“Ten seconds. Who are they?” David asked.
Carla swallowed hard and rattled off their names in quick succession. “Vasily Abramovich, Joyce Martin, Viktor Panin, Natalia Panin.”
Despite himself, David stared at her, eyes wide. Of all the people in the galaxy, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d expected less.
“Vasily? Joyce? They’re your crew?”
Carla let out a shuddering breath and licked her lips. “Yes. We wanted the best, and they couldn’t resist our offer.”
David’s mind seemed to run in slow motion as he took this in. Joyce. And Vasily. They’re here. He glanced at John and Nigel, who looked as stunned as he felt. He turned back to Carla. “How long have they got?”
Carla cleared her throat. “I, er …” She looked down.
“How high is the ship’s orbit?” John asked.
“Two hundred and seventy kilometers,” Carla replied.
John turned to David. “Weeks, if we’re lucky. It might only be days.”
David gave Carla a hard stare. “Just when did you plan to raise their orbit?”
Carla glanced to one side, and he knew.
“You didn’t plan to raise it at all, did you? Instead you intended to let the ship burn, and them with it!”
Carla shook her head. “No, I swear! As soon as we settled our differences and signed an agreement, we would have done it!”
David severely doubted that, but he couldn’t afford to ignore her.
Not now.
The expression on her face told him she understood that as well as he did.
“Come with me now and raise the ship’s orbit and we’ll let you live, under guard. That’s the only offer you’ll get.”
She hesitated. “It’s not that simple.”
“Explain.”
She looked him in the eye. “The ship’s engines can only be enabled by Edward. Nothing can save the ship now, all you can do is save the crew. You’ll have to go and get them.”
“So what do you think?” David asked.
John snorted. “I think she’d say anything to save her miserable skin, that’s what.”
The Haven council, less Grace, had gathered. Seven battle-weary people who nonetheless had not a moment to lose.
“She did tell the truth about the Inspiration,” Nathalie said. “It’s where she said it would be. I’ve checked.”
“And we can’t take the risk that she’s lying about the crew,” David finished.
“Could she be right? That Vasily and Joyce and Viktor and Natalia are up there?” Heidi asked. “It seems – unbelievable.”
David shook his head. “It’s quite believable. It’s the sort of thing Harper would have done. Don’t forget, stasis technology had become more common. They might have been keeping them on ice for decades.”
They all looked stunned. After the last few days, they wanted to rest and lick their wounds, but instead they’d plunged from one crisis to another.
“We’re going,” David said, his expression daring anyone to disagree. “We can’t take the risk she’s lying. We can’t let them burn, no matter who they are.”
The others nodded and murmured their agreement.
“I found something odd about the Inspiration when I checked on it,” Nathalie said.
David raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, odd?”
“Do you remember before they arrived, what they said about their primary communications array?”
“That it suffered damage on the voyage? So they couldn’t tell us until the last minute they were coming?”
Nathalie nodded. “Oui.”
David raised his chin. “They lied, didn’t they?”
Nathalie nodded. “It’s still intact. But that’s not all.”
Everyone leaned forward, weariness forgotten for a moment.
“Go on,” David said.
Nathalie took a breath. “Two hours ago, the ship moved. It fired thrusters to reorient itself, then shifted its comms array to point somewhere different.”
“Earth,” David said. “It’s pointing at the Earth, isn’t it?”
Nathalie’s eyes widened, but she nodded affirmation. “Oui, Earth.”
“And then?”
Nathalie looked up and glanced at the others sitting around the table. “It’s been transmitting non-stop since then. I can’t tell what, the message is encrypted. All I can tell is the same message is being repeated, over and over.”
A silence fell as they digested this information.
“When did you say it started transmitting?” John asked.
“Two hours ago. Two hours and ten minutes, to be exact.”
John checked his phone and raised his eyebrows. “That’s just after Edward died.”
Veronika voiced what they all thought. “What could it mean? Is it a coincidence? How could the ship know?”
David shook his head, although his mind churned. “Who knows? Probably. The ship might have just been performing a pre-programmed task, to send telemetry data home.”
The others exchanged uneasy looks, telegraphing that they didn’t think that likely. John shook his head.
David closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Someone yawned and it spread like a contagion. “Go home,” David said. “Sleep late. We need to be fresh tomorrow.”
But he knew sleep would be hard won tonight.
Dawn broke over a Haven sodden with rain and heavy of heart.
They were all suffering in some way from the events of the night before. Everyone had observed at least some of the action, even if from the front window of their house. Most had been in the park, had seen people with guns and been at risk of injury. Many of those had seen Carla shoot Edward, an act most considered to be at best manslaughter, at worst murder.
Joyce had survived, but at terrible cost, traumatized by what had happened to her and the thought of what else could have happened. Vasily had to come to terms with shooting a man. Both twins had lost their mother in tragic circumstances. Joyce’s heart ached for her mother. She needed her now. She wanted to bury her face in her shoulder and feel her stroke her hair. She felt as if one of her limbs had been severed, as if her tears would never stop. David did his best, but she sensed his own sorrow, saw the change in his eyes. She wanted her mother, needed her mother.
