Not With A Whimper: Preservers

by D. A. Boulter

  Owen forced her to enter the code five times, each time the light changed to green, each time, Owen hit cancel.

  “Think you’ll remember?” he asked her.

  “If it’s important to you, I’ll remember. What is this place?”

  “This is what we call the ‘Catastrophe Core’. If all else fails, if they can’t get to life-pods, shuttles, or lifeboats, survivors of a disaster might find sanctuary within. It’s the safest place on the station. Simon Fontaine tells me that he can’t guarantee that the Families won’t blow the station if your people try to take it over. If they do, you can find safety here.”

  She stared at him. “Does your father know that you’re doing this?”

  He grinned. “Let’s ask him. Enter the code again.”

  She did, and this time they moved into the lock, through it, and into the Core itself. And there stood Johannes Yrden.

  “Captain Yrden,” she said, and saluted him. He didn’t return the salute.

  “Major Temple.” He then indicated Owen. “His idea, not mine.”

  She nodded. “I assumed so.”

  “I’m trusting you to not give this information to the USNA. Owen says I can trust you. I don’t see why I should, but he demands it.” Johannes shrugged his shoulders. “This is a shelter of last resort, Major. Our people – those left – may seek shelter here. Your first warning may be the loss of gravity. We’ve seen your soldiers attempt the zero-g room. I think our people can avoid them long enough to get here.”

  Sharon nodded. “Those who follow might not be so inept. These ones? Cocky, arrogant, over-confident.”

  “So,” Yrden continued, “you use the zero-g to make your break, get here along with whomever of our crew seeks out the Core, seal the door and wait. You’ll have air, power, food and water for at least a month – the air, food, and water depending upon how many people take shelter here.”

  “Understood.”

  Johannes looked her up and down. “If your people take over the station without us blowing it, I expect you to forget the code and that this place exists.”

  “Also understood.”

  “Now, let me show you around.”

  Yrden took her on a tour, pointing out the amenities, the needful, and the stack of readers carrying the operating instructions for any who took shelter in the Core. Finished, he returned with her to the airlock.

  “As I said, it is a final refuge. There are no lifeboats, life-pods, or shuttles attached. If you use this, then you’ll have to rely on someone coming for you if the station is holed badly enough.”

  And if no one came, then this becomes a tomb for all within it.

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll come back for you, Sharon,” Owen said.

  She smiled at him. “I know you will.”

  Johannes turned to his son. “Wait for the Major outside, Son. I have a few things to say to her in private.”

  Owen didn’t wish to leave, but Sharon nodded, and motioned him out. When he had gone, Johannes turned to her.

  “I believe you used my son,” he looked fierce in the dim light. “Nonetheless, however it happened, he’s in love with you. I doubt that you return that sentiment.”

  Sharon felt it wiser to say nothing. He wouldn’t believe her if she said she did love Owen. She didn’t know if she would believe it herself.

  “He’s my son, and I wouldn’t have him hurt. Thus, I’ll pretend that I accept this arrangement. I don’t. Soon enough, away from you, he’ll find someone else, someone more appropriate.”

  She felt a pang, but nodded. “The idea of each of us having a single love, a single possible soul-mate is fodder for romantics. He’ll get over me.” Even saying it caused her pain.

  Johannes considered that. “You can go now. He’ll ask you to walk with him to his shuttle. Go. Give him the romantic parting that he’ll remember, if you care to.”

  The man wouldn’t even thank her for giving him warning.

  “I’m going. But first, two things.”

  He opened his hands, willing to accept the burden.

  “The information I gave him to give to you,” she waited for his nod before continuing, “I did that for him, not for you, not for me.” Not altogether true, but close enough.

  “And the other?”

  “He said he’d come back for me.” She looked Yrden in the eyes. “Get him out of the system ASAP. And get yourself out so that he won’t have anything to blame me for.”

  She turned and left through the airlock, smiling at Owen.

