The baby Phinon sure seemed like it was curious as it aggressively wandered around the glass tank to which the biology section had confined it. Flitting from side to side and over obstacles of pipes and blocks, the tiny quadruped learned its environment, but the rods and pistons of the limbs made the thing look for all the world like something out of the toy "build a robot insect" kit Sammi had played with as a child.
During the dissection of the first Phinon, as soon as it had died, the researchers had noticed that the "baby" was fighting to escape from the body, primarily by eating its way out. Flesh or steel bone made no differenceits mouth parts secreted a powerful fluid that dissolved anything in the way. Although certain that the escape had been prompted by the death of the "parent," it had been unclear to the witnesses whether or not the baby didn't normally try to leave the adult body this way when it was born. Given the prodigious regenerative powers of the Phinon physiology, they might have been witnessing a typical Phinon joyous moment.
If the Phinons know what joy is. Sometimes I wonder if I even know anymore. Sammi continued to watch the baby Phinon, but she was mentally adrift, not quite knowing what to think, not quite knowing what to do with herself. She was a bit disgusted with herself for finding the baby alien "cute," given what its species was about to do to her own race, but it could hardly be blamed for that.
The meeting had only been that morning, but somehow she couldn't accept the idea that her work was all done. She had promised Knoedler that she'd "whip up her best batch" of genanites by tomorrow for loading into the biomines, but even that was really nothing more than a few keystrokes on her keyboard. There was no further tweaking to be done, although she could do some if she wanted to. Make the Phinons turn blue before they die? That was a trivial DNA side attachment. Make the Phinons die even faster? Could be done, but not worth the effort.
Put in a self-destruct code so the genanites don't go on killing forever?
That was the question plaguing her, and it had been for months, though she wouldn't admit it to herself. It had been fun playing revenge fantasies through her mind in the months since Steve had died, but she'd been avoiding the real question, and now she couldn't anymore.
Sammi left the baby Phinon to its investigations. Had she been free to leave the High Command, she might have gone back to Luna City. Or maybe to the cemetery. But she couldn't go. She was too valuable for Knoedler to risk her leaving the safety of the complex, at least until the attack fleet was away. She went to the one place where she always went to think at the High Commandthe observation bubble.
This time the view looked threatening. Out there somewhere was the Phinon fleet, turning toward the Earth-Luna system. If her bugs didn't prompt them to flee, then the Earth was lost. But even if the Phinons destroyed the Earth, the Phinons were dead in the ultimate Pyrrhic victory.
The Earth was so beautiful hanging there in the diamond-dusted velvet of the sky, but Sammi couldn't help but overlap the view with images from the destruction of the Jovian worlds. Live in tunnels until we could defeat the Phinons? Fat chance. There weren't going to be any tunnels left anywhere down there if the Phinons had their way about it. But win or lose, the Phinons would die anyway, and she recalled the holotank image of the galaxy going dark that she'd set up to amuse herself.
Somehow, it doesn't seem as satisfying now. Five thousand years from now, on some planet . . . or rather, in some comet . . . on the other side of the galaxy, the last Phinon is going to collapse as its bones rust away. And it will never know why. And it will never know that I did it, nor that it was the last victim of a long-ago war, nor what the outcome was.
It was all so desperate and romantic and tragic. And realdon't forget that! Again she looked out at the stars, and wondered which if any of those she could see was Alpha Centauri, which Tau Ceti, which Epsilon Eridani. Three passenger ships equipped with the hyperdrive would be heading for those stars before the Phinon wave arrived. It would take over two months for the first ship to arrive at Alpha Centauri, and it was certain that the Phinons would occupy the Oort cloud of that star. Given Dykstra's understanding of the Phinon evolution, the time scale almost mandated that they had the entire galaxy filled up by now.
No place to run but to isolated islands inside Hague Limits, hoping the Phinons won't notice them so they can keep humanity going. And maybe even come back to rebuild here. That too was romantic and tragic.
Sammi heard the door slide open behind her. She was certain it had to be Chris. Who else would come up here at a time like this? But when she turned to look she was surprised to see that it was Paula who was entering the observation bubble.
Oh no, not Miss Bouncy-wouncy, Sammi thought. Even as she thought it she knew she was being unfair for she didn't know anything about the girl and, although they'd been introduced, had never even had a conversation with her. The flow of Paula's figure was the only thing Sammi was basing her opinion of the woman on, and she rather liked assuming that Paula was better defined by her body than her brains.
"Oh, hi," Paula said, noticing her. "Rick said I should come up here some time. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"You're not," Sammi assured her. "I just came up here to look at the stars and sort some things out."
