dwell on tragedy. Always—well, almost always—work had been her distraction, her solace, her purpose. All at once, however, she wanted not to work but to see her family. She went to the closet where Noah, Llaa^moh¡, and Lily all slept on a single pallet. Llaa^moh¡ was working in the lab; Noah wasn’t in the room; Lily lay asleep, dark curls tangled on her coppery cheek, clutching a stuffed toy of no species known to her grandmother.

As Marianne continued toward the leelee lab, which she could smell through the closed door, Isabelle came out of what had once been Marianne’s room and grabbed Marianne’s arm.

“I have to tell you something.”

This wasn’t like Isabelle. Marianne removed Isabelle’s hand, which had clutched so hard it left dents in Marianne’s skin, and said, “Ree^ka is gone?”

“No, not yet. But she told me something. Come here, into my room. Close the door.”

Marianne did, her heart speeding up. What fresh hell now?

Isabelle said, “The Mother of Mothers says there is a way to call back the second Kindred ship.”

“What?”

“The second ship. They built two, you know, from the alien plans. The first one was the colony ship that encountered the spore cloud first, after it jumped to wherever it was preset to go. It—”

“I know. Branch has been trying to decode that weird pinging still coming from the ship. But Ree^ka-mak says there’s a way to call it back here?”

“Yes. They never did, because—”

“Because there was no point, with the ship infected with spores and everyone dead. And there still isn’t, Isabelle. That ship is contaminated. If it came here, all it would do is bring the spore cloud earlier.”

“Yes, I know that. But afterward—”

Then Marianne saw it. How had she been so stupid, so exhausted, so myopic? If they could call back the ship, then maybe they could go back to Earth. But—

“Did you say it was preset to go to this other planet? How could it go to Earth?”

“I don’t know. But maybe there are scientists who have made progress on figuring out the drive—”

“Isabelle,” Marianne said sternly, hearing too late that this was her tone for correcting graduate students who had just contaminated a lab sample with their own DNA, “if Terran scientists hadn’t figured out the drive, why do you think Kindred scientists could? And where is this… this call-back device, anyway?”

“Well, that’s part of the problem. It was on the ship that the Stremlenie destroyed. But apparently there exists somewhere another device that can call it back, only Ree^ka didn’t know where it is.”

“Ree^ka-mak didn’t know? You told me there’s no information on Kindred that the Mother of Mothers doesn’t have access to.”

“That’s true. But this… device is only indicated on the titanium tablets with the plans for building both ships. It wasn’t with the parts to build it. No one knows why.”

“I see. Look, I don’t think we should tell anyone about this. It’s a ship we can’t contact, can’t recall, and so can’t go travel to Earth in. But there are Terrans desperate to go back, and this will only just agitate them more.”

“Lieutenant Lamont,” Isabelle said. “Kayla. Branch. Maybe Steve. Yes, you’re right. There’s no point in agitating them more.”

“Especially the Rangers.”

It was the wrong thing to say; Isabelle had a far different view of the military than Marianne did. Marianne forced a smile and said, “Then we’re agreed? We keep this quiet?”

“Yes. For now, anyway.”

The two women stared at each other. Marianne had a sudden, surprising thought: I wish this girl and not Elizabeth were my daughter.

Disloyal, futile, disloyal. But it wasn’t the first time that Marianne had realized how much more she had in common with—and how much closer she felt to—Isabelle and Branch and Claire than to her own three children. Parenthood did not guarantee affinity, and that was a sorrow that too easily turned to reproach. But she was tired of heaping abuse on herself. She unlocked the leelee lab. Branch looked up from the equipment on the floor, beside which he knelt like some sort of pagan worshipper.

Branch said, “Do they need me? I’m sorry, I just wanted to—”

“Why don’t you find a bench for that thing so you don’t have to kneel on the floor?”

Branch stared at her blankly; his knees and back were all young.

Marianne said, more gently, “How is it going? Actually, I don’t even really know what you’re doing here. Fill me in. The colony ship is sending pings…”

Branch jumped lightly to his feet. “I’ve made contact with the ship through this jerry-rigged receiver. The Kindred haven’t even tried to listen to the pings since the real receiver was destroyed by the Stremlenie!”

“Well, they’ve been a little busy, Branch.”

“Even so! There wouldn’t be any human communication, obviously, but the ship was still transmitting some sort of data, probably positional and maybe also astronomical, and they just weren’t interested. Can you believe that?”

