Tumbler Page 9

  Libby called out, "I've got her! She's here! We're nearby!" but her air was fading, and she couldn't get the breath to really shout. Libby scrambled forward, through the rubble. She realized it must have been the cave-ins that were keeping the signal bouncing internally, instead of letting them contact the outside. Now that she'd moved so much of the rubble out of the way, the signal was able to get through. It wasn't strong, but it was there.

  The voices silenced after a moment of her calling out, and Libby worried that she imagined it. As the tunnel opened up ahead of her, she raised to a crouch, then got up to a shambling walk. "We're here. I've got her, you're really close." She stumbled and fell to her knees, skidding on the tunnel floor. She kept calling out, hoping they could get the signal.

  Her breath was coming in short bursts now, as perspiration coated the inside of her visor. She couldn't see through the visor anymore, couldn't hear anyone calling out. She wondered if the battery pack had dropped so far that the radio didn't work any more. She closed her eyes as fatigue swept over her. Tears mixed with the sweat as she put her head in her hands.

  Then suddenly, clearly, she heard them. "Tumbler? Is that you? Can you hear us?"

  She lay on the floor, crying, gasping, "I hear you. We're down here. She's safe, but we need air. We need help."

  "Just stay where you are, miss. We'll find you." The voice was suddenly stern, "Lyle, get back to the surface. Tell them to concentrate search on this position. Tumbler's on the local circuit."

  Another voice cut in, "Roger, I got it."

  "On the bounce, mister. She says they need air."

  Libby crawled back through the cave in, back to where Dora was sleeping. She crawled over to the girl and looked carefully into the visor. The girl was asleep, but still breathing. Libby nodded and patted her hand. Then she rolled over, and lay flat on her back, barely noticing when the buzz of her suit switched on it's REC beacon.

  Chapter 13

  Libby's head was pounding and foggy as her eyes opened again. She could see asteroids frantically passing her. 'Oh', she thought, 'home, in my stupid little shack.' But as her head turned, she saw that she was tethered to a runabout, with Woody at the controls. He looked angry and insistent on something, his grizzled features screwed up into an intense scowl. He was barking orders into his radio, but she couldn't hear any of it. The runabout was at full tilt, though.

  In the distance behind them, she could see other runabouts, all flying as fast as they could. They were all heading in the same direction. Something had got the whole town out, in a parade or something. They did seem to be moving awfully fast, though, for a parade.

  ***

  It felt warm and strange around Libby. There was a smell she couldn't pinpoint, that nagged at her brain. She turned over, and then realized how heavy her body was. Her eyes slid open slowly, and she looked up at the broad, worried face of Ira Davis.

  The man was seated next to her, on a stool he had pulled up to the bed. He took one hand and said, "How are you feeling, Ms. Carter?"

  Libby frowned, and blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from her head. She sat up slowly, feeling the pressure of gravity pulling down on her. Mr. Davis jumped up to help her, but she waved him off. "I, no, I'm fine. Yeah." That smell was still there, and her head was still foggy, "Lilacs."

  A tiny smile tugged at Ira's lips, "Yes, miss. Minerva's latest hobby. Turns out the rich ladies of Blessed will pay quite a lot for hydroponic flowers." He started wringing his hands as she pulled herself up to sitting on the edge of the bed. He continued, "I'll see to it that you get a supply of them for your home, if you'd like, miss."

  Libby's head was clearing, and a dull throb was building in the center of it. "What's with the 'miss'? You never called me anything but Tumbler before."

  The huge man half sat on his seat, so close to the edge that he was almost kneeling. "It just doesn't seem right. After what you've done. I can't ever -"

  He was cut off as a squeal of joy cut through the room. Mrs. Davis came running in, taking Libby up in her arms, "Oh, my dear sweet child. I cannot thank you enough. The doc says you're going to be just fine, except for some minor blood pressure issues and a nasty headache. Now, I have pills for that, but only if you think you're strong enough to take them, otherwise we will start you on six-hour intervals starting at dinner. Mike is in there now, working on dinner. I didn't know what you liked or what would be good for your condition, so I went with french bread and chicken soup. One can't go wrong with chicken soup."

