Paragon

by Autumn Kalquist

  Zephyr whirled to face him, dazed. “It’s not possible. She’s… She’s got to be at medlevel… at—”

  “She’s gone,” he said, his voice pained.

  “Did you see her?” Zephyr’s voice rose, but she couldn’t control it. “I want to see her. I know she wouldn’t have…”

  “You can’t. We didn’t… We didn’t recover her body.”

  “Then how do you know it was her? It had to be someone else.”

  “A transport saw her, and we have her shift card access data.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t her.”

  Tadeo took a deep breath and stepped closer. He met her eyes, and his were kinder now.

  “But it was her,” he said quietly. “I read it in the report—she lost her husband and had an abort session scheduled today. The last few airlockers had similar reasons.”

  Zephyr gripped Tadeo’s suit, pulling him closer, forcing him to keep his eyes on hers. “She would not do this.” Her voice broke on the words, and pain surged through her body.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice came out soft, like he really meant it, like her grief was his own.

  Dritan and Era… dead.

  “No!” Zephyr slammed her fists into Tadeo’s chest, hard. He stumbled back and caught himself on the bunk. Tears filled Zephyr’s eyes, and she hit him again and again, until he wrapped her in strong arms and pushed her into the wall.

  A strange expression crossed his face, and he grabbed one of her arms, painfully, and shoved her into the corner. He leaned close.

  “I’m sorry you lost her,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek. “But you need to control yourself.”

  “Let me go.” Zephyr tried to break free, but he squeezed her arm harder. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Do you want to end up on a forced dose of grimp?” Tadeo hissed.

  “Era wouldn’t do this. I just saw her last night…”

  “People commit suicide,” he snapped, his voice cold. He pushed her into the wall. “They just do, and no one ever knows why. No one can tell you what she was thinking or why she did it. You just have to accept it. Get over it.”

  Zephyr’s heart raced, and lights danced in front of her. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to lose it right here. “I can’t—Get off me.”

  “Get over it, Zephyr. Move on. Airlockers aren’t worth getting put on grimp for.” Tadeo let go of her and jabbed at the button beside the door. “Now go. We have this handled.”

  Zephyr clutched Era’s scrap of cloth to her chest and pushed past the guard waiting outside. None of this felt real. She was going to wake up soon. This was just a dream.

  She ran down the corridor, not seeing the people around her, not hearing them, not feeling their touch as she brushed by them. A molten ball of metal expanded in her chest, and she took quick, small breaths, until spots drifted across her vision.

  She made it to the end of the corridor before the pressure in her chest grew unbearable. The air tasted thin and dirty, as if the air recyc had malfunctioned.

  Too many people on this ship. Never any privacy. Always people staring at her, getting in her way. She searched for somewhere to go, to be alone, but there was only door after door of paired couples’ cubics.

  A group of colonists rounded the corner, blocking her path. She squeezed her body against the wall, clutching the blanket to her as they filled the corridor. She gulped back a sob and tried to suck in breath through her tight throat.

  One of the women looked at Zephyr and narrowed her eyes at the scrap of illegal exec-standard cloth. Zephyr’s gaze dropped to the woman’s pregnant belly, and another sob bubbled up in her throat. She slammed herself through the group, continuing her run down the corridor. They shouted something to her, but she turned a corner, seeking refuge.

  A crowd of women exited a lav, staring at her wide-eyed. Zephyr squeezed by them, through the doors, and frantically searched for someplace, any place, to be alone. She shut herself in the first vacant shower she found and pressed her back against the wet wall. Drops of water seeped through her suit as she struggled to take breaths.

  “No.” She slammed her first into the metal stall, and the door shook. Dizzy, hyperventilating, she sunk down onto the wet floor and pressed her face against her arms.

  I should have been there. This is my fault. I should have stayed with her. Fucked curfew.

  Someone banged on the stall. “Are you alright in there?”

  “Go away.” Zephyr forced the words out.

  Steps receded, leaving Zephyr on her own once more.

