by Mike Freeman
“We're going. I need to co-ordinate.”
Humberstone looked at Havoc’s outstretched arm.
“You have no authority to stop us. Whittenhorn is in command.”
Havoc dropped his arm.
“We wait together.”
> Hello, Ethan.
> Hello, Commander.
> I'm just going to stand near you for a minute and let you relax, ok, Ethan?
> Ok. Thank you.
Humberstone hit the lock release button.
Havoc stepped past Whittenhorn, resealed the lock and turned to face everyone.
“No one is leaving. Not another word from any of you.”
Bergeron turned to Whittenhorn.
“This is wrong. He can't do that.”
Humberstone hopped from foot to foot.
“You should arrest him. We need to leave now.”
“Please, for the love of God, shut up,” Stephanie said.
> Ok, Ethan. Bit of a predicament we're in.
> You could say that, Commander.
> So we're just going to take this one step at a time.
> Ok.
Whittenhorn cracked. He tried to shove past Havoc.
“I need to leave. I'm too valuable.”
Havoc couldn't believe it. Whittenhorn actually said it. I'm too valuable. He grabbed Whittenhorn's uniform and lifted him up to his face.
“We all want to live, you weasel, don't you get it?”
Whittenhorn squealed, wide eyed.
Havoc dropped him, shaking his head.
> Havoc, tell Sylvie I love her. And Lucas. If anything happens. Just tell them.
> You can tell them yourself, big man.
> I hope.
Whittenhorn, Bergeron and Humberstone stared at Havoc with resentment in their eyes. He knew that look. They wanted someone to blame for their predicament and that someone was him. He sighed.
“These are Brennen's orders.”
“Unlawful orders,” Bergeron said.
“So, unenforceable,” Humberstone said.
Bergeron lifted her chin.
“You threatened us.”
Whittenhorn felt his collar.
“You hit me.”
Stephanie exhaled in disgust.
“You guys need to grow some balls.”
Stephanie turned to Bergeron.
“That goes for you, too.”
Humberstone’s eyes roamed around the bubble.
“This whole side of the disc will be obliterated. We could die here.”
> We need to get you on a shuttle, Ethan.
Silence.
There was no reply from Marsac.
“Oh no,” Whittenhorn said.
Havoc watched Marsac and Brennen in his mind's eye, relayed over shipnet. Marsac was crouched, wide eyed and massive. His eyes flashed silver, his cannons and filament blade deployed, ready for war. Havoc could feel the hum of electronic countermeasures coming off him. The air pressure in the lab was down to one third of standard, a much better position from a shock wave perspective. Havoc hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Brennen motioned forward with the blast screen he was holding.
> We need to get you on a shuttle, Ethan. I know you're worried about that, so I'm going to come with you.
There was a pause.
> Thank you, Commander.
Havoc exhaled with relief. They'd broken through, right there. Brennen had convinced Marsac he was going to back him all the way.
> Commander?
> Yes, Ethan?
> I need to tell you something.
> Go ahead.
> Can you...
On shipnet, Havoc saw Marsac raise his hand. Marsac wanted to securely point cast to Brennen, without any possibility of eavesdropping. Brennen shuffled forward, reaching his hand round the screen in response.
It was a mistake. A huge mistake.
“Oh no,” Havoc said.
The people in the bubble looked at him.
Signal lost.
The screen went blank and the world ended.
30.
Havoc watched himself from a distance. One side of their bubble was gone. They traveled through space at tens of thousands of kilometers per hour. They had been before and they were now, but before they'd been in a ship and now they were on an open platform surrounded by shredded composite and cold infinite space.
The screams were strangely drawn out, attenuating as the air rushed past during the explosive decompression. A ruptured oxygen tank burned fiercely outside. The scorching fire made everything in their wrecked bubble either bright light or dark shadow.
The depressurization wave nudged them toward the abyss. Havoc grabbed Stephanie and Bergeron as they lurched back, then stepped through them, standing between everyone and the void.
They were in space. There was no sound, other than his own breathing heard through his own body. The ambient radiation temperature was five degrees Kelvin, or two hundred and ninety degrees Celsius colder than it had been a moment ago. The fluids escaping from the tanks around the test lab vaporized in the vacuum and desublimated to frozen crystals. Still, the cold wasn't immediately critical to Havoc – the vacuum was a superb insulator.
Augmentation and masks meant the lung pressure of the people around him was maintained so their lung damage would be minimal, but even so, for those without appropriate augmentation, water vapor was already forming in their soft tissue and causing it to swell. Evening wear and space wasn’t an optimal combination. It wouldn’t be long before their blood circulation would cease and hypoxia – oxygen starvation – would result. Havoc could see it happening already.
A calm female voice repeated 'evacuate, contamination’ over shipnet as streams of radiation and ionized gases flooded out of the blown lab tanks.
Fragments of dialogue came over comcast. People were screaming, flooding the channel with panic, though Havoc's receiver leveled out the sound. He switched modes and streamed the casts to text in his mind's eye.
> Hull breach here.
> Help!
> We've lost pressure.
