One's Aspect to the Sun Page 13

  She sat up and swallowed hard. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. “I wasn't. Not involved. But I knew right away what it must be about, although that wasn't how it was supposed to go.”

  She stopped and took a deep breath.

  “I'm listening.”

  She didn't look at me. “A woman named Dores Amadoro contacted me after you left Earth,” she said. “She works for PrimeCorp, for Alin Sedmamin.”

  “I'm familiar with her,” I said dryly.

  “She told me that you were still refusing to cooperate with PrimeCorp even though they had a legal right to ask you for what they wanted—samples for their research.”

  “And you believed her, of course.”

  “Yes, I did. I . . . thought it sounded like something you would do.” She looked up at me defiantly. “You've always hated PrimeCorp, irrationally, I thought. And you don't always play by the rules, Mother. Even Dad admits that.”

  “Neither does your father, but I'll grant you that.” I took a careful sip of caff. “What did Amadoro want you to do? Come with us and set me up somehow? Is that why you're really here?”

  “No! I'd already booked passage on the Keinen to try and catch up with you. Amadoro knew that when she contacted me. She knew Dad was dying. She was very sympathetic.”

  “I'm sure.” I bit my lip. I was trying to let her tell it her way, but my anger kept slipping out.

  “All she asked me to do was plant a beacon on the ship after Dad had . . . passed. I wasn't planning to stay aboard after that. She said she just wanted to be able to keep track of you this time, so that they could pursue proper legal channels to get the samples. She said you never stayed in one place long enough for them to track you down and serve notices.”

  “So you agreed.”

  She met my eyes. “Yes. It didn't seem like such a big deal. And. . . I thought you were in the wrong.”

  I wanted to tell her that I'd consider betraying one's own mother to be a very big deal indeed, but I didn't. “But then your father got better, not worse—”

  “And I didn't know what to do,” she finished.

  I looked at her, trying to imagine just how much she must dislike me. “When Amadoro told you that she just wanted to keep track of me, did you believe her?”

  She looked away. Her hands twisted in her lap restlessly. “Yes. At least I told myself that I did. But then today, when they attacked us . . . I realized that I'd been fooling myself.”

  “Did you ever plant the beacon?”

  She shook her head. “No. She told me the cargo hold would be the best place, but I never did it.” She crossed to the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a shiny foldcase with her name on the front. From it, she extracted a fingernail-sized button and held it out to me. “You can get Baden or Viss to check it. It hasn't been activated.”

  I let her drop it into my hand. “Seems like PrimeCorp wasn't planning to wait around for you to use this, anyway. Gee, could it be that they weren't playing straight with you?”

  “Look, you don't have to tell me I was an idiot,” she said. “But I didn't plant the beacon and I didn't have anything to do with what happened today. I tried to stop them, after they put you out.”

  “And that's why they took you, too.”

  Neither of us said anything for a moment. Then Maja said, “I wonder how they found us today?”

  I shrugged. “There's not much PrimeCorp can't find out about if they want to, not on Earth, anyway. Dores Amadoro could easily have looked up the planets I took cargo for, and had PrimeCorp ops watching the spacedocks for a chance to get at me. When they saw one, they took it.”

  “Then why would they need the beacon?”

  I stood up. “Because I only filed a flightplan to a certain point. Once I made the last cargo dropdown from Earth, there'd be no record of where I was going next.”

  Maja licked her lips. “I guess I was wrong about that Amadoro woman. I am sorry, Mother.”

  I'd let a lot of things slide with Maja over the years, even since she'd come aboard, just trying to keep peace in the family. I wasn't ready yet to forgive her for this one. “So am I, Maja.” I left the cabin, and she didn't try to stop me.

  We didn't waste any time in leaving Rhea. PrimeCorp's actions lately were outside the scope of what I'd encountered from them before, so it was impossible to predict how they might react to anything. We had cargo to dropdown on Renata as well, but I intended to do it as quickly as possible and not let anyone off the ship. Then we'd make the skip to Mu Cassiopeia, and we'd find out if my mother was still on Kiando.

