Obscura

by Joe Hart

  It was several seconds before all the pieces fell into place. “There’s a shifting unit on the ship,” she said.

  He put a hand over his mouth and sat back in the chair, watching her.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “There was a hidden door in medical. Dr. Ander asked that we keep it a secret from the crew. Only Tinsel and I knew.”

  She saw the outline of the entrance, recalled studying it, wondering what was behind it. “Why?” she asked after a moment.

  “I don’t know. Ander said something about more trials, but the possibility didn’t occur to me until you mentioned the smell of the decon.”

  “Someone was shifting onto the ship,” she said, a prickling sensation creeping across the back of her neck.

  Carson was like a statue, only his jaw moving slightly side to side.

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Someone from the station.”

  He tipped his head slightly.

  “That’s who I saw on the ship. Someone killed Tinsel. They didn’t want him getting here, and they shifted down to the surface to try and kill me too. I wasn’t hallucinating.”

  Carson looked away. “That’s partially true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He hesitated before rushing through the words. “Birk’s food was laced with a drug called salvenin. It’s a derivative of a plant called salvia. The drug induces nausea, disorientation, and mild hallucinations.”

  White-hot anger rose within her. “Why was it in his food?”

  “Tinsel suggested it when he found out you were bringing an assistant. And after he saw Birk, he insisted on it. Tinsel thought without the drug Birk could force us to abort the mission, possibly on your behalf, when you both found out we were coming here.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Gillian tried to go on, but her throat spasmed painfully, and she coughed. Carson handed her the cup of water, and she restrained herself from batting it out of his hand. She drank, trying to let the cool liquid quench her rage. “So you drugged us to keep us in line.”

  “Not you, only Birk. Neither of you were supposed to stay awake. I assume you ended up eating some of his food during the trip?”

  She recalled bumping Birk’s food containers onto the floor, their number mixing in with her own. She’d known all along what she’d seen wasn’t typical opioid withdrawal.

  “That was low even for you, Carson.”

  “Look, I was completely against it, but Tinsel had authority over the mission. Without agreeing with him, nothing could move forward.”

  “You mean you couldn’t have kidnapped us.”

  Carson sat back, features darkening. “The drug is harmless and temporary.”

  “That makes everything better.”

  “Gillian, please—”

  “No, listen to me,” she said, ignoring the pain in her throat. “I need to know you’re on my side, that I can count on you. No more lies. So if there’s anything else you need to tell me, do it now.”

  She watched him, searching for a sign he was hiding something more, but didn’t see it.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  They sat quietly, not looking at each other for several minutes, letting the moment of tension pass. “Knowing we were drugged does clear up the possibility space travel has anything to do with the symptoms here. I was worried that might be another factor.”

  “A silver lining to this shit-show,” Carson said.

  “Yes, thank you so much for your help.”

  “I’m sorry. Like I said, I was against it the whole time.”

  “So where do we go from here?” she asked, stepping past her anger.

  “I’m not sure. I’m not a cop.”

  “I had some thoughts about why someone would want Tinsel dead.”

  “He might’ve stopped the mission.”

  “Right.” She gestured to the room. “Everything going on here, especially the teleportation.”

  “You think it was Ander?”

  “He has the most motivation if something critical is wrong with his breakthrough.”

  “He’s brilliant and driven, but I couldn’t imagine him doing something like that.”

  “But I fit the part?”

  He let the barb sail by. “It would have to be someone familiar with the technology and ballsy as hell to try shifting that distance.” Carson glanced at her. “That’s the main reason I suspected you and not someone from the station. I didn’t think anyone would try something like that. No one’s ever traveled that far before.”

  “Whoever it was must’ve known Tinsel would be a problem. And now I’m next in line because I’ve been testing the crew.” She paused. “Getting closer to the truth.”

  “Doesn’t make any sense,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  He was a long time answering, and she was about to prompt him again when he said, “After what happened on the surface, I checked the security-log key scans for your room on the station.”

  Gillian could feel something coming, some unseen force bent on knocking her off her axis. She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to say the words even as she spoke them. “Who was it? Who was in my room?”

  Carson took a breath. “Dr. Ivan Pendrake.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Pendrake? Carson, he’s dead.”

  “I know. I’ve seen the autopsy report, pictures of the body, everything. But his key card was used to enter your room. I checked the video feed, but the camera system had been reset. And that’s not all.” He brought his voice to an even lower volume, and she shifted toward him, aware that not all but most of the anger had dissipated from her. “Pendrake’s body is missing.”

  “What?”

  “I went down to the storage level where they were keeping it a few hours ago after looking at the security logs. The station manager on duty let me in, but there was nothing inside the remains container.”

  “Someone took the body?”

  “Either that or Pendrake’s not really dead.”

  “Why would everyone help fake his death? Make up a murder?”

