by Tammy Salyer
We joined him, not out of greed, but out of a shared disgust and enmity for the Admin and its clean, orderly, monstrous totalitarianism. Rajcik operates from a core that’s fueled by pure hate, planning every heist and operation with the intent to damage the Admin as much as possible. After what I’d been commanded to do as a soldier, I can relate to that.
These thoughts occupy my brain while I lie stretched on my bunk, aching along every streak of the rainbow of bruises covering my body. The darkness and the quiet bring a sense of lucidity again. Despite starting to feel more like myself, uncertainty and fear for David still gnaw at my guts like a rodent. I get up again and try the door. Strahan hadn’t let me see the code he had input in the keypad to open it, but I try a couple random sequences for the hell of it. No luck, but there’s nowhere for me to go anyway. All I can do is lie here and think about how I’m going to find my brother. If he’s alive.
FOUR
I’m suddenly awake. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, hadn’t even noticed myself doze off, and I’m disoriented. By reflex I roll off my bunk, reaching for the pistol that should be taped to the bottom, but my fist hits a drawer instead. My door is sliding open, though it’s too dark to see anything but a man’s shadow. Before he gets more than halfway into the room, I shoot off the floor, ignoring the protest from my ribs, grasp his wrist, and using the momentum of my lunge, twist his arm behind his back, slamming him against the wall.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I keep my voice low so that no one can hear me except the intruder.
“Relax! It’s K-Kellen! Vilbrandt! Jesus, you’re breaking my arm!”
“What are you doing here?” I hiss again, pushing his limp hand farther up his back so that it’s nestled between his shoulder blades.
“I just want to talk to you! That’s all, just talk, please!”
His voice is a strangled screech and his body is taut with pain. If I push a fraction more, his shoulder will pop out of its socket like wet driftwood snapped in half. Instead, I loosen the pressure just slightly. He draws a relieved breath.
“What about?”
He cranes his head around so he can look at me with one wide brown eye. “Do you know who I am?”
“Why would I?” But I remember the feeling I’d had a when I’d met him. Why is he familiar?
“You don’t recognize me? I’m Dr. Vilbrandt. I used to work for Director T’Kai.”
And it hits me. “You’re the head of human subjects R&D in the medical branch of Science and Engineering. Or you were. The newscasts said you were sent to prison for selling information to smugglers.”
“Yes, that’s right. But I wasn’t selling information, that was a lie T’Kai created when I discovered he was leaking information. To you. Can you…would you let go of me?”
“You’re lying!” I give his arm another shove to encourage him to tell the truth.
“Oww, Christ!” He sucks in a tortured breath. “Where do you think Vitruzzi found out about the disc?”
Surprised, I pause. Could Vilbrandt actually have found out what T’Kai was up to? Or is he a plant, sent by T’Kai to round up my crew because he’d gotten cold feet? If that’s the case, everyone on this ship is in on it.
Sweat begins to drip down his neck and, at this point, I don’t think he’ll be able to use the arm for a couple of days. His voice is desperate. “Please, please, Erikson. It’s true. I don’t have any proof, but just hear me out.”
The door is open and I could run for it. But where would I go? He hardly seems fast or strong enough to be a threat, so I’ll give him a chance. “If you do anything I don’t like, I’ll kill you. I think you know I can do it.” Turning on the lights, I release him and take a step back.
He turns around slowly, smart enough to keep his hands where I can see them, and reaches up with his undamaged arm to rub his injured shoulder. His lips are pressed into pain-tightened slits, his eyes equally narrow. There’s a smear of blood behind him on the wall where his lips impacted when I jumped him.
“I worked for T’Kai—”
“You said that.”
“Yes. I did. A month ago, he asked me to meet him at the Ministry of Engineering to retrieve a sequence of data. All of our testing data on human subjects are stored there.”
Human subjects data. He’s talking about experimentation. Research on the effects of new weapons—chemical, biological, nano, all of it. There’s no proof that this kind of thing occurs, the Admin is careful. But anyone who’s been in prison or the underground long enough has heard the stories.
