The silent war by Ben Bova. Part four

I’d rather starve slowly than get killed suddenly. That was their attitude.

Sitting alone in her office as the day waned, Ferrer sighed heavily. I’m going to have to report to Humphries, she told herself. He’s not going to like what I have to tell him.

Levinson was glad to be out of the space suit. In fact, he was whistling cheerily as he made his way from the airlock of the torch ship toward the compartment they had given him. In two days we’ll be back at Ceres, and then Vickie and I ride a torch ship back to Selene. I’ll bet we spend the whole journey shacked up together.

“Shouldn’t whistle aboard ship,” said one of the technicians, coming up the passageway behind him. “It’s considered bad luck.”

Levinson grinned at her. “That’s an old superstition,” he said.

“No it’s not. It dates back to sailing days, when orders were given by playing a whistle. So they didn’t want anybody whistling and messing up the signaling system.”

“Doesn’t apply here,” Levinson said loftily.

“Still, it’s considered—”

“EMERGENCY,” the overhead speaker blared. “PRESSURE LOSS IN MAIN AIRLOCK COMPARTMENT.”

The blood froze in Levinson’s veins. The airtight hatch up the passageway slammed shut. His knees went rubbery.

“Don’t piss yourself,” the technician said, smirking at him. “It’s probably something minor.”

“But the hatch. We’re trapped here.”

“Naw. You can open the hatch manually and get to your quarters. Don’t sweat it.”

At that instant the hatch swung open and two of the ship’s crew pushed past them, heading for the airlock. They looked more irritated than frightened.

Feeling marginally better, Levinson followed the tech through the hatch and toward his own compartment. Still, when the hatch automatically slammed shut again, he jumped like a startled rabbit.

He was opening the accordion-pleated door to his compartment when the overhead speaker demanded, “DR. LEVINSON REPORT TO THE BRIDGE IMMEDIATELY.”

Levinson wasn’t exactly certain where the bridge was, but he thought it was farther up the passageway that ran the length of the habitation module. With his pulse thumping nervously in his ears, he made his way past two more closed hatches and finally stepped into what was obviously the bridge. The ship’s captain was standing with his back to the hatch, half bent over between the backs of two side-by-side chairs, both occupied by crew members. All three men were peering at readouts on the instrument panel.

The hatch slammed behind him, making him flinch again. The captain, grim-faced, whirled on him.

“It’s those goddamned bugs of yours! They’re eating up my ship!”

Levinson knew it couldn’t be true. Pea-brained rocket jocks! Anything goes wrong, they blame the nearest scientist.

“The nanomachines are on the asteroid,” he said, with great calm and dignity. “Or what’s left of it. They couldn’t possibly be aboard your ship.”

“The hell they’re not!” roared the captain, jabbing an accusing finger at the displays on the instrument board. Levinson could see they were swathed in red.

“They couldn’t—”

“They were in that dust cloud, weren’t they?”

“Well, yes, perhaps a few,” he admitted.

“And the loose end of your fucking tether was flapping around in the cloud, wasn’t it?”

Levinson started to reply, but his mouth went so dry he couldn’t form any words.

“You brought the mother-humping bugs aboard my ship, damn you!”

“But… but…”

“They’re eating out the airlock compartment! Chewing up the metal of the hull, for chrissakes!” The captain advanced toward Levinson, hands clenched into fists, face splotched with red fury. “You’ve got to stop them!”

“They’ll stop themselves,” said Levinson, backing away a step and bumping into the closed hatch. “I built a time limit into them. Once the time limit is reached they run out of power and shut themselves down.”

The captain sucked in a deep breath. His face returned almost to its normal color. “They’ll stop?”

“Yessir,” Levinson said. “Automatically.”

“How soon?”

Levinson swallowed and choked out, “Forty-eight hours.”

“Forty-eight hours?” the captain bellowed.

Levinson nodded, cringing.

The captain turned back toward the two crewmen seated at the instrument panel. “Contact Chrysalis. Report our situation to them.”

The crewman in the left-hand seat asked, “Anything else to tell them, sir?”

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