Fearless

by Allen Stroud

  “Is that why you did it?”

  “I don’t know. I just… I made a choice.”

  The atmospheric pressure indicator beeps, and a green light comes on. I fumble at the seals around my helmet, but my fingers don’t want to obey. The prosthetic ones won’t even move. “Sam, I—”

  “It’s okay; give me a moment and I’ll sort it.”

  I try to stay calm. This awkwardness will be temporary. Bogdanovic can check me over and sort me out. Just because neurons in my brain have died due to a lack of oxygen doesn’t mean I’ve lost any motor skills. Neurons in our brains die all the time. The ordeal is over. Panic will not help. Panic will not—

  There’s a clump and squeak as Sam unlocks my helmet and pulls it off. I let myself take a deep breath and smile. “We did it,” I say.

  “Yeah, we did. Live to fight another day, eh?”

  “Damn right.”

  Sam is working around me, disconnecting the spare tank from both of us and unfastening my backpack. I let myself drift, doing nothing. I’ve earned it.

  “You’re right, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “About how we have to take risks, fight for what we believe in – all of us.” Sam sighs. “We’re bound by procedures and protocols. They’re getting in the way. If we’re going to survive this, we have to set fire to the rule book.”

  I turn my head and look at him. “You want to be careful,” I say. “You’re talking about disobeying orders and breaking the chain of command.”

  “I’m talking about using some fucking initiative.”

  “Don’t use my screwup as your justification for going AWOL, Sergeant Chase.”

  The use of his rank and surname makes him flinch. It reminds him of his rank and mine. He looks hurt for a moment, then covers it, but the closeness we had a moment ago evaporates. “I’m sorry, Ensign, I didn’t mean—”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  The door opens and Arkov comes in; he’s smiling at me. “You two were amazing!” he says.

  “Had to be done,” I reply. “I’ll need to apologise to the captain.”

  “Why? You saved the ship!”

  “I went back to fix the transmitter, disobeying a direct order. Captain Shann gets to decide what that means.”

  Arkov’s smile cracks. He glances at Sam, then looks away. There’s still a tension between them, from when Sam accused him of being the traitor. “Yes, of course, procedures and all that.”

  I nod. “Yeah, procedures. Sometimes that’s all that keeps us from going insane.”

  Arkov shrugs. He approaches me and starts to work on getting me out of the EVA suit. “The captain’s on her way,” he says. “She wants a quick debrief here, if you’re up to it?”

  “I should be,” I reply. “I’ll need a medical assessment after.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Yeah, the neural transmitters in my artificial hand have stopped working.” I try to lift my right arm. The bit I was born with responds awkwardly, but the prosthetic attachment doesn’t move. “Something must have got disconnected.”

  “I’m sure Bogdanovic or Duggins will sort it.”

  “Let’s hope so.” My breathing is easier now, but my throat is sore and there’s a wheezing catch each time I inhale. “You’ll have to help me get out of this suit.”

  Arkov’s smile returns. “Now that I am qualified to assist with,” he says.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sellis

  I’m halfway through foam sealing another bulkhead in corridor two, when my requisition alert goes off.

  I finish foaming the join, holster the gun and turn to the terminal. I log in and check the message. Technician Sellis requested on the bridge. There’s no signature, and while it’s a priority call, which got routed through to my wrist comms, I can’t tell who’s asking for me.

  Okay. That’s pretty strange…

  Looking at the schematic, I see my work plan has been altered. Some unspecified bridge repairs are now top priority. I’ll need to head straight up there.

  It’s a fair distance, and this time I can’t let everything trail behind me. I begin packing up my kit, storing everything into boxes and satchels that are strapped to me. If I’d been in gravity, I’d never be able to carry everything, but up here, there are different problems; manoeuvering around corners can be tricky.

  Still, orders are orders.

  I make my way to the bridge. Progress is slow but steady. I don’t see anyone on my way. With the crew grouped into repair teams, it’s likely they’re all busy in specific parts of the ship.

  I get to the door and activate my comms. “Sellis to bridge, I’m nearly with you.”

  The comms clicks in response, indicating it hasn’t acquired a receiver. That doesn’t usually happen. Maybe one of the relays has broken down. Might be why they called me.

  I push the door release and the panel slides back. The bridge lights are off. I move inside.

  I’ve walked right into the middle of something here.

  “Close the door, Technician, and move toward the viewer.”

  There’s a young blond officer holding a gun and pointing it at the XO – Lieutenant Travers. I can’t remember the name of the young guy. “What the fuck are you doing, Ensign?” I ask.

  “Technician, best you keep your mouth shut right now,” the ensign replies. I remember his name now, Jacobson, a Swedish guy, I think. “Just move over to the view screen.”

  “Technician, do what he says,” Travers says. He’s got his hands raised, like he’s in a zero gravity stickup. It would be funny, if this wasn’t serious.

  “Ensign, you’re holding a low-velocity gas-powered pistol,” I say very slowly. “If you discharge that weapon in here, you’ll risk all of our lives, given that the ship’s hull is pretty fucked up right now.”