"That's why I came, too," Paula said. She walked to the side of the dome and peered out into the deep. "Hard to believe this may be one of the last times any of us ever see Earth."
"Yeah," Sammi said.
"Rick sometimes calls you `Sunshine.' May I ask how you got the nickname?"
Isn't it obvious, you . . . Sammi thought, then stopped herself. Is it obvious? Do I even smile anymore? I used to be fun. I used to be spontaneous. What happened to the person who had that nickname, anyway? Even Chris hardly calls me "Sunshine" anymore. "I got it for my smile. But I haven't been smiling much lately."
"I can understand that," Paula said. "I should be deliriously happy myself. I love Rick Vander Kam. Did you know that? He's everything I've ever wanted in man, and I knew it instantly. I know, some people think I'm only after him for his money. I can understand why they would. But I don't care. I really don't."
"Is that what you came here to think about?" Sammi asked. She also had wondered about Paula's motives with respect to Rick, but for now she figured listening to Paula would take her mind off her own thoughts.
"That and other things. He told me a little while ago about what was decided at that meeting you were all at. And about the call for volunteers . . ." Paula turned away from her and resumed looking at the sky.
"You're going to volunteer to pilot a skiff? What did Rick say?"
"I haven't told him yet. But what else am I supposed to do? I'm a good pilot. Am I just supposed to sit on my hands while the Phinons try to kill us? Either your genanites turn them aside or they don't. I've never been one to just sit around and wait to see what happensRick could tell you that. The least I can do is try to deliver them to target."
And now we're back to my bugs, Sammi thought sadly. So much for a change of subject. What am I doing up here? Looking for the girl who used to be? Looking for Sunshine MacTavish? Sunshine never had the fate of humanity resting on her shoulders.
"So how does it feel to have the fate of the Phinons resting on your shoulders?" Paula asked, interrupting Sammi's thought. "The way Rick told me, if we can infect them, even if they don't flee, they're dead."
The fate of the Phinons?
"Didn't you mean to say the fate of humanity?"
"I'd say that's on a lot of shoulders. Even mine once I volunteer," Paula answered. "Where would we be without you or Dykstra or Arie or my Rick?
"Oh, how am I going to tell him?"
It was clear to Sammi that Paula had not thought too deeply about the implications of what she'd said, but just saying it had been enough. What had Chris said, practically at the beginning? That our actions will be judged before God and history. I know what I've been planning to do. But what would Sunshine do?
Sammi left Paula to bounce her thoughts off the stars and took the elevator down. She wandered the halls a while, then found herself drawn to the lowest floors, all the way down to the Phinon cage. Although the floor of the theater had been scrubbed, she was sure she could still detect the sour smell of vomit.
She shuddered as she recalled the Phinon dying. She wondered what it had been thinking about just before it died. Its mate had been taken away. Maybe it had been wondering about him. Steve had been thinking about her just before he . . .
Without any warning at all, she felt the tears flow into her eyes, then somehow she was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and sobbing uncontrollably. At Martha's she had expected to do some crying, and now as she wailed into the empty tunnel, a part of her mocked her for fooling herself. That had been no catharsisshe'd lied to Martha even as she was leaving her place.
Sunshine would not have done that.
But this time Sammi had not been ready. This time the numbed soul inside her would not stay numbed. This time the throat of the black hole she'd been funneling her feelings down choked on the overload of emotions too long ignored, and the resulting explosion of grief left behind a naked singularity.
From which could emerge whichever Samantha MacTavish she allowed.
She picked herself up off the floor, found her way to the restroom and cleaned herself up, and took the elevator back up. The door opened and she almost collided with someone as she stepped out. "Oh, sorry" She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Bob. I didn't know it was you."
"That's okay, Sammi. By the way, are you okay?" he asked, smiling at his little rhyme.
Why don't you call me "Sunshine" anymore? "I guess," Sammi said. "I still have to go process a fresh batch of genanites for the mines. I don't want Andy to have to do it alone. And he's got to pack. He's going on the ship to Alpha Centauri with copies of the records of our work.
"It's impossible, but I wish I could forget about the whole damn Phinon business for even just one moment."
"Maybe there's something I can do about that," Nachtegall said.
"Maybe there is, Bob." She stared at him for a few seconds, taking in his noble face and golden hair, then put her arms around him and kissed him in a way she had kissed no one since Steve had left for the Patrol.
Upon resurfacing, Bob said, "I was actually thinking more of dinner and a show . . . ."
"No. That's okay," Sammi said. "That was the moment I needed. Thank you. But I have things I have to do now."
She left him standing there, flabbergasted, and walked away thinking, Sunshine is back.