by P. R. Adams
Rimes returned to the cargo bay to inspect something that had caught his attention. He squatted next to a spray of sand-covered, symmetrical contours. He carefully brushed the sand off the larger pieces, revealing tools and components. After inspecting those, he tilted the smaller ones until the sand fell free, then he replaced them in their silhouettes. For the most part, everything was brightly polished stainless steel—screws, fittings, pipes, rods, and globes.
His stomach sank at what he thought he might be looking at.
He opened a private channel to Meyers. “Meyers, you might want to take a look at this.” Static roared in reply. We need to seal the airlock if we want shielding from this dead zone.
“Say again?”
Rimes shifted slightly, and the static seemed to diminish. “You need to see this when you get in the cargo bay.”
When Meyers jogged through the airlock, Rimes waved him forward, then backed away from the components. As Meyers inspected the find, Rimes watched the sand lazily drifting over the featureless terrain outside.
What happened here?
Fontana and Andrea walked by, stopping momentarily to see what he was looking at. Watanabe paused on the ramp, looking over her shoulder curiously. When she saw nothing, she entered the dark, cavernous bay.
From his position at the bottom of the ship’s central shaft, Munoz looked at the random array of anonymous metal components Meyers was hunched over. “Hey, Meyers, what is it?”
Meyers ignored Munoz for the moment, carefully picking components up from various points in the pile and fitting them together. After joining several pieces, Meyers set them down and released a heavy sigh. “Someone took the reactor apart.”
“That’s the reactor?” Munoz’s voice boomed in the huge space.
Meyers picked up one of the pieces he’d assembled. “Not the whole thing, no. But it’s enough of it to render the rest useless.” His voice trailed off as he set the assembly on the ground. He pointed at several of the rods and fittings visible atop the sand. “This is part of the beam assembly.”
Meyers stood and looked around, stopping when he spotted a radiation symbol on a door a few meters forward of the components. His shoulders sagged as he sealed his environment suit and opened the door. He looked inside at the airlock for a moment, then stepped in, disappearing from sight. The door hissed closed behind him.
Rimes positioned himself so he could see out the airlock to the desert beyond with a slight tilt of his head or could watch the reactor airlock door with a tilt in the other direction. Meyers’s state of mind was troubling. They were all stressed out and fatigued.
We need something to keep us going.
Rimes waved Watanabe over. “Can you head up to the cockpit, check the systems and batteries? The hull’s PV coating looked intact, so the ship should have enough power for basic functionality. At least that and the heat transfer mechanisms seem to work in this dead zone.”
Watanabe just stared at the reactor components for a moment. The realization yet another escape option was gone hit her hard.
“Lieutenant?”
Watanabe closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes, of course.” She headed for the ladder to the upper deck, squeezing past Munoz, then disappeared up the ladder.
Munoz continued to stare at the reactor components, seemingly entranced.
Theroux stepped from the shadows behind Munoz, frowning. “I thought he said this was our best chance?” The final run had drained the color from Theroux’s waxy skin. It was returning now.
“That was based off footage shot weeks ago.” Rimes heard the defensive tone in his own voice. Steady. They don’t need you freaking out. “I asked him to make an assessment based off limited intel and he did. If we were airborne right now, no one would be saying a thing.”
“Well, we aren't airborne, Captain.” Theroux sounded impatient and frustrated.
The reactor airlock door opened and Meyers stepped out, visibly shaken, his forefingers tapping rapidly against his thumbs. He stared straight ahead for several seconds, then he sighed quietly and straightened. After a second, he joined Rimes by the outside airlock. “The fuel’s gone, just like the shuttle. Someone disassembled the beams. It’s like they were trying to…repair it?” Meyers’s gaze fell to the components lying in the sand. “It makes a crazy sort of sense, I guess. Maybe the reactor suffered some damage or threw some errors. There’s no way to tell without the logs, and they’ve been erased. But it’s like whoever did this was…distracted or something.”
