The Sprints cleared the silo. She heard her pilot, Greg Mickelsby.
“Iso on wv.scan is initiated. Engaging Sprintjets.”
And just like that, they were moving high over the land as blurs in the twilight, and the minute that Janise had known was somehow so important, had passed.
A single, fateful minute ....
27
I
t was a minute during which Samuel Raymonds had to retreat to his quarters – the only place in the base where the number three man in Second Sunrise’s hierarchy could openly experience the excruciating frustration of the headache that built over the past hour. And the only place where he could allow himself to sweat.
Adam's speech was the clincher, but he knew it was only a matter of time before a minute such as this would come. In simplest terms, it was a crossroads: The resolution to his dilemma, and a commitment to follow through on the promise he made to the people who guaranteed this agony would end.
In the beginning, he would never have conceived it might come to this. Even though he was a traitor once before, Sam thought he found a lifetime commitment. His vision had been so clear. He thought the same of Adam Smith and Rand McNichols, and he threw aside a guilt-ridden but nonetheless comfortable life to join their crusade for a future that made up for the injustices of the past 30 years.
But he came to see the outrageous folly of it all – the sheer arrogance, really. To fight the PAC was and always would be suicidal. And Sam knew this reality all too well – his own years of loyal service to the young EC had taught him these lessons in stark color.
But many of them are my friends, his conscience would remind him daily as he planned for this minute. And for that reminder, the sweat became more pronounced, the pains on either side of his head more maddening.
He reached beneath his bed and removed a dark blue toolbox, and he sat the box in his lap. He tried hard to slow his breathing, relax the tension in the back of his neck.
He wrapped his arms around the toolbox, thought of the promises the PAC liaisons made to him four weeks earlier. And with that in mind, it became easier for him to rationalize that the means would, in some small way, justify this end. He knew that in time, he would be able to put aside the guilt of this night – just like he did before he first stepped inside this mountain.
“At least I'll be able to grow old in peace,” he convinced himself, and he shrugged.
And then the minute had passed.
A minute where everything we believe can change ...
28
I
t was in that minute that a young lieutenant thought he made an important discovery, and he was excited.
He sat inside a tiny control room within a facility on the island of Barbados that was ostensibly known as The Center for the Study of Tropical Climatological Disruption. The PAC's actual name for the facility was classified.
The lieutenant's commanding officer was quick to respond to his hail. She was tall, and her rivers of brunette locks were tied back in an appropriate military bun.
“And what has you so eager, lieutenant?” She asked.
The comm-set before him displayed a gridwork of tunnel schematics instantly recognizable as a representation of a localized microweb.
“Colonel, sir, I don't think we have to delay the shuttle's launch any longer. I've been backtracking that unusual readout we received 25 minutes ago that showed a disconnect in Engine 2's AVR matrix.”
“And what did you find, lieutenant?” The colonel softened her voice and dropped a deliberate hand upon the young man's shoulder.
A lump fell in his throat, but he maintained his composure. “Incredible as it seems, I don't believe that readout originated from within the shuttle's computers. In fact, I believe it entered the facility through MassGrid. An entertainment Subgroup, to be exact. Sir, I believe someone may be trying to sabotage the mission.”
The colonel smiled, hummed for a moment, then shrugged. “Oh, lieutenant, I just doubt that. We're quite the secure facility here. So how long have you been on shift?”
The young soldier stuttered, especially when the woman dropped her hand down from his shoulder and began to explore his chest.
“Sir, I, uh ... I've double-checked this. There's nothing wrong with the shuttle.”
She bent down until her eyes met his, and her free hand caressed his close-shaven head. “I say you are wrong, lieutenant, and I'm your CO. Surely you won't argue with that?” Before he could say a word, she continued: “No, I didn't think so. I have a considerable problem with people who can't understand why I'm always right. Daddy doesn't appreciate that kind of attitude, either. You remember the president, don’t you? Be a sweet soldier, and the Guard can open so many doors. We'll launch when I'm ready.”
He sat back in his chair, relieved when the woman backed away.
“Yes, Col. Travert,” he said with due obedience.
And the minute passed.
A minute where everything we know has changed …
29
O
n Andorran, the moment was one of anger and grief in collision. Swivels were pulled informally into a semicircle of sorts in the center of the command deck, and the crew members who filled them were, for the most part, slumped back. Miguel tilted his head against praying hands. Peter and Boris were shaking their heads – Peter while gritting his teeth. Olivia was casually wiping small tears from her red eyes. Fran, however, was standing.
“Listen to me, all you people,” she said. “I'm damn aware of what we're going through. And it's not just about losing Dan. But we have got to give this problem a serious look. This is simply too goddamn bizarre.”
Peter opened his mouth to respond, but he retreated when he saw Lara.
All other eyes turned, and Olivia embraced the captain.
“Oh, why aren't you in bed? You need the rest.”
“I'll be fine,” she replied, her voice dry and withered.
Indeed, Lara was a poor sight. Her face was deep crimson, and the residue of tears still clung to her cheeks. Her hair was limp, a tangled convolution.
