CHAPTER 35.
Not with a bang.
“But not with a whimper, either,” Madeline Fathom-Buckley whispered to herself. She’d cut out the microphone and transmitter for now; there was no need of it and even the relatively small power drain could add up over hours.
Not in that bad shape. The last time she’d checked, Athena was chugging its way through the ice, with an ETA not long from now. If they didn’t encounter any more problems. Which I have to assume they won’t, if I want to live to see Joe rescued. And I do.
So if they didn’t encounter any more problems, and she stayed still, kept the power usage minimal, she figured she’d have at least an hour, maybe two, left. Plenty of time.
As she thought that, she felt Larry’s hand squeeze her suit. At the lowest power level—range only a couple meters—she activated the radio. “What is it?”
“Having…trouble…breathing.” Larry spoke slowly, but she could hear the incipient panic. And I can’t blame him. Suffocating in a human-shaped coffin is a damned terrifying way to go.
But why? We had the same charge at the same time, so—
Madeline would have kicked herself if it would have done any good. Larry’s twice my mass. Efficient or not, the suit’s using more power to keep him going than mine does, and he’s probably on his last reserves.
“Control, Larry. I’ll see what I can do, just hold on!”
She grabbed the recharge pack. It shows empty, but maybe there’s a tiny bit left, enough to give him a few more minutes while I think. She linked it to the coupler on Larry’s suit. “Anything?”
“A…little.” The big astrophysicist’s voice was tense, but he tried to relax, visibly sagging back down. “The charge needle twitched. But I guess that might have gained me, oh, four minutes before it goes back down.”
Not nearly enough. Need more time, lots more time for him.
The charge packs on the cameras were integral, and there was no way to connect them to either of their suits. She stared at the pitiful collection of useless objects: cameras with unusable powerpacks, explosive spikes only good for last-ditch suicide, multitools that couldn’t conjure air or power from nowhere, and a completely compatible and compact recharge pack that was now utterly empty. Any more empty and it’d suck the power out rather than put it…
And the answer was there. If it was possible.
She almost made the mistake of activating the radio to ask A.J. or Joe the question, but realized in time what a stupid error that would be. We’d spend all the time Larry has left arguing before they’d answer. I need to spend that time finding the answer.
The key was the suits’ configurability. The circuitry had been made adaptable for numerous tasks, and she thought she recalled that the gloves specifically were used to induce low-level electrical flow in things like the multitool. She called up the suit’s technical references. I wish I dared ask A.J. but I know I can’t. And I’m no slouch at this.
Larry sat quietly while she worked. She guessed that he realized that if there was nothing she could do, she’d have said something. He’s been with us since the first days of the project; he knows me pretty well by now. He’s not going to jog my elbow if he can help it.
Voltage regulators…charging circuit…microcontroller, code. Warning! Do not tamper with these settings! She cancelled the warning with one of her override codes, grateful that she’d made sure there were override codes for just about everything, with A.J. supporting her in the argument. “There may be a reason to do just about anything,and if someone’s willing to ignore the warnings and override, I’ll assume they have exactly that kind of reason. The override will be logged, of course, so we know what was done and by whom…”
Well, let it be logged that I overrode the warnings and deliberately messed with the microcode running the entire power system of my own suit.
Time was running out, but now she was into the editor, looking for the flags she needed to set. One chance at this.
For a moment she was back on Earth, staring at a maze of wires and circuits, blinking ominously in rhythmic red and blue, knowing that she had only moments to deactivate the bomb; it had a timing circuit which would certainly go any second, and a movement sensor so she could not move it from where it lay. Lucky it doesn’t have a motion sensor, or I’d be dead already. But I have to choose right the first time…“Sir…”
“Don’t you think it, Madeline,” her boss’ voice came, calm and certain. “You’ll be working for me for a good long time. Just take a breath, and do what you think is the right thing, and it’ll work.”
Do what you think is the right thing.
All right, sir. Let’s do it. She didn’t feel at all embarrassed for holding her breath as she set the revised code running.
Her suit’s lights flickered for just an instant, then steadied. Please, please—
Madeline grabbed up the recharge pack, plugged it in.
“What…are you doing?” Larry asked faintly. “Nothing left in that…”
“There will be.”
And she saw the indicator light on the pack glow green. Charging.
Of course, along with that, she saw the indicator of her own charge dropping swiftly. He’s still going to burn through this faster than I will. No good data on that—but I’ll give him two-thirds of what I’ve got. At least the transfers are efficient, we won’t lose more than five percent in the trade.
“Wait a minute, Maddie—”
“Do not even think of arguing. There’s a reason I didn’t try asking the others how to do this.” That’s it, as much as I dare transfer. “Stay still.”
Unlike someone like A.J., Larry apparently knew when not to argue. Silently he let her recharge his suit. “Did you leave yourself any?”
“I’m not trying to commit suicide, Larry. Now, we have to lie down and be as calm and quiet as we can. One way or another it won’t be much longer.”
Larry nodded, and they both cut their radios.