  “What did Dad want to talk to you about?”

  “Your father had some questions concerning what I told you. Nothing for you to worry about.” She put her arm around him. “Thank you for this gift. Now, let’s get you to your shuttle.”

  * * *

  Sharon watched Owen disappear into the shuttle, then turned and walked away, feeling empty inside. It shocked her that she felt that way. Only now, after giving him the romantic farewell that his father had suggested, the final hug, the final kiss, and the tender, “I love you,” whispered in his ear, did Sharon Temple, Major in the USNA Space Force, realize that she had in no part, from the time they left the Catastrophe Core until the time he walked away from her, lied to Owen, nor misled him in any way.

  She walked slowly back to her office, entered, and then changed her mind. “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” she told Milton.

  If Yrden told the truth about the Families possibly blowing the station, she had work to do.

  It felt strange to float in zero-g alone, without Owen to coach her, catch her, laugh at her antics. Alone again. She pushed off the wall, twisted in midair, and landed on her feet, only to push off once more. She needed to practice, so that if it came to a blown station, she could reach the Catastrophe Core in zero-g.

  CHAPTER 25

  Inverness, Scotland

  Tuesday 24 August

  Pierre Fontaine sat in a small hotel room in Inverness, Scotland. He had decided that attempting to enter the airspace of the UK after a war had started might not be the smartest of ideas. His shuttle sat at rest at the airport, awaiting parts – or so he said. The authorities didn’t care as long as he paid his pad rental.

  For some days, now, he had watched the vids with growing horror. The stupid Earthers were actually going to do it.

  He had heard Preston’s arguments, had understood that the Families had no choice but to prepare – and besides, things didn’t look too good for the Families anyway, war or no war. But he had always had doubts. Surely no one could rise to the height of stupidity that would lead to World War III.

  He no longer had doubts.

  His hotel room comm buzzed at the same time as his pager went off.

  “Allo?”

  “Pierre? Johannes.”

  “Ah, mon ami, what can I do for you?” He laughed. “You should be here. The weather is magnifique. The people – although I can hardly understand a word they say – friendly. Come. Join me. We shall go fishing.”

  He heard a sigh. “Ah, I’d love to. Unfortunately, work consumes me. I would appreciate help. Did you say your vacation ends soon?”

  Pierre felt his stomach go into free-fall. He licked suddenly dry lips. “Mais non, Johannes. I have nothing but time. But I thank you for thinking of me. Are you sure you cannot come down?”

  “Positive.”

  “Alas. But, mon ami, you caught me just as I put on my hat to go out. Perhaps we shall speak again a little later.”

  “Enjoy your fishing.”

  The connection dropped. Pierre sat staring at the comm. Then he picked it up and entered a number he had long ago memorized.

  “Hello?” Her voice did something to his insides.

  “Allo, Kiera. So good to hear your voice.” He heard a slight gasp. “It makes me happy to find you in London. Your vacation begins soon, oui?”

  He heard only silence. But no, he heard breathing, also. So, she, too, found it hard to believe. The day had act
ually come.

  “Oui, Pierre, we leave today, I hope.”

  “Ah, good. Never too soon to enjoy the countryside. But I interrupt your packing. Perhaps we speak again soon.”

  “I’d like that.”

  And he heard the truth in her voice. He must take her away from Sidney soon. To have left her – a necessary evil, but it tore at his insides whenever he allowed himself to think of it.

  “À bientôt, cheri.”

  “À bientôt, Pierre.”

  There. Done. He packed up his day-bag, made sure that he had left nothing behind him, and exited the room. At the counter, he checked out, paying his bill, smiling at the pretty mademoiselle behind the desk. That, too, tore at his insides. He left her to die, perhaps, without lifting a finger to help. But he – and the Families – had only so many fingers they could lift.

  The taxi dropped him at the airport, where he filed a flight plan to a small village. He could have wished for a co-pilot and engineer, but the demands on Family resources precluded that. All available engineers worked overtime keeping the shuttles running on their brutal schedules.

