Redemption Protocol (Contact)

by Mike Freeman

  “Could you state for the record that you want me to do this, Hwan, and that you don’t want any action taken against me for helping you.”

  Karch was covering all her bases, Havoc thought, as he willed the lock to open.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Ok. Thank you.”

  Karch gestured for Hwan to go into the other cabin then followed her through.

  The lock opened in front of Havoc. Space hit him. The other shuttle was there, improbably large, startlingly close; they were closing fast. He fired a wire over to an attachment point by the nearest lock on Shuttle Two. The wire rattled into the cone and locked into the fixture at the back. Havoc leaped forward as he deployed his jetpack, reeling in the line and flaring from his suit at the same time. The moment he did so, he ceased the brutal deceleration of Shuttle One to allow the crew to regain their senses.

  The wire wasn't yet taut as he glided past Shuttle Two, still carrying the relative momentum of Shuttle One. The wire arrested him brutally. He played it out to stop it from breaking while his suit jets blasted on full burn. His jetpack propelled him ahead of the wire.

  In Shuttle Two, Hwan and Karch stood in the middle of the rear cabin. Hwan knelt down on the floor. Karch turned toward the camera and switched off the feed.

  ~ ~ ~

  In Shuttle One, Weaver and Novosa blinked awake almost the moment the deceleration reduced.

  Weaver saw Havoc jetting toward Shuttle Two. It was painful to watch, he looked so slow. The outer lock of the middle cabin opened as he neared it.

  “Come on!” Novosa shouted.

  Stone lifted his head groggily.

  Weaver balled her hands.

  “He'll do it. He's so close.”

  Havoc crashed into the lock and hauled himself inside.

  Weaver lifted her hands to cover her entire face below her eyes.

  “Come on. Come on.”

  The lock closed behind Havoc.

  Weaver and Novosa willed him on.

  “Come on!”

  ~ ~ ~

  Havoc stood in the lock as it re-pressurized, banging on the door to let them know he was there. The inner door opened.

  He immediately shouted, “stop!” and jumped forward, rolling upright in the artificial gravity provided by Shuttle Two’s acceleration.

  Stephanie punched him hard as he hurtled through the middle cabin.

  “You bastard!”

  He hauled himself across the room to the doorway as Stephanie flew away from him. Kemensky sat with his head in his hands. Stephanie screamed from behind him.

  “Why are you so late?”

  Stephanie screamed again in frustration.

  Havoc leaped through the door. Karch was standing to one side with a pistol in her hand. She looked strangely vulnerable.

  Hwan was kneeling at Karch’s feet, leaning forward with her arms crossed and her hair drawn back neatly over her ear.

  She was alive.

  Hwan looked up at Havoc, then slowly around the cabin. Her head sunk onto her knees and she curled into a ball.

  Karch slowly lowered her weapon. Her eyes were wide and lost.

  “I'm not the one to comfort her, am I?”

  44.

  Havoc sat next to the scientists in the Hub Hab.

  The atmosphere was a strange combination of opposing emotions. On the one side, fear and uncertainty, and on the other, anticipation and excitement, particularly amongst the scientists. The room oscillated unpredictably between the two. At random intervals, from an otherwise morbid silence, an excited conversation would spring up on the nature of the ideograms, or what appeared to be a map inside one of the towers, or what Weaver thought might be mathematics in another.

  Hwan had gone to lie down after being sedated by the remarkably chirpy Chaucer. Not only had Hwan nearly died, she’d also admitted to murdering her family to save herself on their journey to the Alliance colony of Cuurvolt. It was dark, Havoc thought, painfully dark.

  Humberstone spoke from the next table as the leadership team filed in.

  “Karch’s actions present a fascinating legal dilemma. One cannot doubt her good intentions but still...”

  Karch sat stony faced as Humberstone speculated on her aborted execution. Abbott was incensed as he approached.

