We reached the lift and stepped inside. Cheeirilaq considerately crowded itself into a back corner, tilting its long body almost vertical to give Rilriltok as much distance from its person as practical. Rilriltok scuttled around to my front.
“The great ruiner of testimony,” Tsosie said, “but the font of great art.”
“And here we are back to terrible people inconveniently not making terrible art.”
Expecting art to present absolute answers or offer tidy moral certainties is expecting art to act like propaganda, Cheeirilaq said, which made me think maybe I did not need to offer it my grammar school philosophy on dealing with the problematic acts of problematic ancestors.
It continued, Possibly your people do not find it rude to discuss sexual dimorphism because sexual dimorphism and gendered violence have caused less harm to your species than mine.
I was still too embarrassed to say anything. Tsosie came to the rescue.
“Less, maybe,” Tsosie said. “But I can only say that because I am talking to a Rashaqin.”
Rilriltok chirruped laughter.
Tsosie continued, “I would not say ‘none.’ I wouldn’t even say ‘not much.’ But isn’t maturity—individual, or as a species—acknowledging when you or your ancestors have done wrong, and trying to do better, not one-upping each other on who has suffered more?”
I was still trying to figure out how to paint myself back out of the corner I’d painted myself into—without sounding even more condescending—when the lift suddenly lurched, and gave a thud. I stumbled forward, instinctively throwing my hands out. Between me and my exo, we managed to brace against the wall without crushing Rilriltok under my large, endoskeletal body.
There was a second jolt, more terrible than the first. Tsosie fell against my back, then grabbed on to a rail beside me. We drifted for a moment, all four of us breathing heavily, and I braced for tearing, crushing, the pop of expelled atmosphere.
The lift started up again, and we dropped to the floor more heavily than I suspect Cheeirilaq or Rilriltok liked. I was glad my low-gravity friends had their magic belts on. It seemed to have dampened the worst of the impact.
Quickly, my neck and spine protesting the wrenches and impacts, I activated mine.
“Linden?” Tsosie asked.
“Dr. Tsosie,” she replied, a presence light pinging up beside the door panel. “Apologies for the discomfort.”
“Did we miss a transition?” I asked. To my knowledge, a Core General lift had never malfunctioned that way. Definitely not during my tenure here. “Are we going to miss a transition?”
I imagined the linking switches inside the branches and shafts slicing the lift in half. Their moorings tearing open the hospital’s hull and spilling atmosphere, staff, patients, crash carts, monitors into space.
There were safety overrides, but knowing that wasn’t very comforting right now.
“Apologies for the discomfort,” Linden said, as I tuned some of my pain away.
I remembered what Starlight had said about sabotage and accidents, and my breath hurt. “Linden, did you know that you’re repeating yourself?”
“The lift is safe,” Linden said. “You will arrive at your destination in ninety seconds.”
I looked at the others. Rilriltok was practically vibrating with fear. Cheeirilaq said, Ride it out?
“No more dangerous than diverting,” Tsosie answered. He rubbed his palms together, and I hoped he was right.
I turned toward the outside, and watched the lights of the lift cradle ripple past, outlined against the swirling sky. Biofeedback. Breathing. Tuning. No time to panic.
The lift sighed to a halt as liquidly as if nothing had gone wrong at all. I held my breath as the doors opened—
They did not open on void, the Big Suck, and freezing eyeballs. Nor did they open on choking chlorine or caustic vapor or searing steam. Just a quiet corridor on an ox deck with a couple of staff members hustling past in murmured conversation.
I felt so relieved it was almost a letdown.
We got out of that lift so fast we almost tripped over ourselves and one another.
“Oh no,” I said. “Linden, have you been in contact with Afar?”
Tsosie looked at me, alert with worry. I could tell he was following my train of thought.
Although if the incidents had started before we came back… and the sabotage to Sally had occurred on our way to the generation ship…
It didn’t make sense.
Linden’s presence lights burned steady along the wall beside us. “Don’t worry, we’ve been using sterile data protocols. With Sally also, even though she firewalled when dealing with Afar and Helen.”
“She went right into a portion of the machine.”
“She overwrote it; she didn’t integrate it. Don’t worry. Sally is good at her job.”
Rilriltok flew up and hovered near the ceiling, adjusting its gravity control belt as it went. Linden, is it too late to abort rewarming the generation ship crew?
“Affirmative,” she said. “The rewarming process has begun.”
“Brilliant timing,” I murmured to Rilriltok. Just what we needed: a finicky, long-term procedure taking place while the hospital was experiencing instabilities such as the one that had jolted us.
It buzzed grumpily. We’d better hurry, friends.
CHAPTER 15
THE FOUR OF US WALKED with good speed, Rilriltok running along the carpeted ceiling on its feathery toes to stay out of the corridor traffic.
“Linden,” I said without pausing, “please put me through to the Administree? Or O’Mara, if Starlight isn’t available?”
Starlight was available. We were only a third of the way to Cryomedicine when I heard their familiar voice through my senso. [Hello, Dr. Jens.]
“Something is wrong with Linden,” I said. “Linden, sorry to talk about you in the third person, but—”
“All my diagnostics show normal functioning, Doctor,” Linden said. “I will consult with Dr. Zhiruo—”
“Firewall!” I said, louder than I had intended. Doctors, nurses, and staffers of various species turned to stare—the ones who had both necks and eyes, anyway. “Linden, you need to make sure you observe sterile protocols.”
[Firewall,] Starlight agreed. [Dr. Jens, please update me.]
I sent them my ayatana of the incident on the lift, and said, “In Afar and maybe Sally, we’ve got two damaged shipminds already. Helen’s trauma seems to have a
