Anne Mccaffrey - The Death Of Sleep

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The Death of Sleep

Anne McCaffrey and Jody Lynn Nye

Scanned October 2002

THE DEATH OF SLEEP

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in

this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or

incidents is purely coincidental.

portions thereof in any form.

A Baen Books Original

Baen Publishing Enterprises

260 Fifth Avenue

New York, N.Y. 10001

ISBN: 0-671-69884-2

Cover art by Stephen Hickman

First printing, July 1990

Distributed by

SIMON & SCHUSTER

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, N.Y. 10020

Printed in the United States of America

COLD COMFORT

For all her theoretical training, this was the first time she would experience the cryogenic

process. Lunzie gazed into the lucite block, smiled into the image of Fiona's eyes. "What an

adventure I'll have to tell you about when I see you, my darling." She pressed the nozzle of

the spray against her thigh. It hissed as the drug dispersed swiftly through her body. Where it

passed, her tissues became leaden, and her skin felt hot. Though the sensation was

uncomfortable, Lunzie knew the process was safe. "Initiating," she told the computer

indistinctly. Her jaw and tongue were already out of her control. Lunzie could sense her pulse

slowing down, and her nervous responses became lethargic. Even her lungs were growing

too heavy to drag air in or push it out.

Her last conscious thoughts were of her daughter, and she hoped that the rescue shuttle

wouldn't take too long to answer the Mayday.

All lights on the shuttle except the exterior running lights and beacon went down. Inside, cold

cryogenic vapor filled the tiny cabin, swirling around Lunzie's still form. . . .

THE DEATH OF SLEEP

BOOK ONE

Chapter One

BOOK TWO

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

BOOK THREE

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

BOOK FOUR

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

BOOK ONE

Chapter One

The single engaged engine of the empty spherical ore carrier

thrummed hollowly through the hull. It set the decks and bulkheads

of the personnel quarters vibrating at a frequency which at first,

depending on one's mood, could be soothing or irritating. After four

weeks aboard the Tau Ceti registered mining vessel Nellie Mine,

Lunzie Mespil had to think about it to remember that the hum was

there at all. When she first boarded, as the newly hired doctor for

the Descartes Mining Platform Number 6, the sound drove her

halfway to distraction. There wasn't much to do except read and

sleep and listen, or rather, feel the engine noise. Later, she

discovered that the sound was conducive to easy sleep and

relaxation, like being aboard a gently swaying monorail passenger

carrier. Whether her fellow employees knew it or not, one of the

chief reasons that the Descartes Mining Corporation had so few

duels and mutinies on delivery runs was due to the peace-inducing

hum of the engines.

The first few days she spent in the tiny, plain-walled cubicle which

doubled as her sleeping quarters and office were a trifle lonely.

Lunzie had too many hours to think of her daughter Fiona. Fiona,

fourteen, lovely and precocious in Lunzie's unbiased opinion, had

been left behind in the care of a friend who was the chief medical

officer on the newly colonized planet of Tau Ceti. The settlement

was surprisingly comfortable for one so recently established. It had

a good climate, a biosphere reasonably friendly toward

humankind, marked seasons, and plenty of arable land that

allowed both Earth-type and hybrid seeds to prosper. Lunzie

hoped to settle down there herself when she finished her tour of

duty on the Platform, but she wasn't independently wealthy. Even

a commodity as precious as medical expertise wasn't sufficient to

buy into the Tau Ceti association. She needed to earn a stake, and

there was little call on an atmosphere-and-gravity world for her to

practice her specialty of psychological space-incurred trauma.

There was no help for it: she was compelled to go off-planet to

earn money. To her great dismay, all of the posts which were best

suited to her profession and experience - and paid the most - were

on isolated facilities. She would not be able to take Fiona with her.

After much negotiation, Lunzie signed on with Descartes for a stint

on a remote mining platform.

Fiona had been angry that she couldn't accompany her mother to

the Descartes Platform, and had refused to accept the fact. In the

last days before Lunzie's departure, Fiona had avoided speaking

to her, and stubbornly unpacked Lunzie's two five-kilo duffels as

often as her mother filled them up. It was an adolescent prank, but

one that showed Lunzie how hurt Fiona felt to be abandoned.

Since she was born, they had never been apart more than a day or

so. Lunzie herself was aching at the impending separation, but she

understood, as Fiona would not, the economic necessity that

caused her to take a medical berth so far away and leave Fiona

behind.

Their spacefare to Tau Ceti had been paid on speculation by the

science council, who were testing the viability of a clone breeding

center on the newly colonized planet. Lunzie had been

approached by the ethics council to join them, their interest

stemming from her involvement as the student advisor on a similar

panel during her days in medical school which had resulted in an

experimental colony. Surprisingly, the data on that earlier effort

was unavailable even to the participants on the panel. Her former

term-husband Sion had also given her his recommendation. He

was becoming very well known and respected in genetic studies,

mainly involved in working on controlling the heavyworld human

mutations.

