gaian consortium 05 - the titan trap

by Christine Pope

  Derek knew that the trucks heading to the processing plant took a different road, the one that cut east-west approximately two kilometers from here. Since loitering around outside in bad air was something to be avoided, those convoys weren’t the sort of thing a casual observer would ever notice. Whoever was watching the monitoring equipment in the facilities building would note the traffic, but that was easy enough to explain away. All Consortium brass had to do was say those vehicles were hauling contaminated soil and plant matter. It wasn’t as if they’d allow anyone from the GARP facility to get close enough to discover otherwise.

  “Check your harness,” he told Cassidy. “It’s going to get bumpy from here on out.”

  She nodded grimly, fingers touching the buckle of the seatbelt stretched across her lap, then moving up to tug on the piece of the harness that descended from the roof of the vehicle and crossed over her chest. “Everything feels okay to me.”

  “Good. Here we go.”

  Derek cut off the main road, feeling the jolt as the ’car left the tarmac and began traveling across the hummocky ground. A second later, the compensators kicked in and the ride leveled out somewhat, but it was still nothing like driving across duracrete.

  Risking a quick glance at Cassidy, he saw that she still had her right hand clasped around the webbing, just a few inches above her shoulder. “You okay over there?”

  “I’m fine. This is — different.”

  One could say that. He’d done some off-road driving back home in Tucson, and again here in China, so he knew what to expect. But for someone like Cassidy, who might have had the opportunity to go topside in a lunar rover but most likely had never traveled in anything smaller than a shuttle? It had to be a jarring experience.

  “We’ll come up from underneath,” he said reiterating the plan, as much for his own benefit as hers. “The convoys come in from the east, so we’ll angle in from the southwest. They move quickly, as they want to get their loads under cover as soon as possible, so that means they’ll be distracted.”

  “But the place must be under surveillance, mustn’t it?”

  “Of course it is.” He paused, recalling what he’d seen of the plant, the details he’d gone over and over again in his mind, searching for any kind of weakness. “But part of the reason approaching from the southwest will work is that there’s a large pipeline coming out of the plant on that side, one that empties into a complex of storage tanks. We can use the tanks as cover, and move underneath the pipeline to get close enough to the plant that we can get inside.”

  Her expression told him she wasn’t overly thrilled with this plan, but she only nodded. “Guards?”

  “I didn’t see any. Doesn’t mean they don’t have them, but I have a feeling they’re relying on video surveillance and the remoteness of the plant to protect them.” He shook his head, recalling all the strictures he’d been told about not going outside for too long, all the warnings that the GARP personnel needed to stay close to their facility. Those admonishments had sounded like common sense at the time, as no one wanted to risk lung scarring just to wander around a not very scenic part of the globe. He’d known that there were very real consequences to breathing that air for too long…it was only that the Consortium had used those consequences as its own personal electric fence.

  Cassidy’s gaze was fixed ahead, as if she were attempting to see the processing plant. It was still several kilometers off, and the haze in the area cut visibility down to far less than that. “Okay, so, assuming we get close enough to actually get inside without being seen…what then?”

  “I get some damning video of what exactly this plant is processing, and I send it to our ‘friend’ ASAP. After that, we go. I’m not planning to hang around long enough for anyone to catch up with us.”

  At his reply, she shifted in her seat, turning her gaze back toward him. “It seems you’re placing a lot of trust in our mysterious benefactor.”

  Her tone was mild enough, but Derek could hear the question underlying it. “What other choice to we have? He’s helped us out so far, and I can’t see any reason for that except that his goal is the same as ours — to expose the Consortium’s dirty practices, and so to hopefully get people riled up enough about it that they’ll actually do something for once. But that part will be out of our hands. I just want this knowledge to be public.”

  A brief pause as she appeared to think his words over. “And what if — what if our sponsor has been playing us all along? What if this is an elaborate setup, just so we can get caught?”

  That same concern had occurred to him, although he’d pushed it away, telling himself there was a fine line between being cautious and being paranoid. “What’s the point? If that had really been his plan, he could have had us at any number of points along the way. There’s no reason for him to have waited until we were this close to our goal.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” she said, although something in her tone seemed to indicate she wasn’t entirely convinced.

  Still, she didn’t offer any further protests or questions, and they drove the last kilometer to the plant in silence, each occupied with his or her own thoughts. As they approached, the structure seemed to loom up in the haze, ugly, somehow managing to be squat and towering at the same time. Or was he only superimposing his own impressions on it because he knew what was happening inside?

  That didn’t matter now. What mattered was slowing down, scanning the landscape for other vehicles or guards or anyone or anything else that might raise the alarm. He saw nothing, however, and at length the vats and the pipeline he’d mentioned to Cassidy came into view, a huge combination of structures in a flat yellow-gray color that seemed to simultaneously blend with the landscape and offend it.

  He parked the ’car behind one of the vats, scanning the area for surveillance equipment. Nothing appeared to present itself, and so he nodded at Cassidy, indicating that it seemed to be safe to get out of the vehicle.

  “The air?”

  “It’s okay. In and out, this should be less than a half hour. That’s not enough time to do any damage.”

