by Sean Parsons
“I guess no one told them that,” Erin said.
“No,” Grossman said. “But they’re about to. I will show the world that there are still people who care. I will take the action that the governments of the world refused to take for so long. I will show them that their short-term, ill-conceived solution is exactly that, and destined to be superseded. The good doctor agrees with me; this action is inevitable. It is required.”
Erin looked at Cho, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. He just kept the gun trained on Erin’s chest.
“So you cooked up this little scheme together?” Erin said to Grossman, whose eyes were shining with fervour. “And you employed Rickard as your hit man, because he was too stupid to think for himself?”
“Yes. He hates the lower classes. He was the perfect weapon.”
“Not so perfect – he’s dead.”
Grossman smiled. “That is a shame. I figured you would get to him first. No matter, there are plenty of others who are willing to follow me in this. We are not alone.”
“Do you really plan to destroy the station, and everyone on it?”
“Not everyone. Cho and I will leave in an escape pod. We will tell the US government that an irreversible disaster occurred, and we were the only ones who managed to escape.”
“So there aren’t any others on the station involved in your little plan?”
“No. It’s a shame, too. They were good people, dedicated. They were good at their jobs. But I knew I couldn’t trust any of them. Only Doctor Cho shared my vision. His experience in China, one of the most overpopulated regions of the globe, convinced him that this action was necessary.”
“So why kill Susan?”
“That was indeed to send a message, as you no doubt surmised. I was attempting to start a conflict between Director Grior and his brother, John. I am aware that the two men are related, of course. In the confusion of the battle, I would seize control of the flight deck, eject the crew, put the station on a collision course with Earth, and escape.”
“That’s a real desperado plan,” Erin said, just to keep Grossman talking. He didn’t seem to know about Sledgehammer’s coup. Wasting time until 6pm was Erin’s only hope of stopping Grossman, and saving his own life.
“What then?” Erin said.
“Nothing that concerns you,” Grossman said. “We would get away scot-free; after an initial period in incarceration, while our stories were processed. Then I will use the incident as a platform to institute social change on a grand scale. But the details are irrelevant. You can’t be allowed to stop us, when we are so close to succeeding.”
He drew his own gun and cocked it, ready to fire. At that, there was a clatter behind them. They both turned and saw Cho backing toward the door. He had dropped his gun.
“I can’t be a party to this,” he said, “I’m a doctor, for God’s sake.”
Grossman watched him leave, impassively. “Suit yourself, doctor. You will stay behind on the station and die with the rest of them. If that really seems preferable to you, then fine.”
Cho left at a run. Grossman moved around behind Erin, keeping his gun trained on him, and picked up Cho’s gun. He slipped it into his pocket, never taking his eyes off Erin. His back was now to the door.
“As I was saying, detective,” Grossman said, raising the gun, “Your meddling is at an end.”
Erin had his hands up. His mind raced, desperately searching for a way to draw Grossman out, until help might arrive. He was all too aware of the tape in his pocket, the only shred of proof. He wondered how long it would take help to arrive, when they heard Grossman’s confession over the PA.
“I don’t believe you,” Erin said.
“What?” Grossman said, coming closer.
Erin was guessing, buying time.
“I don’t believe you. All that talk about saving the planet. You really expect me to buy that?”
A half-smile flickered across Grossman’s lips. “What are you talking about?”
“I know what this is about. This is a multi-trillion dollar space station, built by a massive private corporation under government contract. The insurance on this thing must be, how much? Two, three trillion? More?”
Grossman was silent.
“I think you’re doing this for the insurance pay-out. As acting director, and the only survivor, you would be beneficiary of a huge legal settlement from the government; paid for out of the insurance.”
Grossman laughed. “You found me out. I don’t really care at all about these wretches, or the fools back in New York. I’m going to be a very rich man, and I’m going to retire from this line of work. I’ll be the big hero who did everything he could to save the station. They’ll throw money at me. I couldn’t care less about over-population, if I’m rich.”
“Finally, some honesty,” Erin said.
“I hope you appreciate it. It’s the last you’ll get, this side of hell.”
He raised the gun, a look of wild, crazed, triumphant fury in his eyes. His finger clenched on the trigger.
Then the door opened, and someone fired.
Grossman staggered, looking confused. Blood dribbled out of his mouth. His hand came up to his lips, and drew away red. He inspected it curiously, then fell face forward, his gun clattering away across the floor.