  Inside the shuttle, he ran through his start-up. Receiving clearance, he lifted the shuttle, and flew it to the small area of flat land that he had earlier reconnoitred. There, he engaged the decoder, and read the message from Johannes that had caused his pager to go off.

  “Best information: within the week. FTL-1 a target. Go direct to Haida Gwaii. Failing that, the Catastrophe Plan Alpha Pick-up.”

  Pierre hoped, for Johannes’ sake, that he, too, would leave for Haida Gwaii. He sent a short, two-word confirmation of receipt. Now, he could only wait and hope. Hope that they still had enough time. Hope that Kiera could get herself and Sidney out of London; hope that his five shuttles would arrive as promised. Hope that Sidney’s authorization worked. And, finally, hope against hope that everyone had made a mistake and they could simply go back to business as usual.

  Pierre made himself a picnic lunch, and left the shuttle to enjoy the afternoon sun. Too soon, he might find that he could never enjoy such again – not on Earth.

  * * *

  London, England

  Tuesday August 24th

  “Sidney, do you have any holiday time coming?” Kiera asked.

  He looked up from his screen. “Lots. Haven’t taken a holiday in years. Working as an enforcement agent meant I travelled all over Europe, and occasionally elsewhere. I stayed in good hotels, ate good meals, drank good wine – and the company paid for it all. Why would I want to take a holiday which would see me travelling all over Europe, staying in good hotels, eating good meals, drinking good wine AND paying for it myself?” He laughed.

  “So, you could afford a couple of weeks?”

  “I suppose so. Where did you have in mind? The Caribbean? The French Riviera? Moscow? New York? Well, New York doesn’t seem like a good idea this time of year. Hot and muggy. Besides, the USNA isn’t particularly inviting where people from Europe are concerned – at least not at the moment.”

  “No, Sidney,” she said. “I was thinking about Scotland.”

  He coughed. “Scotland? What’s in Scotland?”

  “There’s a bed and breakfast in an old castle. I read about it on the ’Net. It doesn’t cost too much, and there’s plenty of green grass, fresh air, and water. There’s a loch there that they say is very beautiful.”

  He closed his screen. “What’s this all about?”

  “I’ve never really been out of the city.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve been to Paris. You’ve not only been out of the city, you’ve been out of the country.”

  “No, silly. Out of the city. Paris is a city, too. I’d like to go somewhere that isn’t paved, where I can see for kilometres without having my view blocked by buildings. To be out in the air.”

  “Oh.” He considered it for a while. “This isn’t a good time, Kiera. I’m rather busy at work. They keep heaping more responsibilities on me.”

  “When would be a good time?”

  “I don’t know. Probably November. But that’s too cold for Scotland. However, we could go somewhere more southerly.”

  She braced herself. “I’ve already made reservations. I didn’t think you would object.”

  He did, she could see. “Are you meeting someone there, Kiera? Are you fooling around behind my back?”

  “No!” she replied hotly. “If I were, why would I want you to go with me?”

  “Because you knew that I’d not be able to get away. You didn’t get this idea by yourself. It makes a good excuse, but not good enough. Who is it?”

  She had foreseen this possibility. Well, now she would have to go to Plan B. Plan B involved telling the truth. She needed to get around to it, anyway, but she had hoped to have him on board before she sprang it on him. He didn’t really like surprises – at least not when they came from her. Building up to it bit by bit seemed best. It hadn’t worked.

  “You’re right, Sidney. I didn’t come up with this idea.”

  She could see the anger rising.

  “Pierre Fontaine did. When you left me with him in Paris, he told me that I might have to make this reservation – in fact, he ordered me to keep checking, making sure that they would have room for us. He told me that when the time came to go, he’d let me know.”

  Sidney just stood there, looking stunned. “And?”

  “And today I received that word. He wants us, that’s us, not me, to leave as soon as we can.”