  The pain in her chest was heavy metal, crushing her, making her light-headed. Era had been her best friend since they were little girls—her only true friend. She wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be gone.

  Zephyr sobbed, her muscles cramping, her bones aching with the pain of it. A gaping black hole opened up inside of her, and it threatened to swallow her.

  She was suffocating. If she didn’t breathe right, she’d pass out. She made herself think of her father—all the times he’d come for her in a rage. When he’d beat her—on her arms, her back, her legs—all the places he could be sure her suit would hide the cuts and bruises. He beat her until she had no emotions—until she’d learned to turn them off.

  Zephyr tried to hum between ragged breaths. It was the old song she’d hummed to herself a thousand times before. The song that helped her during all the other times she couldn’t breathe.

  Her windpipe opened up, and as oxygen returned to her lungs, she whispered the words.

  They say it's the end.

  Can't close my eyes and pretend

  Fires haven't burned this place up.

  But you and I—we’re enough.

  We’ll get through, ’til the day

  When this nightmare fades away.

  It was stupid, some ancient song she’d found in her family’s files, but it worked. She took in a deep, sputtering breath and stood. Her suit stuck to her, soaked through where it had touched the walls and floor. The pain still twisted deep within her, but now it was buried—unreachable. The numb nothingness would last long enough for her to get back to her bunk.

  The ability to switch off her pain was a gift. She’d shut hers off just as surely as if it were a holo and she’d twisted her wrist.

  Tadeo stared at the door for a full minute after Zephyr left, clenching and unclenching his fists, his heart beating hard against his chest—just waiting for her to come back, to accuse him of having airlocked Era. But she didn’t. Why would she? He sank down on the bunk and hung his head in his hands. He let out a long breath. The grief on her face—he’d recognized it well. It dredged up so much he didn’t want to ever feel again.

  He’d wanted nothing more than to draw her to him, to hold her and tell her he understood. Because he did. He knew what it was like to ask why. Why would anyone choose the shame of airlocking themselves? But being a traitor was a hundred times more shameful.

  Zephyr was a command level exec like him—and it was important her reputation not be tied to Era’s. There was no way Zephyr was a traitor and no way she could have had any idea what Era had been up to. She might hate him now and forever—after how he’d handled this—but it was for the best.

  A knock sounded on the door. Omar—probably wondering what was going on. As Tadeo stood, his helio followed his movements, and something on top of the nearly empty shelf reflected the yellow globe. He swallowed hard and took a step nearer, but he knew what it was before his hand closed over the plastic packaging. His pulse quickened. Grimp.

  He held it up to the light. It was an entire month’s worth, though he would have burned through it in a week. The small blue-green pills called to him, reminded him of the bliss they’d deliver the moment they hit his tongue.

  Tadeo licked his lips and counted them again. Could he have just one?

  He should leave it here. The withdrawal wasn’t worth even an hour of bliss.

  Another knock sounded on the door, more insistent thi
s time, and Tadeo jumped. He cleared his throat and jammed the packet into the pocket on his pant leg. He strode over to the door and opened it for Omar.

  “What was that about, man? Was that… Zephyr Kerrigan?”

  “Yes. She was a friend of the airlocker’s.”

  “You said something about her. Were you two…?”

  “We need to finish searching.” Tadeo turned away and surveyed the room.

  “Uh… Are you sure you’re fine?”

  “I’m fine,” Tadeo snapped.

  Omar frowned, but he backed off, like he always did. “So… What’s our mission?”

  Tadeo worked his jaw and decided to tell him everything—except for Era’s involvement. That could come later, when it was time to search the Repository. Infinitek-willing, no one except Nyssa and Chief would ever know what really happened last night.

  “Like I told you—this was the airlocker’s cubic,” Tadeo said. “Her husband got sent to Soren with the first transport.”

  “He worked with the terrorists?”

  “On the same crew. We believe others may be working against us.”

  Omar’s brows went up, and he glanced around at the cubic nervously. “What are we looking for here?”

  “Anything that doesn’t belong. Something… hidden. Perhaps a data cube.”