  The night before we reached Renata, I dreamed again.

  As usual, I'm running through the crowded corridor of the space station. The silvery walls curve with the compass of the station, never allowing a long line of sight ahead. I know my mother is there, in the crowd, but I can't even glimpse her this time. I push past humans, Lobors, Vilisians, but I never seem to get any closer.

  At last I reach the docking ring, but she isn't outside it this time. I've missed her. I run up to the ring anyway, punch in an access code with numb fingers. The docking ring doors roll open but there's no ship beyond, no sign of Mother. This time it's the swirling rainbow colours of a wormhole outside the ship, and a wild surge of force threatens to push me out of the station. I hang on to the door, pull myself back inside and key the doors to close. Exhausted, I lean against a viewport I hadn't noticed before, and I'm shocked when a body floats by outside with no EVA suit. It rolls gently, free-floating as if in water, and I see the dead face.

  Hirin.

  I don't think I screamed aloud, but I jerked awake, my face wet with tears. I sat up in the bed, panting, heart racing, the burn of adrenaline tingling up my arms and legs. I couldn't bring myself to look up at the viewport overhead. My head throbbed painfully. A single thought pulsed in my mind, one I'd been trying the past few days to ignore.

  I couldn't take Hirin through another wormhole. Not in his current condition. Not after what had happened to him in the Split.

  Unless . . . unless I put a certain plan into action. I got out of bed and paced the tiny room. An idea had sprung into my head after what happened on Rhea, but it seemed so crazy I didn't know what to do with it. I'd kept it to myself, rolling it over repeatedly in my mind while I waited to see if Hirin improved with Dr. Ndasa's care. But he hadn't, and I couldn't wait much longer. I paced the inadequate length and breadth of the cabin, wishing I could go out in the corridor, but I didn't want to wake anyone or have to answer any questions. I finally went back to bed and forced myself to stare out the viewport at the star-flecked darkness beyond, but I didn't venture into sleep again that night.

  In the morning after breakfast, I went to see Hirin. He was dozing when I entered his cabin. There wasn't much sense in keeping him in the First Aid station, with its utilitarian cot, so we'd hauled all the equipment we thought we might need in a hurry and set it up in the guest quarters. The tiny room was crammed. For once, Maja wasn't there with him. He must have sensed my presence, even though I tried to move quietly, because he opened his eyes as I crossed to the bed.

  “Come to cheer me up?” he asked. “I'm all right, really, Luta. This shouldn't be a surprise to either one of us.”

  “I know that.” I sat on the side of the bed and took his lined hand in mine. His skin felt cool and fragile again. “It doesn't help.”

  He shook his head ruefully. “No, it doesn't, does it?”

  “Where's Maja?”

  “She went for a nap when I said I was going to sleep for a while.” Hirin sighed. “I'm supposed to call her on the ship's comm as soon as I'm awake.”

  No time to waste, then. “Hirin, I have an idea.”

  “Mm-hmm? Should I be worried?”

  I smiled. “Probably. It's a little crazy, but you might think it's worth a try. I'll let you make the decision, though.”

  “I never was one to refuse to consider a crazy idea, especially when it came from you.”

  �
��Let Yuskeya give you a blood transfusion—from me. We have compatible types, so that's not a concern.”

  He was frowning slightly. “No, it's not, but why?”

  The words tumbled out. “Think about it, Hirin. I never age. I never get sick. I didn't get this virus when we were both exposed. The chemical fire on Eri that time, or the snakebite when we were mountain climbing in Brazil. Nothing affects me. Why? What if it's something in my blood?”

  “But you've been tested,” he said, shaking his head. “No-one's ever found anything.”

