The Reaper Plague (16 page)

Rifles cracked behind her and she felt
bullets pass uncomfortably close. One kissed her thigh, stinging.
She could see muzzle flashes as Swede and the rest opened up,
giving her covering fire, but she focused on running and not
falling on the broken ground.

Someone stuck a hot poker into her back,
searing agony that cut the strings in her legs. She felt herself
collapse in mid-stride, a discarded rag doll.
This is not
good
was all she had time to think before the darkness took
her.

The shuttle touched down like a feather in
the comet’s microgravity. Skull felt a prolonged grinding then a
slight bump, and they were still. Raphaela touched her control
screens, and slight jerks and shudders went through the ship.

A sense of disorientation swept over him as
he abruptly felt himself hanging from the ceiling, yet he hadn’t
moved. He clamped his hands on the seat, and watched a water bottle
fall upward – downward – no, the viewscreen showed they were
settled bottom-down on the surface. Yet his body wanted to fall to
the ceiling, very slowly.

“
It’s the comet’s
rotation,” she said. “After the asteroid struck it set it spinning.
The centrifugal force exerts slightly more outward pressure than
its gravity pulls inward. If we weren’t clamped down we’d just fly
off.”

“
How could you operate
here?”

“
My siblings and I
reconfigured everything we could once we became sentient. We made
the ceiling the floor. I could do it for the ship if I wanted to
but it’s not worth the time and energy. Just flip over and stand on
the ceiling. We’ll float anyway.”

It was true. The tiniest push from the floor
sent him flying. He fought down nausea and tried to treat it as
weightlessness. “Let’s go,” he said roughly.

“
Through there.” She
pointed at an opening behind him.

He glanced down at the rifle bolt that he’d
never retrieved from its decorative position on the
ceiling-now-floor, then shrugged. He was still in her hands, and he
just couldn’t believe everything he’d seen was some kind of an act
to lull him into complacency. He floated through.

Faint lights came on and showed a tunnel
leading upward, into the surface of the topsy-turvy comet. He used
his fingers and toes to propel himself through it, Raphaela
following behind. A short distance, perhaps twenty yards, and he
entered the base.

Disappointment shot through him. He thought
it would be grand, a place of wonder, rooms full of throbbing
machines of power or incomprehensible objects. Instead, it looked
rather like a large version of the shuttle interior. In fact it was
rather bare. The only significant objects he could see were a
teacup Meme-chair and a control console with several of the
hemispherical screens.

“
Where is everything? This
can’t be it!”

“
It’s all put away. The
base is just like the shuttle. It’s one big biomachine, infinitely
configurable, if you have mass and energy. The computers, the data
storage, the physical storage, the fuel cells, everything is either
inside the base’s structure or it’s just waiting, a potential
pattern until I call it into being.”

Skull turned around, looking at everything as
if the answer – no, the question – would jump out at him and then
he would know what to do.
I got this far, now what? I can see
the end of the thing, more or less, but I can’t see from now
through the middle part.
Reluctantly he decided to confide in
Raphaela.

“
When they get here I want
to ambush them. For that I’m going to need your help. Let’s find
someplace comfortable and do some brainstorming.”

“
Are we in a hurry? We have
almost a year. Six months at the absolute minimum, and that’s only
if they burn their ship like a candle. We’re here now. Let’s make
this place livable. I’m tired of that biomass I made to eat. The
base can do a lot more for us.” She ran her fingers along a wall,
and it split where she touched, forming a long slim
countertop.

“
I thought you said this
place is breaking down. Falling apart.”

She smiled, shook her head. “Sorry, I was
speaking by Meme standards. It won’t last another hundred years.
But it should easily last one.” She walked over to grasp the
teacup, which slowly morphed into a human-usable chair. She touched
screens and controls, which came to life with dim light. “I have a
lot of improvements to make. Hours at least, if you want a
functioning bathroom and kitchen.”

“
Why don’t you let me
help?”

