On the wall of Marianne’s closet were photos of her two children and two grandsons on Terra. She had tried to reconcile herself to never seeing them again. This had not worked. As she lay on her pallet, looking up the photos, she dashed away tears. Stupid. If she was here, she lost Elizabeth, Ryan, Jason, and Colin. If she was with them, she lost Noah and Lily. That was just the way it was. She stood up, carefully stripped the photos from the wall, and put them on a shelf under the supply of wraps that Isabelle had given her.
She was deeply asleep when loud knocking on the wall woke her. “Come in!”
Branch stood silhouetted in the light from the room beyond. “Dr. Jenner, you said you wanted to know when the leelees died.”
Marianne looked at her watch. “The incubation period is two hours?”
“Yes. I witnessed the deaths and made notes. It was respiratory. I sealed the cages.”
“Good.” The notes were important; they could not remove the mice for autopsy without releasing spores into the air. But now they knew: the leelees were susceptible to R. sporii.
She said, “Just let me get dressed and I’ll be right there. Claire?”
“She’s there. The whole team is. And Dr. Jenner—”
“What?”
“Your son is here. Noah. He wants to see you right away.”
Alarm coursed through her. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. But he says the Mother of Mothers is up at the big house and wants to see you right away.”
“Fuck, no,” Owen said. “I can’t spare anyone to escort her. She ought to realize that.”
Leo said carefully, “She didn’t ask for an escort, sir.”
He had stopped Dr. Jenner and Noah as they left the compound by the clinic door. Leo, on door duty, had told them to halt. All the while he was asking their intentions, he’d watched the refugee camp a hundred yards away, where cook fires burned and people moved around, green in his night-vision goggles. His orders were to not permit anyone in, anyone out after nightfall. The problem was that Owen didn’t have the authority to give that order. Leo’s choices: violate an order, force civilians against their will (it was clear that the Jenners had wills of their own), or ask the CO for clarification and look like a wuss. He’d called Owen, who was asleep.
“Brodie, hold them there. On my way.”
Leo said to Dr. Jenner, “Ma’am, can you tell me the reason you want to leave the safety of the compound?”
Noah said, “Don’t tell him anything, Mom. Ranger, you can’t hold us here.”
“I’m only asking your destination and intentions.”
“Neither is your business.”
“Noah,” Dr. Jenner said. “Ranger, we’re going up to the lahk to see the Mother of Mothers.”
The old lady that Kandiss said had arrived this afternoon. “It’s not a good time for a social visit, ma’am.”
“It isn’t social,” Noah snapped. “Step aside, please.”
Owen strode up to them. “Dr. Jenner, I’m sorry but you can’t leave here.”
Noah said, “The hell I can’t!”
“You can, Mr. Jenner. You do, often. But Dr. Jenner is vital to creating vaccines, and my charge is to protect that mission. My unit cannot spare the troops to protect her away from the compound.”
Before Noah could speak again, Dr. Jenner jumped in. “Why don’t you get more soldiers by training some of the Kindred?”
Christ, for an old lady who looked exhausted, she was feisty! Her hand rested on Noah’s arm, keeping him from saying anything else. Leo, face impassive, waited. Leo already knew the answer—Owen didn’t trust the Kindred because any one of them could be an infiltrator—but he wanted to know what Owen would say.
“Because I choose not to, ma’am. Now will you return inside or will Corporal Brodie have to carry you in?”
Noah stepped forward. What the fuck—Jenner wore one of those girlish dresses like they all did; he was unarmed; he was tall but skinny and not very muscled. Owen was a Ranger in full kit: armor, helmet, rifle, sidearm. What did Jenner think he could do?
“Noah, no,” his mother said. “I’m going back inside. We can resolve this in the morning.”
“Mom—”
“No.”
Leo almost felt sorry for the guy—ordered around like a ten-year-old by his mother. But Jenner didn’t look humiliated, just angry, and not at Dr. Jenner. She had pointedly turned and headed back inside. Noah strode off into the night.
“Back on duty, Brodie.”
“Yes, sir.”
Five minutes later Leo toggled his radio to the private frequency he shared with Zoe, on roof duty and undoubtedly observing the whole thing. She said, “Jesus, Leo.”
“Yeah. And you didn’t even see Lamont. Something’s eating him, Zo.” Leo thought. “I mean, more than everything eating everybody.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
“See anything strange from up there?”
“Nope.”
“Good.”
An hour later, her voice sounded on his wrister, this time on the squad frequency. “Alert. Code two. Near perimeter breached, seven o’clock.”
He raced around the compound to the site. A litter was entering the perimeter from the direction of the house on the hill, carried by four strong fighting-age males. On it, sitting against a pile of pillows, was an old woman. Christ—the pillows could conceal more pipe guns, explosives, anything. Leo unslung his rifle and released the charging handle; it made an audible clack. “Go back. Now,” he said, in Kindese. Behind him, he knew, Zoe crouched at the edge of the roof, weapons at the ready. Owen had gone back to the ready room to snatch a few hours’ sleep; Kandiss was on patrol.
One of the litter bearers, scowling, jabbered at Leo in Kindred, too fast for him to catch any words.
“Go back,” he said, not gesturing, not taking his hands off his rifle or his eyes off the group. At the edge of the camp, figures paused, grouped, started forward. More men, a few women. Nobody armed, as far as he could tell, but you never knew.
Movement behind him. At the same moment Zoe said, “Isabelle Rhinehart. Not armed.”
She ran from the compound to Leo. “Don’t shoot!”
“Tell them to go back to your lahk, or else inside the camp. Now.”
Isabelle called to the litter bearers, saying Christ knew what. Leo felt his adrenaline pumping. If the men laid down the litter or the old lady reached under the pillows…
Isabelle said, “They’re not leaving. But I told the men to not let go of the litter with even one hand.”
God, she was quick! “Tell the old lady to keep her hands where I can see them. While they go back.”
“They’re not going back, Corporal. That’s the Mother of Mothers.”
And what kind of stupid name was that for a president or dictator or whatever the hell she was? It sounded like a nursery-school teacher. But Isabelle talked some more, and the old lady raised her hands. Then she squinched her behind along the litter to the edge, painful slow movements. The men lowered the litter to within a few inches of the ground, scowling at Leo.
Isabelle said, “I’m going to help her. I’ll stay out of your line of fire. Okay?”
He hesitated. Orders were nobody in, nobody out. “She can’t come in.”
“I vouch for her. Leo, you can’t shoot a hundred-and-two-year-old mother. Or me.”
A hundred and two? But those weren’t Earth years. Still, she looked a hundred and two. When she tried to slip off the edge of the litter, she staggered and fell. One of the bearers let go of his pole with one hand and reached it toward her. Then he glanced at Leo and put his hand back on the karthwood.