Heaven's Shadow Read online

  Twenty minutes later, he was completely suited up and outside rover Buzz, listening to Taj. “Dennis has moved over to Venture to keep an eye on Yvonne.”

  Taj had brought another sled from Brahma—empty. “You didn’t have time to put anything in it?” Lucas joked.

  “Didn’t you get briefed?” Tea said, sounding irritated. “This is to let us haul bodies out of there.” She grabbed the tether and began hauling it toward the membrane, less than a hundred meters away.

  Lucas had no answer for that, which seemed to further annoy Tea. “They’re an hour past the extreme limit of their consumables.”

  “In normal circumstances, yes.” As Taj and Lucas hurried to keep up with Tea, Lucas told the others as much as he could about the wind and glowworms.

  Taj seemed confused. “You’re saying there’s a breathable atmosphere through this curtain?”

  “All I know is that it’s not vacuum.” Lucas turned to Tea, seeking an ally on the side of optimism, however brief and foolish. “Do we know how the suits will operate under pressure, with some oxygen in the environment?”

  “Yes,” Tea said. “They will operate exactly the way they would in vacuum. Unless Zack and Natalia opened their suits and breathed, they are almost surely dead.”

  “What if they sat down . . . rested . . . slowed the rate of consumption?”

  “They’ve run those calculations, too,” Taj said.

  “They can’t be very precise—”

  “They aren’t,” Tea said, clearly wanting to end this line of discussion. “That’s why we’re still calling this a rescue and retrieval mission.”

  They had reached the membrane. “We just walk through this?” Taj said, clearly doubtful.

  “It’s about ten meters deep . . . maybe less,” Lucas said.

  “Can’t you fucking remember?” Tea again.

  Lucas was appalled, not just by her obvious anger. He was embarrassed to know that their words were being recorded, even if they wouldn’t be heard for hours yet. “The boundaries are compressible. It seemed thinner the second time I went through.”

  Tea was examining the seam where the membrane attached to the rocky walls. “Are we being heard?” Lucas asked.

  “Only in both mission controls,” Taj said. “Both sides agreed on a blackout.”

  “A first for everything—”

  Tea shut up as the membrane bulged.

  Someone was emerging! Taj hauled Tea away from the seam. “Stand back, everyone!”

  It was Natalia, stumbling forward.

  Lucas caught her. She was clearly happy to see them, so happy she was almost incoherent, speaking half in Russian about vorvolaka.

  “Calm down!” Taj said.

  “I’m really glad they can’t hear this at home on television,” Tea said, grabbing Natalia by her shoulders and turning her face-on. “Natalia, where’s Zack?”

  “I left him—”

  “You what?”

  “Wait, Tea.” It was Taj, who had been reading the oxygen levels on Natalia’s suit. “We’ve got to get her to the rover. She’s almost out of gas.”

  “Fuck! Fine!” Tea joined Taj, each taking Natalia by the arm and halfescorting, half-hauling her back to the rover.

  “Zack was okay when I left him,” Natalia said, quickly explaining that both astronauts had removed their helmets and breathed the atmosphere of Keanu.

  On hearing this, Tea seemed to relax. “Okay. What else is going on in there? What is vorvolaka?”

  “A word my grandmother would use. Is like ‘ghost’ or ‘undead.’”

  Even though she had calmed down considerably since finding them, Natalia was almost hysterical, and her English was the first casualty. Lucas had a difficult time understanding her.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Tea said, clearly impatient with the cosmonaut’s Old World imagery. “You’re not making sense.”

  They were at the rover now. “It is very hard to believe,” Natalia said. Then she patted her helmet camera. “But I will show you.”

  Taj pulled a linking cord out of his chest pack. “You’ll not only show us, you’ll be showing Houston and Bangalore.”

  My name is Rachel Stewart. I am eleven years old. I live on Chestnut Drive in Clear Lake City. My father is a NASA astronaut. My mother is driving me crazy with her camera.