Amusement flitted across her face, banished
immediately by her fear of showing him disrespect. Carefully
neutral, she asked, “What can you do?”

He stood next to her, staring at the console.
“I may not be able to
make
anything but I can control
things. So first set me up something that will give me a task. For
example, make a big screen like you did in the shuttle and connect
it to the biggest telescope you have, something I can aim. Then
I’ll start looking around.”

“
What will you look
for?”

“
I won’t know until I find
it.” Skull grinned fiercely. “But if there’s something to find, I
will.”

“
All right. Give me a few
minutes of quiet, will you?”

A half hour later he had his viewscreen and a
set of controls he could use. After a minute’s instruction he sent
her away, saying he would learn as he went.
Have to keep myself
occupied somehow
, he thought. He forced his mind away from the
obvious entertainment two people could make for themselves. Gritted
his teeth. Concentrated.

Hours later he had made cursory examinations
of several of Jupiter’s moons, as well as the enormous swirling
planet itself. By magnifying to its limit he could bring forth
astonishing views, peer deep into space at stars and distant
galaxies, bring asteroids so close they seemed to be floating a
short way outside the base’s walls.

Raphaela walked up behind him with a steaming
cup. She put it down next to him and began to rub Skull’s
shoulders. He allowed her ministrations for a moment before
thinking that this was just another trap, to become affectionate
like she seemed to want.

“
What’s that? It smells
good.” He used the food as an excuse to disengage from her,
swiveling his seat around.

She handed him the mug. “It’s chicken soup,
as close as I can make it. I’m experimenting with flavors. Meme
senses are nothing like human.” She watched him closely as he
sipped. “What do you think?”

“
Not bad,” he admitted.
“Actually pretty good.” He drained the mug.

She lit up with a smile, bringing a scowl to
Skull’s face.

Her own countenance fell in response. “Do you
have to make everything good I do into something bad?”

“
Do you have to keep trying
to manipulate me into liking you?” He held the empty cup up to
press against his forehead, breaking eye contact.

Raphaela turned away with tears. “Why do you
call simple kindness manipulation? I care for you. I’m not going to
stop caring. You don’t have to care back but at least you can treat
me like a comrade, not an enemy.”

Skull ground his teeth.
I’m outgunned
here,
he admitted to himself.
I could handle a woman,
probably, and maybe a 4000-year-old alien, but this hybrid of the
two is just impossible. She’s right, in a way. I should just quit
reacting. Shut down all my emotions, treat her like a colleague and
nothing more. Not let her get to me. Then we’ll be able to have a
simple conversation without it turning into an emotional swamp
every time.

Skull forced himself to relax. He put on his
blank face, saluted her with the cup. “Sorry. It was good, and
thanks for making it. I look forward to your next improvement in
our menu.”

Her face lapsed into a disappointed passivity
as she took the cup from his hand. She refilled it and brought it
back to him without comment, movements stiff and hurt as she left
the room.

He drank the soup as he ignored her and went
back to using the telescope viewer. After a while he put the mug
down, feeling suddenly tired, and his vision blurred.

Then fear surged through him.
She drugged
me
, he thought as he tried to leap from his seat, but he barely
twitched, then slumped into the chair and his consciousness
faded.

Repeth woke to the kindly but grave face of
one of the nurses – Tech Sergeant Ronall, if she remembered
correctly. Her mind was clear and the IV dripping nutrient solution
into her arm reassured her,
I’ll be fine
.

“
She’s awake.” Ronall took
his hand off her forehead and stood up.

Jill felt there was something off about his
expression, something odd for a nurse taking care of a live Eden,
by definition a patient with a positive prognosis. She looked
around the room, presumably inside the converted clubhouse, and
spotted a more welcome figure. “Rick.”

He stepped forward after Ronall nodded his
permission, sat down in a chair pulled close. He took her hand.
“Hey kiddo. How you doing?”