  “No idea. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Before he was killed, we received transmission notations from him on certain crew files concerning psychological assessments. That’s what started this whole mission and put a halt to shifting. Pendrake hadn’t come right out and said he had concerns with the project, but it was between the lines. Enough so the order was given to put a freeze on using the technology.”

  Gillian tilted her head back, resting it on a pillow. “So Pendrake starts making waves and Diver kills him shortly after.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” she whispered, a thought striking her quiet for a moment. “The other day right after we tested Dennis Kenison, he said something to me. He said there’s something wrong with everyone.”

  Carson frowned. “What did he mean?”

  “I don’t know. He said it so only I’d hear and walked away. Could be something to do with Pendrake’s death.”

  “We should talk to him.”

  “Definitely.”

  “And there’s something else. The crew who complained of symptoms prior to our arrival refused to sign the permission forms for your examination.”

  “What?”

  “Said they weren’t comfortable with the procedure. Now that could be true, but why turn down a test that could help?”

  “They might’ve been leery of me with the accusations, but you’re right, if I was sick I would want to get help.” They stared at each other, the questions hanging thick in the air. “Let me get dressed,” she finally said, swinging her legs to the side of the bed.

  “Whoa. You need rest.”

  “Carson, I’m pretty much done with taking orders from you. You can help me or stay out of my way.”

  He stood gazing at her for a moment before crossing to the door. “I’ll be outside.”

  She watched him go a
nd listened to the door click shut before drawing out the IV from her arm and climbing from the bed to find her clothes.

  There were a few seconds while drawing on a fresh jumpsuit Gillian was sure she was going to pass out, but after several deep breaths while holding on to the bed’s frame, the dizziness passed. The painkiller was completely gone from her system, and its absence was so achingly familiar, the hydros she’d hidden in her room came to mind. She shook off the temptation, the irritating hitch of her lungs each time she breathed gaining her full attention. Her tongue felt like she’d held it to a belt sander, and her eyes had grit in them whenever she blinked.

  But it felt good to get up and move around. Except for the dull twinging in her leg, her body felt stronger than she’d anticipated. Maybe some of the strength she’d had prior to withdrawing from the hydros was returning.

  Outside the room, Carson fell into step beside her, and as they passed a compact station desk at the center of the ward, a medical technician with a flat-eyed stare watched them, her graying hair pulled back in a bun so tight it seemed to stretch her forehead taut.

  “I let them know you were discharging yourself,” he said as they turned a corner and headed toward the central elevator system.

  “She seemed broken up to see me go.”

  “No one’s been really cordial. Here, you’ll need this now,” he said, handing her a key card. “It’ll open pretty much any door in the station. And this too, forgot to put it in your personal effects before.” He held out her mother’s rosary, and she took it from him faster than she meant to.

  She tucked the rosary away and turned the key over. “Thank you.”

  They walked in silence for several steps before he said, “I wish you would take it easy. You don’t know how close you were.”

  “Someone in this place tried to kill me, more than once. I want nothing more than to leave right now and head back to Earth to see my little girl, but we still haven’t figured out what’s causing the symptoms. Right now I don’t have a choice.”

  They stopped by the elevators, and Carson called one of them. “You think it’s the shifting?”

  “There’s nothing else that makes sense.”

  “That would mean most of the crew is lying about not having any symptoms.”

  The elevator door opened, and they stepped inside. “Maybe that’s what Kenison meant. But diseases progress differently in people. Maybe it’s not affecting them all yet.”

  They rode upward, getting off on a level she hadn’t visited before. Several crew members were playing a game of pool in a room to the right; a long, fully stocked bar stretched behind them. Carson led her past what appeared to be a large kitchen and group dining area before scanning in through a set of doors on the left. The room inside was spacious, with a rounded bank of windows on its far side opening up to endless space and a trillion stars dotting the curtain of darkness. A conference table was centered in the room, and Easton, Lien, and Birk were seated at one end.

  Birk rose and hurried to her as soon as she stepped inside, grasping her shoulders tightly to hold her at arm’s length. “Are you all right, Doctor?”

  “Better now.”

  He hugged her gently. “I’m beginning to think coming here was a mistake.”

  She had to laugh. “You might be right.”

  He studied her again as if making sure she was real before finally releasing her. When she moved to take a seat at the table, she was surprised to see Lien standing, facing her.

  “I owe you an apology, Doctor,” Lien said. “Both for being complicit in your deceit and for doubting your innocence.” She bowed slightly before bringing her gaze back to Gillian’s.

  “Thank you, Lien.”

  “I for one never believed any of that bullshit about you,” Easton said loudly. “Everybody has their vices. I love vodka like a fish loves water. And Commander, no offense, I’ve seen you chow those little cream cake things like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “Easton . . .” Carson sighed.

  “All I’m saying is, you being a murderer because you were fucked up on some pills didn’t make sense to me.” He held up his hands. “Glad we’re all on the same page now.”

  “Thank you,” Gillian said, smiling. “And thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “No problem, Doc. Right place right time is all. You feeling better?”