“Distracted?” Rimes didn’t know what a stripped out fusion reactor should look like or how someone could tell if it had been stripped by someone distracted rather than someone focused, but he trusted Meyers. It all looked so much more mechanical than expected.
Meyers walked over to one of the assemblies and scooped it up. “This was spread out over the entire area here. You’d want to keep your components together, aligned in the order they fit. No one would even think of taking this sort of task on without training, video, and…“
How desperate would someone have to be to try tear apart a reactor and repair it in the middle of nowhere. “So it’s not the work of an expert?”
“Honestly, I’m not even sure it’s the work of a sane person. The level of complexity, the exacting requirements this sort of thing calls for. It’s like some sort of compulsive drive just…” He set the assembly down and shrugged, a humorless laugh escaping before he closed his mouth it.
Rimes opened a channel to the entire team. “I want a check, right now. Everyone, sound off.”
“Munoz.”
“Watanabe.”
“Kershaw.”
“Sung, Captain.”
“Meyers.”
“This—this is Fontana.”
Rimes looked at Theroux and Andrea, the only two who weren’t under his command. They were a complication. If things began to fall apart—if things began to fall apart worse—they would need discipline and structure to survive. Theroux and Andrea…“Watanabe, how’re the batteries? Kershaw, Sung, anything?”
“The ship’s empty, sir.” Kershaw’s voice had an uncomfortable edge to it; the situation was finally getting to him. “No sign of recent occupation. There’s food and water in the galley. A couple of the cabins have some messy clothes. Nothing recent. I don’t think anyone’s been here for weeks.”
“Batteries are fully charged.” Watanabe’s voice was steady. “Systems appear functional.”
Rimes rubbed his forehead. Disassemble the reactor and steal the fuel, but leave everything else alone? Why? “It looks intact? No sign of damage, like someone took something apart or tried to destroy it?” He simultaneously hoped for and against a pattern.
Watanabe was silent for a moment. “I do not see anything wrong.” The soft sound of taps on the instrument display panel leaked over the connection. “Everything is intact.”
I’m missing something. “Watanabe, hook up with Kershaw and Sung for the moment. Kershaw, you and Sung keep your eyes and ears open and stay close to each other.” Rimes looked at the others—Munoz, Meyers, Theroux, Andrea. Are they about to fall apart? Are we all about to start taking the ship apart? Each other? “I want everyone to stay close. Don’t wander off alone. Pair up at a minimum.”
Theroux’s eyes narrowed. His face was inscrutable. “What are you doing?”
Rimes sighed. “A yacht like this holds a crew of what? Six? Seven at a minimum? Up to twenty. The Commandos from that shuttle and the two pilots—that’s another ten people, so anywhere from sixteen to thirty people, but not a single person around.”
Theroux’s eyes jumped from Rimes to Meyers to Munoz, then to Fontana and Andrea. “So, one of them went mad, killed everyone, and tore the reactor apart?”
“We don’t have enough information to form any sort of ideas yet. What I do know is that we have two empty ships, and we have two reactors rendered useless. They left food and water behind. They modified an SOS on a military ship to transmit a civili
an signal.” Rimes pointed at the scattered reactor components. “We haven’t found any signs of violence, just the reactors being torn apart.”
“What’s your point, Captain?”
“Maybe one of them went nuts, or maybe they all did. Something in the atmosphere here is messing with our suits. Maybe there’s more to it than electronics. Maybe it’s a disease or a parasite or something. Whatever it is, the ship hulls seem to have enough shielding to protect the equipment. Put all that together, does anything stand out to you? Do you see any sort of obvious threats?”
Theroux relaxed slightly. “No, nothing obvious. But we need to make a decision soon.”
“We’ve got time.”
“No, we don't have time. We need to make a decision, Captain. Now. We can't keep running.” He jerked his head toward Andrea. “Her friends are going to catch us if we stay here, just like they did at the shuttle.”
