Boundary (Field Book 3)

by Simon Winstanley

  “I don’t understand…” he looked between Danny and Cassidy.

  “That guy, Barnes? Remember the one who was spouting all that Exordi enemy crap at the briefing?” she asked Tyler, rhetorically, “He’s been to see Doc’ Smith.”

  “And?” Tyler frowned.

  “She knows about Danny’s super-authentic Exordi head-stamp,” she explained, pointing at Danny’s bandage, “I bet you a month’s ration packs that she’s flapped her mouth off to Barnes.”

  Tyler’s look of mild confusion dissolved into one of understanding.

  “But, Cassidy,” Danny began, “surely the doctor patient conf-”

  “Ha!” she laughed, “That means exactly jack shit to her. Trust me. Doc’ Smith likes to keep her loyalties flexible, ask anyone on base. She was there for Barnes’ speech. If she thinks she’ll get in trouble for ‘aiding an Exordi Nova fugitive’ she won’t have thought twice before selling you out to protect her own future.”

  Danny knew this was likely. In his life before the Node, he’d seen entire communities close ranks to exclude a marked individual. Rather than risk Archive’s accusation of sympathising with the Exordi Nova, communities would shun the marked ones, or in some cases execute them; just to outwardly prove their support of Archive’s goals. The technique was effective and it ensured that Archive continued to deliver food and resources to the remaining desperate people. Danny could see that Caroline had behaved completely predictably.

  Danny saw that Cassidy was considering his bandage and spoke before she could, “I need to ditch this, don’t I?”

  “Yep,” Cassidy turned to Tyler, “Ty, can you give him your cap?”

  They retreated along a curved section of corridor and into an unoccupied side room, where Danny began to remove the bandage. In places, the gauze had stuck to the wound, causing him to wince as it separated from his skin. Once fully exposed to the air, the livid red, circular burn began to sting afresh. Ignoring the fire from his forehead, he flattened his hair into place over the symbol. The last time he’d done that, men had descended on ropes from a helicopter and killed his friends.

  Almost empathetically mirroring his actions, Cassidy appeared to be flattening the pink hair that fell easily over her own forehead. The memory of Sophie surfaced again, but Danny forced himself to suppress the thought. Cassidy took a step forward and, carefully placing Tyler’s cap on Danny’s head, adjusted the tightening strap.

  “Tighter,” Danny said.

  “OK, but it’s gonna sting like f-”

  “Tighter. Please,” he interrupted, “I don’t want this thing falling off.”

  Seeking a counterbalance for his physical pain, he channelled his emotions into useful anger.

  Anonymous men had always directed his life.

  Men like Napier and Barnes had twisted his world into a seething mass of distrust; they’d given rise to the faceless systems of control. The mark on his head was a direct result of their choices and justifications.

  “Tighter.”

  Aboard the Node, Danny could see that the mark would once again be used to control him and those close to him. It would also become the basis for controlling the Node’s occupants. The perpetuation of fear, forcing reaction rather than thought. Life would become as brutal as the streets he’d left behind.

  “Enough,” he spoke his thoughts aloud, and Cassidy stopped tightening. The words Exordi Nova, meaning New Beginning, had never had a stronger resonance with him.

  “OK,” said Cassidy, “You’re sure that’s not too tight?”

  Though the pain was still present, the cap’s constrictive pressure made it less distinguishable.

  “It’s exactly what I need,” he looked down at the old bandage in his hands, “I think I need a change of clothes.”

  Aside from Tyler’s cap, Danny was still wearing the same clothes that he’d arrived in.

  “I gave you my cap,” Tyler mocked him, “but I’m keeping my shirt and pants!”

  Danny found himself smiling at them both.

  “We can get you some spare clothes from supplies,” Cassidy followed up, “something more… background.”

  Danny remembered something that Cassidy had said several hours ago in her quarters.

  “You said that Walker arrived here at the last minute?”

  “Literally,” Cassidy frowned, “Why?”

