“Yes, sir. Is everyone else all right?”
“Yes, dammit. All present and accounted for but you. We thought we’d lost you when Damage Control reported a punch through in your wing. That was one hell of a bang. I knew it would happen one day. Poor old Nellie. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. We’ve been signalling, but there’s no one in immediate range. Before the blast, we sent off a message to Descartes 6 advising them to send someone out for us. Lock in your beacon to 34.8 and activate.”
Lunzie found the controls and punched in the command. “How long will it take for them to reach us, Cosimo?”
There was more static, and the captain’s voice broke through it, fainter than before. “. . . flaming asteroid interference. It’ll be at least two weeks before the message reaches them, and I’d estimate it’ll take them four more weeks to find us. I am ordering cold sleep. Doctor. Any comments or objections?”
“No, sir. I concur. It would be an emotional strain for so many people to spend six weeks awake in such close quarters, even providing the synthesisers and recyclers hold out.”
“That’s for certain. There are two crew on this shuttle, including the Ryxi, who’re squawking about their damned eggs and claustrophobia. I wish you were here to oversee the deepsleep process. Doctor. Hypodermic compressors make me nervous.” Cosimo didn’t sound in the least distressed, but Lunzie was grateful to him for keeping the mood light.
“Nothing to it,” she said. “Just remember, pointed end down.”
With a hearty laugh, the captain signed off. Inside the shuttle’s medical supply locker were several vials containing medicines: depressants, restoratives, and the cold sleep preservative formula alongside its antidote. Lunzie removed the spraygun from its niche and loaded in a vial of the cryogenic. She would have only moments before the formula took effect, so she prepared a cradling pad from stored thermal blankets, and wadded up a few more under her head as a pillow. She fed instructions to the ship’s computer, giving details of her identity, allergies, next of kin, and planet of origin for use by her rescuers. When all was prepared, Lunzie lowered herself to the padded deck. She could feel the adrenaline of the Discipline state wearing off. In moments, she was drained and exhausted, her strength swept away. In one hand she held the spraygun. In the other, Lunzie clutched the hologram of her daughter.
“Computer,” she commanded. “Monitor vital signs and initiate cold sleep process when my heart rate reaches zero.”
“Working,” the metallic voice responded. “Acknowledged.”
Her order was unnecessary, since the module was programmed to complete the cold sleep process on its own, but Lunzie needed to hear another Standard-speaking voice. She wished someone had been close enough in the corridors of the damaged carrier to have boarded the pod with her. For all her theoretical training, this was the first time she would experience the cryogenic process. Lunzie gazed into the lucite block, smiled into the image of Fiona’s eyes. “What an adventure I’ll have to tell you about when I see you, my darling.” She pressed the nozzle of the spray against her thigh. It hissed as the drug dispersed swiftly through her body. Where it passed, her tissues became leaden, and her skin felt hot. Though the sensation was uncomfortable, Lunzie knew the process was safe. “Initiating,” she told the computer indistinctly. Her jaw and tongue were already out of her control. Lunzie could sense her pulse slowing down, and her nervous responses became lethargic. Even her lungs were growing too heavy to drag air in or push it out.
Her last conscious thoughts were of Fiona, and she hoped that the rescue shuttle wouldn’t take too long to answer the Mayday.
All lights on the shuttle except the exterior running lights and beacon went down. Inside, cold cryogenic vapour filled the tiny cabin, swirling around Lunzie’s still form.
BOOK TWO