There were four or five meetings of the ethics council, which

quickly determined that even so altruistic a project as fostering a

survival-oriented genome was self-defeating in just a few

generations, and no further action was taken. Lunzie was out of

work in a colony that didn't need her. Because of the classified

nature of the study, she was unable even to explain to her

daughter why she wasn't employed in the job which they had

traveled to Tau Ceti to take.

After the fifth or sixth time she had to repack her case, Lunzie

knew by heart the few possessions she was taking with her, and

locked her luggage up in the poisons cabinet in the Tau Ceti

medical center to keep Fiona away from it.

By then, the protests had degenerated into a mere sulk. With love,

Lunzie watched Fiona patiently, waiting for her to accept their

parting, placing herself where she would be available to the

troubled youngster when she decided she was ready to talk.

Lunzie knew from experience that it was no good chasing Fiona

down. She had to let Fiona come to her in her own time. They

were too much alike. To force an early confrontation would be like

forcing a nuclear pile to overload. She went about her business in

the medical center, assisting other medical personnel with ongoing

research which the colony had approved. At last, Fiona met her

coming out of the medical center one sunny day after work, and

presented her with a small wrapped package. It was a hard

triangular cylinder. Lunzie smiled, recognizing the shape. Under

the paper was a brand new studio hologram of Fiona, dressed in

her feastday best, an outfit in the latest style for which she had

begged and plagued her mother to supplement the amount she'd

saved to buy it from her allowance on their last planetary home.

Lunzie could see how much of her own looks were reflected in

Fiona: the prominent cheekbones, the high forehead, the warm

mouth. The waves of smooth hair were much darker than hers,

nearer black than Lunzie's golden brown. Fiona had long, sleepy

eyes and a strong chin she inherited from her father that made her

look determined, if not downright stubborn, even as a baby. The

ruby-colored frock enhanced the girl's light skin, making her exotic

and lovely as a flower. The translucent flowing cape which fell from

between the shoulders was in the very height of fashion, a field of

stars in pinpoint lights which swirled like a comet's tail around

Fiona's calves. Lunzie looked up from the gift into her daughter's

eyes, which were watching her warily, wondering what she would

say. "I love it, darling," Lunzie told her, gathering her close and

tucking the hologram safely into her zip pouch. "I'll miss you so

much."

"Don't forget me." A broken whimper was muffled against Lunzie's

tunic front.

Lunzie drew back and took her daughter's tear-stained face

between her hands, studying it, learning it by heart. "I never could,"

Lunzie promised her. "I never will. And I'll be back before you know

it."

During her remaining days planetside, she had turned over her

laboratory work to a co-worker so she could spend all her time with

Fiona. They visited favorite spots, and together moved Fiona's

belongings and the rest of her own from their temporary quarters

to the home of the friend who would be fostering the girl. They

asked each other, 'Do you remember this? Do you remember

that?', sharing precious memories as they had shared the events

themselves. It was a glowing, warm time for both of them, too soon

over for Lunzie's taste.

A silent Fiona walked her to the landing bay where the shuttle

waited to transport her to the Nellie Mine. Tau Ceti's pale lavender-

blue sky was over-cast. When the sky was clear, Lunzie could

often see the sun glint off the sides of visiting ships high above

Tau Ceti in parking orbit, but she was just as happy that she could

not now. She was holding back on her emotions. If there was any

way to spare Fiona her own misery, she would do it. Lunzie

promised herself a really good cry once she was shipside. For one

moment, she felt like ripping up her contract and running away,

telling Descartes to chuck it, and pleading with the Tau Ceti

authorities that she would work at any job, however menial, to stay

here with Fiona. But then, good sense took over. Lunzie

remembered crude financial matters like making a living, and

assured herself that it wouldn't be that long before she could

return, and they would have a comfortable life thereafter with what

she'd earned.

"I'll negotiate for an asteroid miner as soon as I can afford it,"

Lunzie offered, breaking the silence. "Maybe I'll stake a few." Her

words echoed among the corrugated metal walls of the spaceport.

There seemed to be no one there but themselves. "We'll strike it

rich, you'll see. You'll be able to go to any university you like, or go

for officer training in Fleet, like my brother. Whatever you want."

"Mm," was Fiona's only comment. Her face was drawn into a mask

so tragic that Lunzie wanted to laugh and cry. Fiona hadn't used

any makeup that morning, so she looked more childlike than her

usual careful teenaged self.

