Excelsior (35 page)

“I will, and it will work.” He leaned in for a kiss. Caty resisted the urge to turn away, reminding herself that she had to make an effort, too. The scent and taste of him filled her nostrils, and she relaxed still further. He wrapped his arms around her, and suddenly the whole world felt right. For a brief, blissful moment, forgetting didn’t seem so hard.

She forgot all about David’s outburst, and all about Alex. This time instead of feeling guilty, she felt justified. She knew she was doing the right thing. They hadn’t planned to get pregnant, but by some miracle her implant had failed, and maybe that was a sign—something telling her to move on.

David withdrew, leaving her in a dreamy bubble of hope. Suddenly, her world looked bright, as if from now on everything was only going to get better, not worse.

Onward and upwards, she thought.

 

Chapter 32

June 6th, 2790

(The Lincoln’s Frame of Reference)

“I’ll take him from here, Doctor,” Korbin said.

Doctor Crespin looked uncertain. “I should be the one to escort him to the G-tanks. He is my responsibility.”

“You have enough to do as it is. The crew’s safety is just as much my responsibility as it is yours. I’ll make sure he doesn’t take off his helmet or otherwise compromise the integrity of this ship.”

Crespin scratched at the stubble on his face. Obviously he needed to give himself another round of depilatory treatments before he entered the tanks. “Okay.”

Korbin flashed a smile and turned to Max. “Let’s go.”

They marched away, out the doors from the med center and down the corridor to the nearest elevator. The Lincoln was still under one G of acceleration, so gravity was functioning normally throughout the central column, but soon, once everyone was safely ensconced in the G-tanks, the ship would go from one G to ten and continue that way for almost three weeks while it accelerated up to half the speed of light.

As they reached the elevator doors, Korbin glanced around to make sure they were alone together, and then she sent Max a private comms—text only, which she composed mentally via her cerebral implant.

The captain sent the mission data through the wormhole ahead of us in case something happens to the ship on the way home. Should we do the same?

Max glanced her way before replying. I’ll make it happen.

How?

I have a way to stay awake and get out of the G-tanks while everyone else is asleep.

Korbin blinked, shocked. How? she asked again.

Too complicated to get into right now. Just trust me. I can do it.

You’ll be crushed like a bug.

There’s a half an hour window between entering the G-tanks and accelerating up to speed. That’s long enough. How do you think I got the nav data?

She had to admit that did answer a nagging question. Okay, but this is different than simply stealing data. Even if you find a way to use the Lincoln’s comms to send the data, the Alliance will pick up any transmission you send.

I’ll use Confederacy encryption algorithms.

Then they’ll know there’s a traitor on board.

Max shook his head. But they won’t know who, and we already have Williams to pin it on.

He’s in the brig.

I’ll plant the data drives and a hacked comm band with a backdoor into the Lincoln’s systems in his personal effects. People will wonder how he smuggled that into the brig, but most will just take it at face value.

And if they don’t?

Then one of us needs to take the fall. I’m too valuable to compromise myself, so it will have to be you.

Korbin considered that with a frown. Her reconditioning told her to leave self-interest out of her decision-making, and when relying on unbiased logic, comparing her value to the value of a spy who was the president’s direct representative and plenipotentiary to the Alliance, there was no contest.

Agreed, she texted back. I’ll take the fall if it comes to it.

You have the perfect excuse. You were captured and reconditioned.

Yes.

Korbin turned and hit the call button for the elevator. They waited a few moments for it to arrive. When it did, the doors parted to reveal Captain Alexander.

“Korbin—I thought you would be waiting at the G-tanks by now.”

She shook her head. “I came to check on Max first.”

Alexander appeared to notice Max for the first time. “Oh, so did I,” he said. “I guess we can go up together, then.”

Korbin smiled. “I guess so, sir.”

Alexander held the doors open for them as they walked in, and Max traded a look with her when his back was turned.

Leave everything to me, he texted.

She gave no reply, afraid that Alexander would somehow overhear their very thoughts, but of course that was impossible.

“Something on your mind, Korbin?” Alexander asked, turning to her with eyebrows raised.

She started, afraid that he somehow had read her mind.

“No, sir, why do you ask?”

“You’re unusually quiet.”

She shook her head and smiled. “Just thinking about my kids back home.”

“I’m sure they’re fine. We need to be positive, Commander.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

*

Alexander stood in front of G-tank number 23 once more, stripping out of his pressure suit and uniform to stow them in the locker beside the tank. As he rolled up his uniform, he noticed the heavy weight in the inside pocket of the jacket. That had to be the pocket watch his wife had given him. He unrolled the uniform and withdrew it. He studied the engravings, running his thumb over them as he read. He smiled and depressed the clasp at the top of the watch, popping it open. Inside he saw the photograph of him and Caty. Then his eyes drifted down to study the time. The hands pointed to eleven and one—11:05, and the date read JUN|6|90.

Just under three weeks had passed since they’d emerged from the G-tanks. Not bad considering they’d been afraid they might end up stuck in the Wonderland system for years, not weeks.

“See you on the other side, Captain,” McAdams said from the tank beside his as Doctor Crespin opened the hatch for her.

He nodded to her, pretending not to notice her nakedness, and making sure to keep his eyes on her face. “See you in seventy days, Lieutenant.” She walked inside, giving him a nice view of her rear. He looked away with a frown, chastising himself for allowing his gaze to linger. You’re a married man.

