Nexus, Robert Boyczuk [best free ereader TXT] 📗

>- since Josua. At the thought of him, she closed her eyes, pulled in a deep breath. The ship continued to issue its warnings.

Using a subvocal command, she ordered the alarms muted. One by one, she began shutting down the ship’s systems, starting with the reactor. Almost immediately several of the warning messages vanished. Within moments the ship was barely alive, the consciousness of the AI fading to a dim point. Minimum life support remained. She checked on the others.

Green indicators on all five. The cryocells had come though the ordeal undamaged. She initiated the cycle to revive them. Now, she thought, it’s time to get myself down.

Of the three restraints that had held her in place, one had torn free. Shifting her weight, she managed to undo one of the remaining two with her right hand. The strap swung free; her weight sagged across the last restraint that ran from left shoulder to inner thigh. Gasping, she closed her eyes against the shock of pain that shot up arm. She hung there, rocking slightly, as the pain receded. Blood sang in her ears. Hooking her legs under the seat, she grit her teeth and opened the last buckle.

Her body sagged and she began to slip; she tried to wind her legs around the pedestal of the seat, but didn’t have enough room to lock her ankles.

Groping blindly, she managed to grasp one of the dangling restraints before her legs unwound completely. She tumbled into darkness, her fist wound around the strap.

When the jerk came, she was surprised at how-in gravity only one third normal for her-her arm was nearly pulled out of its socket. She yelped and let go, remembering the distance, thinking the drop not more than a couple of meters. Her head snapped back sharply, and something raked across her right temple, tearing at her skin just before impact. Pain washed over her and obliterated consciousness.

Josua was here.

Even though he should have been eleven light years away at the hub, he stood over Liis, a lamp in his hand. The bulwarks of the circular cabin curved over her like she lay in the bottom of a barrel on its side. Liis’ eyes were shut and she was unconscious, yet she could still see. It was as if she occupied several separate awarenesses simultaneously: she saw Josua from her perspective on the floor; saw herself through his eyes; saw both of them from above. It made her giddy.

Why has he followed me here? Liis wondered. Was this part of the plan? She tried to open her mouth, to ask him. But her body was no longer hers. It lay inert, wedged where the floor met wall (_No, ceiling_, she thought, correcting herself). A pool of blood formed a dark umbra around her head; the origin of the flow was a gash along her left temple and cheek. Blood ran across her face, covering her scars. Above her dangled her headset, the foam pad torn off the left earpiece and the metal underneath exposed. A single red drop hung pendant from its tip. (How could she have forgotten to take off her headset before letting herself drop? She smiled, mildly amused at her own idiocy.) Her left arm lay doubled back at an unnatural angle. Though she was still aware of the pain, it was muted, as if it were an annoying background noise.

Am I dying? The question flitted through her consciousness abstractly. An unimportant, pointless question. She watched the blood creep along the floor, run into a channel between two adjacent screens.

Josua crouched down; there were several oddly shaped containers at his feet. He unsealed one and drew from it a small cruciform object inlaid with tiny gems. It looked like one of the relics Ruen had frequently carried. Placing the longer end of the thing against her skull, Josua pressed a stud on the crossarm.

Pain coursed through her with the injection; her multiple perspectives wavered, collapsed back into a single perspective from where she lay the floor. Darkness swirled around her, sucking at her like the current of a black whirlpool. Josua, she wanted to say, I failed._ Forgive me_.

She tried to focus on his face before she was pulled entirely beneath the inky waters, but it wasn’t Josua who crouched over her any more. Instead she saw a shorter man with a tired, dissipated face, gold studs running the length of his chin. Perspiration beaded on his forehead as he worked her arm back and forth until the bones ground together. The man pulled back his lips with the exertion, and Liis could see his front teeth had been carved, each in the form of a tiny human figure. His fingers bore many rings, all set with gems; they glittered, like beacons, in the yellow light cast by his lamp.

Darkness sluiced over her.

The world, cold and hard, pressed against her cheek. Her eyes were closed tight, her head throbbed, and she felt nauseous. Something tugged at her shoulder; pain radiated from her arm and shot through the rest of her body like a high voltage current, throwing her into a dizzying spin. Her existence became the stomach churning whirl, her throbbing arm its fiery locus; she hung on desperately to the edge of consciousness until the motion slowed to a lazy turn, and finally settled into a gentle rocking. She heard a low wail, like that of a wounded animal. She gasped, and as she did so, the wail ceased. Hushed words played about the edge of her consciousness.

“-impossible. She’ll never-”

“-simple fracture-”

“-to do. How badly-”

“-leave her?”

“She’s in no shape to travel.” The voice was deep and resonant. One that Liis knew she should recognize. “She’s in shock. Lost too much blood. We’re not equipped to handle such an emergency.”

“No. She’s not hurt that badly.” A different voice, another man, but softer, kinder. “It only looks like a lot of blood.”

