Grav nodded. “And as for my crew… certain individuals are crucial for the mission’s success. Our rover expert, who will be here very soon, is chief among those individuals, as is someone who can pilot the Karrier in adverse conditions.” He paused there to look at Holly, his deep and prolonged gaze wordlessly referencing the Air Force background and other recent experiences which made her the obvious candidate for such a role. “Though I could fly the Karrier if it came down to it, I am hopeful that Polo, your previous pilot, will agree to participate. But I will certainly not coerce him to do so; we need people who are fully committed to this mission. We need people who will not baulk at the conditions which may greet us on arrival.”
“But why so many people?” Sakura pushed, still not quite tapping in to Grav’s thought process. “If you can fly the Karrier in an emergency then you can fly the Karrier in this emergency, right? So that means you only strictly need yourself and the rover expert. Why risk more people on such a dangerous mission?”
“I admit that in a mission such as this one there is no safety in numbers,” Grav said without emotion. “But there is security in numbers. There is backup in numbers. Hostile conditions can affect people in very different ways, so having two individuals capable of performing each core task is very much desired. For something as specialised as controlling the prototype rovers, unfortunately that has not proven possible. But for every other task, I welcome willing volunteers. The necessary discretion surrounding this mission means that very few people know anything about it, but none of those who know and choose to volunteer will be turned away. For the record, Miss Otsuka, that includes you.”
Sakura raised her eyebrows at this direct call to volunteer, understandably finding the already open invitation far more difficult to ignore now that it had been pointed squarely at her. “Why would I want to volunteer for this?” she asked, sounding very much as though she meant it as a real question rather than a rhetorical rebuff.
“Because doing so would increase the mission’s chance of success,” Grav replied, “and because the mission’s chance of success is something you care about. In the simplest possible terms: more personnel means more eyes and ears to monitor atmospheric conditions and also to monitor the vital signs of our external exploration group. More personnel means more minds to solve the small problems and overcome the unforeseen obstacles which will present themselves. More personnel means more bodies to attempt entry into the all-important control bunker should those who go first not make it. And of course it goes without saying that I will be at the forefront during every stage; I cannot ask others to take risks without myself leading from the front.”
“I don’t know…” Sakura said.
Grav nodded keenly, clearly sensing that he was on the brink of adding another member to his team. “If you meant why would you, specifically, wish to volunteer… I hope by now it is clear that I trust you, Miss Otsuka. I have seen the data you extracted from inside Morrison’s Robotics division and delivered directly to our research teams as soon as we exposed his demonic actions and plans. I understand the level of risk you wilfully assumed in doing that, and as a result you have earned my trust. But for the rest of the station’s inhabitants? Let us just say that trusting an Otsuka may not be so easy for them given what is now known of your father’s academic and financial links to Morrison. But if you were to take such a selfless action for the benefit of the many, there would be no more whispers or murmurs about where your true loyalties lie.”
Though Holly stayed quiet during this discussion, she was more than a little conflicted by Grav’s persuasion tactics. Sakura had opened up to her during the latter stages of their journey to the station about precisely the concern that Grav was now homing in on, so Holly knew that it might well prove decisive. But she also knew that Grav wouldn’t be asking for further volunteers unless their presence would provide a real and tangible boost to the mission’s chances. She suspected that Grav may have been more confident about those chances than he was letting on, perhaps as a way to ensure that no one volunteered without a full understanding of what the worst-case scenario might look like.
Without waiting for Sakura to reply, Grav glanced down at his wristband and flatly announced that Peter was about to return with the final two members of the team.
“I’ll come,” Sakura decided, forcing out the words in a sudden yelp-like utterance. “I’m in.”
Grav met her eyes with a smile. In the same moment, Holly met Rusev’s with a gulp.
The movement of the room’s door, signalling Peter’s return, then captured everyone’s attention. Holly frantically considered who she didn’t want to see walk in as the unknown volunteer, but no amount of time would have led to a correct guess of the identity of the man who stepped through the door first: Dimitar Rusev.
“You can’t be serious,” Ekaterina Rusev shot at Grav.
“Mother…” Dimitar said gently, “it’s decided.”
Dimitar, the 40-year-old heir to Ekaterina’s controlling interest in the Rusentra corporation and thus the priceless research station it owned and administered, had never been one to avoid high-risk situations. This was a well known point, having been illustrated famously on several occasions in his younger years, but no prior risk had come close to this.
Holly knew from conversations with Dimitar half a lifetime ago on Earth that he had always felt a burning need to prove himself worthy of the opportunities afforded to him by virtue of whose son he was. Holly would never forget Dimitar’s understated comparison of feeling like “the coach’s kid on the baseball team” — regardless of how well he performed, snide comments about the reason he kept being chosen were never far away.
Dimitar’s likely motivation for volunteering was in that regard not altogether dissimilar to Sakura’s, Holly considered, with each of them being prepared to take a huge personal risk in order to prove themselves in the eyes of unspecified others.
Dimitar took several quick steps into the room and hugged Holly warmly after smiling at the sight of her face, one he hadn’t seen in far too long. “Are you coming, too?” he asked.
