Callisto Deception

by John Read

  “I’m sorry,” Marie said, reaching toward Malcom’s back and pulling on the ties.

  Marie glanced through the airlock portholes on their right. Inside were rovers designed for Callisto’s surface.

  “Why are you doing this?” Marie said.

  The woman drew Marie close to secure the zip ties around her wrists.

  “H3 told me who you are and what you know,” the woman said. “You used to work at the CGD, right? It was your job to ensure the sustainability of the colony. Now that job falls on me.”

  “But …” Marie said.

  “You really want to know who I am, bitch?” the woman said. Marie didn’t answer. “My name is Serene, and I’m your husband’s girlfriend.”

  Marie turned to look at the crazed lady, noticing her blond hair tied tightly in a bun. How could he possibly fall for a woman like this?

  Marie’s body tensed against this fresh pain; one more betrayal.

  Serene adjusted her gun, pressing it against Marie’s face, forcing it forward.

  Serene ushered them down further down the hall. They stopped at an empty airlock. The woman punched a button on the wall and a red light flashed above the door.

  Marie looked around for some way to escape, and wondered whether to scream. At the end of the hall, behind a double door, printers wailed, and men in welder’s masks worked with heavy machinery. No one would hear her no matter how loud she was.

  “What are you doing with that airlock?” Malcom said, as the door hissed open. But the woman shoved the gun into his ribs and forced him forward.

  “Do what I say or I’ll put a bullet in Marie’s head.” Serene held Marie by her shirt at the back of her neck, pointed the gun at her head, and then pointed the gun at Malcom.

  “There’s no way I’m going in …” Malcom cried.

  Serene pulled the trigger, firing a silent round into a panel beside Malcom’s head.

  “Get inside,” she said, pointing the gun back at Marie.

  Malcom stood obstinate in front of the open door, hands tied securely behind his back.

  “Fine,” Serene said, “have it your way.” She held Marie back and kicked Malcom in the chest. He flew backward, landing on his shoulder, groaning in pain, and struggling to get up.

  Marie screamed as Serene hit the button and the hatch began to close.

  “You’re about to have an unfortunate accident,” Serene said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Marie saw a flash of red, and heard a crunch.

  Spinning around, she saw Huey. Then she looked at the wrench embedded in the back of Serene’s head.

  “What an unfortunate accident,” Huey said.

  Serene slumped to the floor, smashing her dead face into the airlock’s hatch.

  “What the hell, Marie!” Malcom said, and Huey rushed into the airlock to help his friend. “That woman was going to blow me out the airlock!”

  “I’m telling you, we’re living a lie,” Marie said, as Huey opened a pocketknife and cut the ties that held their hands.

  “We were kidnapped from Earth to form this, whatever this is; this drone-free, AI- free society.”

  Huey looked at Malcom, then back at Marie, and pulled his wrench from Serene’s head. He opened an access panel on the wall, revealing a cylindrical vat filled with filament. He dropped his wrench into the vat.

  “Help me with this, would ya?” Malcom said to Huey, grabbing Serene from under the arms. “This never happened.”

  The two men hoisted the woman up, tipped her head backward into the vat, and dropped her in. Her body sank into the goo and Huey closed the panel, hitting a button on the wall marked “Recycle.”

  Marie slumped to the ground, bile rising in her throat. It was all too much to take in. “This is why H3 stopped your transmission.”

  Huey lowered himself, and put a hand on Marie’s shoulder. He’d returned to his silent, contemplative self.

  “How could they hide this from me!” Malcom said. “I was the prime radio operator on our ship.” He paused, and then said, “Oh my God. The communication team, all the radio experts, my boss, they were all on the Klondike, and now they’re dead! The Doomsdayers covered it up by murdering all those people!”

  “Dammit, Malcom, the Klondike didn’t exist! Those people we watched die, they were Turings. I talked to several of them today using H3’s visor.”

  Malcom went silent, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I’m an idiot,” he said.

  “You’re not an idiot,” Marie said. “You’re one of the smartest people in the colony. If we can free the prisoners, free my husband, we can tell the colonists the truth. The truth is the only thing that will keep us safe now. That’s why I need you to believe me.”