Marianne could. The Kindred combined intense practicality with their almost spiritual belief in their stewardship of the planet. The colony ship was of no practical use—was in fact a practical danger—and it was contaminated. How many Terran words were there for “unclean”? Treif, marime, desecrated, haram…

She said, “So you’re receiving signals. But—”

“But I can’t decode them. I’ve tried every number system I can think of. Primes, Fibonacci sequences, Feigenbaum numbers, everything. I’ve tried turning them into electromagnetic radiation, at least within the limits of the equipment. Noah’s been really good about bringing me whatever I ask for, if he can. I’ve tried to get text or visuals or sound or—”

“I meant, but what’s the point?”

Branch blinked. “To know. To understand.”

Pure science. Hadn’t she been dedicated to it, once? Yes, but not for a long time, not since the Kindred had landed on Earth and announced that doom was on its way behind them. Since then, she had pretty much abandoned pure science for its bastard daughter, technology.

“I see,” Marianne said, because she did, and her heart ached for him. There would be precious little pure science on World after the spore cloud. “Branch, I think you need to go back to the lab. There’s probably more to do at your stage of the vac-prep by now.”

“Yes. You’re right.”

They left, locking the door behind them, keeping safe a few chittering leelees, the negative-pressure cages of dead ones, and Branch’s heartbreaking, Rube Goldberg attempt to reach out to the stars.

The president or whatever she was, that very old lady, died. The scientists inside the compound got it together enough to make some vaccine. Then they called a meeting with the Rangers to do a mission brief.

Leo could have told Marianne and Noah and the rest that this was a bad idea. Owen already had his mission and he wasn’t budging from it. Protect the second-expedition scientists and then get the unit home. It really grieved Owen that he couldn’t bring the bodies of Colonel Matthews and Miguel Flores back to Earth. A Ranger left none of his unit behind.

But Owen attended the meeting inside the compound—for the intel, most likely—and he brought Leo, who was supposed to be on patrol, with him. Kandiss and Zoe held the position outside—not that anything much had been happening. Right now the biggest enemies were boredom and sleep deprivation. In Brazil, Leo had seen those two cause soldiers to do stupid things. Well, from what Noah was saying now, boredom at least would be over soon.

“So we’re going to begin the vaccinations tomorrow morning. The plan is for Isabelle, Dr. Bourgiba, and I to go into the camp and tell people that we are only vaccinating children. Then we’ll escort the kids in twos and threes to the east wall, where doctors Bourgiba and Patel will administer the vaccines. Then we walk or carry that group back and bring the next ones.”

“No,” Owen said. It was the first word he’d spoken.

“What do you mean, no?” Noah said.

“I mean no. You haven’t thought it through. You have vaccines outside the compound where people can see them, you’re going to get a rush on the station. Huge. I don’t want to have to shoot any more Kinnies than I have to.”

Why did Owen use that word? It had become ugly, like gooks or towelheads, and Owen knew it. It was like he was trying to alienate the scientists. Or maybe he just hated the planet so much that the word slipped out.

Even Kandiss had acknowledged, grudgingly and in very few words, that Owen was being eaten up inside, although nobody was sure by what.

Owen continued, “Bring the kids inside if you have to do this. We’ll cover you from both the roof and the ground and make sure the insurgents see that.”

Noah, his face tight, said, “They are not insurgents. The children will be much more frightened, and the mothers much more anxious, if we separate them. I suppose we can bring the mothers inside, too—”

“No,” Owen said.

Isabelle jumped in. “Noah, I think that Lieutenant Lamont is concerned about our safety. Even mothers have been used as suicide bombers on Earth, and—”

“We have no suicide bombers here!”

“—and the compound is more vulnerable if we keep opening and closing the gate. I’m not saying I agree with you, Lieutenant, but that is your concern, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then what do you propose?”

Leo’s heart swelled with pride in her, which was ridiculous because she wasn’t his. But damn she was good! She was the real shit.

Owen said, “Don’t administer any vaccine at all.”

Leo blinked. What? The vaccine was what the scientists had been working on day and night! Why would Owen say—

“You told us that you don’t know if the vaccine will work,” Owen said, the words coming out like he was laying down automatic fire. “If it does, it only helps one in three, at best. That one will probably get really sick. You can’t vaccinate more than maybe a few hundred kids anyway. Even if it’s five hundred, then we get a hundred and seventy sick kids, many or most of who might die along with the native scientists, and you have twelve Terrans to theoretically nurse them, one of those a kid himself and five not even here: Schrupp, Beyon, the McGuires, Kayla Rhinehart. So six adults to nurse a hundred and seventy sick and dying kids.”

He isn’t counting the squad, Leo thought.