  Another knock sounded, and Omar let the maintenance worker they’d called into the room.

  The young sub, her cheek smudged with grease, was carrying a new lume bar. Her eyes widened when she saw Omar and Tadeo by light of the helio. “Sirs. You asked for a lume bar?”

  “Yes. Install it now.”

  She got to work, and Tadeo paced the small cubic, assessing it. Dingy. Not much storage. A tattered blanket lay on the floor next to the double-width bunk. The only storage in the room was the small, empty shelf, and all that was on there now were two canteens and a helio.

  Zephyr had grabbed a scrap of exec-level bedding off the shelf, too. He should have taken it from her. Tadeo walked over and picked up the helio. These weren’t allowed in personal quarters, so this one had likely been stolen from the sublevels. He shook his head.

  Black market trading, maybe. They’d seen it before. It happened on every ship—and the penalty was harsh. If colonists were caught with illegal resources, they were beaten with the rod and assigned strict rations for a month. But an illegally obtained helio was hardly evidence of terrorism or treason.

  The sub finished installing the lume bar, and the room lit up with its harsh light. Tadeo deactivated his helio and hooked it to his belt as the worker climbed down off the bunk.

  “Sub,” Tadeo said. “What’s your name?”

  “Gemma, sir. Gemma Kian.”

  “Are any of the panels screwed or riveted on in here?”

  “Yes, sir. Plenty. But the ones along that wall pop off on their own,” she said, pointing near the door.

  “You’re going to help us take off every panel in here. Everything will be removed.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her shoulders slumped beneath his scrutiny.

  “And, Gemma, if you tell anyone what you do or see here, you’ll find yourself taking a trip to Soren. Understand?”

  “Yes… yes, sir. I’ll go get my tools.” She disappeared out the door.

  Omar whistled. “Were they always that obedient? Shoulda started sending ’em down to Soren earlier.”

  Tadeo grunted a non-committal response and worked his fingers beneath the first removable panel. The connectors made a popping sound as they released, and Omar helped him lower the metal slab to the floor.

  Tadeo pushed aside the tangled wires and components beneath, but nothing looked unusual. There was certainly no archive cube hidden here.

  As he and Omar took off the rest of the panels, moving around wires to try to catch a glimpse of anything out of place, he tried not to think of what had happened in this cubic last night. Or of the drugs pressed against this leg that could help him forget.

  Gemma returned and began the slow process of removing screws from the permanent panels. Tadeo checked the space between the walls, but in each instance, they found nothing. Midmess was approaching when she finished removing the last wall panel and stepped up on the bunk to start on the ceiling.

  “Sirs? This one looks like… like it’s loose.” She pulled on the panel, and screws clattered to the floor and smacked off the metal sheets they’d removed.

  “Take it down.” Tadeo’s heart sped up, and he pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against as he waited.

  The girl moved out of his way as he hopped up on the bunk. He activated his helio again and used it to cast light into the narrow ceiling space above. A bundle of wires were tied off up there, and a thin pipe ran across the middle of the space.

  There. The helio moved with Tadeo, and metal glinted. Something shiny had been jammed far back in the space. He reached his hand in and felt for it, gently pulling at it to see if it would come away. Sharp edges, solid metal. Another tug, and the piece came away in his grasp.

  Tadeo pulled the object out, and something fell off the top of it, tumbling onto the bunk.

  He peered down at the heavy metal rectangle in his hands. It was longer than both his hands, etched with circuitry, and had a series of square indentations. He had no idea what it could be, but it didn’t belong up in the ceiling, loose like that.

  “What is that?” Omar asked.

  Tadeo jumped down from the bunk and snatched up the object that had fallen off the metal rectangle. It was a very old shift card. He could tell by the web of cracks covering the plastic. He turned it over. A helix and a three-sided symbol—the triquetra—were printed on the other side. The medlevel symbol. What was Era… or Dritan… doing with a medlevel shift card?

  He held up the metal rectangle. “Do either of you know what this is?”

