No one was truly built for anything like this and Marcel himself had struggled to come up with any workable ideas, but in Chase’s effective absence Nisha had proven herself keen of mind and clear of thought even when all hope seemed lost. Her plan didn’t just have a chance of working, it struck Marcel as almost foolproof. The hardest part was done now that Steve believed she was willing to leave, and the second most difficult part would be convincing him to enter the privacy room.
Sara and Kim followed Marcel to get their suits, and their presence was greeted warmly by Steve. “They killed Chase,” he said, absolving himself with a remarkably straight face, “and they’re not getting any more of us.”
While they and Marcel stepped into their suits with no difficulties, Nisha kept a laudably straight face of her own when she announced that she had to excuse herself to change into the skintight under-suit she had to wear for medical reasons, citing a blood condition which could lead to clotting and which Steve believed without any need for elaboration.
Having sprinted the very short distance to her room and back, Nisha returned to Steve’s side little over a minute later, with both suits on and her helmet in her hands. She also held a towel, which she then handed to an initially confused Steve. “We should cover Chase,” she solemnly explained.
That Nisha suggested Steve should be the one to do this removed any potential for scepticism over the motive, and he again nodded in agreement. “Chase wasn’t a bad guy, he just made a bad decision,” he said, displaying a genuinely remarkable lack of self awareness and an undying commitment to this interpretation of preceding events.
The others knew that the plan involved a decisive stop-off in the privacy room before anyone reached the control centre, and they put their helmets on before setting off in the hope that they would be safely removing them in a matter of moments once Steve was trapped behind the door.
No one spoke until the crucial moment arrived, when Nisha said the all important words she’d been endlessly thinking about how to phrase most effectively: “Uh, did anyone else’s HUD just start showing a breach in their suit? At the back?”
As planned, the others vocally expressed their concerns. All of their voices came through each other’s helmets via their communications link-up, with several voices talking over each other.
“Everyone be quiet,” Steve ordered. “Nisha, what does it say?”
“That there’s a breach! Can you check it out? It’s saying it’s right here,” she said, touching a spot on her upper back.
Steve took his helmet off to look more closely. “I can’t see anything.”
“Check the inside,” Marcel suggested; once again, exactly as planned.
Nisha removed her own helmet, prompting everyone else to do the same. They all took turns looking for the hole. “I… I only have my under-suit on,” Nisha said. “I don’t want everyone else to see everything. Steve, could you come in there with me for a second to take a closer look at the inside of my suit?”
An announcement filled the air: “Six minutes until emergency evacuation procedure completion,” the automated voice boomed. “Ensure all personnel are securely within the exit vehicle before procedure completion.”
“Okay, get inside,” he said. “We don’t have long. And Kim, run and get another suit, in case she needs to change into it.”
As Kim Lee set off in one direction, Nisha and Steve took a few steps in the other until they reached the privacy room.
“Look away, but keep the door open,” Nisha said to Marcel. “We don’t want to get locked in here by accident.”
“Good thinking,” Steve said.
Nisha then placed her helmet down on the chair in front of the camera she had spoken to for so many lonely hours over the course of the past three hundred and fifty-nine days, three hundred and fifty-eight of which had been decidedly uneventful in comparison to this one.
“Right around there,” she said after nervously stepping out of her suit and handing it to Steve. She pointed to the spot on the inside of the suit where her HUD had supposedly detected a fault.
Steve looked closely, and Nisha successfully positioned herself between him and the doorway without arousing any suspicion.
She winked at Marcel, who winked right back.
So far, it was all going to plan.
thirty-five
“It’s all going to plan so far,” Holly reported to Viola. “There was no atmospheric leakage into or out of the service bay and we’re about to open the inner airlock.”
“Bo is asking about the readings on your HUDs,” Viola relayed, well into her role as communications intermediary.
Peter answered quickly: “Pressure is orange, gravity is green, temperature green, toxicity green, oxygen concentration on the border between orange and red. Like he said… our suits and helmets stay on.”
“Okay. And my dad wants to remind you again that as soon as you go through the airlock, a notice will be played through the Kompound’s speaker system and your helmets will link up to it. That’s unless Steve killed that with his fire extinguisher, too. But if he didn’t, everyone will know someone has arrived and they’ll be able to hear everything you say. They won’t hear me, obviously, but they will hear everything you say to me. So bear that in mind — especially at first, when it’s most delicate. Steve has to think you’re there to help him, not stop him.”
“I’ll do the talking,” Holly said.
Peter nodded in full approval. Even when looking straight at Holly, his view of her face was anything but clear given that they were both wearing by far the thickest EVA helmets that Rusentra had ever produced. The rest of their suits were just as bulky as their reinforced visors, allowing little more freedom of movement at any time than previous iterations had with their protective C-Suit modifications enabled. Should things come down to a physical confrontation with Steve, which no one hoped for, Holly and Peter’s near-impenetrable suits would be akin to medieval armour: protective, but very limiting in terms of flexibility and dexterity. The necessary thickness of their gloves’ fingers greatly impeded dexterity, precluding the potentially decisive use of firearms, for one thing, but Holly and Peter had dealt with adversity before and were ready to do so again.