“And then when we go home, how are you going to take with us any of the kids that survive? There won’t be room. And they would get sick all over again adjusting to Terra’s microbes.”

Go home? There was no way to go home. Looking at Own, seeing the set of his jaw like an erection, feeling the conviction rising off him like heat, Leo wondered for the first time if Owen was crazy. Battle fatigue, PTSD, whatever—guys got like that sometime. Except—

Everything Owen had just said was actually true.

Noah, his face as grim as Owen’s, said, “Lieutenant, we are going to administer this vaccine. Your opinion is not being sought about that. It’s being sought about the best way to do it without danger.”

“You can’t do it without danger.”

The two men glared at each other, Owen in full gear and Noah in his silly pale dress, and Leo had a sharp image from Brazil: a fight between an imported mongoose and a viper.

Owen added, “Right now I’m getting reports from the compound roof of troop movements, heading here.”

“Those aren’t ‘troop movements,’ they’re the arriving mourners for the Mother of Mothers’ funeral!”

“Do you think I haven’t seen insurgents use local customs to commit terrorism?”

Also true, Leo thought, and blocked his worst memories from Brazil.

Noah said evenly, “We are going to administer this vaccine. Period.”

“Then let Kinnie scientists take it into the camp. All the second-expedition Terrans stay inside the compound, where we can do our job protecting you. The Kinnies can take care of their own.”

Silence, except for the low hum of Salah’s translation. Owen had used the offensive term deliberately, twice.

Noah took a step forward, fists clenched. Before he—or Owen—could do anything stupid, Isabelle again jumped in. “It’s not a bad idea, Noah. We can take the vaccine into the camp. I’ve heard that there’s anti-Terran feeling there, and that it’s growing. If we Kindred are the ones to go in, not the Terrans, it might defuse any violence. Claire can teach you and me the procedure. Also Steve and Josh—they’re on their way here, finally.”

No. Not Isabelle.

Owen pushed it. “So I’m right that the Kinnies would attack humans?”

Appalled silence. Owen had to have said it deliberately, he was too smart to not know how that would be received, what was he playing at—

Noah said, “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Isabelle said hastily, “So we’re agreed? Tomorrow morning the Kindred and I take the vaccine into the camp?”

Leo waited for Owen to say Not you. He didn’t. He considered Isabelle and Noah to be Kindred, not Terran. And he didn’t care if they were caught in any violence. They weren’t part of his mission.

“I’m going, too,” Salah said. “I’m a doctor. Let Claire stay inside, but you’ll need all the translators you can get.”

“No,” Owen said, and strode out of the room before anyone could answer him.

The crowded, stuffy room smelled of contempt.

Leo returned to patrol, his head buzzing. As he jogged around the far perimeter, noon sunshine pouring sweat from under his helmet and down his arms, he saw the “troop movements” that Kandiss must have reported to Owen. He paused to raise his binoculars.

The land fell away just below where he stood, and he could see for kilometers. Fields, orchards, scattered lahks, the river tumbling in gentle stages from here to the bottom of the valley, shining amid the purplish vegetation. Dark birdlike things soared above the river. Up here, along the road about a klick away and two dozen strong, came a group of thirty Kindred. Some walked; some rode four-wheeled bicycles; a few were carried in open litters. Nearly all were women, and most were old.

Mothers. Come for the Mother of Mothers’ funeral. Leo almost laughed, except that it wasn’t funny. When Kandiss had reported, the procession was far enough away that he probably couldn’t see it was an army of old ladies. Besides, insurgents often used as terrorists those people less likely to raise suspicion: kids, women, old men. However, Leo would have bet his life that these weren’t terrorists. They were the heads of lahks, like governors of states back home, come to bury a president.

“Procession coming up the road from the east,” he reported. “Looks like a bunch of mourners. Mostly old women. I think they’re heading to the camp.”

“Copy that,” Owen said. “Resume patrol.” Leo watched a minute longer—they were slow—and then resumed patrol. The camp was quiet. Kindred took naps in the heat of the day, like Spanish or Italians. A sensible custom.

A lot of their customs were starting to seem sensible to him.

At the north side of the perimeter, a figure trudged toward him across a grazing field. Again Leo raised his binoculars. It was Austin Rhinehart.

Kandiss said from atop the roof, “Prodigal son returns.”

Leo vaguely remembered something about a prodigal from the Bible, but he couldn’t recall what. He waited for Austin to reach him. The kid looked filthy, exhausted, and miserable.

“Hey, Austin.”

“Hey, Leo.”

