Kamikaze by Jayel

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Kamikaze, Part 8
by Jayel

In spite of misgivings on all sides, our odd little caravan had gotten underway just after sunup the morning after Tara's revelation. We had met up with Wolman and Baines again our second day out--they had gone back toward the EVE ship the day of Magus' "accident" to make sure the trail was clear and were now on their way back. Alonzo had taken them aside and explained what had happened while they were gone. He told me later that both of them had been upset, but he was surprised to notice that Wolman seemed far more concerned about Magus' safety than about any security threat the Donahoe's might pose to the group at large.

"That's not so surprising," I told him. We had discovered that the only way to have a private conversation was to stay awake until everyone else had gone to sleep then whisper in the cramped intimacy of our own cot.

"Isn't it?" I could hear his grin even in the dark.

"Well, they obviously . . . I mean, they're obviously very close," I ventured.

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "You're the woman; you should know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, forgetting to whisper.

"Nothing, forget it," he said, his arm tightening around me. "But you know, I thought Wolman was interested in Devon."

I pushed myself half-upright and looked at him. "That's weird," I said. "So did I." I settled back down again, trying to find the one possible position we could both be comfortable in. "Maybe when we had to leave Devon behind . . . shank, Alonzo, why are we speculating about other people's love lives?"

"Beats me," he said, planting a kiss on my forehead. "Maybe so we don't have to speculate about our own." He pulled the blanket up around me. "And watch your language, Doc--I'm easily shocked."

"Yeah, I noticed," I said with what threatened to be a giggle. "Go to sleep."

"You first," he shot back.

Something in his voice made me think he wasn't teasing any more. "Why?" I asked. "Why don't you want to go to sleep?"

"Afraid I'll miss something," he said, trying and failing to keep his tone light. "Don't worry; I'll wake you up if Santa comes."

"Alonzo, I'm serious," I said, struggling to sit up. "We decided on full disclosure, remember?"

He lay on his back looking up at me for a long moment. "You're beautiful, you know?" he said. "Irritating as hell, but beautiful."

"Don't change the subject," I retorted, refusing to be distracted even by such a lovely come-on as that. "I want to know what's bothering you."

He groaned extravagantly and sat up. "All right, if you must know," he said, mock-sarcastic. "I've been having dreams."

"Terrian dreams?" I said. "Alonzo, I thought we agreed that you'd tell the group if the Terrians dreamed anything to you--"

"I didn't think the group would want to know!" he said, all the teasing gone. "I don't want to know," he said more softly. "Come here . . . " He reached for me and held me close to him. "Please, baby, don't make me tell you about it."

I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. "It's okay," I soothed pointlessly. "But is it really that bad?"

He didn't answer me for so long I began to wonder if he'd even heard me. Then he said, "Bad enough for me to think it doesn't matter what Tara can do or what the Terrians know. Bad enough for me to think we're already dead." He was squeezing me so tight my ribs were cracking, but he still didn't feel close enough. "Just in case I don't get a chance to mention it, Doc . . . I love you."

He had to be wrong. No dream could tell him . . . he just had to be wrong. "I love you, too," I whispered, holding him so tight I knew I'd never let him go.

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By the time I woke up the next morning, Alonzo was already outside, and when I saw him, he was just the same as always. In fact, he seemed in such a good mood, I almost believed I had dreamed our frightening conversation of the night before. We packed up and moved on as usual, and he never said a word about Terrian dreams or impending doom, even when we were alone. But over the next few days, I caught him several times looking at me strangely, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of my face. And when he realized I had noticed, he would smile or wink, but his brown eyes would be sad and haunted, and I would know it hadn't been a dream at all.

So by the time we finally made it back to the EVE ship, I was already worn a little thin. But even being in the best possible emotional condition couldn't have saved me from the oppression I felt looking at that monstrous wreck again. "It seems weird, it still being here, just the same, doesn't it?" Danziger said, coming up beside me.

"Yeah," I agreed. "You're right . . . but that's crazy --I mean, why would it have changed?" The flat gray hull towered over us, presenting a utterly featureless but nevertheless unnerving facade broken only by the outline of its one bay door, still standing ajar like we'd left it.

"I don't know," Danziger said, turning away. "You know, I wasn't even sure it would still be here."

Suddenly Uly darted past us and through the door. "Ulysses, wait!" I called, running after him, but John was faster--as a matter of fact, he plowed over me like a human transrover to catch the child.

But when I made it inside, I found John just on the other side of door. Ulysses was across the room, bathed in the dim glow that emanated from the cold sleep capsule that held his mother, frozen but alive and still heartbreakingly beautiful. "Hi, Mom," he said softly, touching the glass with his fingertips. "We came back." He turned and looked back at me. "Is she okay, Julia?"

I slipped on my glove, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I don't know, Uly," I said, relieved to hear my normal, business-like tone intact. "Let's see." I used the glove to access the life support data systems of the capsule, then glanced back at John. "She's . . . she's fine, Uly," I said.

"Tell the truth," the little boy ordered harshly, his attention focused entirely on his mother's face.