It's manipulation, I know it, Lunzie told herself severely. I've got to

make a living, or where's our future? I know she's grieving, but I'll

only be gone two years, five at the most! The girl's nose was

turning red, and her lips were white and pressed tightly closed.

Lunzie started to offer another pleasantry, and then realized that

she was trying to manipulate her daughter into foregoing her

legitimate feelings. I don't want to make a scene, so I'm trying to

keep her from acting unhappy. She pressed her own lips shut.

We're too much alike, that's the trouble, Lunzie decided, shaking

her head. She squeezed Fiona's hand tighter. They walked in

silence to the landing bay.

Landing Bay Six contained a big cargo shuttle of the type used by

shippers who hauled more freight than passengers. This craft,

once nattily painted white with a broad red band from its nose to

tail, was dinged and dented. The ceramic coating along the nose

showed scorching from making descents through planetary

atmospheres, but the vehicle seemed otherwise in good shape

and well cared for. A broad-shouldered man with black curly hair

stood in the middle of the bay, waving a clipboard and dispensing

orders to a handful of coveralled workers. Sealed containers were

being forklifted into the open top hatch of the shuttle.

The black-haired man noticed them and came over, hand out in

greeting.

"You're the new doctor?" he asked, seizing Lunzie's free hand and

wringing it companionably. "Captain Cosimo, Descartes Mining.

Glad to have you with us. Hello, little lady," Cosimo ducked his

head to Fiona, a cross between a nod and a bow. "Are those your

bags. Doctor? Marcus! Take the doctor's bags on board!" Lunzie

offered Cosimo the small cube containing her contract and orders,

which he slotted into the clipboard. "All's well," he said, scanning

the readout on his screen. "We've got about twenty minutes before

we lift off. Hatch shuts at T-minus two. Until then, your time's your

own." With another smile for Fiona, he went back to shouting at

one of his employees. "See here, Nelhen, that's a forklift, not a

wee little toy!"

Lunzie turned to Fiona. Her throat began to tighten. All the things

she wanted to say seemed so trivial when compared to what she

felt. She cleared her throat, trying not to cry. Fiona's eyes were

aswim with tears. "There's not much time."

"Oh, Mama," Fiona burst out in a huge sob. "I'll miss you so!" The

almost-grown Fiona, who eschewed all juvenile things and had

called her mother Lunzie since early childhood, reverted all at once

to the baby name she hadn't used in years. "I'll miss you, too.

Fee," Lunzie admitted, more touched than she realized. They

clutched each other close and shed honest tears. Lunzie let it all

out, and felt better for it. In the end, neither Lunzie nor any

member of her family could be dishonest.

When the klaxon sounded, Fiona let her go with one more moist

kiss, and stood back to watch the launch. Lunzie felt closer to her

than she ever had. She kept Fiona in her mind, picturing her

waving as the shuttle lifted and swept away through the violet- blue

sky of Tau Ceti.

Now, with the exception of today's uniform, one music disk, and

the hologram, her baggage was secured in the small storage

chamber behind the shower unit with everyone else's. Lunzie had

cropped her hair practically short as most crew members did. She

missed the warm, fresh wind, cooking her own food from the

indigenous plant life, and Fiona.

Without other set duties to occupy her, Lunzie spent the days

studying the medical files of her future co-workers and medical

texts on the typical injuries and ailments that befall asteroid

miners. She was looking forward to her new post. Space-incurred

traumas interested her. Agoraphobia and claustrophobia were the

most common in space-station life, followed by paranoid disorders.

Strangely enough, frequently more than one occurred in the same

patient at the same time. She was curious about the causes, and

wanted to amass field research to prove or disprove her

professors' statements about the possibility of cures.

She'd used her observations from the medical files to facilitate

getting to know her fifteen shipmates. Miners were a hearty lot,

sharing genuine good fellowship among themselves, but they took

slowly to most strangers. Tragedy, suffered on the job and in

personal lives, kept them clannish. But Lunzie wasn't a stranger

long. They soon discovered that she cared deeply about the well-

being of each of them, and that she was a good listener. After that,

each of the others claimed time with her in the common dining

recreation room, and filtered through her office, to pass the time

between shifts, making her feel very welcome. With time, they

began to open up to her. Lunzie heard about this crewman's

broken romance, and that crewwoman's plan to open a satellite-

based saloon with her savings, and the impending eggs of a mated

pair of avians called Ryxi, who were specialists temporarily

employed by the Platform. And they learned about her early life,

her medical training, and her daughter.

The triangular hologram of Fiona was in her hand as she sat

behind the desk in her office and listened to a human miner named

Jilet. According to his file, Jilet had spent twelve years in cryogenic

deepsleep after asteroids destroyed the drive on an ore carrier on

which he and four other crewmen had been travelling. They'd been

forced to evacuate from their posts, Jilet in one escape capsule

near the cargo hold, the others in a second by the engine section.

