And as he thought about it now, they were right. Something was wrong, here on the Darwin. He just didn’t know what it was.
Leaving his office and shaking the dream from his mind, he made his way into the station and headed for the bio cell in Section Two. As he approached, he saw McKinley and Bolkov standing there, guns by their sides, and Doc standing at the glass wall talking to the four men inside. He decided to stay back and observe, not making his presence known to the others.
“Your initial tests were fine, but I’m not satisfied that you’re in perfect health yet,” Doc was telling them.
“That’s because we’ve been locked up in here!” Logan argued. “Let us out. Give us more food, water, proper beds to sleep in and then we’ll be fine!”
“I just need you to wait another 12 hours to be sure, then if there’s no change I can let you out,” Doc said calmly, trying to reason with them.
“Fuck you,” Grolsh spat. “You sit in here for days. See if you’re fine.”
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Doc continued, holding his hand out in a placating way.
“You don’t understand shit!” Logan rushed up to the glass wall in front of Doc’s face and thumped it with the heel of his hand.
Doc flinched in reflex and McKinley snapped his gun up.
Logan glared at McKinley. “You going to shoot a man in a glass cage?” he asked, in his deep gravelly voice.
McKinley didn’t answer, but kept the gun trained on Logan.
Logan began walking up and down the cell wall, like a tiger in a zoo, staring demonically at McKinley.
“Look, you’ve all got high temperatures, high blood pressure and you’re sweating profusely,” Doc said, trying to use his most calming voice but Harris could hear it tightening. “They’re common signs of a virus.”
Chet spoke up calmly. “Our blood work was fine, you said it yourself.”
“Yes, it was, and if it’s still fine at 1800, we’ll have no reason to hold you any longer.”
“Our symptoms are also that of stress, are they not?” Chet asked. “Wouldn’t you agree that’s more likely the cause? We’ve been in this cell for who knows how long. We’ve got soldiers aiming their weapons at us, we don’t know where our colleagues are and, to be quite frank, we have no idea who you are, or whether your qualifications are adequate enough to keep us in here. You can’t possibly expect us to be calm about this situation?”
“No, but I ask that you do remain calm, or we’ll be forced to consider other measures,” Doc said.
“What measures?” Logan hissed through gritted teeth.
“Logan, if you’re fine at 1800, you’ve got no reason to be concerned. We’ll let you out of that cell. But if you show any aggression toward me or any of our soldiers, things won’t be fine. Do you understand? We’re here to help you, don’t forget that.”
Logan snarled to himself and continued to pace the cell.
Doc looked over at Chet. “Do you understand?”
Chet hesitated a moment, then nodded. “We do. Now, can you help us? We’re thirsty.”
Doc eyed them all for a second, then looked over his shoulder at Bolkov. “Get some water sent up.”
Bolkov nodded, then spoke into his mouthpiece. “Hunter, we need water at bio cell.”
Doc pulled out a syringe and a bottle of fluid from his pocket. “I’ll give you another shot of this. Your bodies should be almost fully hydrated again by now.”
“Thank you,” Chet said calmly, looking eagerly at the fluid.
Harris’s lieutenant studied Logan, who was still stalking along the cell wall glaring at them. Doc slipped on his surgical mask, then walked over to the control panel near the door. He hesitated, then pulled a lever which opened two windows in the glass wall with a loud echoing sound. One small window was at face height, the other larger window was at waist height, to pass things through. Harris noticed a continual fine mist spraying down over the openings, killing anything that had means of escape. Doc turned back to Chet. “Stick your arms out through the gap. I’ll do it from here.”
“What?” Logan’s gravelly voice held a hint of sarcasm. “Come on in, Doc. I won’t bite.”
Chet put his arm through the larger window, and Doc gave him the injection. Chet held his face close to the smaller window near Doc’s face and seemed to be inhaling deeply. The medic eyed him strangely, a puzzled look upon his face. When he was done, Chet stepped back quietly, and Doc reached in his pocket for more syringes and bottles. Fairmont and Grolsh both stepped forward and received their injections. Doc eyed them closely. When they were done, Logan stopped stalking and approached, holding his arm out in readiness.
Doc and Logan stared at each other, as he threaded his arm through the window. The medic filled another syringe with the fluid, tested the needle, then inserted it into Logan’s arm. He injected the fluid, and just as he finished up, Logan swiftly latched onto Doc’s arm and yanked him hard against the glass wall. Thankfully, Doc’s reflexes were sharp and he shot out his hand just in time to stop his face from hitting it.
“Let him go!” McKinley called out, aiming his gun on Logan, Bolkov doing the same.
Logan and Doc stared at each other through the window, their faces millimeters apart. The survivor seemed to whisper something to him. Whatever it was, it didn’t pick up on the headsets and was too low to be audible from where Harris was standing.
“Is that right?” Doc said, eyeing Logan squarely.
“What’d he say?” McKinley asked, gun still trained.
Doc and Logan continued to stare at each other, millimeters apart.
