Blue Shift Protocol, page 16
“We’d sooner fight gravity, Deputy Ballard. Evolution is a violent process. A cycle of death and rebirth until a new system is birthed. Improvement upon improvement. The only true enemy is stagnation.”
She pulled the stunner. He twisted her wrist. Bones cracked and the weapon tumbled.
A moment later, he let her body slide to the floor. He could hear the last gasp escape her lips as he once again indulged himself in the view.
Magnificent.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“It’s not so bad here.”
Jacko walked in the darkness beyond the pod where Penny hid.
“I just wish you were here with me. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about any of us.”
She tore herself from the dull haze of sleepiness. Her legs were cramped and her arms numb from lying on the hard floor of the pod.
The six lifeless workers in their spacesuits stared at her. She didn’t recall lying down or shutting her eyes. Hard to do when in a state of raw terror. Yet the throttling fear had melted away without her noticing. Now it reasserted itself, a clawed hand on her guts.
If she made a sound, not only would the Chucks hunting her hear, but the dozing corpses would surely stir and grab her.
She took a breath. Closed her eyes, counted to ten (thanks for the tip, Professor Eames), and pulled herself to her feet. Imagined the spacesuits were empty.
This wasn’t a pod but a storage closet. She and Jacko were playing a game of hide-and-go-bite-me. Only now getting caught meant being once again locked into a janitor’s closet, if she was lucky.
The pilot’s nest was a cramped flight seat above the circle of passenger couches. It was empty. The canopy looked out over the dock machinery. While she didn’t see anyone, she didn’t trust that they weren’t still searching.
How long was she out? Surely, only minutes. She didn’t dare start pressing buttons to power up the safety gauges to check the oxygen levels.
I’m the only one breathing, she thought grimly.
A flashing light blinked frantically in the hangar. A klaxon sounded. The repeated blaring alert along with a muffled announcement lasted a minute before cutting out. A swirl of air stirred outside against the glass. Docking clamps holding her pod vibrated.
Was she about to be launched into space?
She gripped the hatch cover. With the air inside the dock being evacuated, opening the pod meant death.
“No, no, no!”
She considered the radio. Hit the power switch but nothing happened. The stupid pod required a key or a card. Did one of the dead crew have it? It meant climbing back down among them.
Even another ten-count didn’t get her body to move.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Penny,” Jacko said. “They’re only asleep.”
She touched a speaker despite the radio interface being dark.
“Jacko?”
No answer. Going head-silly. The indicator light by the hatch went red. She’d need a spacesuit to get out or the pod to fly to another dock with atmosphere. Even if she weren’t locked out of the system, there were too many controls to do more than spam buttons. There was only one place to get a suit within the pod. A dead crewmember below appeared close to the same size.
It meant getting close. Touching her.
She’d handled enough gross stuff during her time caring for the kids and Professor Eames. But this was a whole new level of ick. What had killed them? Bad air? A plague? An accident and their bodies had been stuffed back inside the pod for the return trip? And where was the pilot?
Everyone knew crewed pod runs weren’t flown remotely. It was a cliched trope in the vids to get the hero off their ass to save the day, with pods flying as if they were in-atmo jet planes.
“Cut the crap,” she whispered to herself.
The pilot had to be in on whatever had happened. He (it had to be a guy, right?) had murdered the six crew and was now stalking the corridors of Nexus. To be continued in the next episode. Roll credits.
But it wasn’t just one mad slasher who had blown a gasket.
Executive Goodhope and his juiced-up goons were likewise abandoning subterfuge and were running amok. And all of them were keeping her from her family.
The wrist clamps of the woman’s suit were the hardest thing to figure out. Squeezing, pulling, and trying to unsnap the metal ring pinched her fingers more than a few times before she got one undone. The body resisted movement, stiff in its sitting position.
When the glove yanked free, it revealed the woman’s hand. Purple, bloated fingers and black fingernails. A sticky film of sweat and other body juices coated the skin. The smell struck Penny like a wet towel to the face.
“Breathe through your nose. Out through your mouth. Close your eyes and put your head someplace nice.”
Her voice or Jacko’s?
She clamped her eyes shut and imagined Sandy Streams Park at twilight with the sky projectors displaying Jupiter in its glory. It helped a little. She took a minute with her nose and mouth pressed into the crook of her elbow as she sucked air to avoid hurling.
Jacko sniffled. “They’re not really gone. They’ve just moved places.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
No answer. Her breathing came in quick gasps as she tried not to catch a whiff of the woman’s corpse as she stripped off the suit. The aroma of sweat, shit, and dry vomit forced her to pause several times. The woman’s joints were stiff, forcing Penny to tug ferociously at the pants to get them free.
Things got harder when she pulled off the helmet. The woman’s blue eyes stared. There weren’t any cleaning products, towels, tissues, or anything to wipe the helmet interior.
The pod shuddered and it broke her out of her inertia. She slipped into the upper and lower portions of the suit, foregoing the underclothing that no doubt had fireproofing and insulation. It fit loosely. She sealed it up before grabbing the boots.
The woman’s body shifted.