“Where you been?” And how did Leo get saddled with the role of truant officer? He didn’t care where Austin had been. Except that maybe he did, and the boy looked so unhappy.

Austin said shortly, “I was gone.”

“Well, I know that. You and your mother went with the Terrans who own the mine, right? The McGuire brothers?”

“Right.”

“So where’s your mom now?”

“Still with Steve and Josh.”

“Uh-huh. And why are you back, and from the wrong direction?”

“Leave me alone! You aren’t in my lahk!”

And give shit-thanks for that. But—

“Look, Austin,” Leo said. “It’s good you’re back. But you’re going to have some explaining to do. Everybody’s furious about that vaccine you stole.”

“What? I didn’t steal vaccine! I didn’t even know they made any yet!”

“Not vaccine they made. The original, from Earth.”

“I didn’t take it!”

Either the kid was telling the truth or he was a terrific liar. At Austin’s age, Leo had been a terrific liar. He let the vaccine drop.

“Okay, you didn’t take the vaccine. That still doesn’t tell me where you were.”

“With friends.”

“Where?”

Austin tried to push past. Leo caught him by the arm. The squad needed whatever intel Austin possessed. “Listen, Austin. I like you. But you were somewhere mysterious and Lieutenant Lamont doesn’t like mysterious. So you can tell me or you can tell him, and believe me, you’d rather tell me.”

Austin’s face changed. He didn’t recognize good cop–bad cop—no TV on Kindred. And he was afraid of Owen. Which made sense—Owen was pretty scary these days.

Austin said desperately, “I told you. I was away, with friends. Someplace secret.”

Leo loosened his grip a little and pretended a smile. “I had a secret castle at your age. Made of cardboard, in a tree.”

“It’s not a stupid castle in a tree! I’m not a kid!”

Leo realized his mistake. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m old enough to take care of my mother!”

“Where are you taking care of her?”

“Leave me alone, Leo! I’m tired!” He was blinking back tears.

“Where, Austin?” Leo tightened his grip again, just short of pain. “Who’s there?”

“Ask Noah! He knows! He followed me there once!”

“Noah followed you there? Noah knows everything?”

“Not everything! I’m the only one who knows everything! Ow, let me go, you’re hurting me!”

Leo didn’t let go. Better this for Austin than what Owen might do. “What doesn’t Noah know? Tell me that and I’ll let you go, as long as you tell me the truth. What’s at your friend’s place that Noah doesn’t know about?”

“Nothing important! Just a rusty old alien machine I found buried in sand in a cave! Well, it’s not rusty, but—it’s an alien pyramid! There! Are you satisfied? Noah knows everything else! Ask him!”

“I will.” Leo released Austin, who rubbed his eyes and then glared through the dirt on his face. “How’d you get so dirty?”

“It’s a fucking cave! Ask Noah!”

Leo believed him. Too bad he had to manhandle the kid to get the information. Although compared to what Leo had gone through at his foster homes on Terra… but this wasn’t Terra. And Leo wasn’t that kind of monster, and he didn’t want this boy, Isabelle’s nephew, to think he was. So he said quietly, “I’m sorry, Austin. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was just necessary. And can I ask you one more question? It’s something you know and I don’t, but I’d like to. Please.”

Leo’s tone—contrite, humble—clearly confused Austin. He said nothing, but after a moment he gave a grudging nod.

Leo said, “What’s ‘moe-moe’?”

“What?”

“I might not be pronouncing it right.” Deliberately so; let Austin feel superior.

“You mean ‘¡mo¡mo^’?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you want to know that for?”

“I’m curious. It’s a word Isabelle used.”

“And you like her. You want sex with her. Forget it,” Austin said with the viciousness of the aggrieved young, “she’s having sex with Dr. Bourgiba!”

Leo let go of Austin’s arm. Immediately the kid looked scared. Leo said, “Go on inside the compound. Face the music there.”

Austin looked puzzled; he didn’t know what the phrase meant. Then he scurried away, looking back once over his shoulder, fearful, like Leo might shoot him in the back. But before Austin reached the compound, he called back to Leo, “I’m sorry!”

Leo nodded that it was okay, because it was. Austin had just needed to get back at him. Now they were even, and the next time they met, Austin would be okay with him again.

Leo radioed Owen to say there was a secret place somewhere that Noah Jenner knew about. If it was a weapons cache—and Leo doubted that, Noah was no insurgent—then it was Owen’s job to decide what to do about it. If anything. It wasn’t like they didn’t have their hands full right here, come tomorrow and the vaccination program that might happen.

Or not.