“All ready over here, Captain?” Doctor Crespin asked.

Alexander nodded and noticed the doctor’s gaze sliding down to the pocket watch in his hand. “I didn’t have you pegged for an antique collector,” Crespin said.

“A memento from my wife,” Alexander explained.

“So you can count the seconds you’re apart,” he said, nodding. “Sounds like an appropriate gift from a loving wife.”

“It was. I just hope it still is.”

Crespin nodded absently as he configured the tank, as if he understood what Alexander meant by that. “All set.” The tank doors slid open, and lights snapped on inside the small chamber. “If there are no unforeseen emergencies, you’ll be waking up in seventy days—from our frame of reference that will be August 15th, 2790. Of course, from Earth’s frame of reference it will be about two years later than that. You know—even if we don’t end up colonizing Wonderland, I bet we could use the Looking Glass to sell one-way tickets to the future.”

Alexander smiled. “But who would buy them?”

Crespin shrugged, and Seth Ryder chimed in from the tank beside Alexander’s. “If we’re lucky, the entire Confederacy will. Maybe we can work a deal where we take turns ruling Earth. Their government schedules a trip to the future, and when they come back it’s their turn.”

Alexander sent Seth a bland smile. “I doubt that will fly. More likely we’ll end up nuking each other until everyone is lining up to buy tickets to a future where Earth might be habitable again.”

“Yeah…” Seth said, and looked away.

Alexander grimaced. Not the best comment to make under the circumstances. He was going to have to get his implants adjusted for impulsivity.

“Captain,” Crespin gestured for him to enter the tank. “By your leave, sir.”

Alexander finished stowing his belongings in the locker and nodded to the doctor before entering the tank. He walked straight up to the harness and life support in the center of the chamber and began separating his life support lines. The door of the tank slid shut with an echoing boom. Alexander glanced at the now-shut door and shivered. He looked up at the glaring overhead lights inside the tank, then all around at the gleaming walls, and he felt trapped. The tank could easily double for a coffin if something happened in transit.

Best not to think about that.

Alexander pricked the needle of his nutrient line into the implant in his wrist, and the sensation of cold fluids entering his bloodstream made him shiver again. That done, he inserted the tracheal tube, gagging once as it slid down his throat, and finally he inserted the rectal line and strapped on his urinal cup.

Now trailing no less than four different tubes, Alexander hurried to strap himself into the harness. Soon after that, the tank detected he was ready and the lights began to dim. Alexander’s head lolled with a spreading warmth that turned conscious thought to mush. The coma-inducing drugs were already buzzing through him. A warm liquid swirled in around his toes. He blinked, and he was floating inside his harness and the liquid was up to his neck. Startled, he realized that he must have drifted off. A green light snapped on beside his ventilator and warm liquid began whooshing into his lungs. It was like drowning without drowning. His lungs felt full and heavy, but there were no burning demands for oxygen. The perfluorocarbon in his lungs was an even more effective oxygenator than air, but much heavier, so the ventilator pump was needed to keep things circulating.

Alexander felt his eyes closing even before the liquid reached them. The warmth consumed him, and soon he dreamed he was suntanning beside a pool with Catalina.

Hello, Darling, she whispered in his ear.

He turned lazily to look. She looked like Caty—blond hair turned to luminous strands of gold in the sun, blue eyes deep and shimmering… but her face was too narrow, nose too long, and cheekbones too high for this woman to be his wife. And her breasts didn’t fit either. This was McAdams, not Catalina.

An objection bubbled up inside his throat, but no words came out. She leaned down and kissed him. He was paralyzed, unable to resist, and a guilty part of him accepted that excuse. Her tongue slid past his lips and into his mouth, then all the way down his throat, gagging him with its alien presence. He opened his eyes to see that she was a hideous alien with lumpy blue-green skin, bleached white hair, and reptilian eyes. He recoiled from her and his eyes snapped open.

He was back inside the tank, dim lights slowly rising in brightness. The water was gone, his skin itchy but dry. He could still feel that tongue inside his throat, and it hurt, as if the dream had been real.

Then he saw the ventilator and remembered where he was. Alexander hurried to withdraw the ventilator, gagging and wincing as it came back up his throat. The damn thing had hurt him somehow. As life sparked back into his nerves, he felt the unwelcome pressure of the urinal cup and the invading presence of the rectal tube.

Feeling violated, he hurried to disconnect himself from life support. His face began to itch, and he reached up to scratch his cheek. He was immediately shocked to feel a thick, bushy beard growing there—the hair still damp and clinging to his skin. He recalled that he’d forgotten to get an extra round of depilatory treatments from Doctor Crespin. Many months had passed since receiving those treatments back on Earth.

Alexander unhooked his harness and shambled up to the door on stiff and shaking legs. He remembered feeling the same way after emerging from the G-tank the first time, so no big surprise there. He waved the door open and stumbled out into the circular room beyond.

The lights were too bright, making his eyes burn and water after spending so long in darkness. The air felt much colder outside the heated tank. Soon his teeth were chattering, and his entire body trembling. Fumbling with the control panel beside his locker, Alexander opened it and withdrew his belongings. All around him he heard tanks swishing open and people stumbling out, making exclamations about the cold and their various states of confusion and physical discomfort.