  “Violette Hwan nearly died you little parasite. Don't you understand that?”

  Humberstone twisted in his seat, startled.

  “Well, yes, of course, but I see no need to––”

  Abbott cut him off.

  “Just leave it, Humberstone.”

  Havoc didn’t like the implication of Humberstone’s comments.

  “Karch wouldn't have killed Hwan any more than the rest of us. The saboteur would have been responsible, no one else.”

  Karch looked over at Havoc, seemingly surprised at his support.

  Touvenay walked back toward them. Touvenay had set up a wall screen to commemorate Marsac. The display presented four pictures of Marsac surrounded by a black border. Underneath the pictures was written, 'Honor his service'. Havoc studied the pictures of the largest member of the crew, alone on the wall.

  “What about Hwan's family?” Bergeron said.

  Havoc sighed and he wasn’t alone. The two lawyers couldn’t leave the Hwan situation alone; they worried at it like jackals over a corpse.

  Weaver folded her arms.

  “I think we should leave it. Violette was delirious.”

  Novosa nodded.

  “She'll be up soon, we need to move on.”

  “Who'll assess her mental state?” Stephanie said.

  Everyone understood that the thrust of Stephanie’s question was less about Hwan and more about Leveque, their crew psychologist. Leveque sat alone on the far side of the Hub Hab with the ship's cat on her lap. She was sitting stroking the cat and watching family holos in full immersion. Expressions of joy crossed her face at random intervals. It was tragic.

  There wasn't anything they could do for Leveque. If they froze her she would degenerate anyway, and it seemed inhumane to do so while she still took pleasure in remembering her family. She didn't seem to be a threat to anyone. Everyone was conscious that they could be in Leveque's position shortly. The feeling of ‘treat others as you would be treated yourself’ resonated in the hab.

  Chaucer looked over his shoulder.

  “The system can assess her.”

  Whittenhorn stood as Hwan entered the Hub Hab.

  “Miss Hwan, are you sure––”

  Hwan lifted a hand.

  “Yes.”

  Whittenhorn looked like he was searching for an appropriate form of words.

  Hwan sat down at the back of the group.

  “I need to do this.”

  Whittenhorn nodded. He turned to address the group as a whole.

  “I just wanted to point out that Mr Touvenay has put up that...”

  “Tribute wall,” Touvenay said.

  “Thank you for doing that,” Abbott said.

  Touvenay looked uncertain.

  “I don't think we should include Brennen.”

  Abbott nodded.

  “I agree.”

  Whittenhorn stood shifting his weight from foot to foot. He clearly felt like he should say something.

  “He's not dead yet.”

  The room winced at the remark. Whittenhorn turned, red cheeked.

  “Colonel Tyburn would like to discuss the security situation.”

  Colonel Tyburn now, Havoc thought. He felt something pricking his subconscious again. He wondered if Whittenhorn was getting to him. Political appointees always pissed him off. They got people killed and cared more for covering their ass than their team. But he didn't usually find it so disorienting. Could it be some Morvent Academy adaptations kicking in? More likely, was that tettraxigyiom shit starting to peel his mind apart?

  Tyburn stood and assumed a suitably commanding posture.

  “It would be easy to give in to fear and paranoia at what a
ppear to be two acts of sabotage.”

  Not exactly morale boosting but points for honesty, Havoc thought.

  Tyburn looked toward Hwan.

  “I just want to point out that what the saboteur did with the shuttle was, while very sophisticated in its execution, actually very limited in its effect. And we've taken steps to ensure it can’t happen again.”

  “Can you imagine how hard this is going to be if we can’t trust our instrumentation?” Kemensky said.

  Jafari turned to him.

  “I've checked the rest of the vehicles. They're ok.”

  Touvenay’s expression was sour.

  “Assuming we can trust you, Jafari.”

  Jafari looked hurt. He was wearing a T-shirt that said 'I'm available' on it. Not entirely appropriate, but Havoc thought Jafari probably didn't notice what was written on his clothing any more.

