Metaphase. Part 39

"Nemo must understand the problem," Stephen Thomas said. "Maybe it'll hurry up-"

J.D. glared at him angrily. "Hurry up and die?"

He shut up. J.D. wished she had overlooked his careless comment; surely he had not meant to sound so inconsiderate.

"I'm sorry-" J.D. said.

"Never mind." His voice was hard; he sounded the way he had yesterday, just before he stalked away from the AS repair. "You're right. Of course."

"I'm going," J.D. said. "I only wish you were all coming with me. You know that, I hope."

"Of course we do," Victoria said, worried. She kicked off gently toward her and embraced her again. They parted reluctantly. Satos.h.i.+'s hug was friendly, Stephen Thomas's brief and cool. Zev hugged her and kissed her cheek, her lips, the base of her throat.

And then the hatch was closing behind her and she was alone in the Chi.

J.D. hurried to the observation circle and strapped herself into her couch.

The hatch access retracted with a loud, mechanical clang. Arachne finished the launching check and gave over control to the onboard computer, an expert system that would ferry her to Nerno's s.h.i.+p, and back, without her intervention. She had not given it a second thought when she was on board the Chi with her colleagues; now, alone, she was worried.

How silly, she thought. No one in alien contact is a pilot. If the computer failed we'd all have been in trouble.

As far as she knew, Esther Mein was the only person on Starfarer who knew how to fly s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps. Every time someone proposed to save money by eliminating human 281.pilots from the transport runs, the proposal failed. Now J.D. understood why.

The edge of the dock slid past the transparent surface of the observers'

circle.

J.D. was free in s.p.a.ce.

Starfarer loomed, first a rock face, turning, beyond its support structure, then resolving into a pair of huge rock cylinders that faced her end-on, one spinning clockwise, the other counter-clockwise. Off to one side, the stellar sail gleamed in the sunlight. The sail powered Starfarer's headlong flight from Sirius, toward the cosmic string, toward its plunge into transition.

The Chi's engines vibrated. Their subsonic moan surrounded her. The acceleration pressed her gently toward the straps of her couch. The Chi spun so the observers' circle faced forward, away from Starfarer. The effect was of the acceleration moving around her, pus.h.i.+ng her first from the back, then from the side, finally settling her into the cus.h.i.+ons. The couch folded at her hips and knees, moving halfway to its chair configuration.

Starfarer fell behind her.

She could not yet pick Nerno's dark little planetoid from the starfield.

She felt alone, and isolated.

During her two previous trips on the explorer, she had often come to the circle and sat alone in the transparent chamber to watch the stars. The darkness and the beauty had been soothing. Now, riding the deserted s.h.i.+p away from Starfarer and her colleagues, she felt alone and apprehensive.Her veneer of confidence dissolved, revealing the bravado behind it.

She could feel the presence of her colleagues, watching her, as the public access transmitted her image back to the stars.h.i.+p. Instructing the computer to focus the exterior camera on Nerno's s.h.i.+p, J.D. transferred the image-to the public access transmission. Once she herself no longer occupied the center of public attention, she felt easier.

The PA channel reproduced Nerno's planetoid in the center of the observers' circle. Stark white light gleamed282 from the silk-filled craters and threw the rocky surface into deep relief.

Victoria's image appeared before J.D. The Milky Way shone faintly through the translucent image. The effect intensified J.D.'s impression that she was riding in a ghost s.h.i.+p.

"Want some company?" Victoria said.

"Yes.,, "About Stephen Thomas Victoria said. "I'm sorry. There's no excuse for his behavior."

J.D. could think of lots of excuses, or at least lots of reasons, and it surprised her that Victoria apologized for him instead of defending him.

But, of course, Victoria did not even know the real reason. J.D. supposed she should tell her, but she could not bring herself to do so.

"He's under a lot of stress." Trying to be tactful, J.D. ended up feeling evasive.

Victoria laughed. "But he thrives on stress. If he doesn't have enough in his life, he does something to stir more up."