> They're gone!
Behind it all was the softly insistent: 'Evacuate, contamination'.
He looked out. It was like peering over the edge of a damaged skyscraper. They were suspended a kilometer above the main engine, which was visible below through the struts of disc five and six. Because the ship was decelerating, they had the equivalent of gravity in the direction of the main engine. A fall from here to a distant part of the decelerating ship could still hurt or kill someone, depending on their augmentation. A shattered strut tumbled away, crashing into disc five before spinning into the distance. The oxygen fire outside their bubble fizzled and died, along with the searing contrast.
He couldn't be sure that the remaining half of their bubble would remain attached to the ship, but he judged it safe enough for the next sixty seconds. Whittenhorn and Humberstone scrabbled to open the lock. Stephanie stood off to one side. She seemed ok. Whittenhorn and Humberstone hauled themselves through the open lock and Bergeron jumped after them. Bergeron caught Weaver in the face with her elbow as she forced her way past. Whittenhorn, Bergeron and Humberstone crammed themselves inside the lock and the door closed behind them.
Weaver half spun toward Havoc and collapsed to the floor. She was staring out with her mask half off her face. Havoc caught her and replaced the mask as he sensed her vitals – they were ok. Fleeting expressions of confusion then panic swept across her face. She looked up and her eyes fixed on him. The decorative triangle glyphs she’d worn for the party spun across her pupils.
> You ok?
> I think so.
> How much gas do you have?
> I’m fine. I can’t believe I didn’t switch over.
Havoc nodded as he lifted Weaver to her feet. Weaver’s augmentation was amply sufficient for her to evacuate the area. He accessed shipnet for lifesigns on Brennen and Marsac.
Marsac was gone
. No surprise there.
Incredibly, Brennen was alive.
He checked the details of the contamination alert. There was lots on the list, all ranked. Flashing right at the top of the list was tettraxigyiom. Havoc was stunned. At least it had dissipated – the system showed its ruptured tank was exhausted. Various other substances were still venting, but nothing so dangerous. He closed off the flows as he located Brennen on shipnet.
Brennen hung from a shattered girder thirty meters away, suspended on a cable bundle about five meters below him and twenty meters above the struts of disc five.
Shipnet indicated the lock was clear. Havoc leaned forward and punched the button to open it.
> Get in the lock.
Havoc cast to Brennen and got no response. Brennen was autocasting his vitals – they were poor and he was unconscious. Havoc grimaced at the minimal jet capability of the recce suit under his tux. The casts transmitted back and forth instantaneously.
Weaver and Stephanie hustled forward as Havoc took a binding pack off the wall and stepped to the ragged edge of the hole. The main danger to the ship was disc four debris collapsing onto the disc below. He fired a filament wire out to a strut on disc three above him and another to a more distant strut of disc five, near a lock, below. He leaned out and fired a final wire across to a more reliable looking strut at his level. He equalized the tension in the wires as much as he could and leaned out, hanging over nothing, holding on with one hand.
Weaver and Stephanie pressed into the lock as the door closed. Weaver’s eyes widened as she took in his position on the edge of the bubble and the filament wires running from his suit.
> You’re going out there?
> Yeah. Get back to the Hub Hab.
Stephanie looked alarmed.
> Are you sure that’s a good idea?
> Go.
The lock closed.
Havoc dropped out over the edge of the ragged hole into space. It was a semi-controlled swing rather than a proper rig but it should get him down to Brennen.
The exposure of space hit him. He hung on the damaged rim of a ship with discs above and below him. There were precipitous drops in all directions, some infinite. Fine ice crystals clustered on the struts and cables around him.
Havoc paid out the wire above him, reeled in the wire below and used the third to stabilize his position and drift. It wasn't precise but it was enough. He lowered toward Brennen, inspecting Brennen’s condition as he got near.
Brennen was a mess. His feet and his left arm below the elbow were missing. The low pressure and blast screen may have prevented Brennen from dying instantly but he still had terrible impact injuries. Havoc had no idea if Brennen would survive. What he did know was that Brennen had to be high enhanced with some major g-shock augmentation – if Brennen hadn't been, he'd already be dead.
Havoc swung into Brennen, not as gently as he would have liked, and wrapped his legs around his chest. He used his filament blade to cut through the cables above Brennen, taking care not to cut his own wires, and they both swung free.
He paid out the wire above him, reeled in the one below and kept them in line using the third wire until it was obstructed by another spoke and he had to release it.
> I'm bringing Brennen to disc five, lock J-three. He needs medical attention.
> We're here, Abbott replied.
Havoc opened the external lock and bundled Brennen inside. As the inner lock opened, Abbott and Charles gathered Brennen and lowered him the floor. Chaucer knelt down next to Brennen and attached three autoinjectors to his neck.
“We need to get him to the medstation.”
Havoc turned to Abbott.
“Can you take care of him while I secure the debris?”
Abbott looked incredulous.
“You're going back out there?”
Havoc looked down at himself, still in his tuxedo.
“Sooner is better.”
Charles frowned at him.
“Do you know why Marsac...?”