Penny screamed, throwing her hands up to protect herself. But the slumped figure had only fallen over.
Gloves, boots, and finally the helmet. She focused on getting the clasps closed. The helmet was the trickiest. And once she snapped the seals, she realized she didn’t know how to check if there was air.
Enough to get herself from the pod to an airlock, she hoped.
The pod shook again. The machinery outside the canopy moved. Gears turned. Armatures unfolded. They were launching the pod, and she hadn’t gotten out in time. The pilot or whoever had murdered the crew was about to send it off to hide the evidence.
She needed to get out fast.
Even with the grippy bits, the gloves on the hatch handle felt like oven mitts. She thumbed the button at the same time to engage the lock. Memories of safety drills as a kid finally came in handy. The pod had no airlock. The air cycling system engaged and a windstorm erupted inside the cramped space. Finally, the gale subsided, the light turned green, and the hatch opened.
Servos took over and pulled the door wide. A second pod approached the dock. Penny grabbed for the hatch to close it again, but it wouldn’t budge. The pilot of the other pod would see her. But retreat meant going back inside with the six corpses.
Out she climbed, gripping the rungs and pulling herself up to the top of the pod and the dock arms holding it. A narrow ramp led to the landing.
The second pod settled into the embrace of the dock arms.
More flashing lights. The ramp trembled as clamps descended on a train of cargo canisters fixed to the rear of the newly arrived pod.
An elevator with a team of suited workers descended at the top of the landing.
She crawled to the space beneath the gangway that led to a makeshift storage space cluttered with lashed-down ladders.
Would the discovery of the six dead workers raise an alarm? A darker thought occurred. The incoming crew were also part of the conspiracy. Either way, if they found her, they’d know right away she knew too much.
As the workers marched past, she slipped away towards an access crawlway and hoped it would lead her out of the dock.
Chapter Thirty
Admin Jung’s wrist device chirped. Still on the couch, he stared dully as if not comprehending the noise.
Goodhope’s com likewise chimed. “I suppose we should answer that. We can’t just sit and chat while so much is at play.”
He stepped over the two bodies and over to the window.
Gundersen, one of his agents, was on the com.
“I said I wasn’t supposed to be disturbed.”
“This couldn’t wait, sir. We’ve run into a hiccup.”
Goodhope sighed. “Go ahead.”
“Two of our crew and some of the station security team were on their way up to the fabricators on Ring One. There was an explosion.”
“What happened exactly?”
“The main elevator. The blast took out the spine bulkhead, the shaft, and the car. We lost our men. Someone planted a bomb, sir.”
“Other casualties?”
“Not that I can tell. I’m investigating right now but you’ve got me going in ten different directions. There’s an accident response team and medics on site. It’ll take weeks before they fix this and the people-movers are down.”
“Then walk! You have a job to do. If you’re short on manpower, then assign yourself a few new deputies.”
“There aren’t many left who aren’t...you know.”
“This is a situation that will resolve itself. It’s like I’ve explained to you and the rest of the team. We’ve always known there would be some that aren’t well-suited. They fall short and don’t measure up. They’re lukewarm and must be discarded. It’s naïve to think they’d go quietly. Once we’re through this, time will no longer burn a hole in our figurative pocket. The universe will open up to us.”
Goodhope waited for a reply. Confirmed they were still connected.
Finally, Gundersen made a phlegmy sound as if he was clearing his throat. Or sobbing.
“When, sir? When will it be my turn?”
“Some of us are the heart, others the hands. Those who stand in the way are among the low-value dross to be skimmed.”
An alert beeped in the background. Gundersen said, “I’ll collect who I can and make my way to fabrication. And if there’s resistance?”
“You have your orders.”
Goodhope ended the call. He scanned his messages. More urgent matters waited, sorted by his digital assistant. The topmost item caught his eye.
Over on the couch, Admin Jung had pulled himself together. Wiping drool from his jaw helped. He busily tapped away at a virtual screen for a moment before closing the interface.
Jung cleared his throat. “I heard about the explosion.”
“Then you know we have work to do.”
“I’d like to go back to where I was.”
“There will be time for that. All the time in the world, and more. For the moment, we must stick with our timeline. You understand what needs to be done.”
“Yes.” Jung stood up from the couch and straightened his shirt. Glanced warily at the bodies of Deputy Ballard and Sheriff Dempsey. “The Gardeners...”
“Can’t be allowed to delay us any further. The Gardeners have received more than their share of the Wall’s blessings. Time for us to remind them we’re all in this together. But before we go, we have a stop I need to make.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY’RE all dead?”
Goodhope hated to lose his cool. It had happened too often in the past few days. But this was unacceptable.
A recovery team laid out the sixth corpse next to the others already zipped into their long black bags. The stiff figure remained inside his pressure suit. Goodhope inspected the body before unzipping the others enough to get a look at their faces.
His com device identified each in turn.
Melendez, Piotr, Greer, Benjamin, Graves, Flores.
“Why is Ms. Graves out of her suit?”
“We found her that way.”
Odd. But not everyone responded to contact in the same manner. Perhaps in her bliss, she had removed her spacesuit. Paradoxical undressing, as sometimes happens to ones perishing from extreme cold.
