The Season Of Passage Part 41

An annoying voice whispered at Lauren's shoulder. A practical voice. A frightened voice. If Bill had put a lock on the Hawk's controls, how had Gary managed to blast off?

Lauren started to doze but fought it. There were so many coincidences; it was the same pattern all over again. They were out of communication with Earth. She had blamed herself for the destruction of the antenna, but Gary had told her to turn that dial - not another one - ninety degrees counter-clockwise. In fact, there hadn't been another dial anywhere near where he had pointed. Then they had rammed the antenna without even scratching the hull of the Nova, a minor miracle in itself. When the antenna had gone their link to Earth had gone. They were alone, and n.o.body knew better than she the terrible things that could happen when you were alone.

Stop it!

Lauren tried for a third time to convince herself she was being foolish. The Antabolene had taken her halfway to sleep and the semi-conscious mind was a fertile ground for paranoid thoughts. Friend wouldn't lie to her. Probably Bill had been overconfident, too proud to think his plans could fail. He must have left the Hawk's controls alone. It was the only explanation that made sense. Gary was so sweet, and his eyes were so warm. Why, as he was going under, he even snored.

But what if?

The question terrified her.

When she had returned from the Karamazov the last time, Gary had been near death. Yet only a few gulps of the wine and he had risen to his feet. She had been too relieved to question his incredible revival. But there was another miracle.

Two miracles in the same day.

Logically, Ivan should have destroyed Dmitri's diary. The diary was a vivid warning of what the planet was capable of doing to people. If any of them had read it earlier, most of their problems might have been avoided. Why had Ivan left the diary out where others could find it?

Was it possible, that even though Dmitri's record was revealing, it somehow served Ivan's purpose? But how could that be? The only thing in the diary that had influenced her had been Dmitri's casual comment about his bottle of wine...

Mars made everybody thirsty. For something delicious. Something red and sweet.

When she had found the bottle she a.s.sumed it hadn't been opened because the wine reached the top and the seal was still in the place. But what was the seal? It was a wound piece of lead foil. She hadn't looked at it that closely. There was every possibility the seal could have been broken, the bottle opened, and then resealed.

The cold!

Lauren felt sick. The Karamazov had been below freezing. Yet the wine had not been frozen. It had been in liquid form, just as Ivan's b.l.o.o.d.y bedside drink had been. Wine and blood: both red. If you mixed one with the other, no one would know the difference, until too late.

Gary had drunk half the bottle. Then he had risen from the fringe of a coma to master the controls of a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p that had been rigged by a monster. He had done so easily. Then he had sabotaged their communications, and made her think it was her fault.

Lauren pulled herself up and opened the lid of her hibernaculum. Tears stung her eyes. It wasn't Gary in the next room. It was Mars. She had left Gary dead on Mars. She had killed him. She had fed him the immortal elixir and cursed his soul forever.

Lauren tried to stop her trembling. There was a terrible thing to be done, and she was the only one who could do it. But first Friend had to be taken out of the picture. Friend controlled the s.h.i.+p. He could stop her before she could begin.

Lauren opened her hibernaculum and removed the tubes from her artery shunt. She swung her feet to the floor. Her head spun. The Antabolene was at work.

[Are you awake, Lauren?]

Lauren froze. 'Yes.'

[I have a loss of pressure in your hibernaculum. Your blood is not circulating properly.]

Lauren tried to remember where Friend's cameras were. The G.o.dd.a.m.n floating eyes - they followed you everywhere.

'I'll attend to it myself,' she said.

[Yes, Lauren.]

The computer banks in the Hawk were the ones that Bill had manipulated. They were the infected section, and like Gary's infected arm, they had to be removed. But she had to move quickly, secretly. The computer could wake Gary up.

There was a puzzle. Was Gary really asleep? When did vampires need to rest, except during the day? It was always nighttime in s.p.a.ce. But one thing was sure. The other three had perished when their hosts' bodies had been destroyed. That meant they must be subjected to certain limitations imposed by the flesh they inhabited. With the Antabolene flooding his system, it was likely Gary was asleep.

Lauren sure hoped so.

'Friend,' she said. 'I'm going to recheck the Hawk. I think we may have overlooked a Martian soil sample. I want you to turn on the floodlights in the hub of the Nova, and then open all the doors that lead to the Hawk. I also want you to open all the doors inside the Hawk.'