  “I know that, but what if the tech simply couldn't find it before? Baden ran a virus scan on me before we left Earth and he found something—something the datamed couldn't get a reading on. Maybe that's why PrimeCorp is bothering me again, because some new tech might find it and analyze it. Now I'm wondering, what if it's something that I could transfer—to you? We've never known the explanation, but what if it's not something natural, or even enhanced? Something completely—I don't know—autonomous. It might help. That's all I'm saying. It might help.” I ran out of breath and blinked at sudden tears.

  He reached up to stroke my cheek, his gnarled hand gentle on my soft, unlined skin.

  “And if you're wrong, I don't have much to lose, do I?”

  I laughed. “You said it, old man, not me.” I took his hand in mine. “But it's all just conjecture, things I've tried to figure out on my own with not much to go on. Even if I'm partly right, and it is something blood-borne, it could be specific to me. It could even kill someone else, their body could reject it, or—”

  “Shh. I know. I saw all that while you were talking, because I'm not quite senile yet.” Hirin rolled sideways with obvious effort and propped himself up on one elbow. “Luta, the last couple of weeks, before the Split—they've been better than the last few years put together. Being out here, with you, feeling better for the first time in a long time . . .” He shook his head. “I think I'd take any risk rather than go back to staying an invalid again.”

  My heart thudded painfully in my chest. “So you want to try it?” I realized I'd been just as afraid that he'd say yes as that he'd say no.

  “Maja won't like it.”

  I felt my jaw tense, but I hadn't told Hirin about Maja's betrayal, and I wasn't going to put that on him now. “Maja,” I said, “will go freneza. But it isn't her decision to make.”

  He nodded. “I'll tell her. How will you explain it to Yuskeya?”

  “That, I don't know.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Frankly, I'm so tired of trying to hide the truth that I'd just as soon tell her—tell all the crew—at least part of what's really going on. They're all good at keeping secrets. I think they'd understand.”

  “What about Dr. Ndasa?”

  I hesitated. “I'm not so sure. I mean, I like him, don't get me wrong, and it's nothing to do with his being Vilisian. I simply don't know him that well. I think we'd all have to keep up the charade for him at least. But some of the pressure would be gone.”

  Hirin laid back on the bed again. “Think he'll go planetside at all when we're on Renata? When we're unloading cargo?”

  “I think so. He mentioned a colleague on Renata he thought he'd look up if we were staying long enough. I wasn't sure if I'd even let anyone off the ship, but if I tell him he has time I think he'll go.”

  “So we could explain everything to the crew and do the transfusion while he was off ship. That would make it easier.”

  “That's what I was thinking. Hirin, are you sure you want to risk this?”

  He reached up a shaky hand and drew my head down to his, placing his lips gently on my cheek. “No risk is too great,” he said in a low voice, “when the prize is worthy enough. Tell Rei to get this space crate to Renata as fast as she can. And you'd better go tell Maja I want to talk to her.”

  Maja stormed into my cabin a short while later without even knocking. I was ready for her.

  “How could you?” she demanded, before the door had even closed behind her. Her eyes were wild and she didn't come all the way over to where I sat at my desk.

  It was strange, but I was still so angry with her myself that her emotion didn't touch me the way it usually did. I set my datapad carefully down on the desk. “Maja, I think it's his only chance.”

  “And he'll do whatever you think, even if it kills him,” she said bitterly. “He always does.”

  I shook my head. “That's not fair and you know it. Your father's always made his own decisions.”

  “Fair? You want to talk about fair?” She stalked the rest of the way to my desk and leaned over it, glaring at me. “Is it fair that he still listens to you when I'm the only one who's stood by him all this time? The only one not roaming all over Nearspace while he sat in that place? I went every day—every day. Is it fair that I'm always the odd one out in this family? Is it fair that you look like that,” she spat, pointing at me, “and I look like this?”

  She'd never actually come out and said it before, and my stomach lurched. But, good. It was finally out. I stood up. “So that's why it's all right to betray me, is it? Because life isn't fair? Grow up, Maja.”

  For a second she looked like I'd slapped her. “I didn't plant the beacon!”

  “Only because you didn't have a chance.”

  “Stop trying to change the subject. I'm here about Dad.”