  UNPUBLISHED TEXT FROM RACHEL STEWART, SIXTH-GRADE ASSIGNMENT,

  ST. BERNADETTE’S SCHOOL

  “What about Rachel?” To Zack, it was as if “Megan” wouldn’t allow herself to say, Was Rachel killed with me? or Was she badly injured?

  “She was shaken up. She went through a very traumatic period. Lost her mother, all of that. But from the accident? A bump on her head and some cuts.”

  “Tell me about her!”

  So for ten minutes, he did—suitably sanitized. This was not the time or place to complain about Rachel’s inability to be the perfect dutiful daughter.

  “And she’s in mission control?”

  “She was a few hours ago.”

  “I want to see her.”

  Zack hesitated. “As soon as we can figure out how to get us in touch—”

  Then she stood and began rubbing off the second skin, revealing some other layer of shinier material underneath. Stranger and stranger.

  “What about Harley?”

  Zack had to tell her about Harley’s injuries. “It wasn’t his fault,” she said. “It was just . . . all messed up.”

  “Well, he still feels guilty. But I’m going to guess that getting absolution from the person he killed might make him feel better.” She actually shot him a perfect Megan look—Ha-ha—as she stood and began to rub off the flaky outer husk, leaving the tougher layer beneath.

  “Do you feel different?”

  “Yes and no. Physically, mentally, I feel pretty much the way I did before I got killed—which, by the way, is a phrase I’m really never going to get used to.

  “I’m breathing. I have a heartbeat. What’s different is my outfit.” She nodded at him. “I bet it’s more comfortable than that suit.” She was picking at her second skin.

  “You’re going to be naked if you keep that up.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” She had done her legs and arms. “Help me with my back.”

  The outer layer of the second skin was more fragile than Zack had thought. “Is this drying out and flaking off?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  Zack stood back then, looking away in some bizarre and unnecessary attempt at politeness. The moment allowed him to think again about larger issues. “So what do we call this event?” he said. “A resurrection?”

  “I guess. I mean, not in the I-saw-Jesus sense. But I never was as religious as you.”

  He had no immediate comment. Megan noted his silence. “You still don’t believe this, do you?”

  “Put yourself in my place: Would you?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “As long as we understand each other.”

  “The moment I have some definitive explanation for my current state, I’ll pass it on.”

  Zack nodded. “Do you remember anything after the accident?”

  She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Yes. I’d have to say I was dreaming. Long, crazy dreams that . . . actually, I do remember, sort of. I was floating or flying or just aware.” Then she forced a smile. “What I remember most, though, is being in that car with Rachel and Harley. Not, bam, an hour ago. But it feels like . . . it all happened yesterday.”

  She rocked her head from side to side. “I’m digging the repair job on my neck. I’m guessing it was broken.”

  “Among other things,” Zack said, barely able to utter the sentence. “How did you know you were on Keanu?”

  “I just knew, the same way I opened my eyes and spoke English.”

  “But you knew English before.”

  “Fine. Come up with a better analogy. I just knew I was on Keanu, that I’d been killed and brought back.” She frowned, clearly sea
rching for a way to describe it. “Think of it like a role in a play—I’m an actor who just knows her lines.”

  “What else do you know? You knew you were on Keanu. Is there anybody else here? I mean, who did this to you?”

  “When I ask myself that question, I hear or feel or download one word: Architects.”

  “That’s all? Just Architects?”

  “That’s the word in my head.” She was nearly naked now, sitting knees together, arms around them, swaths of the underlayer second skin still clinging to her.

  “Is there something I can do for you . . . ?”

  “You could start by calling me Megan. You were never much for using my name, did you ever realize that? But given the circumstances . . .”

  He realized that she was correct. He’d almost never called her by her name. Rachel was often Rachel, yes. But Megan had always been honey or baby—

  “Megan,” he said, “Mrs. Stewart . . .”

  “Now you’re just being silly.”

  “Megan . . .”