  “On the mend.”

  “Good. Now we can get down to this thing,” Easton said.

  They all settled around the end of the table as Birk placed a steaming cup of coffee before each of them that completely surprised Gillian with the richness of its taste.

  Carson began talking, telling the others what he’d discovered concerning Pendrake. When he finished, they all glanced at one another before Lien broke the silence. “So does that mean he’s alive? He’s the one doing this?”

  “It just means someone’s using his key card,” Carson said. “I find it pretty unlikely everything surrounding the murder was staged. And why would they do that?”

  “So he’s still dead and someone got rid of the body,” Easton said, reclining in the chair before putting his feet up on the table.

  “That’s my guess,” Gillian said.

  “Then there’s something up with the corpse they didn’t want us to see.”

  “Might be. If there was something incriminating Leo could’ve picked up on, they didn’t want to take a chance.”

  “Like what?” Birk asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gillian said.

  “Listen, I have to ask this just so we’re clear,” Easton said, sliding his boots from the tabletop and sitting forward. “We came here to iron out the kinks in Ander’s voodoo units, right? Now we’re dealing with a psychopath. Which are we focusing on?”

  “I think they’re intertwined,” Gillian said slowly. She gazed around at the group, the image of the interconnected rings of her glass’s condensation on the table in Florida surfacing in her mind. “Whoever’s doing this doesn’t want us here, doesn’t want us finding out what’s wrong with shifting. That’s why they killed Tinsel. He had the authority to shut this all down.”

  “Because whoever it is knows the truth,” Lien said.

  “Exactly. And I have an idea where we should start looking.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “So you haven’t told Ander anything about what happened on the surface?” Gillian said.

  “I briefed him but didn’t broach the subject of someone using teleportation to get back and forth from the station to the surface,” Carson said.

  She, Carson, and Easton rode upward on the elevator, the levels ticking by in red numbers. They had left Birk and Lien in the hallway of the crew-quarters level, Carson instructing them to find Leo and fill him in on their conversation.

  “He’s gonna take that well,” Easton said, staring at the car’s ceiling.

  “After this, I’d like to see Kenison,” Gillian said, all of their feet lifting slightly off the floor as the car came to a stop. “Maybe he’d be willing to tell us what he meant the other day.”

  The doors opened to Ander’s level, the vestibule empty of the receptionist. Ahead the door to the doctor’s quarters was open, faint classical music drifting out. Inside the lights were low, the large sectional couches slabs of shadow. The same phrase in French she’d seen the first time floated on the main display. Ander himself reclined in one of the rolling chairs before a touchscreen, fingers rubbing in slow circles at his temples.

  “Doctor?” Carson said.

  The old man bolted upright.

  “Sorry to startle you.”

  “No, no. It’s all right. I was miles away,” Ander said, standing. “Dr. Ryan, glad to see you up and about. Quite the ordeal you went through.”

  “Yes, it was. That’s actually why we’re here,” she said, studying Ander’s eyes. There was no alarm or panic in them, just steady scrutiny. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  Ander sighed. “Carson
explained this to me, but he also said everyone who was in the biospheres was accounted for at the time in question.”

  “They were. It was someone else, someone from the station.”

  A soft laugh escaped him as he looked between her and Carson. “There’s only one lander, and it was on the surface. There’s simply . . .” His voice died away, and he squinted at her. “You’re not suggesting—”

  “Yes, we are,” Carson said. “Gillian smelled the decontamination compound before she was forced out of the airlock, and she also smelled it on the ship before Tinsel’s death.”

  “That’s preposterous. We are under strict protocol. No one has shifted in over four months.”

  “Someone left opioids in my room,” Gillian said. “We checked the security key scans.”

  “And?”

  “Ivan Pendrake’s key card was used,” Carson said.

  Ander looked from one of them to the next, a gradual smile breaking out on his face. “This is some kind of joke.” When no one said anything, he sobered instantly. “Ivan was my friend for over twenty years. A partner in the development of my life’s work. He is dead, murdered by an unhinged individual, and I don’t appreciate you sullying his name.”

  “His body’s missing,” Easton said, settling onto the back of a sectional.

  “What? Nonsense. It’s in—”

  “The remains container is empty,” Carson said. “I looked myself. We’re not saying Dr. Pendrake is still alive, but someone has his key card and is using it to access rooms.”

  Ander looked like a boat’s sail without wind. He lowered himself into his chair, his face slowly draining of color.

  “Do you have any idea who could be doing this?” Carson asked.

  The old man shook his head, seeming to barely hear him.

  “Doctor?” Gillian said, stepping closer. She waited until he raised his gaze to her. “We’d like you to access the teleportation log for us.”

  For a moment Ander didn’t move. Then he swiveled, drew his chair close to the nearest touchscreen, and entered a code before punching in a series of commands. Gillian shared a look with Carson and Easton.