Before Holly could answer, Ekaterina Rusev reacted vocally once again to the entrance of Grav’s final crew member. “No. There’s absolutely no way you’re taking him,” she snapped, now positively angry. “The whole thing is off.”
Rusev’s comments sounded at first like something of an overreaction, but as soon as Holly stepped back from Dimitar’s embrace and looked towards the doorway she understood them completely.
If Dimitar’s presence on Grav’s crew had been a shock, this was a thunderbolt to the heart. As if staring at a ghost, Holly’s gaze grimly fixated on the all-too-familiar face of the Venus station’s foremost rover expert and Grav’s final volunteer:
Bo Harrington.
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Upon seeing Bo, Holly’s mind was dominated by one thought: regardless of whether or not Rusev was serious about de-authorising the mission if Bo’s presence was required, there was no chance in hell that his sister Viola would let him go without her.
“His father wouldn’t allow it, anyway,” Rusev said to Grav, voicing a very similar thought. “Or Viola.”
“Who says they have to know where I’m going?” Bo asked.
The depth of his voice surprised Holly as much as anything else. In vertical terms Bo had hardly grown in the four years since their last in-the-flesh meeting, and his facial features likewise remained far softer and more childlike than anyone would expect upon meeting a 16-year-old — much less one introduced as being among the station’s leading experts in his field. Ekaterina Rusev saw age as nothing but a number, citing the likes of Mozart and Pascal as brilliant individuals fortunate to have been born in eras when prodigies weren’t mollycoddled or told to take it easy, but even she had been pleasantly surprised by the level of rover-development progress that Bo had spearheaded in recent years.
Holly knew that Bo was past the worst of his potentially debilitating childhoo
d illness, and that he now required far lower doses of treatment at far less frequent intervals. The primary lasting effect was that his growth would be forever stunted, but Bo was now permitted and able to participate in all but the most strenuous of physical pursuits.
“Bo…” Peter Ospanov chimed in. “We are definitely telling them where we’re going. They deserve that much. It will not be easy because Viola will want to come to protect you — of that there is no doubt — but we cannot depart for a mission like this without telling them.”
An unavoidable second thought then took over Holly’s focus: if Bo’s skills and knowledge truly were crucial to the mission and if his mind truly was set on going, she was unquestionably going with him. Just like Viola, her own protective instincts wouldn’t have allowed her to stay behind while Bo left even if her conscience had, and that was a fact which couldn’t be escaped.
The sight of Bo also reminded Holly of the innocent curiosity he had displayed when first exploring Terradox, which in turn brought to mind CeCe and DeeDee Bouchard as they smiled and pointed at every little thing they saw. They would probably be on the beach at Terradox Sands right about now, Holly thought, frolicking and splashing around with no idea of the looming danger. Without positive intervention of the kind Grav was suggesting, that looming danger would soon become catastrophic.
“I have to go,” Bo continued, pulling Holly out of these thoughts. “The only other person who knows everything about controlling the prototype rovers is Jasper, and he can’t walk. He’s a genius and everything so I’m not trying to discriminate, but for a mission like this I’d say independent mobility is a prerequisite.”
“So you’ve been working on rovers?” Sakura asked, showing an unexpected interest in what struck Holly as a side issue. “Is your specific work mainly focused on their operations or their exterior design?”
“Both,” Bo said. “The success of their operations depends on the quality of their exterior design. The remote rovers need to be hardy enough to withstand the harsh atmosphere down there but also nimble enough to travel the kind of distances we want them to travel. We need rovers that can explore the surface for very long periods and also dig and drill when we need them to. When I say ‘down there’ and ‘the surface’, I’m talking about Venus, obviously. Most of my work in the last year has been on the VUVs we’ve been building for use on Earth, which we obviously don’t need to take for this mission, but I’m wholly familiar with the reinforced rovers we’ll be taking to Netherdox.”
“VUVs?” Sakura asked.
“Oh, it just means Visually Undetectable Vehicle. Invisible rovers, basically.”
Sakura’s expression noticeably hardened at this point. “Who’s funding that research? These invisible rovers aren’t autonomous, are they?”
“None of the funding has come from national militaries,” Bo said, evidently understanding the insinuation behind Sakura’s funding question, “and these rovers are categorically not autonomous. No one is that stupid. I know that some people don’t like the idea of doing any research that could be used for military purposes but if you know anything about the history of applied physics, you’ll know that a lot of the biggest breakthroughs of all time have come from military research projects.”
“I also know that otherwise smart scientists often don’t know how their innocent-seeming piece of the puzzle might fit into someone else’s plan,” Sakura said, speaking from bitter first-hand experience.
“None of this is the main thing,” Holly interrupted. “Bo, I understand that you want to help. I understand that there’s probably a part of you that just wants to check out this new romosphere, too. But this mission is a lot more dangerous than you realise.”
“Grav has made it pretty clear how dangerous this is,” the boy replied. “I know what I’m signing up for.”
