Нэнси Кресс - Tomorrow's Kin

He opened the door and made it stay open with a stool he dragged across the floor. A few mice ran out the lab door, toward the smells of food farther into the ship.

Softly Marianne tried the bridge door: locked from the inside. She would have to get Judy to open it. But how? Over the wall screen Marianne could hear what was said on the bridge, but Judy had told her that was one-way communication. And of course, Judy had no idea what Marianne was going to do. Judy just hoped Marianne would do something .

Beyond the door, Stubbins said, “Time until we’re in range?”

Wilshire said, “Another half hour, if everybody holds speed and direction.”

“Judy—any indication that this boat is gonna jump into hyperspace or anything like that?”

“I told you, Jonah, we have no fucking idea. I’m still trying to figure out what the drive is already doing, let alone what it will do.”

“Well, keep trying,” Stubbins said, and Marianne heard the dangerous edge in his voice. “Eric, NASA still jabbering at us?”

“Yeah, but we can arrange it so we have credible deniability.”

Stubbins grunted. Marianne thought: He’s actually going to do it.

This man was going to shoot down a Russian spaceship, despite what had to be a barrage of data coming at him from NASA, from the military, from the White House, from the UN. Maybe even from the Russian ship itself. How did Stubbins think he would get away with this? Would “credible deniability” be enough? Or was his massive narcissism so out of control that he thought nothing on Earth could stop him?

Nothing was.

Or maybe he planned on not going back to Earth afterward. If Wilshire and Judy could fly the Venture from here to World, there would be no human rivals to challenge Stubbins’s trade plans. Stubbins would arrive with only a fraction of the specialists he’d planned, but maybe he thought he could still negotiate—or wrest through terrorism—whatever he was after. The energy shield that had protected the Embassy so completely? With that, he might well be nearly invincible.

Judy said, “Jonah—I need the bathroom. Now. I really cannot wait.”

“Stay where you are!”

“All right,” she said, “but in about twenty seconds this bridge is going to stink of diarrhea and you’re going to choke on the stench. I’ll be gone maybe a minute. Nothing is going to happen in the next minute.”

Wilshire said, “Christ, Judy, we don’t even have a working bathroom.”

“There is,” she said with great and patently fraudulent patience, “a commode. Better than a pile on the bridge deck. A very loose and runny pile.”

“Oh, go!” Stubbins said. “Women!”

Marianne moved quickly from the line of sight from the bridge. She raised her loaded dart gun. If Stone accompanied Judy…

He didn’t. Judy slipped out alone and closed the bridge door behind her.

“I’m here,” Marianne said, gun raised. A sudden panic took her. What if she was wrong, if Judy hadn’t opened that one-way communications channel in order to gain Marianne’s help, if Judy was actually aiding Stubbins….

“Oh, thank God—what is that?” Judy said.

“Tranq gun.”

“You couldn’t get real firearms?”

“No!”

“Okay,” Judy said. “What’s in the gun? How long does it take to work?”

“Ketamine. About two minutes.”

“Two minutes ? That’s your plan? Those fuckers can pull out a dart in two minutes!”

“Plan? You think I’ve had time to put together a plan? Judy!”

“Okay, sorry.” She wrinkled her face into a fantastic topography of determination and fear. “We can make it work. Give me the gun. I’ll bet you’ve never fired a pistol in your life.”

True. Marianne said, “If you can hit the neck, that’s best. If—”

“No, wait,” Judy said. She darted to the bathroom and picked up a heavy wrench left by the workmen. “I’m going in first, and you fire. I’m going to hit Stone in the knees, break his kneecaps if I can. Hold the door open a tiny bit until you hear that, then rush in and fire at him first, then at Stubbins. Keep firing—do you have to reload?”

“Yes.”

Judy groaned. “Well, Stone first, then Stubbins. Eric’s a wuss. We have surprise on our side. Let’s go.”

“Judy—if we take them out—then what? The Mest’ —”

“One problem at a time. Ready?”

Marianne nodded, lying. She would never be ready for this. A sense of unreality fogged her mind: I’m a geneticist, not Delta Force. Then she crowded close behind Judy to go in.

The rest of the mice wouldn’t leave their cages. Probably they were scared. Colin was. The smell of the dead bad man was making his stomach all funny, so he left the lab and walked carefully through the storage place. The two mice stirred in his pocket but they couldn’t get out.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Colin whispered to them. “We’ll find Grandma.”

The mice made mouse noises, but that didn’t help.

He opened the door to the main cabin. Grandma was by the door to the bridge, her back to him, but before Colin could say anything, she rushed through and the bridge door closed behind her.

The door was left open only the smallest bit, but Stone saw it. “Shut the door,” he said to Judy. Marianne heard them not through the door but through the open channel of the wall screen.

Judy said, “God, that hurt. My ass—hemorrhoids—”

“I said—Arrhhhh!”

Marianne flung open the door. Judy had succeeded in whacking Stone in the knees, and he’d fallen back against the bulkhead. Marianne fired. The dart hit him in the neck. His face twisted into an expression she’d never seen on a human face. He roared, yanked out the dart, and threw himself toward her. Judy whacked him on the back of the head with the wrench and he went down.

But now Stubbins was on Marianne, wrenching the dart gun from her hand. He shouted something she couldn’t hear, something was wrong with her hearing, all sound blurred into a single noisy buzz. Jonah had the gun in one hand and his other came up and backhanded her across the face.

Words emerged in her head from the general buzz: If that had been his fist, I’d be gone. But it hadn’t been his fist and although the pain was incredible, But not as bad as childbirth —what a time to think of labor now—she rolled away. Judy tried to hit Stubbins with the wrench but he batted her away. She fell to the floor and threw it at him. It hit him in the face and his bellow filled the bridge like a gale.

He picked up the wrench and advanced on Judy.

Marianne had not the slightest doubt that he would beat her to death. Stubbins had dropped the tranq gun. Marianne crawled over to it and began reloading. But there was no time, no time—

Wilshire, who’d sat frozen in his chair, came to life now that the odds were so heavily in Stubbins’s favor. He jumped up and pinned Judy to hold her against the bulkhead just to the left of the door, so that Stubbins could better attack her.

“Stop!” a little voice cried. Colin stood in the doorway. “Don’t hurt Aunt Judy!”

Stubbins turned his head briefly, saw Colin, and turned back to Judy. He raised the wrench high above his head.

Something hit him in the face, then another something.

Mice. Colin had thrown two mice at Stubbins. Where had Colin gotten… oh God….

The soft squeaking projectiles distracted Stubbins just long enough for Marianne to stagger up and fire. The dart lodged itself in Stubbins’s neck. He groped to pull it out.

If Wilshire had still been holding Judy, Stubbins’s momentary pause wouldn’t have made any difference. But Wilshire shrieked, “Those mice are infected!” and let go of Judy. The mice, dazed, ran around on the floor. Wilshire pushed past Colin and ran off the bridge, slamming the door behind him. Judy rolled away from Stubbins.