Chapter Thirty-Six
FENN
Dr. Um is screaming, screaming, screaming.
“God, what is it?” Hana asks. She unhooks her buckles and straps to push herself over to her mother.
“Hana, don’t!” I yell.
“It’s the Cyclo tissue in me. It’s dying, too,” Dr. Um says, gasping between her moans. “Oh, God. It’s not like—I can’t—I didn’t think—”
“We have to take her suit off,” Hana says, releasing her mother from her seat and tugging at the thick, white fabric, finding the fasteners that go to her arm and yanking the whole sleeve off.
“We are on manual control,” Sannu says. “Would you like me to autopilot a safe distance away from the Calathus?”
“YES!” Hana and I yell simultaneously. The ship backs farther away from Cyclo, not fast enough for my taste, but there are other things to deal with. I unbuckle and push myself over to Dr. Um’s chair.
Hana has removed the sleeve of her suit, where it goes lithely floating away. She tears at the skin-tight fabric of her clothes, ripping up the sleeve in one smooth movement. When Hana sees her mother’s arm, she cries out.
This is not good.
I’d expected the tattoo to be blue, or at least navy blue. A pretty lotus design.
But all I see is blood and black gashes deep in her arm. The darkness is rapidly spreading, sending itself through the veins under her skin, even as we speak.
And to make matters worse, the ship has stopped moving.
“Make a tourniquet, Hana. Anything to stop the spread. Cyclo’s cells must be dying in her arm, too. But maybe we can keep it from hurting the rest of her,” I say. Hana uses the torn shirt to tourniquet her mother’s arm. I yell, “Sannu! Why isn’t this ship moving faster?”
“We are still attached to the Calathus,” Sannu tells us placidly.
“What?” Hana and I yell again, simultaneously.
“The Calathus has sent out a pseudopod and has reattached to my hull. I am trying to break the bond, but she is highly radioactive and I’m having trouble—she is permutating my cells—she is trying to override my controls.”
Hana looks at her mother, then out the cockpit window. We are getting closer to Cyclo, not farther away.
No, no, no.
Hana looks at me, a sickened expression over her face.
“She wants me,” Hana says, quietly.
“Hana, let Sannu break the connection. There’s nothing you can do!” her mother yells between gasps of pain.
Hana doesn’t listen. She’s staring back through the cockpit window, looking at a thick cord of matrix that’s stretched out to our little ship. Stretched out to take Hana back. Behind, we can see licks of flames and explosions happening inside the plastrix windows all around the edges of Cyclo. The ship has tilted, and as we’re attached, we have, too, no longer with the shining blue of Maia above us.
“Radiation levels are critical,” Sannu repeats.
“She wants me,” Hana says again, like she’s in a trance. “Only me.”
I undo the buckles of my safety belts, but I’m not fast enough. Hana pushes herself back toward the door and touches the walls with her hands as she presses her body against the membrane of Sannu’s wall.
“Sannu. Dr. Um is incapacitated. I need you to release me from the ship. It’s the only way you’ll get away from the Calathus.”
“You need a passcode for authorization,” Sannu says.
Mother cries out, “No, Hana!”
“Dal a, dal a,” Hana says.
“Hana!” Mother cries out. She tries to unbuckle herself, but she crumples in a howl of pain. “Stop! Sannu, don’t—”
“Authorization accepted,” Sannu says.
“I need to leave the ship,” Hana says.
“Sannu, override authorization,” Dr. Um gasps, but Sannu flashes a kindly yellow color.
“My biomonitors read that you are incapacitated, Dr. Um. Authorization has already been accepted.”
Dr. Um points to the wall. “But the suit! God, Hana, at least put on one of the pressurized suits!”
“Two suits. One for you, and one for Mother. Take care of her, Fenn. I know you’ll figure out a way to keep her alive.”
With the buckles on my harnesses all free, I launch myself toward Hana. Hana spreads her palms against Sannu’s inner skin. He seems to know exactly what she’s asking for, without her saying a word. He’s even more responsive that Cyclo. A thin film envelops Hana, separating her from the cockpit. The film grows an inch thick by the time I reach her. I realize what’s happening—Sannu is preparing to push Hana right through the wall of the ship and into space. I claw and grab at Sannu’s wall, but it’s thickening even as I gouge out a few bits of matrix here and there. It grows more and more opaque as it gets thicker. Hana already is a blur behind the wall of silvery-white. I can see her mouthing something, but I don’t understand.
“What is she saying, Sannu?” I yell.
“Hana is commanding me to fly the ship for at least one hour on autopilot before allowing you or Dr. Um to command me. She has overridden Dr. Um’s command for one hour under all circumstances.”
“No!” I cry out.
“She has ordered me to release her outside the ship now.”
“Sannu, stop her! Stop this!”
Hana isn’t speaking anymore. She simply smiles in the blurry cloud behind the wall of Sannu’s making. She raises her hand against the wall between us. All I can do is put my hand near hers in pantomime. Tears are streaming down my face.
“Don’t do this. Don’t, Hana. Don’t,” I say, over and over again.
Soon, I can’t see her anymore as the wall goes completely opaque.
Hana is gone.