  “I believe you,” Malcom said. He reached over and hit the access panel on the adjacent airlock. Additional lights flickered on, illuminating the airlock’s oversized interior. Inside was a rover designed for moving workers outside the Ring habitat. The rover’s hotdog cabin rested on six large titanium tires. Oval windows lined the sides while two tinted windshields came to a point at the front.

  “What are you doing?” Marie asked.

  “I have an idea,” Malcom replied. “Huey, keep watch from the observation deck, we may need your help.” Huey nodded, and turned to leave.

  “Marie, come with me,” Malcom said. “We’re going to get your husband.”

  The rover’s rear hatch doubled as a ramp, and Marie and Malcom climbed up. Malcom hit the switch to close the door. They crossed a platform lined with spacesuits, and six rows of bench seats. Malcom sat in the driver’s seat and began throwing switches. Marie sat on a bench seat behind him.

  Malcom looked at a camera on the airlock wall and gave a thumbs-up.

  The airlock depressurized, and opened to the vacuum of Callisto’s surface. It was nighttime on this side of Callisto, and would be for the next eight days, but Jupiter glowed bright in the sky. The giant planet illuminated their surroundings, casting hard shadows.

  They backed out of the airlock and turned around. The road ahead was banked with slag, like black snow. They continued past the slag and onto a tarmac where the mothballed Melbourne, Victoria, and Mount Everest loomed.

  The Mount Everest looked different than the others; its service module was supported by scaffolding, and the Bigelow module had been inflated.

  “The CDF inflated the ship for use as a brig. Prisoners are locked in permanent VR, catheters and everything. That way, they don’t need guards.”

  He pulled up to Mount Everest’s airlock, extended the docking port, and pressurized it. Malcom got out of his seat. The port extended from the side of the rover. He opened the interior hatch, and inspected the door on the ship. He tried to spin the hatch, but it was locked.

  A red light flickered on a panel located on the hatch.

  “Problem?” Marie said.

  “Working with the CDF is a pain in the ass. Mainly because they’re green, and incompetent, at least from a technological standpoint. Huey and I have a way to work around pretty much everything.”

  “I see,” Marie replied.

  Malcom tapped his wrist.

  “Huey, the Mount Everest is locked. See if you can override the CDF security protocol.”

  “On it,” Huey said. There was a pause, and an alarm sounded. “Wait, something’s going on here, they’re evacuating all non-CDF personnel out of the building.”

  “Huey, just get the airlock open, whatever it takes!”

  “There’s someone here, I’ve got to …” Huey never finished his sentence, but Malcom’s watch produced the sound of two cracks, like boards slapped together. Gunfire.

  “Huey!” Malcom yelled into his phone. “Oh, God!”

  “They killed him,” Marie said, almost matter-of-factly. She was so far into shock that now everything seemed routine. “They killed him!” Her hands began to shake.

  Malcom was breathing heavily and rested an arm on either side of the docking port. “They’ll pay,
” he said and closed the interior hatch. “They’ll all pay. Have you ever worn a spacesuit?”

  “No,” Marie said.

  Malcom retracted the docked port. “Well, neither have I. But I took an emergency EVA course, once.” He threw the spacecraft into reverse, backed it up, and turned until the front of the rover faced the Mount Everest’s inflated module.

  “We’re going in,” Malcom said.

  “Through the side?” Marie said, looking up at the giant marshmallow of a spaceship.

  “Yup. They’ll lose oxygen. But their suits will stay pressurized until we get them onboard. Are you with me on this?”

  Marie nodded.

  Malcom got up from the driver’s seat, and began pulling on a suit. He snapped the helmet over his head and activated the comm unit on his wrist. Marie pulled a suit over her clothes, and Malcom checked the seal on her helmet.

  He returned to the driver’s seat, pushing it back to accommodate the backpack. “Ready?” he said.

  Marie sat down, reached for her wrist, and switched on her spacesuit’s comm. “Do it.”