  “I’m thinking that, like me, she doesn’t have much to wear,” Danny replied.

  Cassidy looked at him askew.

  “So, now you’re suddenly concerned with Kate Walker’s lack of available wardrobe?”

  “Look, let me backtrack a bit,” Danny held up his hands, “We don’t know for sure if Barnes killed my father because of this genetic thing I supposedly have, but Barnes has made a point of visiting Kate in the infirmary. She could be in danger too.”

  “OK…” said Cassidy, hesitantly.

  “Clearly I can’t risk handing her the note,” Danny continued, “but if the note could somehow find its way into a gift package of clothes…”

  “Hmm,” Tyler considered the idea, “She might not find it straight away.”

  “True,” Danny conceded, “but she would get it.”

  “It might be the safest thing to do,” said Cassidy, “Look, the Node’s a closed system, nobody’s going anywhere. We’d just need to wait.”

  CLOSED SYSTEM

  20th March 2015

  Following the successful test of artificial gravity, the slow spin imparted to the station had been brought to rest and the ISS was once more in zero gravity conditions. Dr. Chen again had the freedom to roam the station and was in Module Alpha. This was the first module to be completed and contained the ISS workshop; a series of conventional tooling solutions and more modern 3D fabricator units. The units themselves could be supplied with a variety of raw materials, which allowed the crew to manufacture a wide range of three dimensional components as needed.

  As a component was completed, a subtle tone sounded within Dr. Chen’s ear.

  “Yes, Fai?”

  “This process is inefficient, Father.”

  Although the vocal quality of her speech synthesis had not changed, he thought he detected a slight increase in the speed of its delivery. The word ‘impatience’ crossed his mind, but he reminded himself that he was talking to an artificial intelligence, not a person; she was making an efficiency by increasing her communication rate. She was still contained within his private server aboard the ISS, but he thought he would verify these limits.

  “Your analysis,” he checked, “Is this based on the machine code of the printing program?”

  After a fractional delay, her voice returned.

  “My analysis of the consumed resources, power consumption and elapsed time to complete this recording buoy component, shows that far greater efficiencies could be made.”

  He spotted the approach of the ego-morph at the entrance to the module, so tapped his ear twice to silence Fai.

  “Mr. Benton, for the good of mankind,” he reinforced the control phrase, “has Dr. Bergstrom completed her work?”

  “Yes,” he replied, navigating his way along the module, “The Field calculations are fully configured for the ISS emitters.”

  “My knowledge of Dr. Bergstrom’s Field work might allow me to make that judgement, but I’m impressed that you could interpret the equations so thoroughly.”

  “My apologies,” he frowned, “I have no working knowledge beyond the basic concept of the Chronomagnetic Field. Upon questioning, Dr. Bergstrom displayed no signs of deception or concealment. Her pupil dilation, vocal stresses, breathing rate and secondary musculature reactions were consistent with someone delivering factually accurate statements.”

  “I see. The Eversion solutions, has she -”

  He was interrupted by a deep shudder that passed through the module, it was followed by the sound of distant bleeps. Pushing away from the fabricator, he arrived at the outer wall and activated the closest communication panel.<
br />
  “Commander Lincoln, report!”

  After waiting several seconds he was about to try again, when a panicked-looking Valery Hill jarred to a halt at the module entrance.

  “Life-support failure!” she shouted.

  “Mr. Benton,” he turned to the ego-morph, “Find Charles Lincoln, tell him to meet me at the cupola.”

  The ego-morph nodded and swiftly projected himself in the direction of the airlock. Valery pushed herself to one side to allow him to exit, then joined Dr. Chen.

  “The Sabatier reactor’s screwed!” she shouted, showing him a tablet screen, “Water recovery from our carbon dioxide - gone - methane pyrolysis hydrogen extraction - gone…”

  There didn’t appear to be any decompression or fire warnings, but the schematic diagram before him was awash with a mass of red flashing highlights. The safety protocols should have prevented this from occurring, which left him with the uncomfortable feeling that this had been an act of sabotage.