“Boyfriend’s talking to you,” Logan smiled.
Doc gave a steely smile in return and snapped his arm from Logan’s grasp. He turned around and walked away from the cell. “Nothing important,” he told McKinley.
At this point Harris stepped forward and made his presence known. His soldiers glanced over at him, but he noticed that the men in the cage didn’t seem as surprised by his appearance.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked, in his best authoritative voice.
Doc looked at the men in the cell and then back to Harris. “No, sir.”
Just then Hunter came walking in with a fresh supply of water.
“Ah, yet another new face. This must be Hunter,” Chet said smoothly, eyeing the Aurora pilot over. “How many more are there to meet, captain?”
Hunter gave Chet a blank look. Doc took the water and passed it through the misted window to the men, who eagerly grabbed the bottles and began draining them.
“Hmm,” Chet said wiping his mouth, waiting for an answer from Harris. “How many more?”
“There’s enough,” Harris said bluntly, then turned to Hunter. “Follow me to the control room.”
*
“Captain! I was just about to call you,” Smith greeted him, as Harris and Hunter entered the Darwin’s control room. “We’re in the mainframe and we’re downloading the info.”
“Good,” Harris said, then turned to Hunter. “Once that’s downloaded, I want you to go through it and let me know if anything stands out.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter said, taking a seat at the console beside Smith.
“Brown, I want you to get working on the comms situation now. We need to know why Command lost connection with this station.”
“Yes, sir,” Brown said, making his way to the wiring in the corner of the room.
“Smith, you head back to the Aurora and make sure all this info is being downloaded onto our systems. I want a full record on our files.”
“Yes, sir.” Smith nodded and left the room.
Harris leaned over the back of Hunter’s chair, scanning the information that was scrolling across the monitor in front of him.
“There has got to be something in there that tells us what the hell happened here.”
*
Carrie looked around the mess hall. Everything
was clean and the lunch was under control. That was the wonder of Command’s stores. A lot of the meals were pre-prepared and only had to be heated up. Colt had left a few minutes ago. She’d followed Smith back to the flight deck when he’d come in for some coffee. Clearly, Carrie was someone she needed some space from for a while. She felt guilty for the trouble over breakfast, but she’d wanted this for so long that to be here now, have it in her grasp, and not be able to do anything, was frustrating.
With nothing else to do, she decided to head to the training room. When she got there she found Packham on the gym equipment.
“Hey,” Carrie greeted her.
“Hey,” she puffed back.
Carrie sat down on the equipment next to Packham. “What time did you finish up? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“About 0230 Harris came and told us to get some sleep.”
“Hey, good job on the docking, by the way,” Carrie smiled.
Packham stopped what she was doing and nodded. “Thanks. Space docking’s the easy part, it’s all about the timing. Launching and landing in different atmospheres, now there’s where you work!”
Carrie smiled. “Oh, to be able to work!”
Packham gave her a sympathetic smile. “Hey, technically it’s a good thing if they don’t need you to shoot somebody, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You want to do some weights? I’ll spot you.”
Carrie nodded. “Sure.”
They moved over to one of the weight racks and worked through a few sets, then moved over to the treadmills when their arms couldn’t take it anymore. Carrie listened as Packham talked about some of her previous assignments on transport routes, flying between Earth, the Moon and Mars. She talked about the different ships she’d flown and what the docks and landing areas were like on each planet.
“So which one is better?” Carrie asked her.
“Which planet is better? To live?” the sergeant asked her. “Oh, that’s easy. Earth. Definitely. I mean, in terms of landscape, the others are barren and bare. There’s a reason why we’ve flourished on Earth. Although, I do kinda like the Moon. There’s something very peaceful about sitting there and looking out into the sky and seeing the Earth floating where the moon should be.”
“Did you like Mars?”
“Mars is very much a frontier right now. It’s like a modern version of the old Wild West. The two colonies are up and running, but it’s still a little rough around the edges, if you know what I mean. It’s filled with geologists, engineers, miners, and tradesmen. There’re no families out there yet, no children allowed. There are females around, but only at about seven to one. And the red dust! It’s like you’re stuck in the desert. You half expect to see a cowboy come riding down the main streets,” she chuckled. “One publican had a sense of humor and named his bar the Red Dust Saloon. There’s a piano in the corner and whores upstairs. It’s hilarious.”
“You weren’t based there very long?”
“Er, no …” Packham shook her head and shot her a strange look.
Carrie waited for the rest of what she thought she was going to say, but nothing came. “Oh … not a good experience?” she asked slowly.
“No, no, the work was fine. It was just, um, more of a … a personal issue.”
Carrie continued to look at her, waiting to see if she was going to elaborate. Packham noticed.
“I was, um … seeing somebody. We were in the same unit.” She shot Carrie a glance. “It didn’t work out. I had to leave.”
“Oh,” Carrie said, looking back at her treadmill.
“Yes. Oh, indeed.”
Carrie flashed her a sympathetic look. “Hey, their loss, our gain. Right?”