“But how can you? We won’t know how dangerous it really is until—”
“Listen to me, Holly,” Bo interrupted curtly. He then paused and gulped as though deciding whether to finish his thought. Eventually, he spat it out: “Spaceman would have done it.”
Holly took a deep breath. She was less angry than she would have been if anyone else had said this, essentially invoking Yury’s memory as a weapon to score rhetorical points. “Bo…” she said, as calmly as she could, “Spaceman was ready to die that day. Are you ready to die for this?”
The boy paused again, this time for much longer, until he pushed his doubts aside with several nods of his head. “If one life is what it takes to save hundreds, then yes. Aren’t you ready for that?”
Holly didn’t answer.
“You are coming, aren’t you?” Bo asked.
“Of course I’m coming,” Holly replied, fully committing to the decision no sooner than the words came out. The combined necessity of ensuring Bo’s safety on Netherdox and simultaneously ensuring the Bouchard family’s safety on Terradox meant that there was simply no way she could watch passively from the station as Grav and a small band of helpers tried to deal with the threat of a rapidly expanding rogue romosphere, despite her persistent misgivings.
“Then it is settled,” Grav said, expressing no emotion over Holly’s change of heart. “In that case, it is time to begin our departure preparations.”
Holly turned to Ekaterina Rusev, now the room’s lone dissenting voice. Rusev returned Holly’s gaze for a few seconds before sighing and looking across the table at Grav. Apparently accepting the decisions of Holly and Bo, she then fixed her eyes upon her son. “But you? We have responsibilities, Dimitar. You have responsibilities. What happens to the station if something happens to you? I’m not getting younger. What happens to Rusentra?”
Dimitar scoffed. “I’m glad to see that you’re still focusing on the important things.”
“Oh, grow up,” Rusev snapped. “At least each of the others adds something to the crew. Who are you trying to impress with this? I know it’s not me.”
“You’re right about that, at least,” he muttered. “But why does everything with you always have to be about impressing someone? Why can’t it be about feeling indebted to the original Terradox group? To Holly, to Grav, to Spaceman… to all of you. Can’t you understand that? And can’t you also understand that there are people on this station — in research labs and civilian quarters and even in the boardroom — who feel like I shouldn’t be here at all, let alone be in line to take over?”
Holly, for her part, was more than a little surprised to hear Dimitar so openly voicing the kind of pent-up feelings she had been thinking about just minutes earlier.
Dimitar continued: “If you try to block this mission because you’re not happy about who has volunteered, no one will ever forgive you. No one will ever forgive us. And do you know something? If something happened to all of the families and children on Terradox because you were scared of what might have happened to a handful of us, you wouldn’t deserve forgiveness. Our family has fought for decades against Morrison and his hellish creations, but this rogue romosphere is the last of them that can hurt innocent people. We can decisively eliminate it and consign all of this to history, or we can put ourselves first and let him win. You’re the boss…”
“You can all do whatever you want,” Rusev replied without pause, a hint of something resembling petulance crossing her tone for the first time Holly could remember. “Why listen to me?”
Grav clapped his hands together loudly. “Okay. I have one final thing to say before we prepare for departure. Everything I have told you all so far has been true, and I admit to focusing greatly on certain potential difficulties to ensure that no one is signing up under false pretences. But one point I have not yet touched on is that the recent changes to Netherdox’s expansion rate and path have been so sudden and so unprecedented that we cannot absolutely rule out direct intervention by one or more individuals loyal to Roger Morrison. The following possibility is pie-in-the-sky speculation, but it may be technically possible that a small group of individuals loyal to Morriso
n could be living on Netherdox as we speak, perhaps in underground research quarters or perhaps in the control bunker itself. In my mind the chance of something like this being true is less than one in a trillion but I feel obliged to mention it because one in a trillion is greater than zero.”
“What if someone is remotely controlling it?” Sakura asked. She was full of questions, Holly noted. Good ones.
“Grav and I very much doubt that’s what’s happening,” Dimitar interjected. “If a surviving Morrison loyalist had the ability to control the romosphere’s behaviour, remotely or otherwise, why would they be doing this? They could surely make it expand even more rapidly and change its path straight for Terradox, which is a lot closer to it than we are. Essentially, if a hostile group with the ability to manipulate Netherdox wanted to take down Terradox or even the station, there would be far more effective ways than this.”
“Wash out your mouth,” Grav snapped in an unusually affronted tone. “This station is impenetrable.”
Dimitar turned up his hands in a half-shrug. “Impenetrable, yes. Untouchable, no. The most impenetrable fortress on Earth is not immune to asteroid strikes, Grav, just as we are not immune to weaponised romospheres.”
“Netherdox is not weaponised and this station is untouchable,” Grav insisted. “If I was in charge of securing a fortress on Earth and we detected an incoming asteroid early enough to react, believe me when I tell you that I would react, Dimitar. I would react with whatever level of force and whatever level of risk was required. So when I tell you that my station is impenetrable and untouchable, trust that I mean it.”
Dimitar appeared concessionary, taking no issue with Grav’s use of the term “my station”, despite his own position as the heir to its leadership, having known what he was getting at.
The Fall of Terradox Page 7