Hull Zero Three by Greg Bear

Author:Greg Bear
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: FIC028000, Horror, Space Opera, Fiction, Science Fiction, Suspense, General
ISBN: 9780316072816
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2010-11-15T06:27:37.084000+00:00

THE LAST HULL

Big Yellow volunteers to go first. I protest, but he raises a broad hand, looks me firmly in the eye, then turns to Tsinoy. “If I don’t come back, you and one of the Teachers go next and find out what happened. If none of them comes back,” he says to the spidery woman, “push away. Try the second hull, or whatever you think is best. It looks bad, but it might still be livable—less desirable but still real estate, right?”

“I’ll go with you,” a girl says. “And one will stay here.”

“No,” Big Yellow insists. “I don’t want to worry about anyone else. I don’t feel the cold—much. Maybe I can find a switch and turn on the heat.”

“How would you know where to look?” the spidery woman asks.

“I’ll charm the hull with wit,” Big Yellow says, and moves through the hatch. “Close it behind me. And shove off if I’m not back in… ten minutes?”

For some reason, him using that word, minutes, so casually, saying it aloud, brings back another flood of associations. Seconds, minutes, hours, days—planets spinning on their axes, one side in shadow, the other bathed in the light of a sun—then collections of days, months, pentads, or dekads, adding up to a year, going around the sun once, in a planetary orbit—

The words have occurred to me before, just not as sharply. Hope of life is making me sentimental. My twin is lost in similar reflections. We hardly notice the hatch closing.

One of the girls approaches the Knob-Crest and starts to hoot. He seems to understand and responds with more of this musical language.

Tsinoy has lapsed into motionless repose. It opens one eye.

The girl breaks off conversation with the Knob-Crest. “He saw nothing but bodies—and factors cleaning up more bodies. And Killers,” she says. “We’re the last survivors from Hull Zero One.”

“How did he escape the Killers?” I ask.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” she says.

The Knob-Crest curls up and shuts his eyes.

My twin and I look at the girls, our glances crossing as we switch our examinations, twin to twin and back again. “Do either of you know how to access the Catalog?” I ask.

The girls shake their heads. “We pray for Teachers,” one says. “Mother tells us where to look for them. They keep dying.”

“Too curious or too slow,” I say.

“Or both,” my other says.

“Why look for teachers?” the spidery woman asks. “If they’re all so delicate… It seems that Tsinoy and I have a lot of the answers we all need. Where in your Catalog—whatever that is—do we fit in?”

Silence. The girls close their eyes and hug.

The waiting is excruciating. I try to remember more details about the Catalog. We might have been able to access it from the controls in the bow chamber, though I have no idea what we could do with it. So I muse some more about Destination Guidance. I’m considering Big Yellow’s suggestion that Tsinoy’s apparent skill set is somehow ideally suited for that role.

Only

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