“And we’ll be out soon, V,” Peter reaffirmed.
“Counting on it,” Viola said. “But no more talking, okay? Good luck.”
Nisha, facing Marcel while Steve searched for the non-existent flaw on the inside of her suit, subtly held her palm in front of her stomach with five fingers outstretched.
“It was a little bit higher,” she said, now wearing only a black full-body under-suit. “Slightly to the left.”
Four.
“Are you sure?” Steve asked. “Maybe the problem was with your HUD finding a false positive? Put this back on and look again. I can’t see anything!”
Three.
“Hmm. Have you tried holding it up to the light? I’m with you, Steve, and I want to get out of here right now, but if I go outside with a hole in my suit, however tiny it is…”
Two.
Marcel took a careful step forward and placed his hand on the door, readying himself for the crucial second when Nisha would spin around and push Steve to the back of the small room, at which point it was Marcel’s responsibility to slam the door closed and immediately barricade Steve inside. The next few moments were absolutely pivotal, and Marcel Platt’s heart was beating like never before.
But as Nisha dropped her middle finger to leave only her index finger outstretched — one — everything changed.
Steve’s head shot to the ceiling, reacting to an unwelcome notification tone which emanated from overhead speakers both inside and outside of the privacy room.
“Authorised entry via service bay: two persons,” a gentle robotic voice announced. “Air lock re-sealed, atmosphere stable.”
At this news, Steve moved Nisha out of his way and rushed to the door. His eyes then fell on Marcel’s hand, holding the handle and eviden
tly ready to close it.
Marcel pulled his hand away, but the damage was done.
“So that’s how it is?” Steve yelled. He turned back around and grabbed hold of Nisha before she could flee. He placed one of his muscular arms around her chest and told Marcel in no uncertain terms to get out of his way.
All three faced the direction from which the recent arrivals would soon come into view when they emerged into the corridor.
Nisha fought bravely and tirelessly to free herself, but Steve’s firm grip made such efforts futile and convinced Marcel than any attempt to assist her would do more harm than good; Nisha’s EVA suit was on the floor, leaving her whole body exposed with only a thin wetsuit-like garment covering her skin.
It didn’t take an astronaut-in-training to know that mass moved mass, or that Steve could swing her like a cat or snap her like a twig at any given moment.
Steve was evidently holding her as a means of discouraging anyone else from approaching him, and giving him what he wanted was all Marcel could do for now.
Marcel took a degree of hope from the fact that two colonists had just arrived to deal with the chaotic mess of a situation in which the Kompound’s inhabitants currently found themselves — he knew they would be people chosen specifically for the job of dealing with Steve, with one of them quite possibly being Peter or even Grav — but his primary feelings towards them at that moment were ones of frustration rather than gratitude.
Why couldn’t you get here two seconds later?, he silently scorned, closing his eyes as he rued the timing. It was all going to plan…
thirty-six
When Holly reached the Kompound’s main corridor and her eyes fell upon Steve and Nisha, the unpalatable reality of the situation was immediately apparent: not only was the group’s predicament worse than she feared, it had been worsened by her arrival.
“Steve, it’s me… Holly!” she called, walking forwards at a steady pace and with her hands up in an effort to show that she meant no harm. Her voice filled the corridor, crystal clear through its many discreet inlet speakers. “We’re here to help you get out of here safely.”
Although the initial relief on the faces of the other test subjects was palpable, Steve remained unmoved. Standing just outside of the privacy room, he tightened his hold on Nisha.
“Take your helmets off,” Steve ordered.
Marcel, a Habitat Management expert interjected: “No, don’t! Steve, the air in here isn’t what they’re used to. The oxygen concentration has been gradually lowered to almost the minim—”
“We can’t even see their faces!” Steve grunted before turning back to them. “And if you’re Holly, where’s Grav?” he barked, knowing by the considerably greater height of the so-far silent second intruder that it couldn’t possibly be Grav. “He would be here. And your suits aren’t even right! Who sent you? What do you want?”
Peter raised his hands. “Steve, this is Peter Ospanov. Grav is retired, and his body is not fit for travelling through the conditions outside. These new suits are the thickest and most advanced Rusentra has ever produced. We have one with your name on it, and you’ll be able to see us from up close. Come and take a look; it’s really us.”
Steve moved his arm from around Nisha’s stomach area, placing it higher up her chest. It wasn’t quite around her neck but he was making a clear point. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he hissed. “That’s close enough!”
Holly put her arm in front of Peter to make sure he heeded Steve’s warning. “Steve, we won’t take another step,” she said. “Just let go of Nisha and halt the evacuation procedure, then we’ll have as much time as you want for questions and answers and we’ll all get out of here safely. In a few hours, we’ll be laughing about this misunderstanding. No one has to get hurt, okay?”
Instinctively upon hearing the word hurt, Steve turned to glance at Chase’s fallen body in the control centre. His expression fell; at last, Chase was stirring.