“As head of R&D, I am, was, supposed to be informed of all data being accessed, even by T’Kai. I wasn’t made aware of any retrieval authorizations given to him, specifically for the Fortress, but he needed my access signature to query the system. When I insisted on seeing his authorization, he threatened me. I remitted to his authority, and didn’t say another word about it. But I went back later and used his access code to see the logs of what he pulled. That’s when I discovered he created the disc that went to your crew.”
He looks young, too young to be as high in the Admin echelons as he is. Which means he’s very smart, and talented in manipulation. Listening to the way he talks, his precise phrasing, his clipped syllables, and the sneering disdain in his voice for T’Kai illuminates an ego that is anything but small. His type is dangerous, mostly to themselves because they have a hard time believing anyone could outsmart them. He, and what he stands for, makes the spit in my mouth taste sour and my fingers twitch to slap him.
“You just happened to have T’Kai’s access code?”
“It came in handy, didn’t it?” There’s a new menace to his voice that sends cold pinpricks of suspicion up and down my spine. He must notice my reaction and moderates his tone. “I mean, I thought it would, so I acquired it. Perhaps it wasn’t ethical, but someone in your line of work should understand.”
His somber eyes are wide with deep, dark circles beneath them as if he hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep. He has an angle, but he’s taking his time in revealing it. Impatience makes the blood throb dully behind my eyes. Saying nothing, I wait for him to continue.
“When he realized what I knew, he had me arrested. I was locked in a holding cell on Obal 10 while he made up all those lies, slandering me, ruining my career. I was given no trial, no lawyer, no defense. He saw to that. Then he had me shipped to the Fortress, trying to wipe out my existence. But I escaped.”
I chuckle, the sound more a threat than amusement. I’m beginning to regret not breaking his arm and giving him the chance to shovel me such crap. The Fortress isn’t a facility people escape from. Especially soft, spineless scientist-types like him.
“You escaped the Fortress. Are you some kind of magician?”
“I worked there for years. Given the liability the Admin would face if someone with my in-depth knowledge of the station’s research activities were holding a grudge, I concluded some time ago that I should create my own insurance should the Fortress ever become something other than my laboratory.”
He’s not going to tell me exactly how he escaped, if he really did, but I have no trouble seeing the picture he’s painting. Even the Admin’s own don’t trust each other. Despite the impossibility of his story, there’s a ball of disquiet growing in my stomach. If T’Kai knew we were compromised, why didn’t he change the rendezvous? Maybe he did get cold feet on the deal. For all I know, he could have tipped off the security on Obal 3 himself. If we’d been caught, he already had a convenient scapegoat locked away to pin the leak on, and any trail leading back to him would have been wiped clean. Which could mean Vilbrandt’s story about being framed is true.
“Once I was free, I headed out here to the Spectras where no one would know me. I needed time to figure out a way to clear myself and send T’Kai where he belongs. Then I met Vitruzzi and Strahan. I overheard them talking to people about the Fortress, trying to find out where it was.”
“Why?”
/> “Didn’t Vitruzzi tell you this? Apparently friends of theirs were arrested for stealing energy and imprisoned there. Vitruzzi wants a copy of the disc because they’re going to attempt a rescue.” He chuckles as if the idea amuses him.
It’s as if a light is switched on, illuminating all the answers I’d been missing. I was right about Vitruzzi. She has a good gig out here as a legally contracted transport ship. She’s not the criminal type, and she’s sure as hell too smart to try and break into the most highly secured installation in the system for some petty thievery. But when you throw people she knows into the mix, people who are friends and allies, it makes sense.
Vilbrandt’s story is too simple, too full of coincidence. I know he’s lying, or at least not telling me everything, and it sets my nerves on edge. “So you just walk over to Vitruzzi and tell her you know where it is? And about the disc? Do I look stupid to you?”