Rimes returned his gaze to the blowing sand. Theroux was right: the genies were out there, and they were coming. And yet, Rimes couldn't bring himself to simply set up an ambush. Or to seal themselves up inside the Tesla and wait out the battle in space above.
“Captain Rimes?” Theroux's tone was demanding, angry. He leaned into Rimes's space.
“Okay. We seal up the Tesla. We lock it down and wait for the Valdez to come for us.” Rimes took comfort in the slightest hint of acceptance in Theroux's eyes. The comfort was fleeting, though. Theroux's concern was exclusively about the genies; Rimes wasn't even sure the genies were the real threat.
36
30 October, 2167. Fourth planet of the COROT-7 system.
* * *
Rimes paced the cargo bay, distractedly swatting at the dancing cargo straps each time he passed them, then listening for the clatter of them clanging off the bulkhead. He glanced through the airlock again, watching distant dust devils spin and die. A daydream gripped him for a moment, a sense of displacement, of disconnect: he wandered the desert alone, lost, the sky filled with lightning, his ears pummeled by the deafening crash of thunder. It was like being in Kwon's mind all over again. He shook free of the dream after a moment and turned to watch the others.
With everyone gathered in the bay, the ship felt smaller, the air thicker and heavier with the sulfuric stench and their own body odor.
Theroux’s judging eyes almost glowed in the darkness.
Before Theroux could speak, Rimes held up a hand. “We hold out here. Worst case scenario, we’ll wait the genies out. They’ve got to be close to collapse already.”
Andrea looked away, but she tensed perceptibly.
Theroux settled to the sand-covered floor. “Make ourselves at home then?”
“We’ll do a thorough sweep of the vessel and secure all the entries. Once we’re sure it’s safe, we’ll move folks to the quarters. First things first, though: we need to raise the Valdez.” Rimes looked at Meyers. “Take Kershaw, Sung, and Watanabe. Check out the cockpit. Run through the systems. Maybe they’ve got some video of what happened here. See if you can raise the Valdez. Give them an update on our situation.”
Munoz moved to let Meyers and his team up the ladder. “What about me, Captain?” Munoz looked ready to snap. After all the physical exertion, suddenly finding himself on guard duty was getting to him.
“Miss Fontana needs someone to watch over her while she rests.” Rimes smiled hopefully at Fontana.
“That—that would be nice.” Fontana forced a grin, but there was no hiding the pain in her eyes. The trek across the desert had left her too tired to dwell on Durban’s death, but in the quiet of the yacht, there was no running. She crossed her arms and shivered.
Rimes wished he could think of something to reassure Fontana that everything would be fine, but he wasn’t even sure he knew what she was feeling. She was a genie, and her relationship with Durban wasn’t something Rimes could really understand. “I’ll check the forward hold. This ship was carrying a lot of cargo. Looks like someone took most of it. I want to know what else they have onboard.”
Andrea stepped forward, left hand held out, as if inviting him to take it. “I will go with you.”
“Fine.” Rimes leaned in close to Munoz and whispered, “Keep an eye on Theroux.”
Munoz smiled reassuringly. He shifted closer to Fontana as she settled to the floor a meter from Theroux.
Rimes headed for the forward hold; Andrea followed, smiling, a lioness with her kill. She sauntered past Munoz, pressing herself against him as she passed. He leered until he caught Rimes’s admonishing look.
Three hatches were located port, starboard, and forward.
Rimes checked the port hatch first. It opened onto a maintenance area—lockers, tools, a couple workbenches, and assorted pipes, conduits, and panels of metal and other materials. He popped open two of the lockers: canisters of sealants, epoxies, and other chemicals secured in foam.
The starboard storage area was smaller. It abutted the upper section of the reactor. There were no surprises there, either: more tools, atmospheric suits, and other gear for hull work.
Andrea hung close the whole time he searched. Too close.
Rimes tried to ignore her as much as he could. Even without her presence, the yacht felt claustrophobic.