“So, tell me about Antarctica?” Packham smiled, changing the subject.
“You ever been there?” Carrie asked her.
“No, but I imagine it’s fairly similar to some of the places I’ve been to in Russia!”
Carrie laughed.
“Sorry to interrupt, soldiers.” Doc’s voice sounded behind them. They turned to see him making his way toward them. “Welles, when you’re done, if you come to my office, I’ve got that work for you.”
Carrie slowed her treadmill to a stop. “Sure.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and stepped off the machine.
“Finish up here and I’ll see you there in a few minutes,” Doc said, holding his hand up for her to stop.
“Yes, sir.”
Doc departed as she grabbed her towel and wiped her face. Packham gave her a questioning look.
Carrie shrugged at her. “Well I guess I did ask for work!”
Packham grinned back, as Carrie threw the towel over her shoulder and made her way to her room to quickly change.
*
Harris, seated at the console beside Hunter, listened intently.
“The last entry is August 24th. A cargo ship called the Belgo left the station —” Hunter told him, as he stared at the screen in front of him.
“Wait a minute,” Harris interrupted. “McKinley said that the Belgo docked about four weeks ago, which would make that around August 10th. Why the hell did the ship stay here for two weeks before departing? Did it break down or something?”
“It just says here that it was delivering laboratory supplies. It doesn’t mention anything about any repairs or problems.”
Harris stood and moved over behind Hunter’s chair. “Smith, do you copy? Over.”
“Yes, sir. Over,” Smith’s reply came.
“Get me the crew details for the cargo ship, the Belgo. Over.”
“Yes, sir. On it. Over.”
Harris bent down over Hunter’s chair again, reading over his shoulder. “What kind of supplies were they delivering?”
Hunter swirled and tapped his fingers over the screen and another window popped up. He began reading it aloud to Harris. “Okay. Various chemicals … the names don’t mean anything to me. Um … vitamins, all sorts of medical supplies. Some equipment, I don’t know what the hell that is used for … and er … er … cats!”
“Cats?” Harris asked in disbelief, sure Hunter had read it wrong.
“Cats, 12 cats. Looks like they came from a company called EnviroWire.”
“Why the fuck did they order a load of cats?”
“Maybe they were lonely,” Hunter shrugged.
“Well, they’re not here now,” Harris said, not sharing the joke.
“Perhaps they got hungry,” Brown teased from the corner of the room.
Harris shot him a look, as he straightened up. “Get me a data transfer for that manifest,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Hunter said, reaching over to a stack of blank e-files. He grabbed one, hooked it into the side of the monitor, swiping his fingers from the screen to the e-file, transferring a copy of the data.
Harris took the e-file pane. “I’ll get Doc to look at this for me and see if he can identify any of this stuff.”
“Now,” he said, leaning over Hunter’s chair again, “can you get me details on their cargo orders for, let’s say, the past 12 months?”
“Yes, sir, I should be able to do that. They have a cargo history here …” Hunter got to work and various screens flashed up on the monitor in front of him. “Right, I think this should do it.” He took the pane back off Harris, and began copying the data over.
Just then, Smith’s voice came over their earpieces.
“Captain, this is Smith. Over.”
“Go ahead. Over.”
“Captain, I can’t access the crew files for the Belgo. They’re all classified. Over.”
“Classified?” Harris asked surprised.
“Yes, sir. All access is denied. Over.”
“But they’re UNF approved cargo crew? We should be able to access that.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Is the Aurora picking up the information we’re looking at here?”
“Yes
, sir. The information download to the Aurora is in place. Over.”
“Alright, well, how about you get your ass back here to the control room. Over.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harris let out a long sigh and put his hands on his hips. Why the fuck would their files be classified?
Hunter read through the data he transferred onto the pane, then handed it back to Harris, “Sir … it appears cats weren’t the only animal on their menu. They’ve ordered owls, a heap of bats …”
Harris scanned the list. “Animal parts, too … Polar bear, greyhound noses, pig snouts! Jesus! What the hell kind of programs were they running here?”
He closed the e-file down. “Keep looking through and let me know anything else you come across that seems strange. When Smith gets here, I want him working on the transmissions right up until the power cut out. I’m going to take this stuff to Doc and see what he can make of it.”
*
Carrie entered Doc’s office. “So, what have you got for me, lieutenant?”
“Corporal Welles,” Doc said, looking up from the computer screen at his desk, “take a seat.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk.
Carrie moved over to the chair, eyeing Doc carefully while she did. She had a sudden sensation of entering the Principal’s office.
“Before we start, I just wanted to have a word with you about your conversation with Captain Harris earlier—” he began.
She interrupted him. “Doc, I know what you’re going to say—”
“He’s the captain, Welles,” he shot back at her.
“I know it was wrong to speak to him like that. I just really wanted to sink my teeth into this mission, you know?” She ran a hand over her face. “But … I know I need to learn when to shut up and deal with it. An order is an order, I know that. It won’t happen again, sir.”
Darwin Page 24