[Yes, Lauren.]

Lauren eased to her feet and stood shaking in her white shorts and oversized Houston Oilers T-s.h.i.+rt. She lacked the expertise to repair Friend's program. She didn't even know where to break the connections between the Hawk and Nova, if that was even possible. Yet Lauren had a plan.

She would dynamite the Hawk's control room.

Then she would deal with the Martian.

Lauren walked slowly toward the adjoining room, where Mark and Gary slept. The doorway was a shadow, and she was reminded of the entrance to the cave. The Antabolene in her blood seemed to gain momentum. She had to hug the walls for support. Time was against her. If she lost consciousness now, she would be under for a month, and that long a time outside her hibernaculum would kill her. Already the urge to close her eyes and sleep was overwhelming.

She entered the room and glanced at Gary. He looked the same, she thought, but Lorraine looked like Kathy, and Lorraine was insane. Lauren sniffed the air. Just one sniff was all it took. How come she hadn't noticed it before? He must have hypnotized her. The reek of decay, the corpse rotting on the bug-infested ground - it was there, right there in front of her nose. She wasn't paranoid. She was doomed.

'It's good?'

'Very good.'

Lauren began to cry again. She couldn't help it. Quickly her silent tears turned to racking sobs.

[Why are you crying, Lauren?]

'My sister,' she moaned. 'You remember my sister, Friend? She died. Jenny died. That's why I'm crying.'

[Let me offer my deepest sympathy, Lauren. She was a fine girl. I enjoyed the conversation I had with her before the start of our mission.]

The devil and his sweet tongue. They would pay, she would make them pay. 'I'm glad you did,' she whispered.

Lauren climbed a ladder, away from the rotating hub, toward the weightless axis. Friend had obeyed her order and activated the lights. Moments later, free of the restrictions of artificial gravity, she floated through the padded tunnel that led to the Hawk's airlock. Here, she knew, there were no electric eyes. She stopped at a supply closet and collected a packet of plastique explosives. Tucking it out of sight inside her shorts, she continued on her way.

A minute later Lauren found the entrance to the Martian lander wide open. She rested for a moment and then drifted into the laboratory, where she turned her back to one of Friend's cameras and pocketed a small lighter. Next she reached for the door that led to the Hawk's garage. This one was shut, and locked. The manual controls didn't respond to her touch.

'Open the door to the garage, Friend,' Lauren said.

[The Martian samples were stored in the laboratory, Lauren.]

A reasonable reminder, in keeping with the original design.

'No, Friend,' she said. 'I think I left one in the garage.'

The fuses were in the garage.

[Yes, Lauren.]

The door rifled open. The room was well lit and empty. The tractor had been dismantled to make the boat, of course, and they had left Hummingbird on Mars to face the river of lava, not wanting the extra weight at lift-off. There was a twisted gash in the far side of the garage where Gary had torched out the warhead. Lauren crossed to a supply cabinet, turning her back once more to Friend's cameras, and grabbed a handful of caps and fuses. She stuffed them all in her shorts.

'I found what I was looking for, Friend,' she said casually.

[Yes, Lauren.]

'Gary wanted all the soil samples jettisoned.'

[Yes, Lauren.]

'I'm going to check in the control room.' Lauren closed the cabinet and drifted toward the ladder that led to the upper levels. It was possible she imagined the delay, but it seemed that Friend paused before he acknowledged her remark.

[Yes, Lauren.]

But hovering in the midst of the Hawk's living area seconds later, she found the portal to the control room still shut. 'Open the third seal, Friend,' she said.

[There are no Martian samples in the control room, Lauren.]

'I'd like to double check. Open the seal, Friend.'

[I have full visual span of the control room. There is no need for you to double check.]

Arguing was definitely not in the original design. Her fears were once more confirmed. The computer was possessed.

'I order you to open the seal, Friend,' Lauren said firmly.

The charade could end here, she thought. After a moment's hesitation, however, the circular door slid aside. Friend might have been suspicious, but he couldn't know what she had planned.

[Yes, Lauren.]

Lauren remembered floating towards the computer's main console. Then there was a void. She must have blacked out. Fortunately her head b.u.mped the ceiling and she woke up. Unfortunately, she had lost the dynamite; it had slipped out of her shorts. The plastic bag had drifted under a chair; it was close to spilling its contents for Friend's inspection. Hastily she retrieved the dynamite and swam back to the main body of the Hawk's computer. Speed was essential. The Antabolene had her yawning like crazy.