J.D. smiled. "A useful trait, thriving on stress. I wish I had a touch of it myself."

"Everything will be all right," Victoria said. "I trust your instincts about Nemo. You were right about Europa and Androgeos."

"I guess I was," J.D. said. "I wish I'd been wrong."

J.D. was the one who had realized how desperately Europa wanted Victoria's transition algorithm: so desperately that she was willing, in effect, to steal it.

"Would you do me a favor?" J.D. asked.

"Of course."

"Ask Zev to stay with you while I'm gone? Divers don't spend much time away from their families."

She remembered how desperately lonely she had been on Starfarer at first, before Zev arrived, before Victoria first kissed her. She had felt like she was starving to death through her skin.

"As good as done," Victoria said.

"Thanks."

"J.D . . ." Victoria said. 283."Hmm?"

"Please come back before Starfarer goes into transition."

"I will if I can."

"You have to! It's too risky otherwise. Something might go wrong. You might end up anywhere.""Victoria, you're scaring me. I'll do my best. I promise."

"I know you will."

Victoria looked like she was about to burst into tears. The change was so sudden and so unexpected that J.D. involuntarily reached toward her. Toward her image. Feeling foolish, J.D. pulled back. It would not have surprised J.D. to be having this conversation with Zev; it did surprise her to be having it with Victoria.

Victoria wiped her eyes. Her chin stopped quivering.

"Sorry," she said, trying to smile. "I didn't mean to do that. I miss you already. I can't imagine She stopped.

"Then don't," J.D. said, chiding her gently. "Imagine me coming home."

Infinity opened the access tunnel, expecting night, and emerged into a white-out.

Thick sloppy clumps of snow slid through the opening onto his face. He was so surprised that he ducked back into the tunnel and let the hatch thunk shut over him.

Snow? It was far too late in the year for snow on Starfarer. When it did snow, it frosted the ground with a light sugar-coating of small, dry, sparkling flakes that sublimed at the first touch of the sun.

Infinity brushed away the cl.u.s.ters of heavy wet snow melting on his shoulders. He touched Arachne, asking for a way to change the weather, demanding an explanation.

What a mess, he thought, when he saw the reply. Arachne tried to cool things down-but now the weather's oscillating between extremes. We're in trou-284 ble. If we don't get to 61 Cygni soon, and stay there for a while . . .

we're dead.

Arachne could open the sun tubes early and pour heat into campus. The snow would stop . . . and a monsoon would start. Rain and melting snow would saturate the land. The result would be floods, erosion, mudslides.

He could tell Arachne to shut off all heat transfer into the s.h.i.+p, to starve the weather of energy. Then they would get a hard freeze. Probably an ice storm. That would be disastrous for the vegetation and the animals.

As far as Infinity could tell, letting the snow fall till the clouds exhausted themselves would cause the least damage.

He was glad the planting had only just started, that the seeds had not had time to germinate. Some of the crops would survive.

They'll survive if this doesn't happen again later in the spring, he thought. Arachne's got to get a chance to stabilize the weather.

He climbed out of the hatch into the snow.

The oranges, Infinity thought. The d.a.m.ned oranges . . . if they freeze, Gerald will love saying "I told you SO."

The snow fell hard and fast. Infinity was only fifty meters from his front door, but he would have been lost without Arachne to guide him home.

He stumbled into his house and closed the door quickly. Esther slept, her snoring a soft buzz. The lights rose.

"Dim!" he whispered.

Esther sat up in bed, blinking in the twilight.

"Hi," she said sleepily. "What happened? You're all wet."

"It's snowing."

He started to s.h.i.+ver. Esther jumped up and hurried to him, pulling the blankets with her. She took off his sodden s.h.i.+rt. He fumbled at the b.u.t.tons of his jeans. The cold had numbed his fingers, though he had been outside only a few minutes. Esther pushed his hands 285.away, helped him finish undressing, and wrapped the blanket around them both.

"You're so cold!" She rubbed his back, and warmed his hands between his body and her own. "Come to bed and get warm."