He takes a seat on the bunk, still cradling his shoulder. “But that is what happened. I knew that helping them get the disc would help me clear myself, you see? With a copy, I can turn myself in and prove that T’Kai is responsible for it being leaked in the first place. It’s the only evidence that could possibly carry any weight.”
“And she brought you aboard?”
“Exactly. Once Vitruzzi understood the advantages of having both the disc and someone who knows the Fortress from the inside, she would have done almost anything to have me join her crew. She’s very desperate to save her friends. I’m sure you’re aware of the theories about what happens to human subjects in the Fortress.”
“They aren’t theories.” It’s a statement, not a question. “And you were in charge of that.”
His expression doesn’t change; there’s no remorse in his eyes. “I didn’t choose to be, I simply went where I was assigned, where our government thinks I’m best suited. My own Hobson’s choice, if you like.”
The urge to slap him returns, stronger, but I rein it in.
“I explained the smuggling operation your team planned as I knew it. Vitruzzi is a legal transporter of Admin armaments and arranged a pick-up on Obal 3 the same day. She’d intended to set up a meeting with your crew to negotiate for a copy of the disc, but things turned out differently.”
I listen carefully and have to admit that, laid out like this, the pieces of his story are cohesive, maybe even plausible. Except the part about him escaping the Fortress. “I already told Vitruzzi I’d get a copy for her. So what do you want?”
“It’s simple. I know what your team is planning to steal, and I want to be involved.”
“I thought you wanted to get your career back.”
I don’t miss how quickly he buries the exasperation my remark provokes. “I may or may not be able to prove T’Kai’s involvement, and I could still end up on an examining table with my insides liquefied by some very unpleasant disease for trying. Money is starting to sound much better to me than revenge. And if you cut me in, introduce me to your boss, perhaps we can cut T’Kai out. And I’ll still have my revenge.”
This man, a scientist who had probably ordered more than a few instances of the same kind of research he just described, thinks he can convince me to do something every nerve in my body tells me not to. A visceral knot of resistance tightens in my guts and I don’t bother to hide the threat in my voice. “What is it exactly that you think you know?”
His expression doesn’t change from that same wide-eyed vulnerability, but there’s a shift in his attitude, something subtle. My nerves go on full alert again, as if I’m not talking to a man but a poisonous viper. “The Nova, Erikson. I know about that.”
The spit in my mouth takes on the consistency and taste of oil run through a diesel engine. How does he know so much? Keeping my voice neutral takes some discipline. “Why should Rajcik cut you in? It would be easier to just kill you.”
His voice drops to a sharp, sinister edge, and his expression is vulpine. “I’ve been there. I’m a living map and I can get you in and out of the Fortress faster than any schematic. You must realize, as senior biogenetics researcher, I had full security and administrative clearance. And the time to create back doors.” He gives me a look of impossible hubris. “I can go anywhere I want in the Fortress and no one will ever know.”
I gaze at him levelly. “Bullshit.”
“What good would I be doing myself by lying? Why else would I be trying to get back? T’Kai’s worst mistake was not killing me when he had the chance. And perhaps there are other gems on the Fortress your boss can appreciate. There’s no reason not to help each other.”
You’re a retrograde, sociopathic, Admin rat. That’s plenty reason. I’m not convinced, but if what he says is true, his participation could be the difference between my crew’s success and failure. Rajcik could see it that way too.
“Think about this, Erikson.” His eyes leave my face and begin wandering around the room, as if our conversation is of very little interest to him. The practiced casualness in his voice keeps my attention. “I saw how you handled the security squad in the dock on Obal 3, and you were able to fire one of their weapons. The only way you could do that is you were also Corps, with an active DNA signature tag. A deserter? One of the lucky ones whose records were destroyed during the Rebellion? And your brother also. Am I right?”
I let the silence answer for me, his shrewdness surprising. He may be more dangerous than I realize.
“You know stealing Corps property is a capital offense. And if you are deserters, the Admin is within its rights to sentence you as they see fit. Your brother is a prime candidate to become an R&D test subject. I’d almost bet my life he’s already on his way to the Fortress.”
