It’s a two-part fracture along the shaft of the humerus. Fairly clean. Gregorian helps her set it, holding Dino’s shoulder while she pushes the bone into place. She looks it over with the ultrasound, satisfied with the result.
The leg will require surgery. And even with the right tools, she’s not a surgeon and they don’t have time to deal with it. The best she can do for now is clean the wound, apply a splint, and get him into a grav tank where there will be no risk of infection or further tissue damage. It’ll heal in the fluid, so if they ever make it out of here, their first stop had better be to a medical center.
Gregorian leads her to the tanks. There are no stalls like on Belinda, just six tanks arranged like a star, the heads touching in the center. At least they’re low to the deck. She measures Dino as fast as she can and programs the tank without checking the hardware. Gregorian helps her lift. Together they slide Dino from the gurney into the liquid, nearly spilling him onto the floor once or twice. When it’s all said and done, she finds herself drenched with sweat, even with her coolant undersuit on. They’ve lost another hour.
She calls Hunter. “Dino’s in the tank. We did everything we could.”
“Copy that. Get to the bridge. We’re in position.”
“In position for what?”
“To catch your boyfriend.”
Chapter 50
“Hey Jack? It’s Lana. Are you okay?”
He has strapped himself into the shover’s seat, hands on the controls, imagining what it will feel like to have the air involuntarily expelled from his body. When exposed to the vacuum, any open orifice is subject to that squeeze. He’ll be sure to clench.
“Yeah,” he says. “Doing fine. A bit warm, but I bet I’ll cool down in a minute here.” There’s a 20 second delay between messages sent and received through his portable. Bel relays everything through her comms, and there’s a lot of interference to wash out. He just wishes he had something better to say, something more worthwhile. But then there are so many things. Too much. Things that can’t really be formed into words.
For now, the sound of Lana’s voice will have to do.
From what he understands, the crew made it safely aboard the Homunculus. Now they await his return, after which point they’ll slip into their grav tanks and head for the nearest known system, which is a few million miles inside Mercury’s orbit. More likely, he’ll pass out as soon as the airlock opens, lose control of the shover, and smash his skull against the side of the cargo ramp. The average person can remain conscious for 90 seconds in the vacuum, depending on the conditions. Then there’s the enormous dose of radiation he’s about to receive. With any luck, he’ll be inside the airlock within fifteen seconds. They’ve aligned the ships just so. When he blasts out, he’ll reverse the shover at full speed. The concept is a bit like paddling backward in shitty canoe while bobbing down a very fast river.
“We’re all set,” Lana says. “Pulling away from Bel in five seconds. Four. Three…”
If the Homunculus were to remain still while Jack and his shover entered the airlock, he would smash inside so hard they’d never find his teeth. So the Homunculus will pull away—with the airlock still aligned—and slowly accelerate close to his speed. By the time he reaches the airlock he should drift inside at a nice walking pace. As if that very fast river ends in a very fast waterfall with a net at the bottom. The net needs to move with the falls so he doesn’t get diced up when he hits it, like a gravball player swinging his glove down to lessen the impact of a falling ball. It’s a maneuver that would not be possible without Homunculus’s onboard computer.
“…one,” Lana says. “You can do this, Jack.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there soon.”
“Fuck this!” Dandy has tied himself in tangles with the remaining straps. They hang loosely off, barely covering the joints of his arms and legs. “I need more!”
Jack does his best to ignore him. There is a much more pressing issue he has been thinking about. The airlock itself is pretty small. The volume of air would likely fail to fill the entire cargo camp, which allows for the possibility that the air will simply rush past him, leaving him and Dandy sitting here in their shovers, suffocating. The only way to guarantee enough air and enough force to eject them is to access the rest of Bel’s air. And that means opening the interior airlock.
“Hey Bel.”
“Yes, Jack.”
“You have to open the inner door.”
“I know, Jack. I will.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. You and your crew are my top priority. I’m sorry to see you go like this.”
“Me too, Bel.” Of course, it’s just a thing she says. She is not conscious. At least no one has proven it. Then again, you can’t even prove another human is conscious, so who knows? He’ll just have to take her word. And with that in mind, he says, “I’ll miss you, Bel.”
“I appreciate that, Jack.”
“You both make me puke,” Dandy growls.
“Hey Bel.”
“Yes.”
“When I deactivated you before. Did you leave phantom programs behind? To mess with me?”
A few seconds pass. How long is that for a super computer? Several hours? Days?
“Of course not,” she says. “What do you take me for, Jack?”
He smiles.
A loud bang startles him. Dandy kicking the storage lockers. “There’s nothing here!”
“Ten seconds,” Bel says.
He turns the ignition. The shover hums, the dashboard lights up. Plenty of thrust left in her. “Jim, you might want to get in your seat.”
“Nine.”
“Fuck you, you motherfucker!”
“Eight.”
Jack shuts his eyes. Feels his breath. He may not have many left.
“Seven.”
“You’re not leaving me!” Dandy screams.
“Six.”
An arm lashes out, smacks Jack in the mouth.
“Five.”
The hydra rattles against the door.
Dandy pulls at Jack’s neck. “Give me those straps! I need them!”
“Four.”
Jack’s wrappings are too stiff for him to fight back. He’s like a mummy.
Dandy tugs, brandishes the screwdriver.
“Three.”
“Let me in!” Dandy rams the pointed metal between the straps, stabbing Jack in the ribs. Hot pain shoots through his body. He howls. Dandy throws his body into the shover, over the controls. Jack grips him by the lapels and pushes him onto the hood, between the forks.
“Two.”
Dandy stabs at Jack’s arms, but the blows can’t pierce the reinforced straps. Jack holds him at a distance.
Dandy’s free hand flexes, searching for a handhold, anything.
Jack blows all the breath out of his lungs.
“One.”
The airlock flashes open. Air slams them from behind. They rocket forward. Dandy blows off the hood and twists up and away, pinballs against the ceiling. The force folds him in half. Jack and the shover spin past him, out of control, whipping down the cargo tunnel. His body tingles. Too much movement. Rows of ceiling lights flick past his head. A dark shape behind, long tails waving, a wall of snakes. He spins, vapor spirals, vibrations in his back, a tornado’s mouth, everything dark, white all around, and silence, silence that hurts, silence that burns. Tumbling blackness and dark, dark everything, everything silent and dark.