  The blond shit doesn’t even look at me. “Technician, you’ve been given an order.”

  I shrug and move my way across the room. I see there’s someone else in here. The young Asian engineer, Chiu. She’s still in her seat, her gaze on the floor.

  “Jacobson, don’t do this,” Travers says. “You’re throwing away your career. You both are.”

  “And you’re throwing away our lives,” Jacobson replies. He waves the pistol toward the door. “In a few minutes, some more people will join us. You’re going to stay right there, and if you give me no cause, we might even let you leave.”

  “This is mutiny, Ensign.”

  “History is written by the winners, Lieutenant.”

  I’m out of my depth here. I don’t know why I’ve been called up. There’s at least half a conversation I’m missing. “Listen,” I say. “If you can just tell me what you called me up to repair, I’ll do my fucking job, while you folks argue it out.”

  “You weren’t called to make repairs,” Chiu explains. “You were called because you’re going to help us.”

  “I am? Why should I—”

  “You already know why.”

  I glare at Chiu and get an unflinching bruised stare in return. Instinctively I know we share something. “I don’t like being used,” I say.

  “We all get used,” Chiu says.

  The door peels away again and Ashe enters. When he sees me, he freezes and looks confused. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  “Same question to you.”

  “I got a priority repair call.”

  “So did I.” I look at Jacobson. “You want to give us an idea of what’s going on?”

  “You two and Chiu are going to help me take over the ship,” Jacobson replies.

  “Begging your pardon, Ensign, but why the fuck would we do that?” I’m chewing my lip and looking at the people on the bridge. Chiu, Jacobson, Ashe, Travers and me. There’s a broad skill set here. Each person
has intimate knowledge of an area of the ship. This group looks carefully planned. “What happens if we don’t help you?” I ask.

  Jacobson keeps his gaze and his pistol trained on Travers. “You know what happens, Technician Sellis. They’ve got a file on you stretching back fifteen years.”

  My hands clench into fists. I’ve half a mind to throw myself at him, but I can’t be sure of my situation. Who else here is being blackmailed? Who is taking this guy’s side because they want to? I’ve roomed with Ashe for months; the only moment he’s gone weird on me was the chat earlier. Was that a cry for help?

  I look at Travers. He’s okay. A bit distant, and a cold fish at cards, but I’ve never had any trouble with him as XO. Those dark eyes catch mine and I can’t hold them. Does that make me a traitor? I don’t know.

  “This can’t work out well for anyone,” I say.

  “It’ll go fine, so long as we all do what we’re told,” Jacobson says.

  Suddenly, Travers explodes into motion, closing the distance between him and Jacobson. The two men crash into the back of the pilot’s chair. The lieutenant’s hands grab for the gun, but Jacobson’s twist it away and punches him, hard, in the ribs. There’s a crunch and Travers goes limp. Jacobson grabs his head and smashes it against the seat.

  “Don’t kill him!” Chiu shouts.

  Jacobson turns to her. “I’m not going to,” he says. “But we need to play for time.” He activates the exit release and manhandles Travers into the passageway. The lieutenant is groaning and barely conscious. I can see blood in the air, swirling, spiderlike trails drifting around the lieutenant’s forehead.

  Jacobson seals the door. “More people will be arriving soon. Then we can get to work.”

  “You sent me those messages,” I say. “You threatened my family.”

  “I forwarded a set of communications to you as I was instructed,” Jacobson replies. “I don’t know what you received.”

  “We all have our secrets,” Ashe adds.

  “If you’re not in charge of this, who is?” I ask. I glance at Chiu, but she shakes her head.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Jacobson answers. He moves over to his console and accesses the screen. A minute or two later, he raises his head. “Okay, I’ve disabled all the recording in this room and deleted the previous entries. Chiu, I need you to lock Duggins out of the priority engineering access system. If you don’t, as soon as they know something’s up, they can trap us in here with no means of accessing the rest of the ship.”

  “Hold on, fucking wait a minute, we can still stop this,” I say. “When the captain arrives, we can just walk out of here and give up.”

  “People I care about will die if I don’t do this,” Chiu says. “If that’s not the same for you, then it might be better if you step outside.”

  I remember the message, the list of transactions, debts, names and addresses of everyone I care about. “They can’t go through with their threats. If they do, they lose their leverage.”

  “Are you prepared to take that risk?” Ashe asks. “Do you want to watch the people you care about get murdered, one by one?”

  I scowl at him, then at the others. All my life I’ve been a gambler, risk-taker, chancer – whatever you want to call it. Those bets were never about winning; they were always about the uncertainty. It’s in this moment, right now, that I see it all clearly. I don’t like winning, I don’t like being lucky or unlucky. I like the risk, the step out into the unknown.

  The consequences never mattered to me until after. I’ve lost my money, other people’s money, stolen shit, sold shit, anything to get my fix. Something had to be on the line to make the bet real; otherwise it didn’t matter. Am I prepared to call someone’s bluff here? Someone I don’t even know? It’s just like the slots, trying to game a system when all the variables aren’t on the table. I can feel that sweet tension right now as I hesitate, the same as the wheels rotating, the roulette ball bouncing around, the cards about to turn.