  Libby started to stand up, letting Minerva hold her up, "Thank you, I really appreciate it, but that's not necessary. A little headache and some blood pressure stuff is no problem. I'm fine, I'll just -" her head started to swim as she stood, and Minerva's firm arm wrapped around her shoulders. After a moment, Libby noticed that the arm was subtly pushing her back down.

  "That's quite enough of that. You'll stay here until you're better. You're our responsibility now." She patted the girl's leg. "There now, just rest a bit. Dinner will be soon enough."

  Libby frowned, too weak to fight. A thought hit her, and her head shot up, "Wait, what about Dora?"

  Ira held out his hands as though to stop her, "Don't worry. Dora's fine. She's got the same blood pressure issues you're dealing with."

  Minerva added, "Although, she's being very good about it, and staying in bed."

  Ira shrugged, "Of course, it helps that she twisted her ankle, and couldn't go anywhere if she wanted to."

  Libby nodded solemnly, "So, is her leg that bad?"

  "No, she's just not allowed to use the runabout for the next two weeks."

  Minerva scowled, “Two weeks. After the scare she gave us, she's lucky it's just the two weeks. Twisting her ankle may have been the only thing saving me the trouble of grounding her.”

  "Oh." Libby felt the weight of her body pulling her down again, and gave in. She slumped back into the bed, as Mike ran in.

  "Mom! The natives are getting restless." He was wiping his hands on his apron, a look of nervous concern on his face.

  Minerva smiled nicely to the boy, "You heard the order. No one gets in until she's had her rest. Now, how's dinner doing?" The farm wife switched topics with ease, as a way of showing how little she cared for the interruption.

  The boy nodded enthusiastically, "It's fine. Coming along great. But the people outside -"

  "Will remain outside, or you will answer to me. Am I understood young man?"

  The boy's spine straightened and he reported back, "Yes Ma'am." He rushed out, whether to the kitchen or the front door, no one knew.

  Minerva watched him leave then said, "There's no way that boy will be able to pay attention to the soup with people at the door." She got up and stomped out.

  Libby saw little Howie sitting in a chair opposite the bed. He was gripping a comic book, unconsciously twisting it in his hands. She lifted one weary arm, "How's it going, Howie?"

  "S'okay." His eyes were wide behind the thick glasses as he sat, thumping his heels against the legs of the chair. "Are you gonna die?"

  She smiled as Ira put one huge hand to his face, "Not for a while buddy. So, which one is that?" She pointed a vague finger at the comic.

  He looked down at the comic, and beamed, "Space Captain Smith, number 257. The one where his ship loses its starboard thrust motivator, and crash lands on the planet of the Lizard king. Zowie!"

  She smiled weakly, "Zowie?"

  The boy bounced out of the seat and climbed onto the bed, "Yeah. That's what he says whenever he crashes or somebody hits him really hard or something. He always falls down, says 'Zowie!' then gets right back up and fights." He crawled over to sit next to her, "Did you say 'Zowie'?"

  "When?"

  "When you were hurt. They said you were really hurt, running out of power and air. Did you say 'Zowie'?"

  She shook her head weakly, "No, but I did get back up and fight, sorta. At least, for as long as I could, anyway."

  Howie sat next to her
and opened up the comic, "Here, let me show you where he crashes." The boy started flipping through the pages, as a loud ruckus came barreling down the hall. As it reached the doorway, Libby could see Woody, flapping his arms at Mike, and pushing him off.

  "Great Gods, boy. Lay off of me. No little pup's going to tell me where I can or can't go. I changed your diapers, for cryin' out loud."

  Mike kept trying to get between him and Libby, "You did no such thing!"

  "How would you remember, you were so young, you were in diapers!" Woody walked over to the bed and pointed a finger at Libby. "You, the doc says you're okay, but I want to make sure he's not blowin' smoke. How are you holding up?"