Erin looked over Grossman’s body to the door. In the doorway Felix Grior stood wearily, holding a smoking gun. He walked over and kicked Grossman’s body over onto his back. Grossman looked up at Grior, afraid.
“You son of bitch,” Grior said, and fired three more times.
Erin stood passively and watched the whole thing. There was nothing he could do. He kept his hand on his gun and waited for it to all be over.
Grior dropped his gun and looked over at Erin.
“He used to come here all the time, to pontificate. When I heard his voice I knew exactly where to go. I suspected him all along. I couldn’t prove anything. Then the insurance company sent the new papers to my secretary, instead of Grossman’s. I guess they didn’t know he had taken over.”
“He opened a new policy, the day you went into hospital?”
Grior nodded.
“It’s done. My Susan’s death is avenged. But so what? What am I supposed to do now, without her?”
Erin came closer and kicked Grior’s gun away.
“Whatever you do,” he said, “Don’t let it be that.”
Grior nodded.
“No,” he said, “Not that. Never again.”
At that moment, the alarms sounded. A flashing red light came on. Both men looked at each other. Over the loud speaker, Offenheimer’s voice sounded.
“Evacuate, evacuate: this is not a drill. A critical situation is developing: all staff must evacuate. Make your way to the nearest escape pod, immediately.”
“What the hell is going on?” Grior said.
Erin looked at his watch. 6pm. Time had run out.
“It’s your brother,” Erin said.
Grior looked at him and seemed to understand. “God damn it.”
“Don’t blame him. They have a reason to rebel.”
“He could have communicated this to me.”
“You were in hospital. I think he would have liked to. But it’s too late now, anyway. They’re here.”
Even as they spoke, they heard the sound of rushing feet and yelling from the hallway. They went to the door, but before they got there, Sledgehammer stepped into view.
“Howdy,” he said. “Pleased to see you both alive and well.”
He saw Grossman’s body and laughed.
“That does the old heart good.”
“What the hell, John?” Grior said.
Sledgehammer shrugged. “It’s too late, brother. No one will be hurt, providing they don’t resist. I’m going to take this station back to Earth.”
“Where the hell are you going to land?”
“Africa. No law down there. Everyone can make their own way back home.”
He came ov
er and clapped Erin on the back.
“So you got him in the end? What did it feel like to put a bullet in that shithead’s heart?”
“I didn’t shoot him,” Erin said, “the director did.”
Sledgehammer’s eyebrows rose. “No kidding?”
He turned to his brother, and Felix met his eyes.
“Well done, little brother,” he said, “well done.”
Director Felix Grior said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. Susan’s death was avenged.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Sledgehammer said. “I have to go to the flight deck and pay Mark a visit.”
“I’ll come too,” Grior said. “I want to make sure nobody gets hurt. Are you coming detective?”
“My business here is done,” Erin said. “I’m taking an escape pod and going back to New York, to file my report.”
“Suit yourself,” Sledgehammer said. “Nice knowing you.”
They left, and Erin made his way back to the elevator tubes, and down to the hospital level. The hallways were filled with armed men and women, who eyed Erin defiantly. But they had their orders, and they left him alone. They were black, Asian, Latino, Indian, white. Some were young, some were old; some were grizzled ex-cons, some were little more than college kids. They all looked at him the same way, they all held their heads up high.
Erin ignored them and kept walking. All he was looking for was Rachel.
He found her by the emergency hallways, leading to the escape pods on the hospital level. Her eyes searched the moving masses anxiously. When she saw him she came running over.
“Thank god,” she said, “I couldn’t leave without you. I had to make sure you were ok.”
“I’m ok,” Erin said. “It’s all over. Grossman admitted murdering Susan, and Grior got his revenge in the end.”
“Oh my god,” Rachel said.
“Sledgehammer is here. We have to go.”
She nodded, and they walked quickly up the ramp to the escape pod docking bay. They were crammed onto a pod by tightly-wound staff, yelling to each other over the din of voices that filled the hall.
Just as they were getting in, the PA buzzed and a voice boomed out over the speakers.
“Attention, this is your captain speaking.”
It was John Grior – Sledgehammer.
“The time of our oppression is over. No more living like rats in a cage. When this is all over, you can tell them in Washington and New York that people won’t be pushed around anymore. Buckle up – the descent to Earth is going to be bumpy.”
The PA buzzed and went silent. The din of voices heightened.