He lets that sink in, craftily aware of the kind of effect the idea has on me. I hadn’t let myself think that it might be a possibility, but hearing it spoken sends a shockwave through my body that nearly makes me stagger.
His eyes scan my face the way a fly crawls on a wall. “I’m probably the best chance you have to save his life.”
“How the fuck did you get in here?”
We both jump at the grating sound of Strahan’s voice. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes burning furiously, holding a pistol in his right hand.
“Captain Vitruzzi gave me the code.” Vilbrandt quickly rises from my bunk and takes a step backward, away from the menacing edge of Strahan’s gaze. “I thought I could illuminate the situation for Erikson, help her see how important her cooperation is.” The vulnerable, slightly scared expression returns to his face, as if it’s a mask he slips on when needed.
Strahan looks as if he might be contemplating shooting him anyway. “Captain wants us all in the galley. Now.”
Vilbrandt surreptitiously glances at me, his look beseeching. Keep this between us.
I will…for now.
FIVE
As we enter the galley, Venus rushes toward me with her impossibly frenzied energy. Instinctively, I reach for my Sinbad, which isn’t there, uncertain what the girl’s intentions are.
Instead of jumping me, she says, “Hiya. How are you feeling?”
Her friendliness is more unexpected than a fight would be. “Like a planet landed on me.”
Vitruzzi motions me to the table. Handing me a bottle containing half a dozen white pills to dull the lingering, but finally fading, soreness, she says, “Erikson, this is Murdock.” To her left stands the blond man from the control room.
Uncomfortable with the casual introduction to a man I’d nearly killed, if not by accident at least by necessity, I nod meekly. He’s taller and stouter than I’d realized on Obal 3. Stiff bandages still enshroud his neck, but the metal apparatus is gone. One of his lips is swollen, probably from landing on his face when he’d fallen. He lets me stand here for a few seconds without saying anything but then cocks one side of his mouth back in what I take to be a grin. His keen blue eyes light up, the crow’s feet beside them deep, reaching back toward his temples.
“‘Meet ya.” He is clearly strai
ning to force the words from his battered throat.
Self-consciously, I find myself trying to explain, “Uh, look, I’m sorry about…that. I was in trouble and it was, um, just the circumstances.”
“No hard feelings,” he manages to whisper. His voice sounds like sandpaper scraping along wood, barely there. It’s obvious that speaking causes him some pain.
“Hey, what’s a smashed trachea among friends?” Venus trills, giggling. There’s something not right about the kid.
Vitruzzi intervenes, “Everyone listen up. I received a message from Patrick this morning. He set up a trade with smugglers on R’Kadia for a supply of solar seeds, and we’re going to make the exchange. We need as many as we can lay our hands on for the trip to the Fortress. We’ll be within range of R’Kadia in an hour, and should be down in two. The man in charge is named Fitzsimmon. Not a pretty…”
Sirens shriek inside my head, drowning out Vitruzzi. I don’t have time—David doesn’t have time—for us to be making pit stops all over the system! Stay cool, Aly. Vitruzzi is captain here and if she’s like most officers I know, she doesn’t like to be questioned. Let her talk and then try and get her to change her mind when the crew isn’t around.
“We’ll land about fifteen klicks from their complex and take the Rover from there. I’ll drive. Desto and Karl, you’ll come.” She looks at me. “Erikson, I want you to help us.”
My eyebrows aren’t the only ones that rise in surprise. All heads turn toward me. Did I hear her right?
“We’re a gun short with Bodie still recuperating, and we need a replacement.”
“V, you can’t be serious!” Strahan nearly shouts. “We can’t give her a gun! You want to give her a chance to shoot one of us?”
Vilbrandt sits bolt upright in his seat and asks, “Do you really think that is a wise move, Captain? She is nothing but a criminal.” He knows that if something happens to me, he’ll never get a chance to join Rajcik.