Mission One

by Samuel Best

  Kate drew a sharp breath, then forced a nod. As soon as Noah sat, a flood of relief washed over her. He put on Rick’s headset, glancing at her to gauge any resistance to his actions. Finding none, he reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “We’re going to work together, Ms. Bishop. Frank clipped our wings, but we can still get the crew home.”

  On the display wall, Riley turned away from the fourth and last suit.

  “Mission Control, this is a ghost ship,” he said. “We confirm there are no survivors aboard the North Star.”

  Kate looked back. Frank stood at the railing of the viewing platform.

  “Our responsibility to that ship is done,” he said. “Get our crew out of there.”

  She faced the display wall and pushed her microphone closer to her lips. “Copy no survivors, Commander. Jeff, you mind letting our boys out?”

  His video feed was in the upper right corner of the display wall, squeezed smaller to accommodate Riley’s. He had been preparing to access the control panel on the hull which would allow him to open the cargo hold.

  “Then I come back for the fuel pump?”

  “That’s the plan,” Kate said.

  In his video feed, she watched Explorer drift away as he maneuvered toward North Star.

  “Copy that, Ms. Bishop. Heading over now.”

  “Jeff?”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “Call me Kate.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Copy,” he said at last, his voice a little shaky.

  Then his line clicked off, and Kate heard only muted silence.

  The bulk of Explorer I extended behind its cargo hold: 85 meters of engine wrapped in a 6-meter-diameter hull, its surface dimpled with rivets all the way back to the flared engine wash shield. After opening North Star’s airlock doors for Riley and Gabriel, Jeff had returned to Explorer and performed a cursory check of the twin communications arrays clinging to the hull immediately aft of the crew module.

  Heavy impact shielding covered the clumps of machinery except for two large holes, from which protruded delicate radio antennae. Several small craters dented the surface of both arrays’ impact shielding – evidence of micrometeoroids that had struck Explorer en route to Titan. Satisfied that both arrays were still in working order, Jeff proceeded to the cargo hold door a few meters aft.

  His suit beeped at him. Bright red numbers flashed in his helmet HUD, telling him he only had an hour of oxygen remaining – more than enough time to retrieve the backup fuel pump and make it to the airlock.

  The notification served as a motivator, and Jeff worked more quickly to open the access panel than he would have otherwise. After loosening the panel’s ten fasteners, Jeff typed a command into his wrist pad. A few seconds later, the wrist pad screen pulsed green and the cargo hold door hinged upward. With another few taps on his data pad, halogen lamps flicked on within the six-meter cylindrical compartment.

  Jeff pulled himself hand-over-hand through the opening and into the hold. Thick straps secured the hold’s contents to its walls – supplies which Diamond Aerospace had shuttled up to the ISS in the months prior to launch.

  Material for the foundations of the orbital station occupied most of the wall space. Long support struts lay in a tightly-stacked pyramid. Next to those were the square gray panels which would form the walls of the only complete module Explorer’s crew would construct on that mission – the greenhouse.

  A half-dozen three-meter spheres took up a quarter of the hold. Tight rubber straps bound each sphere – inflatable modules which would serve as temporary shelter until more paneling arrived with the next mission. The idea was that the inflatable modules would slowly be replaced with permanent additions, serving future crews until the space station was completed – a process Diamond Aerospace expected to take about five years.

  On the wall opposite the orbital station materials was the section of the hold dedicated to parts for Explorer. The square section resembled the surface of a large, curved circuit board, with various tools and parts neatly arranged in a grid. A quarter-second burp of air from Jeff’s pack was enough to propel him to the wall.

  As he worked to loosen the straps pinning down one of the replacement fuel pumps, a box he didn’t recognize caught his eye. He freed the shoebox-sized fuel pump and left it spinning slowly in place as he used the other secured parts as handholds to pull himself over to the box.

  “Ming?” he asked.

  “I’m here.”

  “Patch into my video feed and tell me what I’m looking at.”

  The box was roughly one meter on each side, and solid black. A complex series of latches sealed its lid, and a thick yellow band of tape covered the seal. The tape would be ripped if someone opened the box.

  “That’s one of the items I moved from command module storage to the cargo hold when we were docked at ISS.”

  “Do you know what’s inside?”

  “I didn’t have a reason to check during the transfer. Does it have a number?”

  Each part in the cargo hold, no matter how small, was assigned a ten-digit designator for easy tracking and cataloging.

  “Negative. It has no markings.”

  “I’m not seeing it on the manifest,” Ming said.

  “Because it isn’t,” Kate cut in. “That must have been Frank’s last-minute addition just before launch. You can thank him if you run out of ketchup, by the way. He removed some of your condiments to allow for the extra weight.”

  “Is he nearby? Let’s ask him.”

  A pause, then Kate replied: “He says don’t worry about it.”

  “Of course he does.” Jeff moved to unstrap the box so he could open the lid. “I’ll just have a look myself, then.”

  “Don’t touch it, Dolan,” Riley said suddenly. “I just pulled up your video feed. That box looks a hell of a lot like the kind the Navy uses to store explosives for underwater detonations.”

  “Explosives,” Jeff repeated.

