“Kate, you said this morning you had a couple of ideas. The first was to run the surveys like we planned, and we’ve done that.” The beacon strobe from the lab flashed into view across the grey and white moonscape. “But what’s the other thing?”
Silence.
“Kate?”
“Yeah, you’re right. The anomaly is my priority, but I’ve got another one too that’s hard to explain. Came to me last night after you fell asleep.”
“What is it?”
“Well. . .”
A long emptiness filled Mary’s helmet. Soon, the outline of the lunar lab would appear even though the outpost was still a fair distance away. But this time, her normal sense of relief in seeing the habitat remained elusive.
“Kate, what’s up?”
“I guess there’s no easy way to put this. After we speak to your dad, I want you to return to Earth on the closest ship. The sooner, the better.”
Katie
Katie sat on the floor at the Testing Center, back against the wall, waiting. Neither her dad nor mom had responded to her indie-comm messages. Emily, and the others, had left an hour ago. Only Katie, another girl she didn’t recognize, and a boy named Martin remained. The girl slumped at one of the work stations near her and sniffled.
The woman she’d seen earlier in the day entered the hall from a side door, followed by a man wearing a grey suit. They approached Martin, who stood close to the doorway. After speaking to him in low voices, they led him to the exit.
A few minutes later, the grown-ups returned and marched up to Katie. She rose as they arrived.
The woman said, “You scored really well on your Aptitudes. You’re going right away to the Spacer Program.”
Katie looked at her suspiciously.
The man continued. “Do you know what Spacers do?”
There was something about his black, lifeless eyes that frightened her.
“You’ll be at a special training center with other kids like you, learning all about science, engineering, and how to work in space. Only a handful of young people get chosen for it. You’re one of the special ones.”
“I want to go home. Where’s my dad?”
The woman gave her a sorrowful, judgmental look. “That’s something else to talk about, sweetheart. Your dad said he couldn’t come, but he wants you to join us right away.”
“Now? But I’ve got a project I’m working on and my plants need feeding and—”
The man spoke again. “Katie, where you’re going, you’ll love the projects even more, but we’ve got to get started immediately.” He picked a crumb from his teeth with his tongue. “They only select the best for this program, and you’re very important. You don’t want to disappoint your parents, do you?”
Before she answered, the woman grabbed her hand and marched toward the exit. She squeezed it a little too hard.
Kate
“It’s because I’m broken,” she whispered, then paused. “That’s why.”
They took a break from number-crunching and rested on the stuffed, utilitarian chairs in the habitat’s “library”, eating supper off thick cardboard trays. She hadn’t forgotten Mary’s question: she hadn’t bothered to answer it because she didn’t understand how. Still didn’t. Everything she practiced in her head sounded hollow and ridiculous.
“Hm?” Mary looked up from her tofu hash, circles under her eyes. She had said little since Kate told her she’d be on the next shuttle out of here.
“You asked me the other day why I cut myself, remember?”
Mary swallowed. “Oh, yeah, listen, none of my business. I was like so out of line.”
“It’s okay,” she smiled, “I should’ve explained it from the start. No room for secrets up here.” She leaned back on the soft chair and placed her hands on the hem of her shirtskin. “Do you want to have a look?”
Mary’s mouth tightened, and her eyes fell to Kate’s torso. She dragged the covering up to her chin. Mary gasped.
“This scar here . . .” She fingered a long white line that ran from the bottom of her scrawny rib cage down and around her belly button toward her groin. “It’s a remnant from one of the Spacer operations when they hacked out my womb, my tubes, whatever else.”
“Jesus, Kate. . .”
“That’s how it started. I traced it with my thumbnail like this, when the wound was still fresh.” She ran her nail up and down the scar, back and forth. “When I was about thirteen and working on a satellite orbiting Mars, I smashed my hand up there. Didn’t notice until I was back at the colony but when I removed my glove, something broke my thumbnail. By then I was scar-tracing daily and the jagged nail drew blood.”
A swell of curiosity and fear swept across Mary’s face. “But why? I don’t get it.”
Ignoring the question, she said, “See here? This is where my . . . my breasts would have been.” She pointed to a patchwork of lines resembling a net or a Dali-inspired quilt spread over the middle of her chest. “I’m not cutting all the time. Some days are better than others.” She lowered her shirtskin again and watched Mary swallow hard then at last look up.
“What the hell did they do to you?”
“The whack-jobs in the Spacer Program?” Kate leaned forward and sipped her tea. “I don’t like talking about that, but, yeah . . . I’m broken. For the longest time I’d forgotten if I was supposed to be a girl or a boy, or just a freak. They robbed me of my childhood, my teenage years. Hell, I have no idea what falling in love even means, or how to trust someone, to kiss a girl or a boy that way. Oh, I can follow the steps, go through the motions, but I don’t feel anything.” She patted her chest and nodded. “Except this.”
Mary sat in rigid silence, shaking her head occasionally as Kate cleared their trays, tossing them in the recycler. She’d told no one about the cutting before; wasn’t even sure why she confided in Mary other than they shared a common history in San Fran and she hung out a lot with the Atteberrys before that damned signal appeared.
