“You unplugged me,” Bruno said simply.
“Yes. Though it was more like tearing your wires out of the console by hand.” She looked away and brushed tears from her face, clearly embarrassed. “The electromagnetic pulse would have killed you, Tacky. Fried your brain. Inductance almost burnt you out, anyway.”
“I know.” His brain still felt full of ashes and old scar tissue. “You did the right thing.” Bruno's thoughts were slow, clogged. In his fuzzy memory, he could see the pandemonium on the navigation deck of Sun-Tzu as the enemy EMP struck the hull. Echoes of miniature lightning bolts shot from the console to his now-missing interface cable. The pale past edge of a horrible pain sliced into his recall. He reached up and touched the Linker socket in his neck, which felt somehow charred, still hot to his touch.
Which was impossible, of course.
“The autodoc says you have some brain damage.” Carol's words were now studied and clipped, her tone clinical. She was not looking at him. “Your electronic prostheses are trying to compensate for the damage.” Carol looked terrible, he realized. What else was wrong?
Bruno forced a smile, again feeling his dry lips crack.
“Well, enough about me,” he said brightly. “What else has been happening while I've been on vacation?”
She said nothing, eyes glinting in the bright lighting of the tiny cabin.
Finally, Bruno took a more serious tone.
“Captain-my-captain,” he told her quietly, “there wasn't anything else you could have done. I would have died for sure if the full charge had hit my chipware.” He shrugged a little, forcing bravado into his voice. “We don't even know how bad the… damage is. Either I can be fixed or I can't.” He took her hand in his. “We'll find out together.”
Carol smiled a little, as much tired as sad, then told him everything. The images were nightmarish, confirming Bruno's high opinion of her abilities. Carrying his convulsing body down long darkened corridors to Dolittle. Powering down all major shipboard systems in decoy, and setting up the confinement-field booby trap for the kzin invaders — a project she had set up long ago during a paranoid watch period. Launching Dolittle and fleeing the Sun-Tzu.
Bruno scratched some flaky material away from his cheek. “How long till Sun-Tzu goes up?”
Carol gestured to the holographic display in the main screen, which had reached zero.
Her smile was as feral as any kzin's. “They have about three hours now. The confinement fields will appear normal for a time, then asymptotically degrade to catastrophic failure. And they won't know it until it's much too late — unless they have direct feeds from the core.”
Bruno raised an eyebrow, curious.
“I set up a false telemetry system. If they tap into what looks like the core telemetry data feed, they'll read that the core is humming along just copacetic and fine.” She thinned her lips into a cold smile. “Until the confinement fields fail and they fry, of course.”
“Clever,” he managed, pleased. “Can they stop it?”
“I don't think so.” She shook her head, counting reasons off on her fingers as she went. “Not unless they are experts in complex systems and cryptography. First, they have to find out the obvious telemetry feed is a decoy. Then they have to locate the correct cable routings without our diagnostic equipment. Finally, they have to learn subsystem architecture and gain control over the field coils and ionizing lasers.”
“All in a few hours,” Bruno replied. “No way.”
He reached across and touched Carol's hand. His own fingers still didn't want to move, and felt old and clumsy.
“How did you get everybody out of the suspension chambers into the cargo bay?” he asked, tilting his head toward the sealed door at the rear of the tiny cabin.
Carol looked down at her console and said nothing.
“You left them,” Bruno said flatly.
She nodded, still looking down. “There wasn't any choice,” Carol replied calmly, her captain voice surfacing again. The deepening lines on her face showed what that decision had cost her.
Bruno's head whirled. He and Carol had known all twenty-nine of the men and women in coldsleep. Trained with them, drunk with them, argued with them, studied with them. They all had names, hobbies, favorite drinks, games.
Now they were ratcat food.
Carol whistled through her teeth tunelessly for a moment, then reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
“Bruno,” she said seriously, “you know perfectly well that I couldn't have saved them. And they will be avenged very soon.”
It occurred to Bruno that Carol had made decisions like this many times in the past, during her Second Wave piloting, and as a Third Wave squadron commander. Decisions that saved or took lives.
“Does it ever get easier?” he asked, finally.
She knew what Bruno meant. “You remember each one of them, every waking moment of your life.”
He sighed. Gingerly, he forced slow and shaky fingers into a dataglove and looked carefully at the holoscreen. He had to—
Suddenly, Bruno looked over at the coiled and clipped interface cable at the side of the control console. He felt something tear in his mind and heart.
What if I can't Link anymore? Bruno thought wildly. His heart seemed to hammer in his chest, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. Give it time, he repeated over and over again to himself, like a mantra.
“What is it?” Carol asked, trying not to notice where Bruno had been looking.
“Nothing,” he said harshly. “Could you please bring me up to date?”
Carol took the hint and walked him through the status windows. He was still mentally slow, but he could follow the events since the EMP bomb had hit the Sun-Tzu.
Linked, I could — He shoved the thought out of his mind, and focused his attention on the small holoscreens above the main console. Ordered arrays of numbers marched across his line of sight, complex diagrams flowed and blinked; sterile representations of their life-and-death situation. Their lives as a column of glowing numbers.
After a few moments, Bruno turned to Carol. Their situation looked grim.
Bruno spoke first. “Are we going to be far enough away from Sun-Tzu when the confinement fields fail?”
“I don't know,” she replied, her tone just as even as Bruno's. “I think that we can cycle back some of the power from the superconductive wings into a makeshift magnetic umbrella. That'll take care of the charged particles.”
“What about the gamma?”
Carol smiled without humor. “We'll just have to take our chances with the prompt effects, shipmate.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rrowl-Captain equalized pressures and popped open his helmet. The rank, moist odor of monkeys too long confined thickened the darkness around him, swarming into his wide nostrils.
He controlled the urge to spit in distaste, and tried to breathe through his mouth.
Other Heroes of the boarding party were floating just inside the alien airlock, waiting respectfully for the captain of Belly-Slasher to signal them. At his hiss of permission, they opened their own helmets. Rrowl-Captain could hear the snarls of disgust at the humid jungle smells in the tunnel, like a Jotoki biome. The only light was from their helmet lamps. Sounds echoed harshly in the gloom, then faded away to a damp silence.
He shifted his grip on the fragile primate handholds and looked around the access tunnel. Blank and featureless walls, empty except for the long ladders and equipment docks he could see by helmet light. He snarled a hissing swearword at the monkeys' lack of gravity-polarizer technology. Primitives!