“That would make the bleeding look worse than it was?” Edison asked.
Saf nodded. “That might explain the evidence of compression over the wound too.”
Edison turned and looked back at the dome. “This was planned out. He wasn’t running in a panic,” he said, gesturing at the blood on the access covers. “Given what we’re seeing here, he took the time to make sure they couldn’t follow him.”
“We’re inside the utility shack and we’ve got a body. I think,” Luce said.
“Can you tell cause of death?” Edison asked. Probably a stupid question.
“What’s the scientific way to say blown to hell?” she asked.
“That covers it,” he said.
“Looks like he, or she maybe, was trying to stop a runaway,” Ryk said. “The arresters are partially reinserted but the cooling lines blew. Unfortunately, for whoever was trying to shut it down, they run under the deck beneath the control station.”
“I assume it doesn’t look like an accident?” Edison asked.
“I’m not an expert on these old reactors, but don’t think so,” he said. “Somebody rerouted the plumbing to feed the primary turbine steam into the environmental heat line. The pressure would have built up here and in the thermal storage sink inside the habitat simultaneously. It might have taken a few minutes to blow but that would explain the damage to both domes.”
“He might have overestimated how long it would take to go critical and got caught too close to the dome,” Saf suggested.
“That’s as good a theory as any,” Edison said, kneeling down and pulling out a small bag and a knife to scrape a sample of the blood off a small rock. As he stood up the rock he’d just been working on exploded into dust and fragments. A loud crack, and a hollow ping caused him to jump back. A second pop and he felt his suit’s environmental pack jerk sidewise violently.
Alarms lit up all over his heads up display.
Primary power failure.
O2 supply failure.
Com failure.
Another tug, this time on his shoulder followed by a whistling scream as his ears popped. He didn’t need the alarm to tell him what had happened.
Pressure containment failure.
Saf grabbed him and jumped around the nose of the rover, dragging him bodily with her. Propping him against the front of the vehicle with one arm, she held him pinned in place while she talked to him. He could see her mouth moving, but heard only the diminishing hiss of air leaking out of his suit.
He shook his head and she leaned in, pressing her helmet against his. “Somebody’s shooting at us,” she said, her voice muffled and distant, as the mechanical connection carried the sound to him.
He nodded. “I think my suit took a hit. I’m losing air.”
She grabbed his right hand and pulled it around to the opposite shoulder. Leaning in again to press her head against his, she said, “Keep pressure here. Joe’s bringing the ship in closer.”
Joe? He struggled to place the name of the Katana’s AA. He shook his head to clear the fog. The vapor leaking out of his suit pushed his hand away. He looked at the pink frothy foam on the palm of his glove with abstract curiosity. I’m leaking too.
He clutched the fabric of his spacesuit and held tighter.
Distant thunder shook the world as shadows danced and light sparked around him.
The sun was moving.
CHAPTER SIX
Armstrong: Station-keeping Above L-4 Prime:
“What the hell’s going on down there?” Chancellor Roja said as she glared at the screen. The governor looked like he’d just been hauled out of bed by a nosy neighbor, and she resented his attitude even before he offered his first word of reply.
“A construction project,” he said.
“We’re seeing nothing but clouds of steam and something sticking up out of the ice,” she said.
“Yah, that’s it,” he said, clearing his throat and shrugging.
“Governor, we need to get this straight. If you’re going to do something strange, we need to know. Before you do it.”
“I understand,” he said. “I never thought it would cause you a problem, so we didn’t think we needed to say anything.”
“So what is it?” She glanced at the admiral who was sitting across from her and shook her head. She was tired of his passive resistance.
“Construction. Really,” Jeph said. “The Tacra Un is helping us to expand our facilities. We’re having a lot of trouble keeping our life support systems balanced with all the people you’ve sent down here to help. So we needed to expand our capacity. A bigger base of operations is becoming critical.”
“How exactly is it doing that?” she asked.
“We don’t understand the process but it’s called kan-che ahku-osht-aht,” he said. “Basically, it’s creating matter by reducing the energy of space time and constraining it into a physical form.”
“It’s building matter from nothing?” the admiral asked. She toggled the optic to wide field to include him in the conversation.
“Not really,” Jeph said. “It’s creating matter from something we don’t know how to measure. I don’t know how it works, but maybe Chei or Ian can explain it to you. All I know for sure is that this is how the Tacra Un built the gangways to our airlocks.”
“Why is it doing this now?” she asked.
“Because Dutch asked it to help us.” He shrugged and looked like he knew it was a weak answer.
She glared at him for several seconds. “You’re saying your AA asked the Tacra Un to give you a new base, and it did?”
“Pretty much, that’s what happened,” he said. “We gave Dutch a set of specifications and the Tacra Un is now building it for us.”
“All you had to do was ask?” Nakamiru asked. “Would it build anything you asked for?”
“No, Admiral,” he said. “The Tacra Un has specific limitations as to what it’s allowed to do. Customizing our interface facility is within its guidelines, so building an expanded base fits within that.”
