Нэнси Кресс - If Tomorrow Comes

Isabelle stood in Big Lab, watching four Kindred rebuild the shattered east wall. Earlier in the day the three men and one woman had carted in karthwood, nails, tools, just as the bodies of the bomb victims were being carried out. Representatives of their lahks had come to take the remains of the two Kindred home, even though the spore cloud was so close that Marianne wondered if they would have time to reach their villages. She hadn’t asked. The Kindred carpenters worked in silence. Zoe Berman stood beside them, her rifle trained on the workers; Mason Kandiss stood outside, scanning the camp. Undoubtedly Owen Lamont or Leo Brodie perched on the roof. Maybe both of them.

Marianne didn’t answer Isabelle, who was in no mood to appreciate Jonathan Swift’s doggerel. Instead she said, “The Rangers will go after Kayla and Austin once the compound is secure.”

“Are you sure of that?” Isabelle said.

Marianne wasn’t. She searched for something to ease the terrible twisted tension in Isabelle’s face, to make Isabelle feel better. “Lily still isn’t sick from the vaccine. So apparently it’s not harmful.”

“Which doesn’t mean it will be effective.”

“True enough,” Marianne said. Isabelle didn’t want to feel better.

Big Lab had been cleaned up, debris swept out and benches washed. It no longer looked like a war zone, and the rebuilding would be done by nightfall, although now they scarcely needed the space. It wasn’t only corpses that were departing the compound; once it was secure again, the remaining Kindred would all leave for their lahks. They had nothing more to do here. The means to make more vaccine had been destroyed in the rush to steal it, and the remaining doses would be given to the Kindred scientists going back to their lahks, to do with as they wished. The only people left in the secured compound would be Marianne, Noah and his family, Branch, Isabelle, Salah, and the four Rangers. All of whom Lamont was prepared to defend until, apparently, the end of time.

And then, after the spore cloud, if any Kindred survived, it would be a whole new, and wholly unknown, situation.

Salah emerged from the walkway. He eyed the Rangers with dislike. “I wish it didn’t look so much like slave labor, building their masters’ dacha under armed guard.”

“They volunteered,” Isabelle said. “It’s a form of atonement for what the others did.”

“I know,” Salah said. “But that’s not what I came to say.” He lowered his voice. “Come away from where they might hear.”

Marianne and Isabelle followed him to the far corner. Salah kept his voice down. “There’s two things I think you should both know, as lahk Mothers.”

“I’m not—”

“Just listen, Marianne. I don’t know how significant this is, but it seems it might be. First, I’m pretty sure that Owen Lamont is on popbite.”

“What’s that?” Isabelle said, which saved Marianne’s asking.

“A street drug that acts on multiple brain centers to produce prolonged wakefulness and a sense of power. With prolonged use or in excessive doses, it promotes paranoia and then hallucinations.”

Isabelle said sharply, “How do you know?”

“I’m a doctor, Isabelle.”

Marianne said, “The other Rangers?”

“No. Not yet anyway. But of course, he might decide to share. Here’s the other thing: Three times now I’ve seen Brodie in what looked like secretive conversations with Kindred at the edge of camp, when the other Rangers weren’t around. The Kindred had pipe guns and Brodie didn’t disarm them.”

Marianne said, “I don’t understand. What are you implying?”

Isabelle said, “He’s implying that Leo Brodie is somehow cooperating with or encouraging violence in the camp. Why not say it outright, Salah? You think Leo is betraying us, betraying the Ranger creed, a thoroughly evil guy. Just spit it out!”

“I didn’t say—”

“Yes, you did. The Rangers are dangerous to us, they’re on paranoid drugs, they collude with killers, we shouldn’t trust them at all. I didn’t think you could be so paranoid yourself. Or so petty.” She stalked back to the clinic.

Salah looked stunned. Marianne said, “She’s just worried sick about her sister and nephew.”

“Yes,” Salah said, and then, “No. She… never mind. I’m sorry I spoke. I just thought the two of you ought to know what’s going on with the Rangers.” He left.

Going after Isabelle? Marianne didn’t know, and didn’t really want to. She pulled at the skin on her face. Too much was happening: to her family, to the Terrans, to the compound, to the planet. She stepped forward until she could see out of the rapidly diminishing hole in the wall.

The sun was just setting in a blaze of orange. One moon floated high over the eastern horizon. The brightest of the unfamiliar stars shone faintly; soon fainter stars would frame them, forming unfamiliar constellations that Marianne could not name. And somewhere out there, in orbit around another alien planet, was the Kindred colony ship, full of leelees infested with parasites that might save this planet. Leelees chittering, smelly, all alive-o, and unreachable.

Claire went all over Haven, inspecting shelves, studying equipment. At first Tony accompanied her, explaining, but she never spoke to him or acknowledged his presence. Nor did she acknowledge that her ass was partly exposed and very bruised from Austin’s having dragged her. Austin tried not to look at that, and looked.

Finally Tony said, “Austin, you take her around. Just don’t let her touch anything at all—nothing, you hear? And stay out of the room where Nathan and Graylock are working!”

They weren’t rooms, they were just caves or parts of caves, sometimes with curtains hung from poles at their entrances. That was clearer than ever to Austin, seeing Haven through Claire’s eyes. Caves with rough floors, or dripping water, or supplies stacked untidily on rough shelves of karthwood, or equipment brought inside in pieces and then reassembled, the tools and packing material scattered around, along with plates of half-eaten food. Behind a curtain, Kayla slept on a not-very-clean pallet.

When Tony had gone, Claire said, “Working on what?” She didn’t look directly at Austin, hadn’t looked directly at him since they’d arrived.

“What?”

“Tony said Nathan and Graa^lok are working. On what?”

“Equipment.”

“What equipment?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does the equipment do?”

“I don’t know.” She was making him feel stupid. He hated her. He didn’t hate her. He couldn’t stop looking at her ass.

Claire said, “What medicines do you have?”

Glad to know the answer to something, Austin led her to the shelf stockpiled with glass jars and bioplast containers. Claire opened some, sniffed, squinted at the Kindred writing, series of squiggles and dots and lines. “Can you read this?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me what they say.”

He did, feeling important again, until Claire said, “I don’t know what these are in English, or even if English analogs exist. I don’t know what they’re for. I don’t know the conventional doses. You wanted a doctor, but as far as meds go, I will be useless to you without my own case of Terran drugs.”

Importance crumbled. Austin clutched at her hand. “Please don’t tell Tony that! Please!”

For the first time, she turned her head to gaze at him. “Why not?”

“He’ll send me back to get your drugs! To steal them! And Noah and Isabelle will keep me there, they’ll make sure I can’t escape again, and the spore cloud is coming—”

“What do you think is going to happen when the spore cloud comes?”