  “Yes, Zachary.” That was what she’d called him most of the time.

  “Nothing, just trying it on again.” He couldn’t help smiling. Even if this encounter turned out to be some insidious alien monkey trap, Zack was going to enjoy it to the extent he could.

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Hey, I don’t suppose you have anything to eat.”

  Zack was able to pry an energy stick out of his helmet stash. “There are only a couple of bites left.”

  “Men, never thinking about food.” But she happily devoured it. “Remember that restaurant we went to in Los Angeles? Barsac?”

  Another memory only he or Megan would know. “Yeah. Most money I’ve ever paid for a meal. But a good one.”

  She waggled the last bite. “This is better. . . .”

  “Well, you haven’t eaten in over two years. Talk about sharpening your appetite.” She laughed so hard she actually shuddered. “You must be cold.”

  “Not really. The breeze is warm, kind of like Santa Anas.” She clapped her hands together, as if cleaning them off, another familiar Megan gesture. “You’re the one who must be uncomfortable. Take off that suit.” She saw the immediate look of confusion and reluctance on his face. “What now?”

  “I’m not sure—about you or anything right now. Not hitting on all six. For example, I haven’t thought about my EVA partner for thirty minutes.”

  “Where do you think he is?”

  “She. Natalia Yorkina, one of the Brahma crew. And I just don’t know.” In fact, he’d tried calling Natalia on radio, and gotten nothing but static. For the first time in his astronaut career, Zack literally had no idea what action to take.

  “Nothing?”

  “Comm isn’t great in here.”

  “Maybe she’s just exploring.”

  Zack just shook his head. Set that matter aside. Again, look at the situation you are in. Consider “Megan’s” suggestion about your suit. He wasn’t going back to the surface any time soon. Why damage the suit, or waste energy hauling himself around in it? He reached for the first release—

  “You also have that look on your face. That I’m-cooking-up-a-plan look.”

  “I want to get you out of here. And I want to find Natalia.”

  “What about the others?”

  The others! Zack had been so focused on Megan, he’d forgotten about the other cells. “How many are there? Are you in some kind of contact with them?”

  Megan held up her hand. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I just . . . woke up. But I hear . . .” She cocked her head—again, a familiar gesture—then suddenly took off toward the center of the Beehive.

  “What?” Zack said, struggling to unzip and lever himself out of the suit. “What did you hear?” But Megan didn’t answer.

  The extraction took almost ten minutes, a mark that would have been a record under ideal circumstances. By the time Zack had propped the suit against the nearest wall and hung the Snoopy cap around his neck, Megan was calling, “Over here!”

  He found her quickly . . . cradling a girl-thing in her arms. “She was just . . .” She made soothing sounds that seemed to have no effect.

  “Who is she?”

  “How the hell should I know? She’s a girl, okay?”

  Zack looked at the cluttered wall. There were more than he remembered. He could count two dozen now, most of them inert. But three were clearly active: one for Megan, one had probably belonged to the Konstantin-thing, one to this girl-thing.

  A fourth cell also appeared to be active—at least Zack could detect a humanoid figure through the translucent wall.

  It was shorter than him, not a child . . . in fact, it appeared to be an elderly woman lying on her side. Unlike the other figures, she was in a fetal crouch . . . osteoporosis?

  But whereas the Konstantin-thing and Megan-thing had moved, this one lay frozen and still.

  “What are you looking at?” Megan said, her voice sounding tired.

  “Another one of whatever you are. But interrupted, I think.”

  “You need to see what’s over to your right.”

  “Oh, shit,” Zack said.

  It was the Konstantin-thing, the one Natalia had been observing . . . obviously it had somehow gotten free. Just as obviously, someone or something had clubbed it to death.

  “Who was he?” Megan said.

  “Don’t you know?”

  “No! Weren’t you listening? I’m getting jumbled images and occasional words... .”

  “Sorry. This was a . . . a person from Natalia’s life.”