Havoc felt bleak.
“I think the signal came from one of us.”
31.
Havoc entered the lock leading into the Hub Hab.
He'd done a quick clean up, securing the damaged structures on disc four to reduce the risk they’d break off and damage other parts of the ship. They'd lost an entire module of test kit, but the damage had been localized and the integrity of the ship was intact. They'd been as lucky as hell in that respect.
Havoc didn’t know if the biobomb target had been what the saboteur wanted to blow up – presumably not the test lab – or if the target had been Marsac himself. Anyone who wanted to take out the Intrepid would have a much easier time with Marsac gone.
He stepped through out of the lock. People sat around, mostly wearing the white overalls issued after decontamination. Everyone had been scrubbed, including him on his way here. Unfortunately, the contamination he was worried about couldn't be treated that easily.
He looked at Chaucer as he approached the crew.
“Brennen?”
Chaucer’s voice sounded thick with shock.
“He’s very sick. His internal injuries are terrible but survivable.”
“Great.”
“But that’s not the problem...”
Havoc frowned as he approached.
“Oh?”
Chaucer turned to Leveque, who answered for him.
“The tettraxigyiom. Brennen’s unlikely to recover mentally, even if he makes it physically.”
Whittenhorn looked condescendingly at Havoc.
“He might have been luckier if he’d slipped away.”
Something in Whittenhorn's tone irked Havoc.
“Slipped away? Are you saying I should have left him out there?”
Whittenhorn didn’t answer as he walked to the front. Abbott shook his head.
“No.”
Havoc thought Whittenhorn might have answered differently as Whittenhorn turned to face everyone.
“Alright, now that everyone is finally here, I am officially assuming the position of Mission Commander.”
Havoc thought the crew didn't greet this news with unalloyed joy, but then he was probably biased by his contempt for the little weasel.
“Mr Chaucer, Mrs Leveque, please could you explain our position.”
Chaucer gestured stiffly to the room, deferring to Leveque. Havoc thought Chaucer was taking this pretty hard. Leveque stood up.
“Everyone has been contaminated with tettraxigyiom, to some extent.”
“Isn’t that illegal. I mean, to use it?” Kemensky said.
Humberstone nodded.
“It's illegal on Federation vessels.”
“And Union vessels,” Bergeron added.
Darkwood spoke calmly.
“And this ship is neither.”
“Though we’re under a Federation mandate,” Humberstone said.
“And an Alliance flag,” Bergeron said.
Abbott gestured in frustration.
“Can we save the legal arguments until we understand what’s happened?”
Ekker leaned across the table. His approach was rather more direct.
“Why the fuck are you using tettraxigyiom, Darkwood?”
Darkwood waved a hand.
“Performance. It’s a small risk for such a great increase.”
Ekker’s eyes lit up.
“A small fuc––”
Abbott banged the table.
“Can we leave the why and wherefores! I’m sure most of us simply want to understand what this means.”
“Hear hear,” Touvenay said.
“It’s not good,” Leveque said, “it causes significant degeneration in the brain.”
&n
bsp; Abbott raised an eyebrow at her.
“Meaning?”
Leveque spread her hands.
“It causes the patient to dissociate from reality for variable periods; we refer to it as 'losing time'. But it also decreases inhibitions and eliminates emotion. In practice that results in indecisiveness, poor judgment and aggressive behavior.”
“So what you’re saying and correct me if I’m wrong, Mrs Leveque, is that we could all lose our minds?” Abbott said.
Leveque’s face was desolate.
“Yes.”
There was a collective gasp.
“But not yet?” Havoc said.
Leveque shrugged.
“Going on the level of exposure; in one week, one third of us will have complete and irreversible degeneration and in three weeks a quarter of those remaining will as well.”
“Holy fuck,” Novosa said.
“We can fix this, though, right?” Ekker said.
Leveque shook her head.
“There isn’t a known way to fix this damage. That is why it's...”
“Illegal,” Bergeron said.
“Not typically used,” Darkwood said.
“Typical, in situations where it is used, to carry treatment kits,” Leveque said.
Stephanie stared at Darkwood.
“Of which we have?”
Darkwood glanced down at his lap.
Leveque looked crestfallen.
“None.”
“Fuck,” Tomas said.
“What a blunder,” Jafari said.
Darkwood waved his hand dismissively.
“Bear in mind that treatment kits only prevent further degeneration. They don't undo the damage done. Full treatment is a sophisticated medical procedure and we don't have the required resources on this ship. We’ve had a terrible accident. There’s no point playing the blame game.”
“If we were to freeze ourselves, would that arrest the damage?” Stephanie said.
Leveque nodded.
“Yes, it would slow it down.”
Bergeron sat forward abruptly.
“So we need to refreeze ourselves?”
Leveque shook her head.
“The journey home is too long for the contamination not to run its course.”
Stephanie frowned.
“Run its course?”
Leveque nodded.
“You have received your dose. Each individual’s outcome is unknown, but over time those affected will experience episodic symptoms. For those severely affected the episodes will gradually increase in duration and severity until...”