Nexus, Robert Boyczuk [best free ereader TXT] 📗

Ruen asked, licking his withered lips. “It is time?”

“Not yet,” Josua answered without shifting his gaze away from Sav. “As soon as our work is completed.”

“She can’t have much of an oxygen reserve in that suit,” Sav said.

Josua shrugged. “The tube has an emergency supply. And I threw in a half a dozen extra cartridges to cover the four days before we reach the Hub.”

Four days to the Hub.

A low-grade fever would be upon them within a day of making orbit. If the plague ran its usual course, they would first develop red nodules on the pads of their fingers, then feel woozy and disoriented, as though they had contracted a flu. About forty hours later would be a brief remission. According to Yilda, they would be functional up to the end of that period. It meant roughly three days at the Hub for dealing with the Speakers and acquiring the antidote. After that they would fall into a debilitating, secondary fever from which they would never recover. The only way to extend their time would be to return to shifts in stasis. But Sav thought about the smashed panel beside his stasis cell. He had no intention of leaving himself that vulnerable again. “I’m staying up,” he said. “I won’t go back into stasis.”

“Stasis?” The patrix wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, smearing more vomit into the flock of his robe. “But the dissolution-”

“No one’s going back into stasis.” Josua busied himself at the pilot’s panel; he cut their fusion engines and they returned to zero gee. Sav’s feet drifted off the floor; he clutched the webbing tightly. Josua fired the attitude jets, swinging The Viracosa about so her exhaust nozzles pointed at the Hub. Then he ignited the fusion engine to resume their deceleration; Sav’s feet thumped to the floor. Josua unbuckled his harness.

“The code,” Sav said. “We have under two hours to send the next sequence. With the Speaker in the tube, how are we going to do that?”

“Simple.” Josua rose and sauntered over to the comm board. Without sitting down, he began tapping keys. Sav recognized the hum of small motors on the outer hull working to reposition the antenna array. “I’m realigning the array to transmit directly to the Hub. We’re less than a light hour out, so it should take the message an hour to reach them. Plenty of time for them to pass it along.”

Josua finished; he scooped up the headset. The motors fell silent, and a small beep sounded at the board to indicate successful completion of the antenna realignment. Josua pressed the transmit key.

“This is The Viracosa. We have taken Novitiate Lien hostage and disabled her ship. We remain on course to the Hub where we expect to refuel and pick up the antidote. Any attempt to intercept before we establish orbit will result in the Novitiate’s death-and the deaths of other Speakers at the relay station. Once the exchange has been made, we will release the Speaker unharmed.” Josua paused, glanced at Sav. “The next code sequence is as follows: Callev, Veddev, Lect.” The first three months of the Bh’Haret calendar. “Viracosa out.” Josua released the key and stripped off his headset. At an hour each way, it would be at least two hours before they could expect Yilda’s response. Josua turned to Sav. “Satisfied?”

“No. What if they were telling the truth? What if they didn’t manufacture the plague?”

“They did!” Josua’s eyes blazed. “They killed her!”

“Her?” Sav asked quietly.

“Her, them.” The colour drained from Josua’s face, the emotion in his voice now carefully suppressed, deliberate contempt replacing the burst of rage. “Everyone. All of Bh’Haret.”

You mean Shiranda, Sav thought. You’re still obsessed with her death. And this attack was part of the payback.

“I’m going belowdecks,” Josua said. “To get some sleep.” Though he now appeared collected, his hands were balled into fists and his arms trembled as if he stood in the middle of a bitter, winter wind. “Wake me when we receive Yilda’s response.”

Josua made for the ladder. Ruen fumbled to unbuckle his harness. But Josua turned; he caught the holy man’s eye and nodded sharply. “Ruen will keep you company,” he said, his eyes never leaving the patrix. “Won’t you?”

Ruen blinked as if trying to absorb Josua’s words, then nodded numbly, letting himself back down into his seat. Swivelling to face Sav, he scowled, clutching his cane with both hands. “Company,” he said hoarsely, repeating Josua.

Abruptly, Sav understood why Josua had revived the Ruen. To keep tabs on him. To make certain I don’t try to harm him when he’s not watching. Sav looked from one to the other, the two an odd pair, both eyeing him warily as though he was the insane one. They’re in this together, Sav thought. Josua’s frightened of me._ Of what I might do. But is he worried enough to want me dead? _He had no doubt the patrix would be happy to see the end of him. But Josua? I could overpower both of them, Sav thought. Right here and now. I’ve got a better than even chance. Josua wasn’t a large man; and Ruen was too old to be much of a threat.

Only there were the codes.

Sav would have to have Josua’s co-operation to complete the exchange. As much as Sav disliked it, he would have to abide the situation for a while longer if their negotiations were to continue. But he’d have to watch his back every moment.

On the ladder now, only his head above floor level, Josua paused, turned to Sav. “You look like you could use some rest too.”