"I can't," he said. "We need to call out everybody, and call in all the slugs-"

He paused long enough to tell Arachne to sound the alarm.

"We have to go around and knock the snow off the plants. It's too heavy, it'll break the branches. The citrus trees . . . if we open the access tunnels, and force warm air out around them, maybe we can keep them from freezing."

Esther slumped against him, resting her forehead against his chest. She had spent another whole day in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the administration building.

"Open all the access tunnels," she said. "What about the sun tubes?

Spotlight the orange grove."

"I wish," he said.

He showed her Arachne's report. Esther took in the risk at one glance and whistled softly. Warming a single spot with the sun tubes in this weather would not start a monsoon. It would start a tornado.

"d.a.m.n." She sighed. "I've been lying in bed for the last hour, I kept falling asleep and waking up and thinking how cold it was and how nice it would be when you got home and got in beside me."

His hands felt warm, now, nestled against her belly. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. His long hair, still wet, swung forward and touched her cheek. A drop of icy water flicked from the end of one lock and dripped on her face.

"When this is done, we can stay in bed all day."

Esther giggled.

"What?"

"I was griping this afternoon that I had to work inside." She quoted an aphorism favored by transport pilots: "Be careful what you wish for, you might get it."

A few minutes later, dressed in dry clothes-the286 warmest he had; Esther wearing one of his flannel s.h.i.+rts under her jacket-they hurried out into the deepening snow. Arachne guided them to the access tunnel. The snow formed a curtain, as featureless and impenetrable as full darkness. The flakes turned sharp and hard and dry.

If they froze, it might be better to risk rain and floods.

Infinity just did not know, As they pa.s.sed through his garden, he wondered, briefly, if his cactus would survive.

Infinity's message spread through Starfarer's night, asking people for help and alerting them to the danger of the snow's beauty.

Stephen Thomas followed a medium-sized silver slug into a young apple orchard. The trees bent beneath the snow. Infinity had recommended knocking away the snow if the tree leaned over, if it looked like it might break.

The slug burrowed through to the ground and pushed itself forward, ploughing the heavy wet snow to either side. Stephen Thomas walked in the cleared path, grateful that he did not have to break trail. He was wearing his warmest clothes, but his warmest clothes did not amount to much.

At least the snow had stopped failing.

Following the slug at a respectful distance, Stephen Thomas used its trail to get to the saplings. If he pulled the outer branches gently, he could knock off the snow without standing beneath an avalanche. He could not tell if the apple blossom buds were damaged.

Being so near the silver slug made Stephen Thomas wary. He knew, intellectually, that this one had no reason to turn on him. The one that had pinned him down had been protecting Chancellor Blades. But if-if-the slug did attack, Professor Thanthavong might not come along this time to release him.In the distance, a tree branch snapped with a violent 287.crack. Its covering of snow cascaded down to land with a feathery thud.

As Stephen Thomas worked in the orchard, he let his attention drift back into Feral's files. He still avoided the notes on J.D. Stephen Thomas liked J.D.; he did not want to spoil his affection for her by feeding his stupid jealousy.

Feral would still be alive if any one of half a dozen events had occurred only a little differently. If he had been involved in the web more shallowly. If he had heard JDA warning, or Victoria's. If Stephen Thomas had not so easily restored Feral's canceled guest access to Arachne.

Feral had logged the incident in which he had been thrown from the web.

It was such an unusual thing to happen that Stephen Thomas set it aside for later, when he could give it his full attention.

The slug crawled through the orchard and headed across a meadow. Stephen Thomas was tempted to call it back, to get it to break a trail through the drooping pear trees a few fields over. Surely Infinity had enough slugs to uncover the access hatches among the orange trees?

Stephen Thomas stamped his cold feet. Infinity had recommended that no one stay out in the snow too long. Stephen Thomas decided to go inside for a while and get warm. When he came back out, maybe he could borrow another silver slug.

The whole world was black and white, silver and gray, motionless. Stephen Thomas stretched. The clouds had snowed themselves out; the sky had cleared except for an icy cloud blanket around the sun tube.