  Zack shifted himself around, a move much easier now that he was out of the suit and clad in the long john–like undergarment. Had Natalia done this? Had she simply freaked out, or had the Konstantin-thing attacked her?

  Suddenly even less certain of his judgment, he glanced at Megan, who was looking past him. “Company’s coming,” she said.

  Four space-suited figures, three Brahma, one NASA, were headed their way.

  Zack reached for his Snoopy cap.

  “—for Zack, I think we can see you. Wave or something. Put your goddamn ears on!”

  Uh-oh. Tea.

  Worn-out garments are shed by the body. Worn-out bodies are shed by the dweller within the body. New bodies are donned by the dweller, like garments.

  BHAGAVAD GITA II:22

  “There,” Natalia said. In the strange low light of the Beehive, three human shapes—two adult-sized and one that was half their height—stood just out of easy reach. Tea was so shocked she almost stopped in her tracks. One was likely Zack—but who were these other figures? Especially the little one?

  “Are those your vorvolakas?”

  It reminded Tea of movies where explorers penetrated uncharted lands like central Africa or the Amazon jungle . . . the natives going about their inexplicable business.

  “Don’t go near them!” Taj ordered. “Stay on mission!”

  Tea agreed. She wanted to know Zack was safe.

  The traverse through the membrane should have been the fulfillment of a lifelong dream for Tea. The goal of every female astronaut, every one of them a Star Trek fan, was “to boldly go where no man has gone before . . .”

  Here she was, and she could already hear her father saying, “How’s that working for you?”

  Not so well, Dad.

  How could it work as exploration? Pogo was dead. Zack was overdue. Nothing she knew about Keanu twenty-four hours ago seemed to fit anymore.

  There was awe and mystery—did that phrase come from another sci-fi television show?—in the Beehive and the bizarre environment. But there was also the risk of swift death—

  Lucas suddenly peeled away from them. “Lucas, dammit,” Taj said. “Get back here!”

  “I see . . .” It was all the Brazilian astronaut said, possibly all the English he had at the moment.

  As Tea, Taj, and Natalia watched, Lucas ran up to the trio.

  “Oh God,” Natalia said.

  And
he knelt to the smaller one. The little creature clapped its hands together and launched itself at Lucas. Tea started to move toward them, but now Taj stopped her. “I think he knows that one.”

  Sure enough, Lucas and the tiny being were hugging, a ludicrous sight. “Lucas,” Taj said, sounding like a flight controller worried about a missing aircraft.

  “Camilla!” Lucas shouted into their headphones. “My niece! Is my niece!”

  He was carrying a creature toward them that looked to Tea like a little girl.

  A little human girl.

  And she spoke, chirping away in a language that could have been Spanish or Portuguese. “Anyone know what she’s saying?” Taj asked.

  Lucas stood the girl on the ground. “She says I am the world’s greatest uncle!”

  So now their party numbered five as they crossed the last hundred meters to Zack and his companion. “Camilla” and Lucas chattered away, with Lucas trying to keep Taj and Tea involved. Apparently Camilla had been diagnosed with leukemia at a young age, and had died eighteen months ago while Lucas was off training in Bangalore.

  Tea tried to understand why there were creatures inside Keanu that not only were humanoid, but seemed to be copies or reconstructions of people who had been part of their lives on Earth . . .

  Tea did not have a religion. Her father had been as open an atheist as common sense would allow, and Tea had generally felt the same. But for the first time in her life, she felt she might have missed something.

  Answers to the larger questions of life and death would be most welcome now as they emerged from the Beehive.

  And there was Zack Stewart—standing around without his helmet, like an astronaut relaxing after an EVA training session.

  As they closed the last fifty meters, trying not to be distracted by the panorama beyond, Tea saw him pick up his Snoopy cap and give an awkward wave. “Here we are!”

  We?

  Tea’s relief at seeing and hearing Zack immediately gave way to near-panic . . . someone who looked a lot like a dirty, nearly naked Megan Stewart was standing with him.