  Sidney sat down, looking as if his legs would no longer support him.

  “Jesus Christ!” His eyes darted one way, then the other. “When did he tell you? When you were in Paris? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “He made me swear to keep it a secret. He said if you knew, you might give something away. I don’t know what he meant. But you told me to obey him, to do everything he said.”

  She laughed to herself. And stupid little Kiera would operate as if that were the only thing that she could do.

  “So I did exactly what he told me. Did I do wrong.” She had the perfect facial expression for that. A little woebegone, a little puzzled.

  Sidney got up and patted her arm. “No. You’re right. I did tell you to do whatever he said. You did good.”

  He began pacing.

  “As soon as possible?”

  “Yes, Sidney.”

  “Damn. Look, I have to go to the office. While I’m there, pack clothes for both of us. Use the credit card to book a train trip to as close as we can get to this place. Go first class if possible, third class if necessary, but get those tickets.”

  Pierre had told her it was important, but this seemed out-of-ordinary-important important. She had never seen Sidney react like this.

  Within two minutes he had left the flat. She went straight to the comm, and bought the tickets. She didn’t need to research times; she had done all that some long ago. As Pierre had suggested, she knew the schedules by heart. She also knew what she needed to pack.

  When Sidney arrived back home, looking rather grey about the gills, she had her suitcase closed. His lay open on the bed – already packed, but ready for his inspection. He checked it thoroughly, then patted her on the arm again.

  “Good Girl,” he said. “Tickets?”

  “First Class. Leaves in two hours.”

  “Bloody hell.” He went to his wall-safe, and removed various items. Then to his liquor cabinet, and took two large bottles of very expensive single-malt whiskey. “Right. Let’s go.”

  At the front door, they got in a taxi, and made it to the train station with forty minutes to spare.

  Once safely ensconced on the train, Sidney breathed a sigh of relief. “Anyone asks you anything, Kiera, just tell them that we’re on vacation.”

  She gave him her little lost girl look. “But aren’t we just on vacation?”

  He smiled at her. “That’s right. We’re just on vacation. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

  But she wor
ried her pretty little head about it a lot. She had kept up on the news. The USNA looked like it had finished preparing for war. Skirmishes in the Kashmir had everyone worried that a full-scale war would erupt between India and Pakistan, which might bring in China. The European Treaty Organization had taken readiness steps – or so certain pundits had alleged.

  And it appeared that Pierre had known about it in advance. Sidney had something he wanted, something not in London, or he wouldn’t have suggested the castle in Scotland.

  Life seemed about to become very interesting.

  * * *

  FTL-1

  Wednesday 25 August

  “Call for you, Johannes,” Jill said from the comm board. “It’s your wife.”

  Hope rose in him, wild, blazing hope. He went to the comm, and picked up the receiver to give himself some privacy. Jill went to the far end of the room and looked at her reader.

  “Johannes?”

  “Jazz. How are you? It’s so good to hear your voice.” He smoothed his own.

  But her voice lacked any semblance of intimacy. “Johannes, I need you to come to Haida Gwaii.”

  She needed him! And badly, judging from the undertones. “We’re just finishing up our mission, Jazz. Should be done in—”

  “Finish it from here,” she interrupted, which meant that she had started speaking as soon as he had protested, given the small time delay.

  “What’s up?”

  Nothing about this call felt personal.

  “It’s Matt, Johannes. We need to get him out of here, and he won’t leave. Says he’s President of the FTL, Head of the Yrden Line, that he can’t leave. I’ve had Bill Tannon take over his duties as Station Supervisor, but it’s not enough. He’s coming apart, Johannes, and it’s affecting everyone. If we want to finish things up, he has to go. Ellen’s already frantic with worry.”

  Johannes returned to the board, looking at the lists.

  “We have Twin Star here, loading. She’ll finish tomorrow. I’ll have her stop by Haida Gwaii on her way out.”