  This is higher stakes; it’s other people’s lives. There’s no straight choice or risk. It’s all dangerous.

  Something cold and metallic is pressed against my forehead. Jacobson has closed the distance between us. “At this range, I won’t miss, and I won’t damage the ship,” he says in a low voice. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is all about you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Shann

  There is a moment’s lull. A time given by fate for success, perhaps?

  Field operations in the military require hard evaluative clarity. You can’t bask in a victory, any victory. There’s a need to set aside the congratulations and praise while an enemy remains to oppose you.

  Wars might be won by winning all your battles, but if you lose one, you can lose everything.

  I’m outside the airlock in the EVA storage area. With me are Arkov, Johansson, Duggins and Sam.

  “Incredible job,” Duggins says. “I’ll start running calibration tests. Thanks to you two, we’ll have working communications in an hour or so.”

  “We also haven’t exploded,” I add. “Which is also down to your work.”

  “Thanks,” Johansson replies. She looks pale. Her eyes are bright and wide. She’s trying to help Arkov remove her suit, but there’s no strength in her fitful efforts. I glance at Sam; he seems more able, shedding the hard gorget without difficulty.

  “Where’s Doctor Bogdanovic?” I ask. “Did you contact him?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Arkov replies. “I signalled his office and his personal comms.”

  “You didn’t talk to him in person?”

  “No, I was busy getting ready for these two.”

  I tap my comms bead. “Captain Shann to Doctor Bogdanovic, are you receiving?”

  There’s a click, like an acknowledgment, but no reply. I try again. “Doctor, we’re down in airlock exit. I’d like you to look over Chase and Johansson after their EVA. Can you come and join us, please?”

  This time there’s no answer at all. I glance at Sam. He reads my concern. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Probably dealing with a medical complication.”

  “Could be.” I turn to the wall console and bring up a ship schematic. I activate the comms bead tracers. Gradually, the two-dimensional map populates with the locations of all the crew, each a blue dot with their name appearing underneath them. A cluster of dots represent where we are, another cluster on the bridge, two more in medical. None of them is Bogdanovic.

  Then his location appears. Outside Ensign Thakur’s quarters. Where we’re holding Rocher.

  “We have a problem,” I say.

  Sam moves over to join me next to the screen. “Shit,” he says, “you think—”

  “He has no reason for being there,” I reply.

  Duggins touches his comms. “Duggins to bridge, we have a situation. Can you lock down corridors three and eight, please?”

  Again, there’s a click in response but no actual answer. I look at the screen. Jacobson, Chiu, Sellis and Ashe are on the bridge with no senior officer. The latter two have no business being there. Travers, who should be in charge, appears to be in the corridor outside. His dot isn’t moving.

  I activate my comms bead again. “Shann to Travers?”

  There’s no answer at all.

  I tap the names on the screen. “This doesn’t look good.”

  “What do we do?” Sam asks.

  “You don’t do anything.” I point at him and Johansson. “Sit here and lock yourselves in if you need to. The three of us will handle this.” I turn to Arkov and Duggins. “He’ll make for the bridge with Rocher. We need to intercept them.”

  “Corridor six,” Duggins says. “But we’ll need to hurry.”

  I’m already moving. “Do you have your sidearm?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Duggins replies.

/>   “Good. Arkov, hang back. If we catch either of them, be ready to jump in and assist.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  I’m moving fast, faster than the other two, leaving them behind. My left wrist is still a hindrance, but I’m coping, compensating. This is my world, racing through metal tubes in zero gravity. More speed, less safety.

  There could be a reasonable explanation for what’s going on. Bogdanovic might need to see Rocher for something, might then have business on the bridge. Sellis and Ashe may be helping with repairs and some essential maintenance. Travers might be outside for some important reason. All these things are possible.

  I reach corridor six, the place where Drake died a lifetime ago. I peer around the corner at the end. My low-calibre pistol is in my hand and the safety is off. I can’t see anyone. Did I get here first? If Rocher and Bogdanovic were making for the bridge, they’d be in a hurry to get there while we were all out of the way. They won’t necessarily know we’re on to them.

  I’m listening for sounds of movement.

  I can’t hear anything.

  Slowly, I inch my way out.

  There’s a loud bang and I duck back. The hiss of escaping gas behind me makes me glance around. There’s a bullet-sized hole in the nitrogen vent. An alarm goes off and the emergency doors start to seal. I push off from the wall and glide through, just as the passage seals itself.

  I see movement ahead. Two figures, making their way through the next hatch.

  I lean into my comms bead. “Shann to Duggins?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve found them and Rocher’s armed. Your route is blocked because of a bust nitrogen seal. Get in there and patch it, then catch up.”

  “Understood, Captain.”

  I push on, reaching the end of the passage. There’s no sign of anyone at the intersection. I’ve missed them.

  I pull myself around the corner and do the last few twists and turns to the bridge. Again, I peer around the corner, gun in hand.