The other four men were recovered quickly, but Jilet was not found

for over a decade more because of a malfunction in the signal

beacon on his capsule. Not surprisingly, he was angry, afraid, and

resentful. Three of the other crew presently on the Nellie Mine had

been in cold sleep at least once, but Jilet's stint had been the

longest. Lunzie sympathized with him.

"The truth is that I know those years passed while I was in cold

sleep. Doctor, but it is killing me that I can't remember them. I've

lost so much - my friends, my family. The world's gone round

without me, and I don't know how to take up where I've left off."

The burly, black-haired miner shifted in the deep impact lounger

which Lunzie used as a psychoanalyst's couch. "I feel I've lost

parts of myself as well."

"Well, you know that's not true, Jilet," Lunzie corrected him,

leaning forward on her elbows attentively. "The brain is very

protective of its memory centers. What you know is still locked up

in there." She tapped his forehead with a slender, square-tipped

finger. "Research has proved that there is no degeneration of

memory over the time spent in cold sleep. You have to rely upon

what you are, who you are, not what your surroundings tell you

you are. I know it's disorienting - no, I've never been through it

myself, but I've taken care of many patients who have, What you

must do is accept that you've suffered a trauma, and learn to live

your life again."

Jilet grimaced. "When I was younger, my mates and I wanted to

live in space, away from all the crowds and noise. Hah! Catch me

saying that now. All I want to do is settle down on one of the

permanent colonies and maybe fix jets or industrial robots for a

living. Can't do that yet without my Oh-Two money, not even

including the extra if I want to have a family - a new family - so I've

got to keep mining. It's all I know."

Lunzie nodded. Oh-Two was the cant term for the set-up costs it

took to add each person to the biosphere of an ongoing oxygen-

breathing colony on a non-atmosphered site. It was expensive: the

containment domes had to be expanded, and studies needed to be

done to determine whether the other support systems could handle

the presence of another life. Besides air, a human being needed

water, sanitary facilities, a certain amount of space for living

quarters and food synthesis or farming acreage to support him.

She had considered one herself, but the safety margins were not

yet acceptable, to her way of thinking, for the raising of a child.

"What about a planetside community?" Lunzie asked. "My

daughter's happy on Tau Ceti. It has a healthy atmosphere, and

community centers or farmland available, whichever you prefer to

inhabit. I want to buy in on an asteroid strike, so that Fiona and I

can have a comfortable home." It was a common practice for the

mining companies to allow freelancing by non-competitive

consortia from their own platforms, so long as it didn't interfere with

their primary business. Lunzie calculated that two or three years

worth of her disposable income would be enough for a tidy share

of a miner's time.

"Well, with apologies. Doctor Mespil, it's too settled and set on a

domeless world. They're too - complacent; there, that's the word.

Things is too easy for 'em. I'd rather be poor in a place where they

understand the real pioneering spirit than rich on Earth itself. If I

should have a daughter, I'd want her to grow up with some

ambition . . . and some guts, not like her old man . . . With respect.

Doctor," Jilet said, giving her an anxious look.

Lunzie waved away the thought that he had insulted her courage.

She suspected that he was unwilling to expose himself to the

undomed surface of a planet. Agoraphobia was an insidious

complaint. The free atmosphere would remind him too much of

free space. He needed to be reassured that, like his memories, his

courage was still there, and intact. "Never mind. But please, call

me Lunzie. When you say 'Doctor Mespil,' I start to look around for

my husband. And that contract ended years ago. Friendly parting,

of course."

The miner laughed, at his ease. Lunzie examined the flush-set

desk computer screen, which displayed Jilet's medical file. His

anger would have to be talked out. The escape capsule in which

he'd cold-slept had had another minor malfunction that left him

staring drugged and half conscious through the port glass at open

space for two days before the cryogenic process had kicked in.

Not surprisingly, that would contribute to the agoraphobia. There

was a pathetic air of desperation about this big strong human,

whose palpable dread was crippling him, impairing his usefulness.

She wondered if teaching him rudimentary Discipline would help

him, then decided against it. He didn't need to know how to control

an adrenaline rush; he needed to learn how to keep them from

happening. "Tell me how the fears start."

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TheDeathofSleepAnneMcCaffreyandJodyLynnNye©1990ScannedOctober2002THEDEATHOFSLEEPThisisaworkoffiction.Allthecharactersandeventsportrayedinthisbookarefictional,andanyresemblancetorealpeopleorincidentsispurelycoincidental.Copyright©1990byBillFawcettandAssociatesAllrightsreserved,includingtherighttorepr...

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