“She’ll be useless. Worse, she’ll be a burden. More than she’s been already.” Hebuiza, she realised. It’s Hebuiza’s voice.

“You want to leave her here to die?”

“Why not?” The Facilitator’s voice was scornful. “In less than twenty-three days the first symptoms will manifest. Dying now might be better.” He wants me to die._ Like this_. Anger welled through her pain, pushed her agony to the background of her consciousness.

“Perhaps you can think that way, but I’m not going to let another person die when it’s in my power to help. Even if it’s only to give them a few more days.”

“Waste your time if you wish. But we will be departing the moment we’ve cut our way out of this rock.”

Liis struggled to open her eyes, but her lids seemed glued together. Her frustration intensified. With an enormous effort, she finally managed to open her eyes a crack. Through slitted lids she could see the dark outline of the Facilitator’s suit. A person crouched beside him. Though she couldn’t make out any of his features, his skin was a rich, dark brown and there was a light smear of grey atop his head. Then his face came into hazy focus: Penirdth. Next to him Hebuiza crossed his arms. “If she’s not ready to travel by then, we’ll leave her behind.” The Facilitator turned and receded from view, Liis feeling the vibration of each of his steps through the bulwark. She wanted to rise up and hurl something, anything, at his retreating figure.

“Maybe…maybe he’s right.” A woman’s voice this time. High and quavering. “Remember how, when she first came to meet The Viracosa, you said she was already dead inside? Maybe she should have her Dissolution now.”

“I did say that, yes” Penirdth answered, but without rancour. Liis felt herself flinch at the words. “But I won’t leave her here while she’s still alive.”

“Do you honestly think she’ll be ready? To travel, I mean.” Mira, short and round, moved into sight, stood beside Penirdth. On the top of her head, her wiry red hair was dishevelled.

“I don’t know. She’s bruised up and she’s lost blood, but it looks far worse than it is. The bleeding stopped on its own before we found her. And the break was clean. I’ve set it and splinted it, but there’s no telling how bad the pain will be when she comes to. It’ll be a couple of hours before Yilda cuts through to the exterior. And another twelve hours before the tunnel and surface are cool enough for us to use-if Hebuiza’s estimates are accurate. Fourteen hours doesn’t give her a lot of time.”

There was silence. Then Mira spoke again: “Twenty-three days. I hadn’t thought about it for a while. Or at least not that way. We’ve been so busy with-everything. Perhaps Hebuiza’s right. Maybe she’s better off here. The meteorite will cool and she’ll fall asleep. At least it’ll be a painless death, an easy path to the Dissolution….” Her voice sounded wistful.

“No,” Penirdth said. He rose from his crouch. “It wouldn’t be painless. It’d be an excruciating, lonely death. We at least owe her the chance to see this thing through. I’d want the same chance myself.” He paused. “Hebuiza’s lying.” There was a hint of disgust in his voice. “He doesn’t really believe we’ll be falling ill in twenty-three days. He believes in Yilda and his plan. And Liis is now an impediment to the success of the mission.”

“I’m…okay.” Liis’ words were little more than a whisper, but both Penirdth and Mira swung around to stare at her.

Liis had finally managed to open her eyes. She tried to lift her head from the floor, and the world spun out of control. When things settled down, she realized Penirdth had crouched down and cupped his hand around the back of her head. Under his fingers she could feel sticky, clotting blood in her hair. Though it made her head ache and the room waver, Liis strained to make her neck muscles rigid, refusing to let Penirdth’s hand take any of her weight. Gritting her teeth, she glared at them. “I’ll…I’ll be ready.” She raised her head fractionally. Darkness swirled. But when she felt consciousness slipping away, she thought of the Facilitator’s retreating figure. Anger hit her with the shock of icy water. She thrust the darkness away. Gasping, she levered herself up on her good arm. The cabin shimmered, lights sparking and dying at the boundaries of her sight. Her vision cleared, became surprisingly sharp, her thoughts preternaturally clear. She looked at her torso. A pressure bandage had been wrapped around her chest and across her left arm to immobilize the splinted limb. From between clenched teeth, she hissed, “Help me up.”

Three hundred and seventeen years earlier they had awakened from stasis to find themselves matching the course of a large meteor. “We’ll, ah, bury the Ea,” Yilda had said to the group assembled in the cramped galley. “It’s the only way to penetrate the orbital defences at the relay station.”

Binlosson had been infuriated. “How the hell are we going to survive the impact?”

“We will survive,” Hebuiza answered. He dropped a data card on the table. “My calculations show that in the lesser gravity we’ll have an eighty-six percent chance of survival.”

“But the Ea will be lost. How will we get back to Bh’Haret?”

“We will commandeer one of the ships they have there,” Yilda answered.

To Liis, it sounded improbable, perhaps even insane. Yet no one-except for Binlosson who went into a sulk the entire time they worked to bury the ship and reposition the braking jets-had protested. What other options did they have?

Yilda informed Liis that as the most experienced pilot, she would be woken first, just before impact, to make the final system checks and