“What have we got?” Alex said.
“She’s making the same signs,” Bobbie said. “Here we go. ‘Danger. Do not approach. Explosion hazard.’ But then here’s ‘Low air,’ and ‘five’… shit, ‘four minutes.’ ”
“Is it her?” Alex said, knowing there wasn’t an answer for that. Even if the figure turned its face to them, Alex wasn’t certain between glare and the suit’s helmet if he’d have been able to identify Naomi. It was just a person in an EVA suit, running out of air and warning them over and over again that it was a trap.
But Alex thought that whoever it was, they sure moved like Naomi. And they’d both been calling the figure “she.” They might not know, but they were both pretty certain. The body of the Razorback felt suddenly claustrophobic. Like the appearance of Naomi right there where he could see her required more room to move. Enough space to reach her. Alex set the pinnace’s system to the diamond-bright suit and started it calculating.
“Where’s she going to go?” Bobbie asked.
“Looks like she’s set to drift across into the path of the ship again,” Alex said. “If it don’t hit her, maybe she gets past and the drive plume gets her.”
“Or we watch her suffocate?” Bobbie said.
“I can take the ship in,” Alex said.
“And crisp her decelerating?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Get your helmets on,” Bobbie yelled loud enough to carry into the back cabin. “I’m going in.”
“That suit’s got enough thrust to do a fifty-klick flip-and-burn in under four minutes?” Alex asked, but he was already sealing his suit as he said it.
“Nope,” Bobbie said, reaching for her helmet with one hand and a spare bottle of air with the other. “But it’s got really good mag boots and gloves.”
Alex checked his seals and got ready to open the Razorback to the void. “Don’t see how that’s going to help.”
The prime minister’s cabin showed it was sealed. On the monitor, the figure – Naomi – signaled Danger. Do not approach. Explosion hazard. Bobbie yelped, took a deep shuddering breath. Her voice was coming through the EVA suit’s radio now. “God damn, it’s been a long time since I was on the juice. This is some powerfully unpleasant shit.”
“Bobbie, we’re running out of time here. How are mag boots going to get you to Naomi?”
Behind her helmet’s visor, Bobbie grinned. “How good’s your control on those missiles?” she asked.
Chapter Forty-seven: Naomi
Leaving the airlock this one last time was the most peaceful thing Naomi could imagine doing. As soon as she’d cleared the outer door, the sun and stars had stopped their gut-sickening whirl. She had taken her tangent from the whirling circle of life, and now her path was a line. Well, not a tangent, really. A secant, and doomed to cross paths with the ship again, only maybe not in her lifetime.
For a moment, she let herself enjoy drifting. The sun pressed against her back, the light radiating past her as she cast a shadow on whole stars, galaxies. The sense of whirling faded a little, and she wondered where Alex was, out among all these stars. She remembered to start counting. One thousand and… how long had she already been out? Seven? Eight? Well, she might as well think the worst. One thousand and thirty. Why not? She lifted her hands over her head. Danger. Then Do not approach. Then Explosion hazard. She felt like she was trying to warn the stars. The Milky Way. Don’t come here. Stay away. There are humans here, and you can’t trust them.
She stretched with every motion, letting it all go. She should have been scared, but she wasn’t. She was going to her death, and that sucked. She would have liked to live longer. To see Jim again. And Alex. And Amos. She would have liked to tell Jim all the things she’d been so careful for so long not to say. One thousand and sixty. Time to change her signs. Four minutes left. Four minutes and a lifetime.
Somewhere out there, Filip was with his father, the way he had been for years. Since he was a baby. And Cyn, poor Cyn, already as dead as she was going to be because he’d seen her in the airlock and thought stopping her would have been saving her. Thought the life she had with Marco was worth having. She wondered what would have happened if she’d stayed. If the Chetzemoka had flown without her. Would Jim have set off the bomb? She had to think he would have. He wasn’t a man who reined in his curiosity well. The stars shuddered, blurred. She was weeping. Danger. Do not approach. Explosion hazard.
If the suit had been powered, it would have been screaming alerts at her. She was almost glad now that it wasn’t. She wasn’t even light-headed yet. She’d seen people pass out. As long as her CO2 scrubbers kept working, it would be a peaceful way to go. No choking, no panic. Just a moment’s disorientation and then, softly, out. Here she was, after so many years, throwing herself out another airlock. She could still remember that first one, back on Ceres. It had been set in the floor, of course, but she could still conjure up the feeling of pressure on her fingers when she’d told it to cycle open, still believing that it meant her own death. And even then, she hadn’t wanted to die. She’d just wanted it to be over. To be free of it all. For the pain and guilt to be over. And the feeling of being trapped. She might have been able to stand all the rest of it, but not the sense of being caught.
This death wasn’t at all like that. This was throwing herself in front of a bullet so that it wouldn’t hit her friends. Her family. The family she’d chosen. The one built from people who had risked their lives for her. She wished Cyn could have met Jim. Could have understood how far she’d come from the girl he’d known on Ceres, back in the day. How much she wasn’t just Knuckles anymore.
She wasn’t religious, but she’d known any number of people who were. Explosion hazard. Low air. Three minutes. She wondered whether they would have thought what she was doing now was sinful. Giving herself over to the void in hopes that Alex would see her, would understand, would save himself.
r /> And her. It would be nice if somehow he found a way to save her back. Or if Jim suddenly swept down from the stars to gather her up. She chuckled. God knew he’d try. Always blundering into being the hero, her Jim. Now he’d know what it had felt like for her all those times he’d squared his jaw and run off into near-certain death because it was the right thing. Pity she wouldn’t be there to point it out to him. He might not connect those dots himself. Or he might. He’d changed over the years, and he wouldn’t change back.
Danger. Do not approach. Explosive hazard. She’d lost count again. Two minutes? One? She didn’t know. She found herself humming a melody she’d heard as a child. She didn’t know the words to it. They might not have even been in a language she knew. It didn’t matter. She was glad for the song’s company. Grateful. More than that, she was grateful that she wasn’t going to die nauseated. Okay, fine. If this is what I get, this is what I get. Not a life without regrets, but none I can’t live with. None I can’t die with.
Still, she thought to the universe, if it isn’t a problem, I wouldn’t say no to a little more.
Something moved off to her left, streaking out from behind her. Huge and metal and shining brightly in the sun. It looked like a missile, pointing back toward the sun as it retreated. Its drive wasn’t firing. That seemed weird and kind of random. She wondered if —
The impact came in the center of her back, hard as an assault. An arm wrapped around her shoulder and a leg around her waist locking her immobile. She squirmed by reflex, trying to escape the attack, but whoever it was had her cold. She couldn’t escape. She felt the other person’s free hand fumbling at her suit. Something hard and metal pressed against her thigh where the air bottles would go.