He opened the forward hatch and entered. The hold was nearly ten meters long, eight meters wide, and roughly four meters floor to ceiling. Heavy straps ran from anchors along the bulkhead and into channels in the storage cases, securing them to the bulkhead and to adjacent cases. Labels and computerized tags declared the contents: food, spares, and expendables.
Andrea squeezed past and looked around, running her hand over some of the storage cases before turning to stare at Rimes. “You trust me not to attack you in here where no one could hear?”
Rimes tapped his earpiece. “We’ve got comms.”
She tangled her hands in the cargo straps and closed her eyes. “Maybe you feel you can overcome me?”
Rimes looked away. He tried to squeeze past her, but she threw her arms over his shoulders, gripping the back of his head and pulling him close. She kissed him passionately, thrusting her tongue against his lips, her hips against his hips. For a moment he lost any interest in resisting. It was an animalistic experience, intense and raw. Finally, he pushed away.
He looked down, struggling to catch his breath.
This isn’t me. I can’t even tell if it’s really her.
“Andrea, look, you were born to your role. You didn’t have any choice about what you’d become. I’ve chosen my role, but I don’t really have any choice about what I’ve become, either.” There was a fiery, primal passion in her eyes he couldn’t understand but wished he could. Why the intense attraction? Is it a ploy to gain my trust?
Andrea looked away angrily. “You have a choice. Your mate can’t give you what I can. She’s frail, weak. Stay with them and you’re doomed. The humans won’t last another century. Come with me and be a part of the future.”
“Andrea, look at what’s happened here. If we don’t work together—right here, right now—we may not last another night. Tell me the truth: this isn’t your people’s work. Whatever this is—some sort of biological vector, maybe radiation—it’s a danger to us all.” When she refused to look at him, he touched her shoulder. Softly, then firmly. “Andrea, please. If I’m right, everyone is at risk. I think you’re being used.”
Andrea snorted defiantly. “Used? We control our destiny. I don’t know why someone would disassemble a reactor. I don’t know where these people are. We didn’t do this.”
Rimes gently pushed her aside and returned to searching the hold, checking each crate. He touched each one, as if that might be enough to know their contents with certainty. He even went so far as to open a few and examine the interior.
Andrea assisted, shaking several containers, sniffing at a few others. Finally, Rimes exited. Andrea followed.
Rimes walked over to the portside hatch and locked it down. He did the same to the starboard hatch,
then he scanned the hold one last time. Nothing obvious jumped out to him.
He sealed the forward hold.
Andrea took his hand. “Why would you say we’re being used?”
Rimes stared at her hand for a moment before responding. “When you stole the Erikson, what were you after?”
“It’s a large vessel and it was heavily stocked with supplies. Why wouldn’t we take it?”
Rimes locked eyes with her. “How did you even know about it? It’s not the sort of thing ADMP would advertise.”
“Many of us were created by ADMP. We’re not ignorant of its inner workings. The Erikson had a big enough budget to catch our attention years ago, when we were planning our escape.”
Rimes thought for a moment; her explanation made perfect sense. “All right. So you stole it for your own use. Why bring it all the way out here, though? Why not take it and go?”
“We needed to stop your hunt.” Her voice was flat, her features almost frozen. “Drawing you here in ambush seemed ideal.”
For the first time, Rimes felt he was seeing an attempt at deception. He smiled. “I don’t think so. Here’s what I think: I think you stumbled upon the ship’s mission and you couldn’t help wondering why ADMP would send a ship like this out to a barren world that, by all accounts, held negligible value. I think you couldn’t figure out what they were after before we arrived and you were caught between abandoning this little mystery or trying to lure us into a trap. At the end of the day, curiosity and greed got the best of you and you decided to go with the trap.”
Andrea’s features once again became unreadable. “You sound like you’ve figured everything out. Now all you need is to find your missing people.”
“Curiosity and greed are very human traits, don’t you think?” Rimes pressed closer to her, and she didn’t pull away.