The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2021
- Автор: Рот Вероника, Адамс Джон Джозеф
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: HMH Books : Mariner
- ISBN: 9780358470076
- Жанр: Малые литературные формы прозы
Электронная книга - «The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2021». Краткое содержание книги:
This year’s selection of science fiction and fantasy stories, chosen by series editor John Joseph Adams and bestselling author of the Divergent series Veronica Roth, showcases a crop of authors that are willing to experiment and tantalize readers with new takes on classic themes and by exchanging the ordinary for the avant-garde. Folktales and lore come alive, the dead rise, the depths of space are traversed, and magic threads itself through singular moments of love and loss, illuminating the circulatory nature of life, death, the in-between, and the hereafter.
The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2021 captures the all-too-real cataclysm of human nature, claiming its place in the series with compelling prose, lyrical composition, and curiosity’s never-ending pursuit of discovering the unknown.
Still nothing.
By then, one of the network’s orbital satellites got an angle on the ship, and sent back a video feed. The USFS cognoscenti were able to determine that: (1) the Erwin wasn’t moving, (2) it had a heat signature, strongly implying the ship still had power, and (3) there was no evidence of outgassing, so it either still had atmosphere, or all of the atmosphere had escaped already.
All that was left to try was a crewed mission, which was how the USFSF Rosen ended up at the edge of the Brenda quadrant, and how Alice ended up on the shuttle.
The shuttle’s autopilot sounded a gentle alert.
“Bay doors remain closed,” it said.
“Computer, transmit bay door override to the Erwin, on my authority.”
“Transmitting,” it said calmly. Then, “No response. Collision imminent. Course correction strongly recommended.”
Sometime in the past twenty years, the people in charge of these things at the USF standardized the vocal communications from all Space Federation computers, and it was decided the voice they used should be, above all, serene. It worked fine in most situations, but came off as ridiculous to the point of self-parody in high-stress circumstances. Phrases like explosive decompression in five seconds aren’t meant to be heard in a voice meant to soothe unruly children.
“All right, keep your pants dry, computer,” Alice said.
“This computer has no pants.”
“Pull up from the current course and bring us alongside the hull. I’ll go in the side door.”
“Course corrected. Would you like to hear about the explosive charges inventory?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
The computer navigated the shuttle right up next to the Erwin, about twenty yards from the rear hatch. The hatch’s functional intent was to allow someone from inside to get outside, to make repairs on the hull or to unjam the bay doors, clean a filter, touch up the paint job, or whatever. It wasn’t meant to be used to get in from the outside, and almost never was used that way. Despite that, hatches like this were called pirate doors.
The good thing about pirate doors, and what made them so useful in times like this, was that there was an airlock on the other side, so if she had to blow the door with one of the many explosive charges on inventory she wouldn’t be breaching the entire deck.
After gowning up for the spacewalk, Alice stuffed a few charges in a bag—like her, the bag was a veteran of combat, and came with a steel panel that doubled as a piece of armor in a pinch—added a couple of blasters, and headed across on an umbilical. She expected to have to blow the door, but it opened easily after a few turns of the hatch’s wheel.
Alice unhooked the umbilical, ordered the shuttle to hold position, stepped in, and sealed the hatch from the inside. The wall panel indicated the ship had power, so she pressurized the airlock and let herself into the inner door.
Then, theoretically, she was free to take off her helmet.
“Computer, run a check for airborne pathogens,” she said.
The computer—the one built into the suit this time—blinked a silent confirmation on her visor.
“Negative results,” it said, after checking. “Atmosphere breathable.”
Alice was standing at one end of a modest hangar, with two parked shuttles exactly like the one outside and room for two more.
“Then where is everybody?” she asked, as she appeared to be alone.
“Please be more specific,” the computer said. “Whom would you like to locate?”
“Never mind.”
“Never minding.”
Alice took the helmet off.
The air smelled like the standard filtered air she’d been breathing for most of her adult life, and the gravity that held her to the floor of the bay felt like Earth-standard. Both good things. Yet even if the crew of the Erwin wasn’t expecting a visitor, there should have been someone in the shuttle hangar, if only to ask her what the hell she was doing there.
“Hello?” she shouted. She heard her voice echo back, resonating with a slightly metallic hum. No doors opened, and nobody came running.
A quick inspection of the bay confirmed only that there weren’t any bodies lying around.
“Is anybody here?” she shouted.
Nothing.
The Flying Dutchman, she thought, referencing an old Earth maritime ghost story she remembered liking as a child. It wasn’t, of course, but that was what always sprang to mind in situations like this.
Alice had investigated her share of wrecks in her day, but usually the explanation was self-evident, and she was just there on the off chance someone managed to survive whatever drastic event had killed their ship. Hardly anyone ever did, because spaceships were surrounded by the vacuum of space, which was actively hostile toward human beings.
This time, there was no obvious explanation. The ship seemed to be working fine, albeit on reserve power—she could tell from the feel of the floor that the Erwin’s engines were definitely offline—it was just that everyone was somewhere else for some reason.
So where do I begin?
The USFS Erwin had five decks total. The captain’s bridge was on the top deck at the front of the ship, which was the farthest point from the hangar. Alice felt obligated to start there—if for no other reason than to announce her arrival to the person who was supposed to have already authorized that arrival. At the same time, it was pretty far away; surely, she could find someone closer to her current location, who could fill her in on why the entire vessel was running silent. Or rather, drifting silent.
Alice found the door that led to the rest of the ship, and hesitated.
“Computer,” she said, addressing her suit, “synchronize with the ship’s computer.”
“Synchronizing,” the computer said, in the tone of voice waitresses used when asking children what flavor ice cream they wanted. “Synchronization complete.”
“Computer, report life signs, total. Human only.”
The synchronization allowed Alice to leverage all the ship’s systems for her inquiry. It was supposed to help clear things up. It did not.
“No life signs detected,” the computer said.
This was obviously incorrect. Aside from the fact that the Erwin had a complement of eighty-five, Alice was herself alive. Anything less than one was an error.
“Computer, recheck life signs, human only.”
“Rechecking.”
Alice pressed her face up against the window of the door she was about to go through. The hallway on the other side was well lit, and entirely empty. It ran the length of the lower deck, and—if she recalled the vessel’s specs correctly—was home to about 60 percent of the crew. There should have been somebody around.
“Two hundred and six life signs detected,” the computer said.
“No . . . no, that’s not the right answer either,” Alice said.
“What is the right answer?” the computer asked.
“I don’t understand.”
“What is the right answer?” the computer repeated.
“Computer, I’m asking for an exact life sign count of all the humans on board this ship. I don’t know the answer, but I know it’s a whole number that one arrives at by actually counting those life signs.”
“Understood. What is your expectation?”
“I don’t know the right answer, or I wouldn’t have asked, but I would expect it to be anywhere between one and eighty-six.”