“Kate?” Mary’s voice was tender, full of fear. “Can I do anything? To help, I mean?”
Kate flopped down on the chair and exhaled. She ran her fingers through her straight-cropped hair, stared at the tattoos running up and down her arms, and recalled the countless times doctors and nurses and colleagues from that program had asked her the same thing. When the answer came to her, she wondered if Mary could handle it.
“Short answer is no, other than don’t tell your dad if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“It’s an addiction . . . a compulsion. When the skin breaks, and the pain creeps over, the relief is visceral. Pretty sick, eh?”
Mary didn’t answer.
“When it’s done and I’m staring at this ugly mess, the shame and self-judgment are so heavy that I have to cut again and the cycle never stops. Never stops. Intellectually, I get why I do it. Emotionally and physically, I can’t stop.”
The environmental lights dimmed, indicating night was falling in the habitat. Kate stood and faced Mary. “You wanna know the sickest, strangest thing about cutting?”
Mary’s gaze fixated on a spot on the floor. She didn’t look up when she answered, “What?”
“I like it.”
SIX
Wednesday, June 11, 2092
Titanius Space Resources Headquarters
New York City, New York
Northern Democratic Union
Carter
The view from the 43rd floor of the Titanius building in downtown Manhattan consistently impressed him. Sure, other glass and metal buildings surrounded his in the skyscraper forest, but he looked past all those to the East River and beyond. Clayton Carter, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, put his hands on his thin hips and smiled. Not bad for an orphan from the Heights. Not bad, but not finished yet. His gaze shifted to the deep blue of a cloudless sky as he considered the latest technical report on his new prototype corvette class ship and what it meant to humanity’s future.
A soft k
nocking brought him back to the room. He turned and checked his indie-comm: One-thirteen. Almost time. “Enter.”
Ed Mitchell rushed into the office, carrying his notebook. He still wore glasses, unlike most others who underwent corrective eye procedures, and they slid down his aquiline nose. Mitchell’s tie hung off to the side, and his rumpled suit screamed of being twenty years old, but Carter didn’t care: the man was a brilliant scientist and a formidable negotiator. His lack of cultivated appearance masked a calculating, forward-thinking mind, always working several moves ahead of the rest including him.
“Ready for the call with the TSA, Ed?”
“Oh yes, Clay, but I want to go over a few things with you before we hit the negotiating table again.”
Carter motioned for him to sit down. He brushed the technical report on the Echo off to the side and gave Mitchell his full attention.
“Esther Tyrone’s digging her heels in on the mineral rights issue. It will be tough to finesse those out of her.”
“Doesn’t she realize what we’re giving up? Dammit, Ed, we’ve been over this ground how many times now?” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.
Mitchell grinned. It could be the middle of a hurricane or a family Thanksgiving dinner, and you wouldn’t be able to tell from Mitchell’s face. “It’s all part of the negotiating process, Clay, you understand that. Let’s make this work for our mutual benefit. The TSA covets a larger role in space exploration and we want exclusive mineral rights coming out of those programs. They need our financial resources and access to our fleet, and we need their research and innovation capability.”
Carter stared at the man, then resigned. “Okay, so what’s up for today’s round?”
Mitchell placed his closed notebook on Carter’s desk and grinned. “More of the same. We won’t reach any conclusions on anything today, maybe not even the rest of the week. Look, it’s frustrating, but there aren’t any shortcuts here. We’re still building trust, and you need to get to know Esther better . . . develop the, er, working relationship.”
“How important is it, Ed?”
Mitchell inhaled and raised his chin. “Critical. She’s been running the SETI program and Space Ops for the last five or six years, took the TSA from a curious post-war academic institution to a leader in space technology innovations.”
“I know who she is, but I don’t have the inclination to go all smarmy on her. From what I’ve gleaned in our meetings so far, she’ll see through that.”
“Yes, just be yourself.”
Carter stood and paced around the office, mulling over the never-ending discussions with the TSA and unbelievable strides the Chinese were making in the space mining sector. He worked his jaw, pursing his lips, wondering how much longer he needed the niceties before they all got down to business.
“These negotiations task me, Ed. They truly task me.”
Mitchell rose from his chair and stood beside him, admiring the view. “There is one thing you could try to speed up the talks. Interested?”
Carter narrowed his eyes at the frumpy man. At six-foot-three and built like an athlete, he was a full eight or nine inches taller than Mitchell, yet still feared him . . . not for lack of courage; rather, in a fear of God way. Carter never felt he could trust him even though they’d worked together for years.
“Yes, tell me how.”
Mitchell removed his glasses, folded them and dropped them in his jacket pocket. “One of our sources in the TSA came across a bunch of deleted files from six years ago. He was compiling historical data on their operations when he uncovered several erased files, scrubbed of all information.”
“So? We scrub data all the time.”
“So . . . he decoded the file headers. They were all related to an apparent alien signal they’d been tracking in 2085. Do you remember the story?”
Carter stroked his chin and thought back to the fall of that year. He’d signed the new lunar lab contract and his engineers were running controlled simulations on the habitat when a crazy astronomy nut in California detected a tap code from . . . where was it?
