Asteroid Wars - The Precipice Part 46

Try as he might, Dan could not get back to sleep. Pancho had attempted to call Amanda and Fuchs, but there was no response from them.

"Must be a lotta sizzle outside," she said. Dan thought she sounded worried. Not her usual sa.s.sy self. Or maybe she's just tired. Or bored. How can anybody be bored with this storm only a meter over our heads? Dan asked himself. Some storm. No thunder and lightning. No noise at all, unless you count the crackle and hiss when you try to use the radio.

Quiet. Deadly quiet.

Dan found the water nipple in his suit's collar and took a sip. Flat and warm. Like recycled p.i.s.s.

More than seven hours to go. I'll go bonkers by then: stark, raving nutty.

Then he tasted blood in his mouth.

It was like an electric shock. His entire body flinched. Everything else disappeared from his mind.

Bleeding gums, he thought, trying to fight down the terror rising in him. One of the prime symptoms of radiation sickness.

Or maybe you accidentally bit your tongue, he told himself. Yeah, sure, answered that sardonic voice in his head. You've had a bout of radiation sickness before, you know the drill. Only this time there's no place to go to, nothing to do except sit here in this grave and let the radiation do its job on you.

"Pancho," he croaked, surprised at how dry his throat was.

"Right here, boss."

"Can you turn on your suit's recorder?"

"Yeah, I think so..."

Dan sensed her fumbling in the dirt. This must be the way moles live, he thought, depending on touch instead of sight. His stomach was fluttering, nauseous. Christ, don't let me toss my cookies inside the double-d.a.m.ned helmet, he begged silently.

Pancho said, "Testing, one, two, three." A moment later he heard the words repeated.

"Okay, the recorder's workin'."

"Good," said Dan. "Get this down." He cleared his throat. It felt raw, raspy. Then, in as normal a voice as he could produce, he p.r.o.nounced: "I am Dan Randolph, CEO of Astro Manufacturing Corporation. This is my last will and testament. The recording equipment will automatically mark this statement with the date and time."

"That's right," Pancho said.

"Don't interrupt, kid. Where was I? Oh, right, last will and testament. I hereby bequeath all my stock in Astro Corporation to my friend and loyal employee, Priscilla Lane, together-"

Pancho was so shocked she didn't even bristle at the use of her proper name. "To me? Are you loco?"

"Don't interrupt!" Dan snapped. "All my Astro stock to Priscilla Lane, together with all my personal belongings and possessions." He had to stop and take a few breaths. Then, "And I nominate Priscilla Lane to take my place on the board of directors of Astro Corporation."

He thought about it for a few moments, then nodded, satisfied. "Okay, that's it. You can turn off the recorder now."

"What'd you do that for? How come you-"

"I'm not going to make it, kid," Dan said tiredly. "The radiation's getting to me. I want you to take my place on the board of directors and fight that sumb.i.t.c.h Humphries with every gram of strength you've got."

"Me? I'm just a hick engineer... a rocket jock, for cryin' out loud."

"You're my heir, Pancho. Like a daughter. I don't have any family to leave anything to, and besides, you know Astro as well as anyone does."

"Not the board of directors."

Dan laughed weakly. "You'll roll right over them, kid. The board needs some fresh, young blood. You'll have to fight Humphries, of course. He'll want to be made chairman once I'm gone."

In a quieter voice, Pancho asked, "You're talkin' like you're at death's door."

"I think I am. My gums are bleeding. I feel woozy. My ears are ringing. I just hope I don't get the s.h.i.ts."

"The storm's almost over," she said.

"So am I."

"Once we get back into the ship we can zip back to Selene in a couple of days. Maybe faster! I can goose her up to maybe half a g." g."

"And how will you brake her? Impact? Dive right into Alphonsus?"

Pancho fell silent for several moments. Dan was glad she couldn't see him. The way his insides felt, his hands would probably be shaking like a palsied old man's if they weren't buried in the asteroid's rubble.

"They can cure radiation sickness back at Selene," Pancho said at last. "Use nanomachines."

"If I make it back to Selene."

"Only about seven hours to go," she said. "Radiation's levelin' off."

"Not as deep as a well," Dan quoted, "or as wide as a church door, but it's enough. It'll do."

"You goin' delirious?"

"No, that's just Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet." Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh. Yeah, right."

"I'm going to take a nap, kid. I feel pretty tired."

"Good idea, I guess."

"Wake me when it's over."

Kris Cardenas was surprised at how her hands trembled as she worked. Programming nanomachines to disa.s.semble carbon-based molecules was a snap, a no-brainer. Just a slight modification to the procedure they used every day to build diamond mechanisms out of bins of soot.

It wasn't the difficulty of the work. As she sat at the lab bench, peering intently at the desktop screen that displayed what the atomic force microscope was showing, she thought about the consequences.

Gobblers. I'm deliberately creating a batch of gobblers. If they get loose...

Calm down! she scolded herself. Go through this logically, step by step.

Okay, they'll break in and find me dead. Lying on the floor. I'll leave a note on the computer screen. Put it in big red letters, so they can't miss it. I'm only making a microsample of gobblers and I'm disabling their a.s.sembly capabilities. They can't reproduce. They'll be contained inside my body.

But what if they get outside your body? They'll be taking you apart from the inside. What's to stop them from getting out?

Nothing, she told herself. So I'll turn on the UV overheads before I swallow the bugs. That will destroy them once they get outside my body.

A knock on the door startled her.

"Dr. Cardenas? We know you're in there. Open up, please."