“The expansion looks to be rather substantial.” Roja said.
“I can upload our specifications to you,” he offered.
“Do that,” she said. “How long will it take to complete?”
“We don’t know for sure. Several weeks at the minimum.”
“Is there any danger to our science personnel?” the admiral asked.
“We were told we should avoid watching several things, but inside the hull of the Waltz itself we will be safe,” he said. “We might need to make sure we avoid shuttle runs until the gas clouds dissipate. Dutch has explained that they are a transient effect while the outer shell is close to the ice since a lot of heat energy gets released in the process. Once the structure gets far enough above the surface, the heat and gas should abate.”
She leaned back and sighed. “We need to get this clear between us, Governor. Before you start another project like this, you need to let me know what’s going on. From up here, it looks like your base is on fire.”
Jeph chuckled. “I appreciate your concern, but we’re fine.”
“Good. Just keep me updated on your progress.”
She clicked off the com and turned to Admiral Nakamiru. “That man has to be the most frustrating captain I have ever had under my command.”
“Be glad he no longer is under your command then,” he said. “Technically, when you granted him his claim to L-4 Prime, you released him.” She leveled a glare at him.
“I am concerned though,” she said as she got up and walked over to the VAT. “He seems awfully comfortable with using the technology he’s discovered down there. My understanding is that they can’t operate anything but the language training modules, and that nothing else is accessible to them.”
“Do you think they’ve concealed their progress?” he asked. “Dr. Jameson is with them. He’d report anything that made him suspicious.”
She nodded. “It seems strange that they can get a new base bu
ilt, but they can’t get the quantum quicksand turned off.”
“You are discussing the priorities and motivation of an alien awareness,” Solo said. “There is no logical way to make valid assumptions given that reality.”
Roja looked sidewise at Nakamiru, who shrugged.
“Why does logic make that no easier to swallow? It would be so much easier to just blame Cochrane.”
Alpha Block MedBay: Security Detention Center One: Galileo Station:
Derek Tomlinson didn’t want to be here, but he knew he had no choice. He was still bothered that Lassiter thought he was spineless and being here should address that. He sat on a stool in the corner and watched as two guards and a medical technician brought the prisoner in.
“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Paulson said.
“I figured I’d give you a chance to change your mind. While you still have one,” Derek said.
“Director Tomlinson, please,” the tech said. “As long as the patient does not resist the process has only a limited risk of causing brain damage.”
“Did you hear that, Paulson?” he asked. “Don’t fight the scan and you might get through this intact.”
“Frag off,” Lassiter said as the guard shoved him over to the diagnostic bed. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Actually, we do have to,” he said. “You’ve left us no other option. This is your fault.”
“You keep telling yourself that, if it lets you sleep at night,” he said.
The technician turned her back on Tomlinson and pulled the Velcro of Lassiter’s coverall open. He jerked back, and she nodded to the guard who grabbed him and ripped it open to the waist. “Mr. Lassiter, if you fight, this will only be harder.”
She reached over to the prep tray beside the bed, grabbed a set of wireless biosensors, and placed them across his chest and under his arms. “These are to monitor your heart and respiration during the procedure. We will use them to calibrate your responses to engram stimulus.”
“I don’t care what they do,” he growled. “Spare your breath.”
She shrugged. “As you wish, but it helps to know what’s going on. The more you relax the faster and easier it is on you.”
“I don’t need to know.”
She looked up at the guard standing over him and said, “Lay him down and strip him. Once I get the rest of the sensors on, we’ll restrain him.”
It took several seconds for Paulson to realize that he was no physical match for the guards as they manhandled him and ripped the rest of his coverall off. She rolled him up on his side and positioned two sensors over his kidneys and one that was far more intimate in its placement.
As they lashed the straps down over him, the technician turned to a screen and logged in. Glancing over at Derek she explained, “The first part of the process is a baseline scan. We stimulate memory responses, read which part of the brain responds, and record the waveforms. The entire calibration process takes about twenty-five minutes, if he cooperates.”
“And if he doesn’t? How long can he resist?” Tomlinson asked.
“The equipment will continue to escalate until it gets the responses it needs,” she said. “The longest I have ever heard of anyone fighting is just under two hours.”
Twisting to look at the screen she was using, he watched as she worked through the process of setting it up. “What is the purpose of the calibration?”
“Because you asked for deep and detailed information from the patient, we need to build up a comprehensive base of engram patterns,” she said. “If you wanted to know something generic, like if he was physically present at a location, we could show him a picture of a place and read a general waveform. It’s my understanding that you want numbers or some other precise data, so that takes a lot more accurate and constrained analysis. It also will require a lot longer scan than normal.”
“How long will it take in total?” he asked.
“The interrogative portion of the BES will take about an hour. Depending on the calibration it might take as little as an hour and a half, or as much as three to get the information.”