  Libby smiled, "I'm all right. I guess I'll live long enough to give you a big ol' kiss for bringing me home. I remember -"

  He waved his hands dismissively, "Blast it, woman, no gal's tripped me yet, so just lay off of that stuff." His voice dropped in tone, as he stepped forward, "That was a damn fool thing you did, going in after that girl with no backup, no path back, and not telling a soul. It's a bad way to run a rescue, and impolite on top of that. But you did find little Dora, and you seem to have come through it okay . . ." He seemed to run out of steam and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, just don't do it again, or you'll feel my boot clear through that steel mesh suit. Hear me?"

  Libby smiled, "Yessir."

  "Okay then." He turned back to Mike, "Well, don't just stand there, boy, you're supposed to be guarding the door. There's a dozen annoying well-wishers out there, and she can't be bothered by every Tom, Dick, or Harry who wants to just stop by and blather at her." He pushed Mike out, and followed him, still browbeating.

  Libby looked over at Ira, "Mr. Davis, are there really that many people out there?"

  He smiled, "Oh, yes miss. They're all really happy to see how this turned out. All the wives in town have been baking stuff for you, and all the men want to shake your hand." He stood there, smiling down at her, "Most everybody thought Dora was a goner." He looked at his hands, avoiding her eyes, "To be honest, I was pretty sure they were right. This sort of thing doesn't happen often, but when it does, we don't ever see a happy ending out of it. Space is too big, and it's too easy to get lost. What you did was. . . well, it was nothing short of a miracle." Libby watched his face, as his downcast eyes started to glisten.

  Then he looked up, taking a deep breath and smiling, "So, yes. They're all out there to wish you well. There hasn't been any declaration or anything, but they're setting up a celebration in town. Lots of drinking and fun, I'm told. Of course, Minerva doesn't hold with such frivolities, so I wouldn't know." He grinned at her.

  She smiled and held out one hand, which he took. She could feel herself fading, as she said, "I'm really glad it worked out. I'm glad she's okay."

  The big man nodded, and put one hand over the one that held hers, "You saved my daughter's life, Ms. Carter. I'm never going to forget that, and I'll never be able to repay it. I just-" He looked up and stared into her half-open eyes, "Thank you, Libby. Thank you."

  She smiled as she slid back into warm darkness.

  Chapter 14

  After she woke, there was more outpouring of gratitude from the Davis's, which made Libby feel a little unnerved. She had to pull herself away from the family, despite their protests. She had no sooner stepped out of the house before she was swept away by a throng of people. A joyous press of grinning faces and hands patting her back, shaking her hands, and all shouting things at her. It took all her crowd skill to get out of being pulled to the Mary, and toasted by all in attendance. Instead, she found her runabout and headed back to her little spinning home.

  Even though she'd slept for the better part of a day at the Davis home, she fell into the hammock as soon as she got back to her shed. Blessed weightless silence surrounded her, and she had the most peaceful rest she'd had since she'd come to the asteroid field.

  At 0600, her alarm clock went off, and Libby slowly crawled out of bed. Her lungs burned, and every muscle in her body was aching, but once she remembered why, the soreness didn't bother her so much. She blearily went over to her weblink, and opened up her messages. The first one was from the ticket agent:

  "Dear Ms. Carter,

  I apologize for the tardiness of my reply. I'm afraid I was involved first with the rescue effort that you so masterfully led, and second by the celebration held in your honor. In any event, it's my honor and privilege to help you out in any way I can, even if that means helping you to leave our little community. Please come by my office at your nearest convenience, and I shall set you up with a ticket home.

  In fact, if it won't seem an insult, I'd like to see if I can get a reduction for you on the cost of the trip. It's the least I can do for the hero of the hour.

  At your service,

  Tom Berquist

  Transportation Manager

  Blessed, Ceres."

  Libby slipped into the chair slowly. Zero G didn't require much in the way of lounging, but she felt suddenly weary. She'd forgot all about going home. But, of course, that was the plan, wasn't it? That was what she'd been saving up for all this time.