  Gemma nodded. “I do.” She took it from Tadeo and turned it over in her hands. “Belongs in recyc. Look here,” she said, pointing to a jagged edge. “It has an odd edge, like someone took a welding tool to it.”

  “So what is it?”

  Gemma’s brow furrowed, and she looked from Tadeo to Omar with confusion. “Well… it’s a power cell. They’re all over the ship. In every cubic, they store back-up power for lockdowns or outages. But this one’s empty, see?” She pointed at the square indents. “Power strips go here. This one’s used up.”

  Tadeo’s mind raced. “Where are they in the cubics?”

  Gemma walked over to the door and tore off the panel Tadeo and Omar had checked first. She made a little noise.

  “Needs new wiring in here,” she said, almost to herself. She drove her hand down into the panel and lifted out the insert. Bright yellow strips lined the indentations. “See? This one’s still good.”

  “And where do they go when they’re used up?”

  Gemma cocked her head at him, like she was surprised at the question. “To recyc. Then back to the power deka. They charge them on the Beijing.”

  “Can we trace this, find out where it’s been?”

  “No. They’re interchangeable—no unique ID numbers.”

  Tadeo shook his head and glanced down at the cracked medlevel card still in his hand. Alone, the piece of recyc might be another bit of black market contraband… but with the medlevel card and hidden in the ceiling? No. Something was off here.

  “Omar, finish searching here and get this cubic back together. When you’re done, comm me for instructions.”

  “Got it. Sir.”

  Midmess buzzer rang as Tadeo exited the cubic, still clutching the medlevel card in hand. This card had belonged to someone, and he was going to find out who—and why it had been hidden in the Corinth cubic. He hurried for the main stairwell. Colonists moved out of his way, but even then, it still took nearly a half hour for him to reach level four through the crush of the midmess crowd.

  He hesitated when he reached the medlevel doors. He avoided this place as much as possible—but today he had no choice. He
forced himself to enter the waiting area. High metal counters lined the walls, and clerks wearing holo gear stood behind each one. They worked with the bulky black boxes atop each counter, the stationaries, checking patients in. Tadeo went to the back of the area, to the station marked Records. The three colonists waiting in line stepped out of his way when they saw him and stared as he stepped up to the counter.

  “Go back to your seats,” Tadeo said.

  They all quickly backed away, taking seats at the nearest bench.

  The clerk behind the records counter licked his lips, then glanced around, as if he wanted to escape and not be the one to deal with a guard. He twisted his wrist, shutting off his reflective eyepiece. The glasstex cleared.

  “Yes, sir? How can I help you?”

  Tadeo slid the shift card across the counter toward him. “I want to know whose card this is.”

  The man picked up the card and scanned it against a flat gray scanpad hooked to the stationary. “No data. No record. The card doesn’t even exist. Must be an old one that got stripped and sent to recyc.”

  “I need you to figure out who it used to belong to then,” Tadeo said.

  The young man looked behind him, where an older black-suited tech sat on a bench against the wall, working on holo gear in his lap. “Day, will you come look at this? He needs to find out who owned it, but we have no record on it.”

  Day got up and came over to the counter. “No number at all? Strange.” He peered down at the card. “They had these when I was a half—twenty years back. Old-style shift cards made on Dubai.”

  “Then it should be easy to figure out whose this was, shouldn’t it?” Tadeo asked.

  Day let out a surprised laugh, and Tadeo shot him a glare.

  Day paled. “There are thousands of medlevel workers this could’ve belonged to.”

  “Well, then, you,” Tadeo said, pointing to Day, “will find out when this card was manufactured, then go make a list of every person it may have belonged to since.”

  Day looked at the floor. “Yes, sir.” He moved to an empty counter beside them and logged into the system, apparently getting to work.

  Tadeo shook his head, frustrated at the dead-end lead. Omar was finishing up in Era’s cubic, and then they’d begin the very long process of searching the Repository. Tadeo had time to pull records—see if Dritan, Era, or any of the terrorists Dritan had been involved with, had done anything suspicious on medlevel. Maybe there’d be a hint as to how the Corinths ended up with that card.