She looked at him quizzically. “Just fine,
like always. I’m alive, so I’ll heal up. What? You don’t look so
sure.”

His eyes were serious. “Jill, you’re not as
fine as you think. You have a .308 round in your spine and you’re
not moving for a while.”

“
Ugh.” She tried to wiggle
her toes and failed. Her head slumped on the pillow. “That sucks.
Okay, so what next?”

“
They’re prepping a
surgical suite. But we don’t have any real surgeons, just a couple
of GPs and nurses. They’re worried. They want to wait for an
experienced cutter off one of the ships, but the Navy isn’t too hot
to fly a helo this far inland. Too many nuts taking potshots at
them, from what I hear. And Fredericksburg is
unfriendly.”

“
Yeah, I noticed.” She
squeezed Rick’s hand. “Just tell them to do it. I’ll heal. Worst
case and they screw it up, someone else can repair it later. Play
the odds. I can’t be lying around here like this. Ronall, you tell
them to do it just as soon as they can. Go in straight, get the
thing out. I’ve been shot seventeen times and I’ve always come
through.”

“
Seventeen, huh?” The nurse
seemed impressed.

The door opened suddenly and Swede barged in.
She almost didn’t recognize him without his face paint and Ghillie.
He nodded at her, glanced at Rick and their clasped hands. “You
okay there, Top? So this is the lucky guy, huh?”

Rick let go of her to stand up, holding out a
friendly hand. The two men stared at one another until Swede stuck
out his too. Rick looked a little sick as the Marine’s paw crushed
his.

Swede let go and turned to Jill. His manner
dismissed Rick as inconsequential. Apparently her fiancé had been
found wanting. “Just thought I’d check in on you, Master Sergeant,”
he said pointlessly.

“
I’m good, Swede. Thanks
for getting me out of there. Those people are Onesies. I could see
it in their eyes and on their skin.”

“
Yeah, well, once we
brought a .50 cal up they ran off like chickens. Drove the Humvee
right up to where you fell. We recovered a couple of their bodies
for the docs to look at.”

“
Speaking of chickens…did
you notice anything funny about the barrier guards?”

Swede looked quizzically at her,
shrugged.

“
You see any color
there?”

“
Huh?”

“
That guy I talked to,
their boss…he called me a ‘pretty white breeder’. Said they were
the Confederate Republic of Fredericksburg.”

“
Ahh.” Swede nodded. “Some
kind of Aryan Nation nut jobs?”

“
I think it would be KKK
wannabees around here, but yeah. Make slaves of the women and mud
people.”

“
Good thing you aren’t
black, I guess. No offense, I just mean…”

She forced an ironic laugh. “Being a woman is
bad enough, I guess. I ran because they had rape in their
eyes.”

Rick coughed from where he stood, and Jill
realized how awkward it must be for him. “Thanks, Gunny. Now get
out of here, will you? And send Grusky to see me ASAP.” She gave
Swede her best glare.

He glanced around the room, eyes resting for
one more moment on Rick, and shook his head wistfully. “Aye aye,
Master Sergeant.” He turned and left. His posture told it all.

Rick forced a smile. “Doesn’t think much of
me, does he?”

“
Don’t worry about it. I
know the type. Thinks he should own any woman he wants. Thinks
every girl should dump her boyfriend and throw herself at
him.”

Rick remained uncertain. “Why shouldn’t he
think that? He’s big, strong, tough, good-looking, confident…”

“
So am I.” Jill laughed.
“I’m a warrior, living and working with warriors my whole life. If
I wanted that kind of man I’d have sealed the deal with someone
like Muzik long ago. But then again, you don’t get to choose who
you fall in love with.” She reached out to grab his leg, and he
moved back to her side, bent over to kiss her.

“
Thanks, Jill. You sure
know how to make a guy feel like a special accident.”

She laughed. “I do my best.”

“
So hey,” he changed the
subject, “you missed the big action.” He sat down carefully on her
bed.

“
I think I had enough
action for one morning. What was it?”