She wiped the display from the AFM and began hurriedly typing her suicide note.

"Warning. I have ingested a microgram of nanomachine disa.s.semblers. They are programmed to take apart carbon-based molecules. Do not allow them to go beyond the confines of this laboratory. Disinfect the lab with high-intensity ultraviolet light before moving my body or touching anything in this room. Notify-"

Someone banged on the door, hard. "Kris! It's Doug Stavenger. You don't have to do this. Come on out."

She scanned the red block letters on the display screen and erased the final word; no need to notify Doug, he's already here.

"Kris, it's not your fault." Stavenger's voice was m.u.f.fled by the heavy steel door, but she heard the urgency in it well enough. "Come out and talk this over with me."

She got off the spindly-legged stool and went to the sampling site at the end of the bench. A gleaming cup of lunar aluminum sat there, half full of water that contained the nanomachines that were going to kill her.

"Kris," Stavenger called, "you've spent your life developing nanotechnology. Don't throw it all away. Don't give them another reason to say nanomachines are killers."

She picked up the cup and held it in both hands, thinking, I can't live with this guilt. I've committed murder. I've killed four people.

Stavenger was shouting through the locked door, "That's what they'll say. You know that. They'll say that nanomachines killed the foremost researcher in the field. They'll use it to show how dangerous nanomachines are, how right they've been all along to ban them."

She looked from the cup to the closed, locked door. It was Humphries's idea, but I did it. Willingly. He pulled my strings and I danced like a blind, obedient little puppet.

"Don't throw your life away, Kris," Stavenger pleaded. "You'll be destroying everything you've worked for. You'll be giving them the excuse they need to come back here and force us to obey their laws."

Humphries, she thought. Once I'm dead he'll be able to blame the whole thing on me. His lawyers will talk his way out of it. He'll walk away from this. From four murders. Five, counting me.

Cardenas carried the cup back to the sampling site and sealed its aluminum top to its rim. Once the top clicked into place she placed the cup in the disposal oven and closed its door. The inner walls of the oven fluoresced as its ultraviolet lamps bathed the cup.

Why should I die for Martin Humphries? she asked herself. Someone's got to stand up to him. Someone's got to tell the truth about this. No matter what it costs, I've got to face him, face all of them.

"Come on, Kris. Open the door."

They're watching me through the security camera, Cardenas knew. She went back to the computer and erased her message. One of the staff people can destroy the gobblers tomorrow, she told herself. They're safe enough in the oven for now.

Slowly she walked to the door, then stopped at the keypad on the wall next to it.

"Doug?" she called.

"I'm right here, Kris. Open the door, please."

"This is silly," she said, feeling stupid, "but I don't remember the sequence I used to reset the lock."

A mumble of voices on the other side of the door. Then Stavenger, sounding relieved, replied, "Okay, Kris. Security's bringing an a.n.a.lyzer down anyway. We'll have it open in a few minutes."

"Doug?" she said again.

"Yes."

"Thanks."

"Da nada," he answered. he answered.

By the time they got the door unlocked, Cardenas was surprised at how calm she felt. She had looked death in the face and discovered that she was strong enough to go on living.

The pa.s.sageway outside was crammed with men and women in security coveralls, half-a-dozen of her own nanotech people, several medics in white, and Doug Stavenger.

"Are you all right?" Stavenger asked worriedly.

Cardenas felt herself smile a little. "I am now," she said.

DEATH.

"C'mon, boss, wake up!"

Pancho's voice, voice, m.u.f.fled, distant. Dan's eyes were gummy, bleary; it took an effort to open them. He tried to wipe them but his hands were still buried in the loose rubble of the asteroid. m.u.f.fled, distant. Dan's eyes were gummy, bleary; it took an effort to open them. He tried to wipe them but his hands were still buried in the loose rubble of the asteroid.

"Dan! Wake up!" He heard the urgency in her voice.

"Yeah. Okay..." His stomach heaved.

"Radiation level's down almost to normal," Pancho said. "You okay?"

"Sure," he lied. He felt too weak to move, too tired to care.

"Time to get outta here." She was scrabbling, clawing through the gravelly dirt. Dan wanted to help her but he could barely move his arms. All he wanted to do was sleep. Then his guts suddenly lurched and a wave of nausea swept over him.

"We're up, in the open." Amanda's voice came through his helmet speaker.

"I'm gonna need some help here," Pancho replied. "Dan's in a bad way."

Dan was concentrating on not vomiting. Get me to a toilet, he begged silently. I don't want to let loose inside the suit. Even in the depth of his misery, though, somewhere in the back of his mind he laughed bitterly at himself. It all boils down to this, he thought. Everything you've done in your life doesn't amount to a teaspoon of applesauce. All that's really important is not upchucking or losing control of your bowels.

He sensed somebody digging frantically above him, and then strong arms lifting him, dragging him free of the rubble-filled tunnel. Fuchs. He overdid it, and the two of them went tumbling completely off the asteroid, spiraling crazily in s.p.a.ce. Dan saw Starpower 1 Starpower 1 slide past his field of view and then an unstoppable surge of bile rose into his throat and he vomited, spattering his stomach's contents noisomely all over his fishbowl helmet. The stench was overpowering. He groaned and retched again. slide past his field of view and then an unstoppable surge of bile rose into his throat and he vomited, spattering his stomach's contents noisomely all over his fishbowl helmet. The stench was overpowering. He groaned and retched again.

"Hang in there, boss," Pancho said. "I gotcha."