  Libby looked around for her bag, and realized that she'd dropped it in the Hail Mary when she joined the rescue mission. She headed back out, and stopped at the door. She climbed up on the roof of the shack and lay against it as she watched the rocks go spinning past. There was a time when she was sickened by the sight of it. But now it didn't bother her. It was almost reassuring as she watched the rolling constellations. She knew those rocks, knew the people on them. And they knew her.

  The same phrase kept running through her head in Dora's soft contralto, "You're not a mean person, you just hate us." She couldn't get it out of her head.

  She wasn't a mean person. And honestly, she didn't hate them. Certainly not the Davis's. And not Woody of course. And who could hate Miriam? She didn't even really mind that fathead Ted. So who was it she hated?

  "You hate us because we stole your -" What was it she thought they stole? Her money? Her time? A year of her life? Her freedom?

  When the rocks spun around her like this, she thought she could feel the breeze blowing over her. She knew it was ridiculous, but it still felt good. She closed her eyes, but Dora's words kept bugging her. She didn't hate them, not really. Not all of them. Not any of them, really. Just the ones planetside, the ones who trapped her.

  She climbed down off the shed, and frowned as she got on the runabout. Facts were facts, and as much as she liked her friends out here, it didn't change anything. Lots of slaves had friends in the quarters. So Joey thought she was too mean, so Bronson didn't think she got along with the others. It was natural to be bitter. She had just spent the last year working for the company that had marooned her in space, and for what? Just enough money to go slinking back home with her tail between her legs.

  Maybe these people didn't deserve to be treated like that. Maybe they weren't to blame for her situation, but what difference does that make? Didn't they have just as much right to be mad as she had? Shouldn't they all be out of their minds with anger? Why should she feel bad just because she's the only one who was smart enough to hate this life?

  She docked at the Blessed station, and headed to the Hail Mary, still thinking about it. It wasn't even this life that she hated so much, it was the fact that it wasn't her choice. If she had chosen to live in a tiny little shack, that would be one thing. But forced to live on that pebble for the past year was just not fair. It just wasn't right.

  She stormed into the Mary, and a roar of greeting met her. The well wishers quieted quickly though, as they saw the stormy look in her eyes. Libby walked up to the bar, casting her gaze from one side to the other, trying not to look angry, sad, beaten.

  When she reached the bar, she said, "Miriam?"

  The enormous woman was instantly in front of her, grinning widely, "Tonight, I think you're ready for something a little stronger than tea."

  Libby forged ahead as thoug
h the woman hadn't said anything, "Miriam, last night, I left a bag here. Has anybody found it?"

  Miriam nodded, though the smile dropped some of it's happiness, "Sure, hon. I've got it." She reached under the bar, and pulled out Libby's bag. All her possessions in the world. "So, are you really. . . "

  Libby glared at her, trying to let anger fight the tears, "I've got the money. It's what I've been working for all this time. I - I didn't choose to be here. I've been trapped for the past year, and I won't do it any more." She took the bag carefully, and turned to leave. She whispered while scowling at the floor, "I'm sorry." The whole bar was silent as she ran out, not looking at anyone.

  She walked down the corridor, blinking back the tears. It's not like she hated the life. It was the choice. She was never able to make an informed choice. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair, and she would not allow it.

  Up ahead, she saw the ticket agent, standing at the desk in his little alcove. He displayed a complex mixture of sadness and joy. He walked up to her as they headed for his alcove, "Well, it's good to see you, miss, though it is, of course, a shame to see you go."

  She stopped at the alcove, looking at the short form on his desk. It was already filled out, just waiting on her signature. She didn't hate this life. She just hated the fact that she didn't have a choice. She couldn't live like that. Whatever life she chose, it would be her choice. She had to take that control back.

  The ticket agent's complex expression changed to general bewilderment as she walked right past his desk, and turned left, entering the "Claims and Purchases" office. She walked up to the desk and shoved the door open. A small man behind the desk looked up from his ledger as she said, "There's a rock at 12 by 32 by 11, near the Wilson farm. It's the biggest one in the sector. What's it cost?"