  Malcom gunned the accelerator and they launched forward. The rover struck the Mount Everest at thirty-five knots, tearing the canvas hull like a rag. The blast filled the surrounding vacuum with dust, which fell to the ground in exactly two point five seconds. The Mount Everest’s hull began to collapse as the tear widened, ripping to the zenith. Anything that wasn’t fastened down blew onto Callisto’s surface.

  It took less than five seconds for the module to depressurize. But for those few moments, the sound of air rushing past the rovers was deafening. When it stopped, the only remaining noise was the servos inside the rover.

  Headlamps above the windshield illuminated the interior of the spaceship. The prisoners hung from the scaffolding, about twenty meters from the rover’s entry point. Without oxygen, they struggled for air like men on the gallows, hoods and helmets fastened tightly around their faces.

  Malcom pulled the rover as close to the prisoners as he could, and dropped the rear hatch. He grabbed an emergency ax as they rushed down the ramp.

  “They’re suffocating!” Marie said, as they reached the prisoners.

  Malcom lifted the ax, smashing the locking mechanism the held the first prisoner to the ship.

  The body dropped from the scaffolding onto the floor. Water sprayed from the tubes, sublimating instantly into gas.

  “These are military grade VR suits. They’ll stay air tight until we pressurize the cabin.” He moved onto the next prisoner, cutting loose their cables.

  Marie dragged the first prisoner underneath the arms, pulling the body up the ramp. The prisoner’s feet kicked aimlessly, his arms grasping for his neck which he, or she, couldn’t quite reach through the helmet.

  The second body lay limp on the ground like a doll. Malcom picked the body up at the hips, heaving it over to the ramp. He lifted the body, tossing it into the rover. The figure arched in the mild gravity, sliding to a stop on the floor.

  Malcom cut down the third prisoner. The body flopped lifelessly onto the floor. Marie dragged it up the ramp by the feet. This one was lighter than the others, probably the woman she had seen while in VR.

  Malcom cut down the fourth and final body and tossed the ax aside. “Clear the ramp,” he yelled, and pulled the last body up into the rover. He hit the hatch controls and the door clicked shut.

  Air shot from vents along the ceiling. A green light flashed and Malcom tore off his helmet. Marie did the same.

  He ripped off the first suit, revealing a man of Indian descent, who slurred what sounded like curse words in a Hindi dialect.

  Not John.

  “You sure these ain’t people from the Alliance?” Malcom said.

  “Shut up, and get their suits off,” Marie said, pulling the hood and helmet off the next person. Marie started to panic, knowing that if they didn’t get the suits off in time, John would be dead.

  The second person, a woman, coughed, and sat up, eyes wide, then turned over on her side, gasping for air.

  Not John.

  Malcom reached for the third prisoner, tearing off the hood to reveal a man with a chiseled jaw and black hair.

  John? Not John. Panic kicked Marie in the solar plexus, winding her.

  The third prisoner opened dark brown eyes that darted around, but the man didn’t appear fully conscious. He reached toward the woman, and groaned, “Amel … ia.”

  Marie leaped to the next person, pulling off the helmet. Be John. Please be John. Her fingers fumbled, pulling off the hood that gripped his face.

  He wasn’t breathing.

  “John!” Marie yelled, lifting his head to her face.

  She set him down on the staging platform, gave fifteen chest compressions and two rescue breaths.

  “Defibrillator,” Malcom said, opening a panel on the wall and tossing the electrodes to Marie.

  Marie ripped the suit off John’s chest and stuck the device to his skin.

  “Clear!” a computerized voice said.

  Her husband’s body lurched, but remained unconscious.

  “Clear!” said the computer.

  The body lunched again. And again. And again.

  33

  I awoke with a start, feeling disoriented. What … where?

  Eyes gazed into mine. Familiar eyes. Eyes I’d loved for so long. Marie tore the pads from my chest and wrapped her arms hard around me. We sat, embracing on the floor, rocking back and forth in tears.

  “Don’t ever let me go,” she sobbed.

  “My God, you were dead,” I said. “We had a funeral and everything.”