  “Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest and took a deep breath. “I think this is the best chance he has, now. We've been through this before, a hundred times. I can't help the way I am, Maja. I don't understand it, I certainly didn't ask for it, and I've told you all I know about it. Don't you think if I knew how to share it I would have done that long ago?”

  “I don't know,” she said nastily. “You seem to think you know how to share it now.”

  “Maja, I have a theory, that's all. I don't know if this will work for your father. It's something I've just figured out recently, because of things that have happened.”

  “Right.”

  “Look at the incident on Rhea. PrimeCorp seems to think there's something in me worth going to a lot of trouble to get.”

  She ignored that. “So this plan of yours is something you just 'figured out.' How convenient.”

  I threw up my hands. “Dio! Do you really think I'd want to outlive your father and you and Karro and the children? To stand by and watch you all grow old, die, and not do anything about it? Am I a monster?”

  “What if it kills him? Has that occurred to you?”

  “Of course it has. But as far as he's concerned, he's as good as dead already. He was ready to die when we left Earth. How much better is it for him to sit around suffering? Can't you go along with it because it's what he wants?”

  Her blue eyes pierced mine. “Oh, I won't try to stop him. I don't seem to have any choice in the matter. I'll tell you one thing, though. If he dies because of this,” she said between clenched teeth, “I'll never speak to you again.”

  “He's dying anyway, Maja.” My voice was harsher than I'd intended. She didn't say anything. I wanted to shake her, to ask her why he mattered so much more to her than I did. “And what if it makes him better? Will all be forgiven then?”

  She didn't answer, just turned on her heel and walked out. I didn't try to stop her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Revelations and Risk

  We touched down on Renata in the middle of a wintry morning. The first thing that met me was a static message from Dores Amadoro, which didn't improve my mood. I read it in my quarters while the crew finished docking procedures.

  Received: from [205152.59.68] PrimeCorp Main Division

  STATIC ELECTRONIC MESSAGE: 25.7

  Encryption: securetext/novis/noaud

  Receipt notification: enabled

  From: “AdminAssistant Dores Amadoro”

 

  To: “Luta Paixon”

  Date: Mon, 25 Nov 2284 1:42:13 -0500

  Attention Luta Paixon />
  Further to our last conversation, and under instruction from Chairman Alin Sedmamin, please be advised that I have instructed our legal department to begin proceedings for an exemption under the Nearspace Genetic Materials Privacy Act, in order to obtain samples of your blood and tissues. The same proceedings will be undertaken against your brother, Lanar Mahane, and your mother, Emmage Mahane.

  Please advise the nearest PrimeCorp Division of your travel plans within Nearspace for the coming six months, so that we may serve the necessary documents as they become available. This will facilitate matters for all concerned.

  Any information you may have concerning the whereabouts of your mother, the aforementioned Emmage Mahane, should be transmitted to any PrimeCorp Division to avoid later charges of obstruction or complicity.

  Dores Amadoro, Administrative Assistant

  for Chairman Alin Sedmamin

  I glared at the screen. So Sedmamin, the bastardo, had decided to send his little flunky after me via the conventional legal route now, since his illegal plans hadn't worked? That didn't seem like him, but it could be true. Or it could be the influence of this new thorn in my side, the oh-so-chilly Dores Amadoro. I erased the letter from the datapad with a contemptuous flick. Like hell I was going to tell PrimeCorp where they could find me. Let them chase me all over Nearspace.

  The nerve of them, asking for—no, demanding—information about my mother's whereabouts! If Sedmamin had been present, I probably would have punched in that puffy face of his, and slapped Dores Amadoro into the bargain. I stood up, sending my desk chair skimming across the room. It clattered against the bed. My quarters seemed suddenly too small, so I went out into the corridor, paced evenly down to the bridge entry, then turned and went back, as far as the galley, and turned again. The steady thud of my feet on the metal decking had a calming effect on my nerves, and the crew wouldn't ask questions. When I paced, they left me alone.