As if reading his mind, Mitchell spoke. “The signal originated from the Ross 128 star system, remember? No one validated it, but there’s enough anecdotal evidence and whispers to suggest they heard something.”
Carter turned to face him again. “Right, and that business of the transmitter tower in Frisco being destroyed . . . gossip claimed the aliens caused that too. How does this help me?”
“Oh, the event itself is irrelevant. I mean, sooner or later, we’re bound to run into other creatures like us. No, the important thing here is the belief that the alien ship had faster than light capability.” Mitchell awaited a response that didn’t come. “And Esther Tyrone knows this to be true. Why else would she order a complete cover up of the data?”
“Indeed. Still, I—”
“If I may,” Mitchell interrupted. “One rumor floating around is the Ross 128 ship was on its way here to Earth. Clayton,” he whispered, “it might already be here.”
Carter’s heart jumped. Imagine if he somehow got hold of that FTL technology for his exclusive use. He’d dominate the space resources sector overnight. Did the TSA have this tech in its possession? Something didn’t sit right.
“If the TSA has this alien tech, or knows where it is, why wouldn’t they keep it for themselves? Why do they need us?”
Mitchell put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “You’re right. They don’t need us for exploration if they have FTL tech. What they need us for is protection. It’s what the negotiations are about. Esther Tyrone is looking for a partnership with someone who would fight to safeguard the aliens and whatever they bring to the galactic mix. She wins by presenting a diplomatic, open dialogue with new life forms. We win by accessing FTL to mine the richest planets in the galaxy in a blink of an eye compared to current processing times.” He wandered to Carter’s desk and picked up his notebook. “That’s the end game, Clayton. You need to get Esther on side and help her achieve the TSA’s exploration and humanitarian goals.” He glanced at his indie-comm then back at Carter with cold, expectant eyes.
“I’ll consider this.” Then, picking up his jacket from the coatrack, he swung the office door open and Mitchell stepped forward. “There’s one other thing. Did you see the latest report on the Echo?”
Mitchell nodded. “Yes, it’s very impressive. The orbital tests show a 23% gain in thrust efficiency over the most powerful engines in space. That’ll translate to massive strides in conventional spacecraft velocities.”
“Without question the Echo is ready for interplanetary testing. And you’re sure our own tech is secure?”
“Positive.”
Carter smirked, then added, “Let’s hope. Either way, whether it’s ours or Rossian, we must be ready to take the next giant leap and dominate the space resources sector, not the Prussian Alliance, the Chinese, or anyone else. Think of the possibilities that unlimited exploration will give us . . . and by extension, all humankind.”
“Oh, I have.” Mitchell’s indie-comm pinged.
“Showtime.”
Kate
Even with the fume hood growling over the electronics bench, the acrid smell of burning solder permeated the living quarters of the lunar lab. Mary hunched over a half-constructed UHF beam antenna for the indie-comm’s transmitter. A few paces away, Kate pored over the latest survey data.
Tension hung heavy as the growing silence between the two increased. Kate couldn’t tell if Mary remained creeped out by the scar talk, or still resented going back to Earth. Didn’t matter. The situation was untenable.
Another reason she preferred working alone.
Mary snapped one of the aluminum directors off the Yagi and groaned in frustration. “These damn things won’t stay.”
“Hey, let’s take a break and grab a coffee.” Kate stood up and stretched cat-like over the workbench. “What do you say?”
She t
urned the soldering gun off and killed the switch to the fume hood, then rubbed her eyes and wandered over to the biofeeder. “Two coffees.”
They retired to the sitting area, and after a moment, Mary asked, “Did you learn anything more about the anomaly?”
“I did, but we need to talk it through . . . this thing between us. It can’t go on.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit. Spit it out. We’ve got to work and live together, and you can’t escape your crap here.”
Mary’s eyes flashed, and a sardonic smile flickered over her face. Kate knew the irony hadn’t been lost at all on her intern, and her cheeks reddened.
Kate attempted eye contact, but her gaze returned to the floor. She said, “Okay. The cutting thing, like I can handle that . . . even understand it to a degree. But telling me I gotta go back home like I’m some fragile, neural kid? That sucks. And you won’t listen to what I want and what I’m willing to do.” She looked up, scowling.
“Good!” Kate slapped her thigh. “We’re getting somewhere now. Tell me more.”
Mary vented for the next few minutes, releasing her pent-up frustration and resentment until she had nothing more to say. Then Kate reached over and touched her shoulder.
“Thank you. I was too quick on the decision to send you home without discussing it first. But you understand it’s my call, right? You’re my responsibility up here, Mares, and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you on my watch.”
Mary slowly nodded her head, the resentment she’d held whiffing away.
“Still, you make a good point. You’re not some dopey kid requiring ongoing supervision. You’re as smart as any Spacer I ever met, probably smarter, and I enjoy your company.” Kate’s mouth pursed, and her eyes narrowed.
“But . . .?”
“Look, I’m struggling. I suppose my default is to protect you by sending you home before anything blows up. I’ve no idea if that’s the best decision, whether I’m overreacting or being cautious, but I feel it in my gut.”
Echoes In The Grey Page 4