  “We're engaging in a full sweep and scan, top to bottom,” Tyburn said.

  “I'm surprised you didn’t do it before,” Stephanie said.

  Tyburn bristled at the implied criticism.

  “I am investigating. I've been through your cabins and may have to do so again.”

  There was a general bustle of indignation. Tyburn looked at Whittenhorn.

  “I gave my permission,” Whittenhorn said.

  Tyburn nodded.

  “The reality is that there were so many opportunities to insert code onto the shuttle that we’re unlikely to identify our spy from that action alone. Instead, I would ask you to be vigilant and cast me privately if you have any suspicions. And I mean anything, no matter how trivial.”

  Tyburn raised himself to his full height.

  “I would reiterate to everyone that it is my strong opinion that this is now a military mission.”

  There was a general sigh. Abbott shook his head.

  “Why don't you show you can catch one saboteur before you try to run the whole mission? Is there anything else?”

  Whittenhorn nodded.

  “There is indeed.”

  Oh dear, Havoc thought, as Whittenhorn turned to glare at him.

  “Mr Havoc consciously disobeyed a direct order.”

  “And we got valuable information.”

  “You've already assaulted an officer,” Whittenhorn said.

  “You mean when I stopped you from disobeying your Commander and running away?”

  “You have shown a flagrant disregard for––”

  Abbott roared as he banged the table.

  “We need a leader, not a school teacher!”

  Whittenhorn looked stunned.

  Abbott stood up. He turned his imposing figure toward Whittenhorn and pointed at him directly.

  “I remind you of what we know to be true, Commander Whittenhorn. We do not have much time. It is solely as a result of Mr Havoc's decisive action that we have so much data to study. The question is what we do with this information before the other ships arrive, not how we descend into petty squabbles while we squander any slim advantage that we may yet have.”

  Havoc brightened. He’d had a worrying feeling Whittenhorn was about to try and clap him in irons.

  Weaver nodded.

  “We should analyze what we have and determine our priorities.”

  There were various nods. Whittenhorn sensed the mood of the room and looked questioningly at Weaver.

  “Indeed. I propose...”

  “Five hours,” Weaver said.

  “We can run our kit tests while the scientists work,” Tyburn said.

  Whittenhorn nodded.

  “Very well. Make it so.”

  Whittenhorn gave Havoc a dirty look then turned away as the scientists stood up en masse, obviously keen to move to the next hab and start analyzing the information from the towers.

  Havoc noticed Darkwood floating along with them. Darkwood seemed fascinated by it all, drawing energy from the enthusiasm of the scientists. There was a real buzz of anticipation building around what they could discover on the alien planet.

  Touvenay approached Havoc.

  “You brought me back from the brink with these finds, Havoc. I am determined to decipher this alien language before my contamination has a chance to take hold. It would be the crowning achievement of my career.”

  Touvenay didn't need to say it could be the final achievement.

  Havoc nodded toward Weaver.

  “Weaver got it.”

  Weaver looked at Havoc with a strange expression. She looked like she was trying to solve one of her equations but a term was missing.

  Touvenay acknowledged Weaver’s contribution with a polite bow of his head as he strode away.

  “Well then, thank you, Evelyn. I suggest we get going.”

  Weaver held Havoc’s gaze a moment, then turned to follow Touvenay.

  Hwan stood up and walked over to join Jafari, presumably to plan their sweep and scan.

  Havoc thought about Hwan and how close it had been. Something bothered him about that situation as well. His intuition felt off. Was this the start of his journey to join Leveque? Out of this depressing thought he had an insight, isolating one of the things that had been needling him.

  He waited as the scientists filed out. Stephanie finally broke away from Abbott and Havoc caught her as she walked across the room. She turned to face him he approached her.

  “Listen, thanks for what you did before. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

  He'd actually forgotten that she punched him until she started to say it.