“I’m not tired.” It was a lie, of course. It had been almost a full day since Sav had been revived, and fatigue had settled in his limbs like a weight of sand, made his skull throb. But sleep wasn’t a risk he could afford to take.

“Suit yourself.” Josua disappeared from sight.

Sav had never felt so tired in his life. Moving across the flight deck, Sav collapsed into the navigator’s couch, opposite Ruen.

For a moment he considered what Josua had suggested. He was exhausted. Mentally and physically. And Josua’s actions had sapped his already slim hopes for the success of their mission. Collecting an antidote now appeared more preposterous than ever. His berth down below had never seemed more inviting. He would settle in, close his eyes, let sleep take him-and to hell with what Josua and Ruen might do.

But then Sav remembered the others at the relay station. Liis and Penirdth and Mira. They were in this too, depending on him. Though he could have cared less about Binlosson and the Facilitators, he owed the others. He had grown to like Penirdth and felt a kinship to quiet Mira. And there was Liis. His feelings about her were confused. Certainly, he was as close to her as he’d been to anyone else in the last ten years of his life. They’d crewed three missions together. That was all there was to it. Wasn’t there?

We made love once.

His throat tightened involuntarily at the thought. She was the first woman he’d been with in years. He wondered if he would ever see her again. Suddenly, he was seized with an intense wave of loneliness, and an equally poignant longing to be back on Bh’Haret, to be home. To be with Liis. The vastness of their separation pierced his chest like a blade. Until this moment he hadn’t really thought past what would happen at the Hub. Perhaps he’d been consciously avoiding it. But now the idea of finding the others, especially Liis, and returning to Bh’Haret filled him with a searing urgency.

Only that, he reminded himself, will be impossible unless I can get the antidote. Sleep is definitely out, Sav thought. At least until I can find a way of improving my chances of waking.

Behind Ruen, at the comm board, the connect light blinked.

Sav stared at it, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Unaware, the patrix continued to watch Sav through slitted eyes, his seat turned inward so that he faced Sav across the deck, the light to his back. Gripping his cane in both hands, its tip planted on the floor at his feet, the holy man leaned forward now, as if he sensed the abrupt change in Sav’s mood.

Sav forced his gaze away from the flashing light, not wanting to alert Ruen; instead he looked directly at the patrix and smiled wanly. The holy man grunted dismissively and spat out of the corner of his mouth. Nevertheless, Sav’s mollifying gesture seemed to do the trick. Ruen relaxed back into his couch.

Sav watched the light from the corner of his eye. Only half an hour had passed since Josua had sent his message to the Hub. It was too early for a reply. Maybe it was intercepted by a Speaker and passed on up the chain of command, Sav thought. Only the signal was highly directional. Chances of an intercept were small, even if there was a ship manned by a Speaker in the path of the signal.

He frowned, considered the Speaker trapped in the emergency tube. She had said there was no one else aboard her vessel. Perhaps she’d been lying, but it seemed a strange thing to do given her situation. But if she was telling the truth-

She has a transmitter.

The notion seemed so obvious that Sav felt stupid for not having thought of it before. The transparent suit she wore had made Sav assume she carried nothing other than the specimen container-as Josua had stipulated. But what did they know of Polyarchy technology? Like the other workings of her suit, a transmitter designed on a molecular level would almost certainly be invisible to the naked eye.

The light flashed; Sav tried hard not to stare at it directly.

I have to talk to her, Sav thought. Without Josua or Ruen around to listen in. But how could he do that with Ruen set to watch him with the single-mindedness of a trained guard dog? The moment he tried to establish a link, the holy man would scuttle belowdecks to fetch Josua.

No time for subtly, Sav decided. Pushing himself from his seat, he moved across the cabin; a belligerent look flared in the holy man’s eyes as Sav approached. Just as quickly as it had risen, the belligerence wavered, going out like a doused fire. “You’d best not try anything,” Ruen croaked in a quavering voice, raising his cane. “Or I’ll-”

Sav knocked the cane from Ruen’s palsied hand; he seized the patrix‘s windpipe with both hands. Lifting Ruen out of his seat with ease, he felt the fragile bones beneath his fingers move and grind as he dangled the old man above the flight deck.

Ruen’s face contorted; his eyes bugged out and a small gurgling noise leaked from between his withered lips. Frail hands flailed uselessly at Sav’s arms. Ruen’s face turned crimson; he’d gone silent, all the air in his lungs spent. Tears leaked from his bulging eyes and a strand of spittle ran from the corner of his mouth and trickled onto Sav’s left wrist. In seconds the old man’s eyes glazed over and rolled back in their sockets, showing white half-crescents between quivering lids. His bony arms fell limply to his sides, his entire weight settling on Sav’s grip. As light as the patrix was, Sav’s arms shook with the effort of supporting him. I could kill him, Sav realised in amazement. All I have to do is hold on for