Grail - Elizabeth Bear [84]
“Wounded?” Perceval thought for a moment. “We have facilities for them. But if you would care to observe, you are welcome to join us. I would recommend you allow us to provide you with armor before entering the damaged zone.”
“That would be welcome,” Danilaw said.
The Captain nodded. “All right then. Mallory, Tristen? You’re also with me.”
The pressure suits provided for Danilaw and Amanda were not at all what Danilaw was used to. But having observed Tristen’s “armor” in action, Danilaw was confident that it was a superior technology—as long as it wasn’t prone to catastrophic, untelegraphed failures.
Instructing him and Amanda in its use, Mallory seemed confident that they could handle it. “Even young children have no problem adapting to armor. The armor will take care of you. All you have to do is trust it.”
Danilaw wiggled his fingers in the gauntlets, trying to accustom himself to the feel of the sticky-cool colloidal lining, and eyed the necromancer dubiously. “Trust it?”
“Danilaw,” Mallory said, “this is armor. Armor, this is Danilaw. He is in your charge.”
“I am pleased to be of service, Danilaw.” The armor spoke through pinhole speakers in the neck aperture. Based on Amanda’s jump, she was hearing something similar, which told him the voice response was directional. “Are you familiar with my operation?”
“No,” Danilaw said, finding his voice. He was grateful for his rightminding. He could feel his body’s adrenaline response, the atavistic desire to panic, but he was aware of it as a chemical response, and he controlled it. “I’ve never seen anything like you before.”
“Shall I place myself in training mode?” the armor asked.
“Affirmative,” Danilaw said.
“Normally phrased commands will suffice.” Was that his own embarrassment causing him to imagine a comforting tone in its speech? Or a touch of hesitancy?
“Thank you,” Danilaw said, concealing his stress and irritation that they were not yet moving to relieve the inevitable wounded. He did not know the disaster protocols on the Jacob’s Ladder. Captain Perceval’s apparent air of leisureliness might mean only that the situation was under control, and she was too much of a professional to act in haste. But Danilaw’s adrenaline response urged at him nonetheless. Do something, and do it now.
He raised his eyes, straightening his spine. Around him, the others seemed garbed and ready. Danilaw was grateful that he still had his q-set; like Amanda’s, it was modular. Now he wore it under this “armor” as he had worn it under the pressure suit, and it gave him a direct link to Amanda.
Probably not a secure one, given the armor’s sensitivity to voice commands. But a way to speak with her, at least. Amanda’s Free Legate status meant she could transmit anything she experienced as it happened, and Danilaw hoped she was doing so. Back on Fortune, Jesse and Gain should be going over the data already.
If Danilaw had thought Samael was giving them a grand tour (or a bit of a runaround) on the way in, the trip back disabused him. It was easier in the alien armor—it did some of the work of walking for him—and they traveled fast now. But the scenery was the same—although, as they moved through it, Danilaw was unsurprised to find it increasingly ravaged.
The scenery also stopped more abruptly than it had before.
They passed into the final air lock, still some ways from where the docking cradle had been, and Tristen turned and said, “Seal up now.”
All five sets of armor answered his command, helms scrolling shut in unison. Danilaw expected a pressure change, but there came no sense of a difference in atmosphere.
“Sealed,” his suit responded, as Danilaw found himself staring through the gold-tinted mask of Tristen’s armor. Tristen nodded—the armor telegraphed the motion—and turned back. When the First Mate cycled the air