  Fai’s voice returned in his ear.

  “Father, let me help.”

  As he watched the display, more red highlights began popping up.

  “Father, grant me administrative permissions for the ISS. I am ready. I can help the crew.”

  Another, smaller, vibration reached them.

  “Valery,” he began, “I have always trusted you, and owe you much, so I am sorry I could not inform you of this earlier.”

  Valery looked confused at his reply to her report.

  “Fai?” Dr. Chen said to the open air.

  “What?” Valery struggled, “I didn’t quite-”

  He held up a hand to stop her speaking.

  “Fai,” he spoke aloud again, “Access granted. Authorisation, Chen Tai.”

  There was a drop in the pitch of the circulatory system that ran throughout the module and the lighting dimmed temporarily. The communication panel near the airlock door emitted a discreet tone, then Fai’s voice projected throughout the vast chamber.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  The echo of her voice receded, leaving Module Alpha in silence.

  One by one, the red highlights on the schematic disappeared, until only a few remained.

  “I have slowed the immediate spread of failures.”

  “Thank you, Fai.”

  Valery was staring at him through narrowed eyes, her clenched teeth visible as she spoke.

  “You’ve been in contact with Earth this whole time?”

  “No. All communication with Earth is dead.”

  “Bullshit!” she shouted, “Then where’s your… your daughter?”

  “Valery, there is much for me to explain. Fai is -”

  “Father,” Fai interrupted, “Situation critical. I must seal Module Alpha and Module Gamma immediately. I am directing all crew to Module Beta.”

  Indeed, he could now faintly hear Fai’s voice in a distant part of the station, instructing the rest of the crew. This voice continued to repeat its message, while Fai also addressed him individually through the closest speaker.

  “Father, I will explain when you all reach Module Beta. Go now.”

  •

  It didn’t take Miles long to locate Charles Lincoln. The RTO module that had been used to return the FLC crew from the shattered Moon, was still docked with the end of the central axis modules of the ISS. Miles could see Charles within it; the vacant expression and the smudges of blood on the inside of the small glass porthole told him that Charles was already dead.

  In his former duties as an ego-morph, he’d encountered death numerous times; very often being the one to have caused his subject’s so-called natural death or suicide.

  This incident was fundamentally different.

  Since Anna had used the ‘Silver Coin’ cues to subdue his analytical alter-ego, he was experiencing heightened emotions. The death before him made him feel fear; something that the ego-morph within did not have to contend with. Previous experience told Miles that his alter-ego could only return when he fell asleep; the metathene delivery through the wristband interface of the hibernation bay seemed to reset the alter-ego’s dominance. But for now, Miles was in control.

  To preserve his cover, and also Anna’s, he knew he’d need to report his findings to Dr. Chen. This meant overcoming his natural inclination to back away. It also meant analysing the situation to the best of his current abilities.

  The air pressure display told him that the atmosphere within the RTO had been purposefully bled into space. At surface level, the timing and evidence before him suggested that Charles had sabotaged the life-support system, then disabled the safety protocols in order to commit suicide. Miles knew from experience that there was a far more probable solution. Someone aboard the ISS had acted impulsively and killed him.

  Although Miles was essentially a mental passenger for most of the time, he experienced and recalled everything that occurred. It was a source of continual frustration, but one that now allowed Miles to eliminate himself from the list of possible murder suspects.

  Steeling himself against the sight, he peered through the porthole and studied the body during its slow, weightless drift through one revolution.

  On the ball of Charles’ right foot, the white sock was bloodstained, but the stain lacked a denser central spot, so presumably the blood had not originated there. The knuckles of both hands had fresh cuts, and his palms were smeared with a coating of blood; again, there were no wounds there, so Miles surmised that Charles must have cradled his bleeding knuckles after injuring them.