  “Alright, love birds,” said the man with her, now back in the driver’s seat. “I guarantee the CDF knows what we’ve done, and they’ll send rovers from the base.”

  “This is Malcom,” Marie said. I nodded my head as Malcom backed the Mount Everest out. Gunning the accelerator, he returned to the airlock.

  “If the CDF is waiting on the other side,” I said, “they'll shoot us as soon as we open the interior door.”

  “You can bet on it. They just killed my partner,” Malcom said, staring at us in a rear-view mirror. “Who are your friends?”

  “Amelia, Kevin, Avro,” I said, pointing at each of my friends in turn. They were in various stages of consciousness, blinking and gasping.

  Avro got it together first, and asked, “Is that a single chamber airlock?”

  Malcom nodded.

  “Tell them to evacuate the factory.”

  “They already did. It’s CDF personnel only, in there,” Malcom said, a sad smile crossing his face. “I want them in there while we do this.”

  Malcom flipped up a seat cushion and started handing out emergency pressure suits.

  From the west, two CDF rovers came into sight, winding their way down a path carved into the slag.

  “Here they come,” Avro said. “I’d say we’ve got two minutes.”

  We pulled up to the open airlock, driving the rover inside.

  “Alright everyone out,” Malcom said, sprinting to the rear of the rover. He hit the release on the rear hatch, and grabbed a hammer from the rover’s tool kit. Turning to Kevin, he said, “Indian guy, grab that saw.”

  Kevin scowled and picked up the tool.

  “Pelé,” Malcom said pointing to Avro, “drill, Phillip’s head.”

  Malcom swung himself around the side of the vehicle. Stepping up on the rover’s metal tire, he covered the airlock’s camera with pressure-foam. He tossed the canister to me and I did the same for the window on the hatch.

  “The airlock is mechanical,” Malcom said, taking the saw from Kevin. “I’m going to sever the line that prevents both doors from opening at the same time.” He sawed off a mechanical arm on the left side of the airlock.

  “Drill,” he said to Avro. Malcom took the drill, and unscrewed a panel on the wall. He ripped out a disk, and passed it to Kevin. “Pressure sensor,” he said. Several wires protruded from the senso
r. Kevin passed Malcom a pair of plyers, which he used to clip the wires and then splice two of them together.

  “Hurry,” Amelia said. “The other rovers are right behind us!”

  “Just like hotwiring a car way back in the good ol’ days,” Malcom said. “Ya’ll will want to stand clear.”

  We exited the airlock, back onto Callisto’s surface, and hid behind the slag. The approaching rovers were less than one hundred meters away. Malcom went back into our rover, ripping off its sun visor. He joined us behind the mound.

  When Malcom hit a button on the transmitter, air shot from vents in the side of the airlock, and a light flashed green. “Opening interior door,” he announced.

  The door rolled open. As soon as there was a gap wide enough for a man, the vacuum of space snatched its first victim. A single CFD solider shot out, cartwheeling in a rush of air. The opening widened and another soldier flew by, then another. The soldiers hit the ground, bouncing back into the air, guns and grenades falling from their ragdoll bodies.

  “Oh God!” Marie cried. “They’re not wearing spacesuits!”

  “An occupational hazard,” Amelia replied.

  I hugged Marie against me, wishing I could shield her from the horror and pain.

  The door opened all the way and an entire platoon was sucked out through the opening. A dozen soldiers hit our rover on the way out.

  Our rover began sliding backwards, and then accelerated, literally flying out of the airlock. It flipped over, tumbling down the path and colliding with the leading CFD rovers at ninety-six kilometers an hour. Glass, warped steel, and tires shot into the vacuum, before arcing back to the surface.

  The second CDF rover drove onto the slag to avoid the carnage. It off-roaded for several meters, then returned to the path. More soldiers flew from the open airlock, guns and other gear flying after them. The rate of exiting bodies began to slow; they were like the last popcorn kernels in a microwave.

  “Shutting interior door,” Malcom said, after it appeared that no one else was coming through. If there was anyone else near the manufacturing facility, they were probably running for their lives.