Нэнси Кресс - If Tomorrow Comes

“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.”