  The blood smears on the porthole now made sense; he’d been punching at the reinforced glass. The bloodstained sock seemed to suggest that he’d also kicked at the bloodied glass.

  Charles continued his slow, inanimate spin; his bloodshot eyes vacantly staring out. A wide smear of blood lay across his left cheek, while a thumbprint stained the right.

  At some point, the amount of breathable oxygen had dipped below critical and Charles had asphyxiated, but Miles could see that this had not been immediate. From the smeared stains on the cheeks, he could easily visualise Charles using his right hand to physically hold in his breath.

  No, he realised, this image was wrong. The amount of blood on the face was small in comparison to the amount on the right palm. This palm-print had occurred earlier in the sequence of events, before the blood had time to flow properly.

  Miles found himself absentmindedly stroking his chin in thought, and suddenly realised that the smear marks on the cheeks were because Charles had been doing the same. In his final moments, Charles had been trying to work something out.

  Miles summarised what he knew of Charles’ situation. The RTO communication panel and door must both have been disabled, which had prompted Charles to punch and kick at the glass in order to raise attention. This had failed and when the atmosphere had begun to drain, Charles must have known what was about to happen.

  Miles knew that if he’d been placed in the same situation, he would want to warn others somehow. Following this idea, Miles looked beyond the body to the interior of the RTO module itself.

  In a few places, there were congealed droplets of blood, where it had drifted and adhered to the consoles.

  His eyes suddenly identified a pattern.

  If the interior illumination of the RTO module had been slightly brighter, he would have seen it earlier. The orientation of the symbol was the wrong way up, but in zero gravity Miles knew that was entirely subjective.

  As a last act, Charles Lincoln had drawn the symbol of the Exordi Nova across the console’s switches and displays, using the blood dripping from his own fingers.

  Miles jumped in fright as the communication panel behind him emitted a brief tone, then a voice he didn’t recognise delivered a message that continued to repeat.

  “Emergency. Proceed to Module Beta.”

  Miles looked in through the porthole one last time and mentally took note of the latitude and longitude indicated on the panel at the centre of the Exordi N
ova symbol. Charles had used his own blood to highlight these figures, purposefully using the symbol to ensure that the crew focussed on his final message.

  Miles’ metathene-fuelled alter-ego would probably have made light work of identifying the coordinates. There was a familiarity to them, but currently the meaning was just out of reach.

  As Miles turned away from the RTO module, he considered the situation ahead; the ISS was a closed system which meant that the killer would be one of those assembled in Module Beta.

  •

  As the ego-morph made his way through the mass of people gathered in the large chamber, Dr. Chen could tell there was something wrong.

  “Mr. Benton, where is Charles Lincoln?”

  “He is in the RTO module.”

  “Did he not hear the emergency announcement?”

  The ego-morph seemed unsure if he should speak in front of Valery who had not left his side.

  “Anything you have to say to me, you can say to her,” Dr. Chen reassured him, “that is an order.”

  “Very well,” he replied in a low tone, “he did not hear the announcement. There was a failure within the RTO module. I must inform you that Charles Lincoln is dead.”

  At his side, Valery let out a yelp and clapped her hand over her mouth. This caused others nearby to turn and face them.

  “No!” she cried out, “Dead? He can’t…”

  Within a few seconds the word ‘dead’ was rippling through the crew, causing them to noisily converge on the source of the news.

  “Dr. Chen, I cannot rule out the possibility of life-support sabotage at this point.”

  “I knew him!” Valery suddenly snapped, “He would never do that!”

  The general murmurs grew in volume, above which Valery suddenly pointed towards the crew of the FLC, who were floating next to each other.

  “You!”

  “Hey,” said Cathy pointing back at her, perhaps realising the accusation that was to come, “now you wait a minute!”

  “You did all of this! You sabotaged -”

  “Oh, come on -” Mike began protesting.

  “No! He always thought you lot were bad news!” Valery tensed her legs against the side wall, “Did you all work together?”