Miguel joined them. “It goes without saying how very sorry we all are. This has been devastating to all of us. Why are you here, Lara? Olivia is right.”
“I want to know why this happened to him. Do you know why?”
He sighed. “Not yet. But we're getting close. Peter is running diagnostics to find out how the explosion could have happened.”
Lara rubbed her eyes, stifled a yawn. “But you were talking about something, Fran. What is so bizarre?”
“It's not something we need to get into now, Lara.”
“I don't know why not. When I got off the Tube, you were angry. What's wrong?”
Fran hesitated, then sighed. “You're sure you want to hear this now?”
“Yes, tell me.”
“Fine. When we were inspecting the damage in the stasis chamber, it occurred to me that something wasn't right. There was something missing. I went back over the chamber several times, and then I realized that the problem was with the main stasis unit. The specimen we had kept in the central cubicle wasn't there anymore.”
“This is ridiculous,” Peter interrupted. “It had to have been vaporized by the explosion. Like I said before, let's run another sweep of ...”
“Shut up!” Fran shouted, then rebuked herself. “I'm sorry about that, Lara. But as I was saying, the specimen wasn't there. So I searched the cubicle and the surrounding area for any remains, no matter how small. There were none – not in the entire chamber.”
“What was the specimen?”
“It was the Fyal. Dan was working on that cubicle’s hydrothermic regulators.”
Lara lowered her head and said to the floor: “I understand. So how could the Fyal not be there?”
“I don't know, and that's the problem. I ran a diagnostic, and the specimen was definitely in the cubicle two seconds before the explosion.
And regardless of that Fyal's anatomy, there would have been remains had it been destroyed. Pete!”
Lara felt dizzy, and she heard new words not from the mouth of another human, but as an echo from somewhere in her mind: “Do you believe in the union?”
She saw limp green bristles.
“So, what does this mean?” She stared at Fran. “Wasn't the specimen dead?”
“Absolutely. Sh'hun has been dead for 15 years. And frozen solid. But I know this much: That thing was in there one second, gone the next. I think we need to find out what in the hell happened.”
Lara had a throbbing headache, but she was just beginning to realize it. And then there was another echo.
“I am Sh'hun. We met on Erachnus-Ceti. It has been 15 years. Do you remember me?”
And then the minute passed.
30
I
n that moment of incredulity, Lara Singer made an important decision. But she couldn’t announce it to the crew - not here, not in this pathetic condition.
She had kept telling herself – and Daniel – that she was going to find the time to get that overdue shower and sleep. The latter had been brief and unsettling; the former was now a necessity.
Lara excused herself without responding to Fran's revelation and returned to her quarters, then to the bathpod.
The water arrived lukewarm, the way she usually liked it. But when the spray pounded against her spine and sent only enough sensation through her body to produce a yawn, she ordered the computer to raise the setting to maximum skin tolerance. The spray seemed to scorch, and she yipped. But she stepped forward of the heart of the burst, gritted her teeth and then returned, face-first.
She twitched for a few seconds then settled in as her body adapted to the pulsating heat. She closed her eyes, dropped her head beneath the burst and drew in the energy as the water pricked her brain.
Sleep was no longer an option, and she was certain this was a far more effective – and safer – avenue to prolonged alertness than any veniphene that Olivia might offer.
Back in her quarters, Lara slipped into a fresh crimson bodysuit and brushed through her damp but no longer gnarled blond hair. It fell neatly along her shoulders.
She removed a hand mirror from the bureau and saw that her face was still red, but only from the scorching water. For now, the tears were gone, and she wasn't certain her exhausted body had any more to give for a while. There would be a better time to grieve.
She ordered her personal workstation flipped up from its cubby in the bureau. She stared at the monitor for a couple of minutes, massaging her chest just above her heart. She sat perfectly still, felt the organ's beat and tried to keep count.
Lara spoke without authority. “Search personnel files. Give me visual profile of Chief Science Officer Daniel Loche.”
Instantly, his colorful, viop-dimensional face swept across the plane of the screen.
She almost laughed.
The image was not held at a particularly flattering angle and obviously had been recorded some time before his departure from Earth. Nonetheless, his most distinctive features – the oval, ginger eyes – were precisely as Lara remembered the last time she kissed him on the command deck.
She placed her hand within the viop image and tried to caress and fondle a face that was not really there. To feel the uneasy surface of skin unshaven. To touch the rubbery lips. To somehow grab hold of a soul before it disappeared into oblivion.
Her mind swirled, lost somewhere between grief, terror and a total lack of comprehension.
She whispered to the image. “These have been the worst hours of my life. Nothing has gone right, and essentially all I cared about has been lost. There was a time when I would have found it all too unbearable. I would have sooner gone to an airlock and said goodbye. But something is wrong, Daniel. And soon as I heard Fran, I knew something was wrong.”
She hesitated and recalled the horrific visions that disrupted her brief sleep. And those words. Those damn words.