  “Most likely modified Semtex.”

  “Modified how?”

  “No trigger required. Hit that sucker with any kind of detonation and BOOM.”

  “So…they put a bomb on our ship.”

  “Is it wired to anything?” Ming asked.

  “Not that I can tell. Maybe it’s not a bomb, then.”

  “No, Commander Riley is correct,” Frank said, his voice loud on the line. “The box contains explosives. Consider it insurance.”

  “Insurance for what, exactly?”

  “I had no way of knowing if the artifact was hostile.”

  “It’s a circle, Frank.”

  “I thought it best to be prepared for any eventuality. What are you worried about? It turned out to be an unnecessary precaution. The artifact is just a circle, as you say. Better to have it and not need it, right?”

  “Know what I think?” Jeff said. He put some distance between himself and the inert bomb. “I think it had nothing to do with potential hostility. I think you would have had us blow up the artifact if there was even a chance of another company getting its technology.”

  Jeff’s HUD flashed red: thirty minutes of oxygen remaining.

  “I’m fixing the fuel pump,” he said, “then we’re getting the hell out of here.”

  “That is not your decision to make, Jeffrey,” Frank said.

  “Buddy,” Jeff replied, “if you think I’m listening to anything you have to say, you are sadly mistaken.”

  He retrieved the floating fuel pump and jetted for the exit of the cargo hold.

  Kate stared at the display wall, dumbfounded. Jeff’s video feed showed him sealing the cargo hold door. The feeds from the other two space suits were blank – Riley and Gabriel had gone back inside Explorer.

  She slowly turned to Noah, who looked just as confused as she felt.

  “Did you know about the bomb?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” he said. There was no defensive edge to his voice, only a hint of defeat. “Frank
had full access to the command module before launch. He could have put anything he wanted into storage.” Noah looked back at the viewing platform. Frank sat at his wide desk, oblivious to their conversation. “I trusted him.”

  “Look, Noah,” Kate said, drawing his attention back to her. “We have to do something here. I honestly feel like if I tried to leave to get help, one of those guards would shoot me.”

  “You could try.”

  “I can’t leave them out there,” she said, looking to the display wall.

  Noah smiled sadly. “Nor can I.”

  Kate noticed that several of the security guards stationed around the room stared in her direction.

  “What Frank’s doing is illegal, right?” she asked.

  “Technically he hasn’t broken any laws yet,” Noah said.

  “Besides probably murdering two people.”

  “Frank’s clever. I doubt it would be easy to trace those crimes back to him.”

  Kate turned in her chair and locked eyes with Frank, who watched her from the viewing platform. He yawned and looked away.

  “What if we could get him to admit to the murders?” she asked.

  Noah frowned in thought. “It wouldn’t matter unless he confessed to the police.”

  On the display wall, Jeff floated in the sealed airlock as he waited for the pressurization process to complete. Riley’s and Gabriel’s suits were tethered to the wall of the airlock, hooked up to oxygen and power feeds. Jeff’s helmet camera looked down at his wrist pad as he typed in a command, then the video feed went blank.

  “Everybody’s back inside,” Kate said. “It will take about three hours to recharge the suits.”

  Frank called down from the viewing platform, “I want Riley and Silva back outside as soon as their suits are ready.”

  “You need at least three of them to start on the orbital station,” Noah said.

  “They won’t be working on the station. Not yet.”

  Frank leaned over the railing and beckoned the nearest guard to him – the same guard who had winked at Kate earlier.

  “I guess he’s done with the conversation,” Noah said.

  “Looks that way,” Kate agreed.

  The guard went up to meet Frank. They spoke for just a moment, then the guard nodded and returned to the operations floor, heading for the break room. He swiped a security badge at the door and pushed his thumb onto the fingerprint scanner, then waited still as stone until the lock clicked open and he could push open the door.

  Kate stood and walked toward the break room.

  “Where are you going?” Noah asked.

  “Grabbing a snack. Want anything?”

  He looked confused again. “Um…no thank you.”

  The guard had his wide back to her when she entered. He stood by the coffee maker as it percolated, the acrid smell of bad roast filling the room. Kate noticed the barely-perceptible twitch in the muscles of his neck and the slight tilt in the angle of his head as the door closed behind her. Then his ears rose slightly as he smiled.

  “You again,” he said.

  The coffee maker hissed out the last few drops of tarry brew.

  “Me again.”

  Now that she was alone with him, some of her stored bravery leeched away, leaving an emptiness in her chest. He turned and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his barrel chest.

  “You want coffee, too?” he asked.

  She collected what remained of her courage and strolled casually across the room to stand next to him at the coffee maker. “I can get it myself.”

  The guard grunted. “More than I can say for your boss.”

  Kate plucked a styrofoam cup from a stack and lifted the full coffee pot. The guard picked up a blue mug and held it out. It looked like a piece of a child’s tea set in his massive hand. To her credit, Kate kept herself from shaking as she filled his mug, then her own cup.

  “How does your boss take his coffee?” asked the guard.

  “With cyanide.”