She pulled the scanner over from its position in the wall kiosk and lowered it toward Paulson’s head. It was a large unit designed to cover his entire face and skull.
“I’ve loaded the interrogative files you provided into the machine, so we’re ready to begin,” she said.
Turning back to face Paulson, she leaned forward and lowered her voice to say, “This will be uncomfortable, especially if you fight it. The process is automated and will get progressively more difficult until you cooperate. Do you understand?”
He nodded. For the first time fear flashed over his features. “I don’t want to do this,” he whispered, rolling his eyes toward Derek and pleading. “Seriously. I will give you what you want.”
Derek stepped up to the side of the bed and looked down at him. His expression said he was serious.
“Proceed with the scan,” Odysseus said through his link.
He said he’d cooperate, Derek thought.
“His cooperation is not guaranteed. Proceed with the process.”
He doesn’t need to have his brain shredded like this, Derek thought. He will give us the codes.
“His compliance is not given willingly, therefore his offer is suspect. Continue.”
“He will give it to us,” he said out loud.
“Excuse me, Director?” the tech said obviously confused by his non sequitur comment.
“We need to make sure he will give us the information,” he said, looking down at Lassiter and shaking his head.
“I’ll give you the codes,” he said. “Please, Derek don’t do this. I will—”
“Then don’t fight,” he said. “Give it to the machine.”
He turned and walked toward the door, pausing before he went through. “You’re right, Paulson. I am spineless.”
Robinson Colony: Western Athabasca Valles, Mars:
Edison’s injury wasn’t bad, but it hurt his pride. He should have anticipated that people would still be out there. It was a stupid mistake that could have gotten them all killed. Fortunately, the sniper didn’t hit anyone else.
He woke up on the way back to Robinson with another cup of the horrifying enzyme brew sitting on the table beside his acceleration couch, and Saffia hovering over him. “Tana will kill me,” she said. “She told me to keep you safe, and I kinda foobed that biglike.”
“Was my fault,” he said. “You might be a superwoman, but I’ve got the experience to know better. It was a stupid mistake.”
“Not as stupid as trying to get in a fistfight with Rykkie,” she said, grinning. “I was too busy getting you inside and I never thought to tell him not to break the guy up too bad.”
“Oh?”
“Yah, there’s not much left of him to answer questions,” Ryktoff said, climbing over the ladder from the aft deck. “My bad. I should have maybe not thrown such a big rock at him.”
“What?”
Luce appeared behind him, bouncing through the hatch and grabbing the chair to haul herself to a graceful stop beside Edison. “Cromag here fell back on the stone age weaponry at hand. Was a good shot, but it messed up the guy’s faceplate—”
“And brains too,” Saf added, shrugging. “We stowed his body in the back and I figure we’ll ID him from his genes since his dental records would be pointless.”
“You should drink your nutrient solution,” Joe said. “Your injuries were limited, but you lost a substantial amount of blood due to vacuum aspiration of the wound.”
“Is this the same stuff you gave me after Saf tried to kill me?”
“Substantially similar,” it said.
“I’ll pass,” Edison said, wrinkling his nose and trying not to remember that experience.
“We have arrived at Robinson Colony,” Joe announced as the thrusters rumbled down to silence. “Dr. Drake has asked you to join her in the medical center. Patient One is regaining consciousness an
d will be available to answer questions within the hour.”
Patient One was the name they had given Chancellor Ariqat to keep anyone from overhearing his name. Edison stood up and wobbled as his blood supply tried to work its way toward his brain. Fortunately, it got there before he faded out.
“You should drink your oil,” Saf said, picking up his cup and wincing under the full power of his glare.
“I thought your wife told you to keep me safe?” he growled.
“Maybe not, then,” she said, bouncing across to the opposite wall-deck and emptying the cup into the recycler. Turning back to the other two of their crew, she winked. “Can you take the baggie to the genetics lab and have them get an ID? Stay with the body until they’ve got a name for the … uhm … face. Let me know as soon as you’re done with that.”
“No problem,” Luce said. “What’s next?”
“Depends on what we get from Patient One,” Edison said, running his arm through a couple rotations and feeling where the bullet wound pulled tight. “We might need to go back out there and see what else is hiding under the rocks.”
“I’d recommend we bring a full squad next time,” Ryk said. “Should I put out the word we’re looking for a team to clean up a mess?”
“Yah,” he said, nodding. “Make sure they’re the kind to keep their sphincter tight. We’re about to start leaking intel and we’ve got to make sure it happens when we want it to, and not accidentally. Scan?”
“Cando,” he said as Edison and Saf headed to the airlock.
When they got to the security section of the medical center Tana was waiting outside Ariqat’s room. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked, shooting a glare at her wife.
“Today is just my day for getting glared at, isn’t it?” Saf said. “He got shot. I figured I’d start a club of shooting victims and he wanted to join.”
“I’m serious,” Tana said, ratcheting up the intensity of her glare. “That’s a lot of blood.”
Redemption of Sisyphus Page 5