Madeline lay there, staring into inky blackness. Had to dim indicators and telltales to minimum, no suit lights. I’ll bet Larry’s thinking he’s been panicky, but he’s doing better than he knows; plenty of people would be unable to even try to relax in this situation.
Of course, she had to admit that this group of people was probably unique. Larry, herself, A.J and Joe and Helen, Horst and Andy and Hohenheim, all of them were used to conditions in space, living in small spaces, working in tiny suits for hours. If anything could have prepared us for this…well, it’s the lives we’ve led.
Time had little meaning in darkness where nothing moved. Occasionally she did see a glow, a flash from the center of the room, where Joe was signaling his presence. But he must realize now that they had no energy to spare to communicate with him. Poor Joe. He must be frantic. And there’s nothing I can do to help him feel better. Just…hope.
A faint chime sounded, and her heart sank. Into my reserves now. And if Larry isn’t yet…he will be in a few minutes.
Slowly the air became heavier, sharper. Joe went through this back on Ceres. And he never panicked, never even let us know how terribly close he was to dying.
I’ll do my best to match you, love.
She felt Larry’s grip again, but this time she knew it was simply saying “Thanks. This is it. Goodbye,” and she returned the grip for a moment.
My vision’s already going. Even with nothing to see I’m starting to see red…
She could see the rim of her helmet, edged in dull crimson.
A shot of adrenalin went through her, and she turned her head, half-sat up.
A point on the far wall was glowing, red to white, now blazing. Athena!
But could they get through in time?
She forced herself to lay back, prayed that Larry would do the same—if he still was conscious. Every breath was worse than the last, and her thoughts were starting to lose coherence. No…not giving up…She was trapped in a closet…he’s waiting out there…No, he can’t be…Not LaFayette, no, he’s dead…But her disjointed thoughts conjured images from a childhood she’d erased, trapped, parents enthralled by a madman. They were calling her name now…Oh, Madeline, you’re growing up so well…the Senator will be so pleased…
“No!”
She sat up, fighting off the hands, drawing great gasps of air into her lungs.
Air?
Her vision was clearing, and two figures were tumbling across the floor of the cavern; she herself was skidding to a stop against one of the columns. She keyed the suit to full activity.
“—totally freaking out! Get away from her until she comes out of it!” A.J.’s voice was a combination of exasperation and concern; he nearly went over the edge into the depression where Zarathustra had fallen before he got a grip on the ice.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry, A.J.,” she said, sinking back in relief. “Some welcome that was to my rescuers.”
“S’alright, I oughtta have expected something like that when you were half-conscious. You didn’t go through twenty years of cloak-and-dagger without being ready for the worst all the time, I’d bet.”
“How’s Larry?”
“We are trying to wake him now,” Hohenheim answered.
She looked over, seeing Petra Masters bent over the prone form of Larry Conley. A chill went through her and she accessed Larry’s suit readouts.
No breathing. No heartbeat.
Wait…“He’s in fibrillation!”
“Exactly. Mr. Baker!” snapped Dr. Masters. “If you please, how do I connect with your suits’ controls to trigger a defibrillation pulse?”
“Jesus! Hold on, I haven’t had to do that—”
“We have little time, I do not know how long he’s been in this state! His suit’s recorders were not working!”
Madeline found she was already skidding to a halt near the two. No way to perform standard CPR, but maybe, just maybe…
The suit was now charged, a recharge pack still hooked to the inlet. And I know how to control the suit rigidity, so…
She lifted Larry and gripped him from behind. Squeeze, relax the suit in just the right places…release…Squeeze…god, this is hard, usually you use gravity, my whole weight, Squeeze…this is like doing chin-ups, lifting myself by arms alone…
“Defibrillating,” Dr. Masters said tensely. Maddie felt the body twitch.
And suddenly the jerky, rhythmless pulse shifted, spiked, spiked again, and the heart’s beat was started. Larry gave a huge gasp, and his oxygen levels started to rise.
“Thank God…” she murmured, realizing that she was suddenly so exhausted she didn’t have the energy to move out from under the astrophysicist’s suit.
“Get these two up to Munin immediately,” Petra said. “They’ve been without food for days and nearly died before we reached them. They need to recover.”
“On it,” A.J. said, and with Horst’s help lifted Larry up. Hohenheim bent and picked Madeline off the floor with great care.
“Really, I can still walk,” she protested.
“Maybe…you can,” Larry’s voice came, faintly, “but…not me.” His tone shifted. “Maddie…thanks.”
“Just doing my job,” she said, lightly. “But …you’re welcome.” She looked at Hohenheim. “We can’t waste much time on us.”
“I am aware of that, Agent Fathom. But we also will not risk your lives any further. You will rest until you are fully recovered.” He smiled behind the faceplate, and she realized she was even weaker than she had thought. “And as you are now medically incapacitated, the others have agreed that I am in command—so that, Agent Fathom, is an order.”
“Yes, General.” She sighed, then laughed.
“What’s funny?” asked A.J.
“Being ordered to take it easy, A.J.,” she said. “This is undoubtedly the hardest order I will ever have to obey.”