Steve unceremoniously dropped Nisha to the ground like a dog abandoning an old stick, then rushed to the control centre. This was the strategic high ground — the only place that mattered — and an awakened Chase was an unacceptable threat of far more importance than retaining Nisha as a bargaining chip to ward off unwanted advances.
Inside, he wasted no time in delivering a firm kick to Chase’s ribs. As Chase doubled over and the others kept back for fear of inviting an even harsher attack on their helpless friend and colleague, Steve picked up a chair from the control centre’s floor and slammed it into the ground. He grasped one metal leg and repeatedly thrust the chair against the floor with as much impact as he could generate until it was damaged enough for the leg to easily detach.
After discarding the rest of the chair, Steve held aloft its severed leg. The edge was jagged and sharp, and for all intents and purposes akin to a spear-like spike. He dragged Chase towards the control deck, menacingly holding the spike over him as he’d done with the fire extinguisher a short while earlier. Satisfied that the others would stay back, he momentarily turned around to press a few buttons and typed a short authorisation command. He glanced backwards twice to make sure no one was approaching and that Chase wasn’t getting up, and within ten or fifteen seconds his work was done.
An automated message filled the air: “Speaker system fully deactivated. No further announcements will be transmitted.”
“How long do we have?” Peter asked as quietly as he could.
“Four or five minutes,” Holly said, trying to sound bullish despite the answer in her mind being far gloomier:
Not long enough.
thirty-seven
“He has Chase in the control centre and he’s disabled the speaker system,” Holly breathlessly relayed to Viola. “We won’t hear any more countdown warnings or any other system notifications.”
“None at all?” Viola asked.
“None at all,” Holly confirmed. “At some point we’re going to have to rush in. The two of us can take him down easily, but with the way the schematics are and where he is, I can’t see how we can get in there to stop the evacuation procedure without risking him doing some serious damage to Chase when he sees us moving. He has a weapon, but we’re stuck for options…”
“Don’t rush in yet,” Viola said, “there’s still a little bit of time.”
Back inside, Marcel stepped directly in front of Holly and gestured frantically while expressively miming the words “we can’t hear you.”
Marcel’s gestures and expression suggested that he mistakenly believed that Holly and Peter could no longer hear him, either, when in reality the Kompound’s speaker system had no bearing on their suits’ ability to pick up and relay external sounds.
More understandably, Marcel also didn’t know that the new suits were equipped with the ability to project their wearers’ speech. He reacted with suitable surprise when Holly issued the verbal command to engage this feature then spoke directly to him:
“I know, but we can hear you and we can project our speech.”
Peter issued the same command. “It’s not too late to make the right decision,” he then yelled to Steve, knowing that his voice wouldn’t be relayed as audibly as it had been through the speakers and making a successful effort to make up for this with extra volume.
“Shut up and stay back,” Steve snapped in reply. “I’m not buying any of your lies! If you were really Holly and Peter, you would show yourselves. Voice-disguisers are children’s toys!”
“So what’s the plan here?” Holly asked, changing tack. “You have to be in the rover before the evacuation process kicks in, or you’re just as dead as we are. Staying in there isn’t going to save you.”
Steve hesitated, confused into silence for the first time. “I… you… stop trying to fuck with my head! Get into the privacy room, all of you. Now!”
“He’s forgotten about Kim,” Marcel said quietly, close enough to Holly and Peter for them to hear. “He sent her to get another suit and she must be hidi
ng somewhere. If he leaves, even if he does lock us in, she could run in and halt the evacuation procedure.”
Holly shook her head. “We can’t count on Kim,” she whispered, loud enough for her suit to project the words for Marcel’s benefit but not Steve’s. “If she’s hiding, there’s no way we can count on her to come out at the right time or even to know how much it would help if she did.”
Despite not agreeing with Marcel’s particular reason for optimism, Holly knew that the chance of drawing Steve out of the all-important control centre couldn’t be missed — not with so little time left — and her own reason for optimism lay in the belief that dragging Chase would give an outwitted Steve far less time to inflict any telling blows with the makeshift pipe-like weapon than was currently the case with Chase lying flat on the floor.
Stepping into the privacy room then rushing at Steve before he locked them inside was the last hope her group had, and the numbers were on their side.
“Okay,” she said, fully projecting her voice, “we’ll all go in. Come on, everyone, you heard him: into the privacy room, now.”
Although Peter and Marcel were on Holly’s wavelength, Sara was considerably more reluctant; so reluctant, in fact, that Peter had to marshal her quite forcefully into the claustrophobic privacy room. This was for her own good, well and truly, which made it easy for him to ignore her pleas and complaints.
“Close the door,” Steve ordered.
This time, Peter was reluctant.
“We’ll rush him if he tries to lock us in,” Holly whispered. “If he gets something to barricade the door, that means he’s dropped Chase — and that means he has no leverage. His metal chair leg isn’t going to do anything to these suits, so we can take him down easily.”
Terradox Quadrilogy Page 82
