He shut down all of the ship’s systems except the essential ones. Then he touched the frame of the coffin, activating its float mechanism. He sent it to the nearest downshaft and followed, feeling like he was walking to his own death.
He shook off the thought and went to the lower levels of the ship. The science station only had an environment in selected sections and since the landing pad was open to the atmosphere, he had to trust a corridor that automatically attached itself to the side doors.
Considering how old this place was and how damaged, he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, he was going to don one of the working environmental suits, let the coffin lead the way, and head out the cargo bay. He would wait until the suit let him know that the environment was suitable before he removed his helmet.
The coffin was already on the lowest bay level when he arrived. He opened a secret compartment off one of the corridors, removed his favorite suit, and put on a thick helmet with a mirrored visor.
According to his suit, the bay he walked through was as contaminated as the hold where he’d originally stashed Shindo. Maybe her face wasn’t healing because the bruises there weren’t caused by the broken nose. Maybe it wasn’t healing because of the contamination.
That was her problem now. He’d given her the pills. She could decide whether or not to take them.
He sighed, then opened the bay doors.
The lights were still on full, revealing a rusted, ruined port, filled with a lot of broken materials and destroyed ships. The landing pad looked like the only patch of ground that wasn’t covered with ruined equipment.
The coffin floated toward a sealed doorway. A green light rotated above it, theoretically telling him that everything was clear inside. He’d be able to breathe, he’d be able to stand without gravity boots, he would be warm enough.
Still, he tramped to the airlock doors, feeling like a giant in his suit. There was some Earth-level gravity here or his legs wouldn’t feel like they were glued to the floor with each step.
Everything felt right—and if he were in one of the lesser suits, he might pull off the helmet the moment the airlock doors opened.
But this suit still hadn’t cleared the area. It claimed that the oxygen, carbon dioxide, and carbon monoxide ratios were off. There was also another chemical that the suit didn’t have the sophistication to identify.
At that moment, he decided to leave the thing on permanently. He wasn’t going to trust that the unknown chemical was safe.
The airlock doors slid open and he stepped inside. The coffin came with him, crowding him as the doors closed behind him. Shindo looked peaceful even though she wasn’t. He tried not to look at her. He didn’t want to think about her more than he had to.
The interior doors finally opened, and the suit approved. The environment was perfect for him.
Still, he kept the thing on.
A welcoming committee of five Gyonnese ringed the exit from the airlock doors. Yu knew he’d seen all five of these Gyonnese before. In fact, before he had met them, he recognized them from the air vids the Gyonnese used to distribute news. These five Gyonnese weren’t leaders of the Gyonnese, but they were the leaders’ assistants, famous in their own right among the Gyonnese people.
But Yu didn’t know their honorifics and didn’t want to guess.
“Where is the woman?” the nearest Gyonnese asked.
“Here,” Yu said, putting his hand on the glass coffin.
“You have killed her,” the Gyonnese in the center said. “She is worth nothing to us dead.”
Yu expected the comment, but hated it anyway. The Gyonnese were quick-tempered and violent. He’d been grabbed by one once: it was like being held by a braided rope made of gooey flesh.
“She’s not dead,” he said. “She’s unconscious. This was the easiest way to move her. I have to warn you. She’s very, very difficult.”
“We know that,” the center Gyonnese said. “If she was not, she would not have killed our children.”
Yu sighed, hoping that the visor caught the sound. “I mean hard to handle. You’ll need to restrain her from the first. And don’t expect her to give in to anything. She’s a fighter.”
He lowered the coffin so that they could see her face.
“That’s a bruise.” He ran his hand over her face. “I broke her nose trying to keep her from killing me.”
“Will she live with that injury?” asked another Gyonnese.
“I had the injury repaired,” Yu said. “Even if I hadn’t, she could have lived with it. Humans are resilient.”
“Then what has disfigured her face, if not an injury?” asked yet another Gyonnese.
“The injury disfigured it, and the technique I used to heal it hasn’t gotten to that part yet. Also, she was exposed to some contaminants around the time she boarded my ship, so she has some medication to prevent an illness from them.”
“I thought humans could remove contaminants,” said the center Gyonnese. “Or is that a lie from the Aleyd corporation as well?”
“It’s no lie,” Yu said, hating discussions with the Gyonnese. They were always circular, but somehow they never ended up where they started. It was as if the discussions did move forward, but in a way he didn’t quite understand. “I used the standard method to remove 95 percent of her contamination. The remaining part is slower and requires the pills. Make sure she takes them if you want her to remain healthy.”
“We do not understand human physiology,” the center Gyonnese said. “We cannot be responsible for her care.”
“If you like,” Yu said, “I can download a medical program that will take care of things for you. I’d have to transfer it from my ship to the original computer in this science facility.”
“Do so,” the first Gyonnese said.
“However,” said the center Gyonnese, “do not expect payment for this program. We would not need it without your negligence.”
“I could have kept her from you until she healed,” Yu said. “I thought you wanted her quickly.”
“We do,” the first Gyonnese said.
The center Gyonnese said to the first Gyonnese, loudly enough for Yu to hear, “This human is cheating us. We can’t even quiz this person to see if she is indeed Rhonda Shindo.”
Yu had forgotten that humans looked the same to the Gyonnese, just as Gyonnese looked the same to most humans.
“She is,” he said. “She has identification chips in her hands.”
“Which we cannot access,” the center Gyonnese said.
Then Yu understood. They weren’t sure they could open the coffin. So he pressed the side and the lid slid back. The Gyonnese scuttled backward, swaying as they moved.
Yu grabbed her hand and hung it off the side of the coffin. “Check now.”
The Gyonnese stared at her. Their arms flailed behind their backs, fingers touching, obviously communicating in a way he did not understand.
Finally the first Gyonnese scuttled forward. With clear trepidation, he took her hand in his fingers and touched the nearest chip.
He started, then his whiskers spread out wide, and then he dropped her hand as if it had burned him.
“It is she,” he said to the others.