Elizabeth didn’t understand how she could hurt so much. She had her mother and father to comfort her, but she had convinced herself she’d caused Grace’s death by trying to stop her being kidnapped. She plumbed the depths of despair and guilt every waking minute.
David had lost Grace.
He didn’t try and deceive himself she might live – the raw memory of her dying in his arms would haunt his dreams forever. Far, far back in his mind the faintest glimmer of hope sparkled, but he took that and the despair that threatened to overwhelm him and locked it behind a door of icy steel. His family needed him now. His colony needed him. He would take care of himself later, after they rescued the crew of the Inspiration and he had time to grieve.
The temptation to let the next day slide by while they licked their wounds almost overwhelmed them, but David would have none of it.
“We don’t have time,” he said. “The Inspiration hasn’t any time to spare, so neither does its crew. We need to come together now and work to save them, and by saving them, save ourselves.”
He called for a meeting in the park, mid-morning, no exceptions. He doubted anyone would have stayed away in any case. They all needed to talk about last night and find out for sure what had happened.
They gathered in small groups, down by the shore of the lake. No one wanted to be near the pavilion, not after last night. David didn’t blame them. They’d taken Edward’s body away and scrubbed his blood and brains from the floor, but some stains can never be erased from the fabric of memory.
He looked toward the open wall of the building that had formed such a central part of their lives, and grieved for happy memories sullied by violence.
�
�We’ll pull it down,” he said, not realizing he’d spoken aloud until he saw people turn their heads. He looked at their faces. They were, even now, separated into their groups, some of them Edward’s supporters.
“We’ll pull the pavilion down,” he said, louder this time. “After last night, it’s no longer a place any of us want to be. We’ll pull it down and plant a memorial garden. Together, we’ll build a new pavilion, over here.”
He could hear murmurs of agreement, and even Edward’s group looked as if they approved.
“What happened here last night, and in the days preceding, can only be described as tragic,” David said. “For the first time in Haven, we saw criminal acts. We saw the population of Haven divided and turned against each other. Three people have died, and others are injured.”
He looked at their faces, all of them now citizens of Haven.
“We need a new start. From this lowest of places, we need to ascend to a new future. It’s time – time to stop any hint of division between the people of Haven. There can be no originals, no newcomers, no ‘them’, no ‘us’. We’re all one people now, all ‘us’ together.”
David could see agreement from most. Some looked doubtful, and a few, including Heinrich Schick, looked unhappy.
“You may have heard rumors that we’ve killed Carla Lewis. I assure you that’s not true.”
Some in the crowd seemed to think that unfortunate, judging from the growls of disapproval.
“She is now being held in custody, in the same place she and Edward held us until last night, awaiting a decision on her future by Haven’s council. Which brings me to the subject of governance of this colony. When we left Earth in 2063, we came with comprehensive systems, developed on Earth, to establish a colonial government. Until now, we didn’t need these – we governed Haven with a council comprising the original eight. For us, it’s been like an extended family, and we haven’t needed anything more formal. Now, there are more of us and wider representation is needed.
“Right now, I’m pleased to announce we’ve appointed two new permanent council members – Kevin van Zyl and Ernie Blackman.”
David paused, glad to see approval of their choices, even some applause. “The purpose of the council is to lead the colony through the current crisis and recommend a new form of representative government that can grow as our population grows. I promise you will all have a say in how this government is shaped.”
“Why should we believe you?” Heinrich asked.
David caught and held Heinrich’s eyes. “To be brutally honest, Mr. Schick, because you have no other option. I’ll either keep my word, or I won’t – either way there isn’t much you can do about it. However, I will say this: ask around, and see how many people tell you about the time David Miller broke his word. You won’t find any.”
“Damn right,” said a voice from the crowd, which David identified, to his surprise, as Barnaby Kendell’s. “He saved all our asses last night, and that’s good enough for me.”
“And me!” said another, until everyone seem to line up to voice support.
Heinrich hesitated a little, then to David’s surprise he nodded. “I suppose we will see, Mr. Miller.”
David knew better than to think he’d forgiven him for his treatment at David’s hands last night, but perhaps he could hope that even Heinrich would listen to reason.
He paused a moment, then resumed speaking.
“There is one urgent, serious matter I need to raise today. As much as I would like to declare a holiday to give all of us time to recover, we’ve learned something from Carla Lewis that changes everything. Some of you may have heard this already, or guessed, but what Carla revealed is that the crew of the Inspiration is still aboard the ship.”
A few sucked in their breath or widened their eyes, but others, perhaps those that had lurked at the fringes of the pavilion last night, knew already.
“I always thought there must be a crew,” Ernie said. “I didn’t see how Edward and Carla could have done it themselves, even with an AI to help them.”