“I don't know what it is. There are so many emotions and images right now, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to accept. But I know this for sure: Your death was wrong. I mean really wrong. There's something else we're not seeing, maybe something I'm not seeing. I have to find out what that is.”
She allowed the lump in her throat to dissolve. “You always told me if I trusted myself, the crew would show me that same trust. I don't think there will be any objections to what I have decided to do. I know you would trust me on this. I love you, Daniel.”
She lost herself in his image for several minutes, then contacted the command deck and ordered the crew to the Commons.
At a time when Lara would have expected mental paralysis to overwhelm her, she found herself driven on a course toward something she could not pin down. Adrenaline filled the void created within her soul.
Lara arrived at the Commons with the last of the crew, sans Susan Morehouse.
“Sue's sedation should be wearing off soon,” Olivia said abruptly. “I'll be needing to get back to her, Captain. And no one expects you to resume your duties so quickly. You need more rest.”
“This will be brief,” Lara said meekly. “And I will be fine, Olivia. Thank you.”
Lara took her seat at the head of the long, coal committee table. She made eye contact with all seven before beginning.
“It will be ... appropriate ... that we remember and honor Daniel formally. But I also realize we are at a very critical time in our mission and there are pressing issues. I recommend we delay any services until the time is right. I have made two decisions.
“First, I promote Fran Conner to Chief Science Officer, and I ask she carry out as full an investigation as needs until this matter of the Fyal is resolved. In addition, I will act as her assistant in this investigation. I realize I have limited technical knowledge. But I do have many base skills, not to mention a personal motivation.”
Fran broke the silence of many quizzical, roaming eyes. “Thank you, Lara, er, excuse me ... Captain. I appreciate the carte blanche on the investigation, but don't you think working with me is going to be one hell of a distraction for you? You are Captain.”
Amid several nods of agreement, Lara replied: “Not anymore, Fran. I am resigning my command of Andorran and returning it to Miguel, our original captain and a man better suited to the job.”
“Lara, are you certain about this?” Miguel grabbed her hand.
“Yes. Absolutely. I realize we’re less than two hours from home, and making this change so late in the mission may seem incidental. But I hope everyone can understand why this is necessary. There are things I have to do now, and I wouldn't be someone you could rely upon to make a critical decision about this mission. Something tells me that if we don’t resolve this mystery before we reach orbit, it will never get resolved. Miguel is back with us now, and we trusted him once. We will again. Are there any objections?”
As Lara expected, no one said a thing. Mifuro tried to hide his frown; he was disappointed in her. But she didn't need an excuse to explain away this decision. Without Daniel, there was no one to talk her down.
“It's your ship again, Captain,” she told Miguel. “I know you'll take us home.”
Miguel smiled. For a moment, he seemed 10 years younger. “You are not the same woman I knew before Centauri III. Daniel would be very proud.”
Miguel Navarro became the same man she knew before Centauri III. With little debate – and all seemingly right off the top of his head – he laid out an agenda for the crew.
Foremost was his desire to refit Napier. The shuttle might prove to be the only physical link to Earth, he insisted, and the required hours of work meant the job needed to begin immediately. Boris and Peter were the most qualified for the project, but until the diagnostics sweep of the stasis chamber was complete, Boris would have to go it alone with limited assistance from Anatoly.
Miguel wanted to start from scrat
ch on strategies for contacting Earth, especially in light of Mifuro's confirmation that their signals were being jammed.
But his final edict did as much to heighten as to relieve tension.
Since the tragedy in the stasis chamber had superseded what had occurred on the command deck between Susan and Anatoly – and since neither person's story carried any physical evidence – Miguel reached the conclusion that the issue of the confrontation and what might have precipitated it should be shelved indefinitely.
“I believe we can deal with this through ASTROcom after our return to Earth,” he said defiantly. “We are not in a position to condemn or punish either Susan or Anatoly. We simply lack all the facts. Moreover, we can't allow this to interfere with our tasks at hand. We owe it to 34 years and enormous sacrifice – and the necessity to warn Earth of what we know – that we carry on in a professional, dignified manner. We are scientists and explorers and we are very important to the lives of billions of people. We must order our priorities correctly.”
Miguel added a caveat that did not sit well with Olivia: She was to keep Susan confined in the medpod until she could guarantee the Dominican woman was firmly in control of her faculties.
As Lara listened, she thought of all the burdens from which she relieved herself. Yet this wasn't the lightness of being she expected to come with an end to her command. On the contrary, another weight was overwhelming her, and she was determined to get to work immediately.
She wondered whether Daniel would have approved of her actions.
31
W
ithin minutes, the Commons was cleared of all but two crewmates, and neither left her seat.
“Do you know how you'd like to proceed on this?” Lara asked Fran.
“I've got some notions for jumping off, Lara. But before we take a step, I think we've got a couple things to clear away.”
Lara nodded. “Yes, probably.”
“Now, I realize you've been through one hell of a damn shock and it won't be anytime soon that you're past it. Same for all of us. But I don't think you can look at this face and not remember the last time we talked one-on-one. Frankly, I'm surprised you'd even want to work with me.”
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