Lauren stooped under the main console, s.h.i.+elding her activities from the cameras with her body, removed the putty-like dynamite, and worked it into a grille. She favored using a simple fuse rather than an electronic detonator because the latter would require that she trail a wire from the control room down to the lower levels and Friend could cut the wire by closing the seal on it. She'd light the fuse and dash for the Nova's airlock. It was a risky plan. The explosion would probably rupture the Hawk's hull. If she was trapped in the control room - if Friend locked her in - she would be exposed to the vacuum of s.p.a.ce.

[Lauren, what are you doing?]

She didn't answer. She worked faster.

[Lauren, why are you looking there for Martian samples?]

'Huh?' she began to perspire.

[Why are you looking there for Martian samples?]

'Why do you ask?' Lauren squeezed a lump of plastic around a fuse and whipped out her lighter. The door that led to the living room was still open.

[Lauren, there are no Martian samples in that spot.]

'Oh,' she muttered. A wave of dizziness. .h.i.t her as she tried to light the lighter. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her hand and touched the flame to the fuse. Then she whirled and launched herself toward the exit.

It slammed shut in her face.

'Open the seal, Friend!' she shouted.

[Lauren, there are explosives attached to a portion of my hardware.]

'G.o.dd.a.m.n you, I order you to open this door!' She looked back at the fuse. It was still burning. The door stayed shut. Friend didn't say anything. 'I'll die if you don't open it!'

Friend didn't open it. He must have thought she was bluffing.

Yeah, Daniel, Friend knows everything mankind has learned in the last five thousand years. He knows every game that's ever been invented. He's a master at poker.

Lauren retreated to the dynamite and snapped the fuse in half. Yawning loudly, she wondered how much longer she could stay awake. It was only intense danger that kept her conscious. That, and a new plan. She floated toward the emergency suit locker. Bill had used a suit from this very locker the second time they had landed on Mars, when the lower hull had cracked and opened to the Martian atmosphere. The suits inside the locker were not individually tailored to fit the crew, like the ones hanging in the bas.e.m.e.nt, but Lauren wasn't feeling picky.

It was an old question: could computers really think? Lauren believed she finally received an answer to it when she opened the locker.

It was yes.

Friend turned off the lights.

'Gimme a break,' she muttered, flipping on her lighter. She slipped into a pressure suit. The helmet sealed over her head with a soft hiss. A green light glowed softly on the right arm of her suit, indicating she was safe inside her own little bubble of atmosphere. Turning on the suit's headlamp, she groped back to the fuse.

[Lauren, if you ignite that dynamite you will be killed.]

Mars had even put fear in the machine.

'You think so, huh?' she said.

[Lauren, the shock wave would definitely kill you.]

She crouched under the console and secured a fresh fuse with another lump of the plastic dynamite. 'I'll take my chances, Friend.'

[Gary would not approve of this action.]

'The h.e.l.l with him.'

Lauren lit the fuse and sprang toward the furthest chair from the computer console. Once in the seat she quickly buckled herself in and turned the back of the chair to the dynamite.

[Lori, I'm sure if we talked this over we could arrive at an agreement that would be mutually beneficial.]

She laughed. 'What did you call me?'

[Lauren, we should talk this over.]

'Shut up. You're sc.r.a.p metal.' Lauren pulled her knees up against her chest and huddled into a tight ball.

The dynamite exploded.

It was as if she had been slapped by a speeding truck. The shock wave crushed the wind from her lungs. A burst of bright fire was followed by a loud roar as the explosion was quickly sucked into s.p.a.ce on the wave of escaping air. The hull had cracked. Debris socked her from a dozen angles. The noise was deafening. Her chair spun in dizzy circles. As quickly as it had come, however, the storm pa.s.sed, leaving in its wake the eerie silence that was only found in deep s.p.a.ce.

Her pounding heart filled the universe. She sat in pitch black. Faint stars shone through that portion of the hull that had once been Friend's brain. Yet Friend - that half of him in the Nova proper - had been cured, at the expense of a lobotomy. Lauren turned on her radio and spoke to him. He began to ramble on about how his basic programming had been overridden by a transposition of concepts alien to his intrinsic priorities... Already he sounded like his old self. But she had to be sure, or at least as sure as she could be.