Admin Jung looked on with an expression of morbid fascination and awe. “The blessed children have gone ahead of us.”
“A little early, don’t you agree? We have a schedule and this is another setback. Confirm the second-shift crews have begun with the control device preassembly.”
“They have. They’re just behind schedule.”
“Then get laser-focused on what you can do to get us back on track.” And to the rescue worker, Goodhope said, “Sanitize that pod. We need it back online as soon as possible.”
“We already started the process.”
A second worker connected hoses to an oversized vacuum system. Goodhope approached the open hatch and crouched to look inside. Ran a finger across the residue of black soot. Ground regolith and other material from the work on the rock.
So close...
He turned to the worker. “Was the empty pressure suit from Ms. Graves removed?”
“There was no pressure suit inside.”
“That’s not possible. Unless one of these others I haven’t inspected died of vacuum exposure and they swapped uniforms.”
“I was the first to open the pod and found the bodies after they didn’t emerge. Besides removing the crew, everything we found is here.”
“Is every member of the shift accounted for?”
“Yes. It was the six plus the pilot. And she made it to the dock ready room where she collapsed. She likewise was still in her suit.”
“Then we have a problem.”
The worker’s slow stare was Goodhope’s only answer. Goodhope needed to chat with the pilot, assuming she was still alive. Perhaps she’d taken Graves’ suit off for some unknown reason.
A niggling worry grew.
Had someone else returned with the pod? Unlikely, if not impossible. And it still didn’t explain the removal of the suit.
Admin Jung’s brow creased. “I may have the answer. There was a security breach.”
“Explain.”
“A safety department staffer logged a door sensor entry to Dock C before the second crew with the control device assembly arrived. I’ve messaged them. There was nobody scheduled to be working there. It seems security was keeping someone detained in a nearby maintenance wing for questioning?”
Goodhope scowled. “Yes.”
“My staffer said there is video of this person fleeing from custody. This is a matter you know about?”
The girl Penny escaped? “She’s of no consequence.”
“I’m reviewing the footage now. Your team had a juvenile resident held prisoner?”
“You’ll mind your tone with me, Administrator.”
Jung’s firm expression of resolve faltered. He looked at his shoes, the floor, the vacuum system. Like an admonished child. He mumbled an apology.
“I’ll leave you to oversee things here,” Goodhope said. “Confirm the assembly team is on task and on schedule. We can’t have any delays.”
“As you wish.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it and I’ll visit the Gardeners myself. If there are any snags, contact me immediately.”
He left Jung with the cleanup team. The administrator had enough remaining wherewithal to shepherd this final task to completion. In another day or two, he’d be spent. By then, they stood to have their project on board Nexus complete.
The stage would be set for the next phase. Expansion to the other habitats and minor stations that had broken from Meridian.
The crew from the second pod were already above them in the machining bay next to the dock. Rhythmic impacts vibrated through the metal walkway. Bright flashes of welding. The cascade of sparks.
So close he could taste it.
Who cared if a wayward orphan had seen his security team and their equipment? This part of the operation was going almost flawlessly. They could bring Ring One’s fabricators around to the outside of the dock.
So what if a young girl knew a fraction of his plan?
What further trouble could she be?
Chapter Thirty-One
“Do you remember Saehrimnir?”
“Is that one of your Gardeners? They must have had a rough time in school.”
“Pay attention, Trenton. I may not have long to talk before you once again drift off. Saehrimnir. I shared this story with you once.”
“I don’t remember. Nikki, I’m having a hard time following.”
“Focus. He was a god in Asgard. A giant boar. He gave of himself so others could feast. The other gods would cut from his flesh and roast it on a spit in the Great Hall. And the next day, Saehrimnir would return to repeat the process so the gods would have their food.”
“A tortured god isn’t anything new. Prometheus, right? Sounds like hell to me.”
“And perhaps it was. And yet if you were a starving Asgardian, or Andhrímnir, the cook assigned to filling the plates of the Great Hall, would you turn away the offering of sacred meat?”
“I think me, the other gods, and that pig would have to have a discussion about veganism. I’m tired. Right now, I just want to go back to sleep.”
Fingers caressed his cheek. Nikki’s hands were never this cold. Yet he smelled the familiar scent of her skin.
“Stay with me. This is important. Because the gods get to choose. Wouldn’t you like that? The choice of whether to give of yourself rather than to be prey?”
The hard pull of g’s made him want to lie down. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, as if he hadn’t slept in days. And so ravenous! The longer he kept his eyes open, the more the gnawing hunger asserted itself. He had work to do. His tool belt dug into his hips and his feet felt swollen.
She twisted his earlobe painfully. It’s how she got him up after a night’s drinking.
“Goddamn it, woman!”
“We were gods together, once, even if we didn’t know it. But youth is wasted on the young, right? We were so naïve. We believed we could turn off the system and strike out on our own. Rebels. Revolutionaries. Artists and artisans. Bucking the shackles of Meridian and taking our station into a renaissance. You believed more than I ever did. Is that Trenton still in there?”