Erin and Rachel made their way down the rows of seats on the escape pod and found a pair side by side, by the window. They sat down, Erin in the window seat. The crowds piled onto the craft, until it was full and the dock staff gave the signal to close the doors. The doors slammed shut, the seatbelt signal went on, and the deep hum of the thrusters built to a steady roar. The pod reversed out of the docking bay, passed through an airlock, and entered the void of space between the station and Earth.
Out Erin’s window Eden floated in the void, looking like a colossal lost and lonely bird in the night. Unbidden, the words of Cho’s brother came to Erin’s mind. He must have known all along; he knew the investigation was a farce. How he knew would forever be a mystery. Erin didn’t care to find out. But he didn’t go far enough. There was more to that old parable than he or Chuang-Tzu had thought. What did Erin dream of? What do any of us dream of? What is there worth dreaming about?
The ship turned, and in Erin’s window he could now see the Earth. He thought of Grossman’s comments about a crowded Earth. For a moment, he was worried. Then he turned to Rachel, who sat composed and beautiful, and she turned to him and smiled. And then he forgot everything, and leaned in to kiss her, and she kissed him back.
He closed the shutter on the window and slept the rest of the way back to New York.
15.
In Police Captain John Kramer’s office, Erin stood looking out of the window. It was a grim, smoggy day in New York. Below the building, crowds of people went their separate ways. The streets were clogged with cars, the air-lanes busy with passenger craft, drones and, higher up, aircraft. The tall buildings cast great shadows over everything, but the shafts of smoky light still broke through. It was hot, despite being winter.
Erin had just finished making his report to the captain. John sat at his desk tapping his notepad with his pen, and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t look happy.
“So let me get this straight,” he said. “Alan Grossman planned and helped carry out the murder of Susan Grior. He did this with the aid of Robert Rickard, the security chief. We know this, because the idiots taped it, thinking they’d get one up on each other. Grossman’s plan was to get control of the station, take out a costly new insurance policy, and set the station on a crash course with Earth. He and his accomplices would be the only survivors. This Doctor Henry Cho seems to have been in on it, but he has since disappeared. Grossman fed you a bunch of moralising bullshit about overpopulation and how what he was doing was really in the service of mankind, right?”
“Yeah,” Erin said, coming over and sitting in the chair across from John’s desk, “But I didn’t believe it. He was out to make money, that’s all.”
“Right. But the shit really hit the fan, when this John Grior, who is apparently the brother of the ex-director of Eden, took over the goddamned space station and landed it in Africa. At which point, he and his soldiers escaped, along with Cho and everyone else who we might have questioned. Including, probably, the gunman who gave you that little peck on the shoulder.”
“That’s right.”
“And the best part is the damned air force couldn’t intervene, because they didn’t have permission to enter Sub-Saharan airspace. Luckily for me and you, this is totally not our jurisdiction any more. It’s not your fault there was a goddamned revolt in the works. It sounds as though they’d been putting up with terrible living conditions on Eden for some time, but we never heard about it. Like everything else nowadays, the project was mismanaged and off the rails. If Felix Grior comes back to New York he’ll be placed in custody, but most likely released without charge. He did save a police officer’s life, after all.”
Erin said nothing, merely sat there.
“The Life Stations project is shut down, as of yesterday. About two or three million more people to feed and shelter now, but so what? The Earth can always take it, right?”
John looked at Erin and Erin shrugged.
“Exactly,” John said. “Well, you did good anyway. I would have liked them both alive, but these things happen. You can take tomorrow off. I think you earned a rest.”
“Thanks, John,” Erin said, and got up.
He was almost at the door when John called out to him.
“What are your plans for tonight?”
Erin turned back.
“Dinner, bed,” he said, “That kind of thing.”
“Alone?”
“Goodbye, John,” Erin said, and left the office.
Behind him, John Kramer chuckled.
That night was hot and humid. The lights of the city were bright. People were out in large crowds enjoying the balmy weather. Erin Bradley made his way down the packed streets to a little restaurant he knew that did good Italian food. He spoke to the concierge and looked over the heads of the diners. The place was busy and he couldn’t see her. The concierge led him through the tables to a small one at the back, with one occupant.
Rachel Laurent saw him and waved. She wore a dazzling smile and an evening dinner dress. Erin couldn’t help smiling back. He bent down and gave her a light kiss, by way of hello. Then he took the seat opposite her and their hands found one another’s.
In the warm light of the restaurant, in the heat, in the babble of voices – staring into Rachel’s brown eyes, sparkling in the low light – Erin Bradley thought maybe the world wasn’t so bad after al
l. Or the people.