  “Don't worry.”

  “I don't––”

  Steph resented apologizing to people and usually disliked the recipient as a result, so it was best to minimize it even if he’d been bothered, which he hadn’t.

  “It's fine.”

  She nodded.

  “Listen, Steph, I've got a question.”

  “Go on.”

  “Before, in the shuttle.”

  “Yes.”

  “Before we reached you.”

  She started to go red.

  “Mmm.”

  “When you drew the short straw, you asked them to wait. That you had something to say. Something important...”

  He raised his hands to suggest she could tell him it was none of his business. She continued to redden, her blush crimson on her pale skin. He watched her.

  “Look, if it’s none of my business...”

  “No.”

  She paused. Her face went through a number of expressions that he interpreted as discomfort. He’d lived with her for nearly two years. He knew her facial expressions, the tone of her voice and the quality of her inflection. He wondered what she was going to say. She looked up at him, uncertain and embarrassed.

  “I was going to say...”

  She seemed to reach a decision and her expression, though still nervous, turned resolute.

  “I was going to say that I should never have broken up with you.”

  He blinked in astonishment as his mouth fell open.

  She looked up at him, scanning his face.

  “Well?”

  45.

  Tyburn and Ekker sat in the cockpit of a military shuttle in a dark hangar on disc five. Tyburn had locked down half of the disc, disabling all sensing and monitoring, ostensibly to allow the testing and calibration of their security kit. This was standard operating procedure on Alliance missions, so it didn't draw any particular attention or suspicion.

  The transmission delay between the AV Intrepid and the ORC Relentless was short but noticeable.

  > Greetings, Admiral Szabo.

  > Greetings, General Forge. All goes well?

  > We have at least one enemy agent on board, most likely United Systems. There has been an unforeseen fatality.

  > Mission critical?

  > Not at all. The fatality was planned. Just not in that location or this early.

  > Your vessel is damaged.

  > The damage is minor and irrelevant to our mission.

  > You will uphold your s
ide of the agreement, General?

  > Of course, Comrade Admiral, and I expect the same of you.

  > If you would only chip your citizens, General, you would have less of these agents.

  > Perhaps, Comrade Admiral, but we cannot all be as visionary as the Orion Republics’ Confederation.

  > No, quite. Have you identified any alien assets for extraction?

  > We have completed a surface survey and identified several locations of interest. I am sending the data to you now.

  > Your team moves quickly, General.

  > When we have assets to recover, we will let you know.

  > Of course.

  The channel folded.

  ~ ~ ~

  Admiral Szabo turned to his aide.

  “Other agents. Excuses from a tinpot General. General of what?”

  “Is all proceeding to plan, Comrade Admiral?”

  “Of course. If these monkeys can provide anything useful then we can use them. But if there is any conflict of interest, well...”

  Szabo didn’t say any more, he just smiled.

  ~ ~ ~

  Tyburn turned to Ekker. His temper bristled like the hackles on a dog. He hated having to explain himself.

  “That arrogant bastard.”

  “All on plan?”

  “Of course. And if we find anything that we can take for ourselves, we don’t hesitate.”

  They both turned at the same time, responding to a flicker in the darkness. Tyburn peered along the hangar.

  Someone was coming.

  46.

  Havoc stood in the Hub Hab, looking at Stephanie, astonished by her disclosure. She reached out and touched his arm.

  “I'm scared, John. I don't mind admitting it.”

  He nodded. He wondered about the feelings of disorientation he was having. He felt like a punter who can tell something isn't right with the orchestra, but doesn't know enough to identify which instrument is out of tune. He could sense something in his environment, at least he felt that way, but he didn't seem to have the tools to isolate it. It was unusual – his intuition was usually good. Except with the women in his life, of course, but as a guy he took that as a given.

  He glanced over at Leveque then looked back at Stephanie.

  “Are you feeling ok?”