"He's right, Doc," Danziger said, coming up behind us. "We might as well know the worst."

"Her cerebral activity is still very high," I said, trying to concentrate on the data as an abstraction without thinking of what effect my words might have on my listeners, both of whom were so obviously desperate for good news. "As a matter of fact, I'm getting higher brain wave readings that I got when we left."

"She's dreaming," Uly said softly, the last word fading into a Terrian-like purr that echoed eerily in the hollow of this death ship.

"But everything else is failing," I continued. "All of her other bodily functions are shutting down."

"I thought this thing was supposed to hold her in stasis," John said angrily.

"It is, as much as anything can," I told him. "If she weren't in cold sleep, she'd--her condition would be much worse. As it is, the cold sleep is slowing the progression of her illness considerably, but it can't stop it altogether."

"And we still haven't got a clue what kind of 'illness' we're talking about," John finished wearily. I almost wished he would get really angry--bellow and throw things and call me a terrible doctor. At least that would be better than this awful resignation.

"She's freezing," Uly said, looking up suddenly. "It's too cold--we gotta let her out!" He started banging frantically on the glass. "Open it up! Danziger, open it up!"

"Uly, calm down!" I said, trying to hold him still. "We can't open--"

"Don't listen to her!" Uly screamed, tearing out of my grasp. "She doesn't know--"

"Ulysses, stop it!" John ordered, scooping the whirling dervish that only moments before had been a perfectly calm, if somewhat unhappy, little boy up in his powerful arms. "Stop it right now," John said more gently, but holding the boy firmly against his chest. "Julia's right; we can't open that capsule yet. Not until we know what's wrong with your mom."

"I know already," Uly insisted, still fighting but with less energy. "She's freezing to death--COLD sleep--why do you think they call it cold?-- it's killing her."

"No, it isn't." None of us had heard Alonzo come in, but now he was standing beside me. "Uly, listen to me. I know what you think is happening, but that's not it."

"It is," Uly sobbed, but he seemed less certain now, and he went limp in John's arms. "It has to be . . ."

"Shhhh," John soothed, cradling him like a baby. "It's all right, champ. Everything's gonna be all right."

"No, it isn't," Uly wept, clinging around the man's neck like he was drowning. "It's bad--tell him, Alonzo."

"You're right, Uly; it is bad," Alonzo agreed, going to them and taking hold of the boy's hand. "But opening up that capsule isn't going to help. I have that dream, too, and it isn't cold sleep that's causing your mother's body to disintegrate." He glanced back at me. "It's the planet."

"What dream?" Danziger demanded. "What are you talking about?" He looked at me.

"Julia, what's he talking about?"

"Terrian dreams," Alonzo said. "I didn't want to say anything, not until I actually saw Devon." He went over to the capsule and placed his fingertips on the glass in an eerie echo of Ulysses' gesture earlier. "It isn't just Devon that's dying," he continued. "It's the planet."

"'Lonzo, you don't know that for certain," I interrupted, going to him and putting my hands on his back.

"I know now," he said stubbornly, his eyes still focused on Devon. His face was barely an inch from the glass that covered hers, and I had the ridiculous thought that if the glass weren't there, she would feel his breath on her lips. She would wake up.

"Okay, so the planet is dying," Danziger said, still rocking Ulysses back and forth. "This ain't news, you know? Elizabeth Anson said as much before Devon even got sick. She said EVE's network was killing the planet. We didn't believe her, because we had seen those convicts and the Elder, but maybe she was right. Or at least now maybe she's right."

"Because we reactivated EVE," I breathed, barely able to form the words. I felt as if someone had punched me hard in the stomach, and from the look on his face, I thought John probably felt the same.

"Exactly," he said. "And even if we could turn her off, we couldn't, because if we did, we'd all die."

Alonzo looked up, first at me, then at John, then back at me. "But the planet would live," he said softly. "If the planet dies, we die anyway--"

"Stop it," John said, his eyes like blue fire. I hadn't seen that particular look on his face since the demon, and I hadn't really wanted to see it again. "I've had just about enough of this 'we have to sacrifice ourselves for the good of the planet; the Terrians were here first; we have a responsibility'--that's a load of crap, all right?" He shoved Uly into my arms and stormed up to the cold sleep capsule, knocking Alonzo out of the way. "You told me to make sure everyone survived, remember?" he yelled at Devon's sleeping form. "Turning off a geolock or getting rid of a scumbag like Gaal, that's one thing, but if you think I'm gonna let you die to save a bunch of diggers, you're crazy, all right? And if you think we're gonna just commit mass suicide for this planet, if you think I'm gonna come this far . . ." Suddenly he seemed to see how pointless it was, this shouting at a dreaming corpse, and his voice trailed off. "I won't do it," he said gruffly to me then turned to Alonzo. "You hear me, fly-boy? I won't do it."

"We can't," I promised him. "We can't deactivate EVE, even if we all voted to do so." I squeezed Uly and was gratified to feel him squeeze back. "Our only hope is that Tara can somehow make her let us go."

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