  He grinned maliciously. Kate held his stare as she took a superficial sip of her coffee. It tasted more sour on her tongue than usual.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  “I was wondering if you would stop someone if they tried to leave.”

  “Why? You thinking about leaving?”

  “Just curious,” Kate said.

  He held the blue coffee mug with an iron grip. The surface of the liquid within was as flat as a lake on a windless day. Then he nodded.

  “I’d stop them.”

  Kate took another sip of her coffee. “Did Frank order you to do stop people who try to leave?”

  “He hired us to enforce a communications blackout in this facility. That also applies to employees.”

  “You and the rest of the goon squad aren’t real police officers,” Kate said. “If someone wanted to leave, there’s technically nothing you could do, right?”

  He grinned again as he set his coffee mug on the counter. “Officially?” he said. “No. Unofficially…”

  His hand shot out and grabbed her throat. The styrofoam cup slipped from her grasp and hit the floor, splattering coffee against her pants. He lifted her off her feet with barely a grunt. Kate pounded on his forearm as he lifted her higher.

  “Unofficially,” he continued, his eyes as soulless as a shark’s, “you only have to string up one villager to keep the rest of them in line.”

  Kate tried to get her fingers under his to pry his hand from her throat. Her eyes bulged and her feet kicked his shins.

  Then he released her. Her feet hit the floor and she stumbled, but didn’t fall. She gripped the counter for support while she choked for air. The guard picked up Frank’s coffee and took a sip, grimaced, and spit it back into the mug. Kate managed to take a deep, painful breath of air.

  “If you have any more questions,” said the guard as he walked past her, “I’ll be around.”

  As he reached for the door, it was pushed open from the other side, cracking into the guard’s hand. Juan stood there, panting, his eyes wide with fear. He held his breath and backed away when he saw the guard, who shook his head angrily, cursing under his breath. As soon as the guard had passed, Juan hurried into the break room.

  “Kate!” he said urgently. “You have to see this!”

  She coughed and rubbed her throat as she straightened up.

  “Kate?” Juan asked. He looked back at the closed door, then back at her. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  She nodded and tried to swallow. It felt like she was attempting to force a dry stone down her throat. “I’m fine,” she said hoarsely. “What is it?”

  “It’s Rick,” Juan said between quick breaths. “He’s on the news.”

  Juan eagerly led the way back to his workstation. The display wall showed nothing out of the ordinary, just a grid of data feeds from Explorer. The coffee-fetching guard was unhurriedly climbing the steps to the conference room.

  Kate stood behind Juan’s chair as he sat and typed on his workstation keyboard. She prepared herself for what she was about to see, hoping that whatever fate had befallen Rick, it happened fast enough that he didn’t suffer.

  Juan tapped the enter key and leaned back, gesturing toward his screen.

  Rick stood in front of a public building, maybe a library, and was talking to a group of reporters. He wore dark sunglasses and a tan jacket over a new shirt that said KISS ME, STUPID in big letters. Kate laughed and quickly covered her mouth as she watched him. Tears welled in her eyes, and this time she welcomed them.

  “How did you get this?” she asked.

  “Frank neutered the internet,” Juan said, “but there’s a UHF antenna on the roof he forgot to manually sever from the system. I think he was more worried about outgoing signals than incoming anyway. I rerouted the television feed to Mission Control’s servers and patched it to my workstation. I can even get ESPN and HBO on this thing.”

  “What’s he saying?”

/>   “Let me start it from the beginning,” Juan said, tapping at his keyboard again.

  “You recorded it?”

  “I started as soon as I realized it was Rick.”

  “–when it became clear I was being followed,” Rick told the reporters on the recording. “The documents I obtained led me to believe that someone at Diamond Aerospace doctored safety records which would have otherwise prevented the launch of Explorer One and its crew. I think it’s obvious Michael Cochran discovered the same information, and he was murdered because of it.”

  “Who altered the reports?” asked one of the reporters.

  “Was it Noah Bell?” asked another.

  Rick smiled knowingly, and Kate shook her head. He always relished owning secret information. “Through some careful digging of my own,” he said, “I found that the last call Michael Cochran received was from Frank Johnson, Mission Director of the Explorer mission.”

  “That’s not proof…”

  “Not by itself,” Rick said loudly, suppressing the murmurs of disagreement from the reporters. “But it was enough, along with my fervent insistence, to get the local Sheriff’s Department to send a few units out to the Diamond Aerospace building, which is currently on internal lockdown.”

  “You said you were being followed by the same men who killed Michael Cochran. How did you get away?”

  “Fortunately and unfortunately, I have had special training that Cochran did not.” Kate shook her head and couldn’t help but allow a small hint of smile. “This allowed me to evade my would-be murderers.”

  The video of Rick cut away to an exterior helicopter shot of the Diamond Aerospace building. Four patrol cars were in the parking lot. Details were difficult to make out at that distance, but Kate thought she could see two officers pinning down the guard who had been working the security gate.

  “Cut if off,” Kate said, her mind racing. Juan complied and the video froze. “Is that real-time?”

  “Looks like it,” Juan replied.

  “Has Frank seen it?”

  “Hell, no.”

  She nodded. “Then let’s keep it that way for now.”