“And that is the case,” David said. “Some of you will even know them – Vasily Abramovich and Joyce Martin, Viktor and Natalia Panin. For those who don’t recognize those names, they were members of the backup crew for the Hope – all except Vasily, who should have been captain.”
“That’s right,” Ernie said. “I’d forgotten about that. You aren’t supposed to be here, you swapped with Vasily at the last minute!”
“No, I’m not, but Vasily’s found his way here now. But that’s not all – the Inspiration is stuck in a low orbit that’s degrading. If we don’t get the crew off soon, they’ll die when the Inspiration enters the atmosphere and burns up.”
“Can’t they raise the orbit?” someone asked.
David shook his head. “They’re all in stasis.”
“Can’t we raise the ship, then? I mean remotely?”
David shook his head again. “According to Carla, we can’t. Without Edward on board ship, the engines won’t work. We have to go up there and rescue them. I can confirm that last night we used the codes given to us by Carla to interface to the ship and check its situation. It’s as she described – the crew are in stasis and the ship in a low orbit of two hundred and seventy kilometers, which for this planet is very low indeed. It’s already decayed thirty kilometers in the short time since it arrived. We think we have less than two weeks to make a rescue.”
A stunned silence fell, then Heinrich spoke up. “How can we possibly do this in time?”
David set his jaw. “I don’t have an answer right now,” he said, “but one way or another we will do it. We start right here, right now. I want everyone, and I mean everyone to work together to come up with a solution. We need people with aerospace experience in particular,” he eyed Heinrich, “but we’ll accept any idea – all ideas are important. Our task today is to brainstorm. Only today – we can’t delay. I want everyone to divide up into groups and be ready to put forward their ideas by the end of the day. Tomorrow, we’ll implement the idea we choose.”
Ernie broke the silence that fell. “You heard the man – we’ve got work to do!”
Pandemonium reigned as everyone started to talk at once, splitting into groups and debating ideas.
Veronika sighed and rubbed her eyes. She’d put in long hours since the coup, tending to broken bodies and researching options to save Grace, not to mention repairing the further damage Sabine had done to herself by taking off from the clinic.
She slumped over her desk, one hand cupping her chin, when she caught a movement out of the corner of one eye. She sat up straight when she realized she had a visitor.
Simon Greene.
He stood in the door of her office, a small bouquet clasped in one meaty paw, clenching and releasing the other hand in a constant rhythm, as he waited for her to notice him. He nodded and cleared his throat. “Evening, ma’am.”
Veronika stifled a smile. At least he’d stopped calling her “miss”, which after forty-five years and six children missed the mark by a country mile. “Simon,” she said. “What brings you here this evening?”
As if I didn’t already know, she thought. She looked at him, standing there in her doorway, the epitome of a fish out of water. A tough-looking man, she thought. Close-cropped hair over a face almost handsome in a rugged, prize-fighter’s kind of way, complete with thrice-broken nose (she’d checked his scan, and counted) supported by a body that was all scars and muscle. You could break a brick over that face and he’d hardly feel it, she mused, but put him in a position where he needs to admit he likes a girl, and he’s like an awkward teenager.
“I, um … happen I stopped by to look in on Miss Sabine,” he said, looking down.
Dear God, could he be more painfully English? Why doesn’t he just say it?
She stood up. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll ask her if she wants to see you.”
Simon nodded and looked around, as if to find a corner he could hi
de in while he waited.
Veronika sighed and walked down the corridor leading to Sabine’s room. She found her sitting up in bed, reading. “You have a visitor,” she announced.
Sabine looked up. “I do?”
Veronika nodded. She wasn’t sure how Sabine would react when she found out who had come to see her. After all, two of Simon’s fellow guards had attacked and seriously hurt her.
“Uh huh. Simon Greene’s outside asking to see you.”
Sabine’s reaction was unexpected, but not a complete surprise. Her eyes opened wide and her hands flew to her face to touch her studs, then she looked at her arms.
“I can’t see him like this,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like this,” she said, showing her arms, and touching her face again.
Veronika understood, but feigned ignorance. “I think he knows you have tattoos and studs,” she said, her voice dry as a desert. “Also the purple hair. You’re kind of hard to miss.”
Sabine blushed.
Veronika rolled her eyes. “My God, the two of you deserve each other, do you know that?”
Sabine looked confused. “We do?”
“You do. He’s out there like a frightened schoolboy, clutching flowers for you, while you’re worried you’re covered in tattoos and studs and with purple hair, when you know he knows you’re like this. Do you think he’d be out there with flowers if he cared about those things?”
Sabine smiled, her hand on her forehead. “Has he really got flowers?”
Veronika sighed. Turning on her heel, she strode to the door.
“Wait! Wait, what’re you …”
Veronika looked down the corridor to where Simon still radiated nervous awkwardness, if such a thing could be said to exist. “You can come in now.”
“Wait!” A plaintive voice said from behind her. “My hair’s a mess!”
Veronika looked over her shoulder as she held the door for Simon.
“He doesn’t care. Neither should you.”
The Seasoning Page 21