  In response, she nodded and opened her door, then slid out. He did the same, pocketing the key and then pointing toward the pipeline. Another nod, and she fell in behind him, following him as they used the massive pipe to shelter their progress.

  The taste of the air was one he remembered, somehow thick and acrid at the same time, giving him a faintly irritated throat. That irritation would go away soon after he was back breathing filtered air and had drunk some water to get rid of the gunk, but in the meantime, it was an annoying distraction. Behind him, he could hear Cassidy cough quietly. It had to be even more unpleasant for her, since she had never experienced it before.

  But he wouldn’t let himself be distracted by that, nor the rustle of the grasses around them, nor the weighty feel of the warm, humid air. Because now they were approaching the building itself, and he could see that where the pipeline attached to the building, there was some sort of door directly below it, mostly likely to allow personnel access to the pipe in case it needed servicing.

  He held up a hand, indicating that Cassidy should stop, and she paused a few feet away from him. Still he’d seen no sign of any cameras, anything to show this area was under surveillance, but he thought it better to be as circumspect as possible anyway, just in case.

  Still without speaking, he pointed at the door, which appeared to open with an old-fashioned wheel-type locking handle. No keypad or biometric scanner in sight, which relieved him immeasurably. He certainly didn’t have the skills to circumvent that kind of security, although he supposed he could’ve attempted to have their sponsor hack into the system and insert his biometrics if necessary.

  But it didn’t appear such measures would be required, and so he approached the door, Cassidy still behind him, and gripped the wheel, then attempted to turn it. The thing wouldn’t budge, so he hauled on it again, still to no avail.

  “The other directi
on?” Cassidy whispered.

  He supposed he should have thought of that, but generally, there was a right and a wrong way to do these things. Nothing ventured, however, and so he tried turning it to the right. This time it did begin to move, although slowly and with an alarming squeak. Probably no one had opened it for a year or even more.

  It swung open, revealing a dark opening barely six feet high. An unpleasant, oily smell rolled out, and Derek felt his nose wrinkle. But foul odors certainly weren’t going to stop him, not when he’d come this far.

  He turned back toward Cassidy, who was watching in silence, an expectant look on her face.

  This was going to be the hardest part. She’d come with him this far, and he knew she’d want to go inside with him. But he also knew he would be far less conspicuous on his own. Better that she should stay here, someplace sheltered and shielded from prying eyes. If something did go wrong, she had a clear route back to the ’car, and could get away before anyone realized that Derek Tagawa had not come here alone.

  Nothing for it, though. “All right, I’m going to go in now — ”

  “Don’t you mean we’re going to go in now?”

  He didn’t reply, only watched her, saw comprehension dawn in her expression, followed swiftly by anger.

  Her hazel eyes flashed, and color burned high along her cheekbones. “What, you expect me to just sit out here while you go in there and risk getting caught?”

  “Yes,” he said calmly. “One person can escape detection more easily than two. Also, I’ll feel better knowing that you can get away clean if things go south.” Her mouth tightened, and he took a breath and continued, “This is the best way. You have to trust me on this.”

  For a long moment she said nothing, only stood there staring at him, jaw tense, eyes snapping with anger. Then, “If you get yourself killed, I will never forgive you.”

  Relief flooded through him. “I’m not planning on it.” He reached out and pulled her against him, gave her a kiss — just one, and quickly, because he knew if he let his lips linger on hers, he wouldn’t want to stop, might lose his resolve, even at this late stage of the game.

  She returned the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair and holding him in place for a second or two longer than he’d intended. Then she let him go, even giving him a slight push toward the door. “Hurry.”

  “I will.” He pulled his handheld out of his pocket. “Send me a ping if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Sure,” she replied, her tone wry. “The only problem is, everything here looks out of the ordinary to me.”

  He grinned and shook his head, then forced himself to turn away from her and go inside the building, breathing lightly so as little of the foul smell as possible could penetrate his nasal cavity. Behind him, Cassidy shut the door, and he flicked the light on his handheld, letting it guide him along the access corridor. Beneath the sturdy boots he wore, the ground seemed to gleam with a sticky dark substance, one he didn’t dare inspect too closely.

  As he moved along, he thought of the insanity of trying to infiltrate a facility with no knowledge of its layout, its security…its, well, anything. But it wasn’t as if they had much of a choice.

  Even as those thoughts crossed his mind, though, he felt his handheld buzz. He’d turned off the audible alerts, just to be safe. Pausing, he turned it back toward him so he could see the screen.

  Thought you might find this useful.

  The message disappeared, and in its place appeared a schematic of a building — the one in which he stood. Off to one side was a small glowing yellow dot. Acting on instinct, he began to move — and the dot moved with him.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, but there was no response.

  Well, he wasn’t going to worry about that. Now he was no longer flying blind, could see that the passageway he was in continued for approximately another fifty meters before dead-ending in what appeared to be a staircase. He headed in that direction, watching as the yellow dot moved along with him, until he came to the stairs. They were dingy gray metal, obviously placed here for emergency access and then rarely used. All the better.

  He began to climb, trying not to think about Cassidy waiting outside for him, nor of how many people might be currently working in the facility, each one of them a separate opportunity for him to be discovered. Curiously, though, his spirits rose with each step he ascended. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that their benefactor hadn’t abandoned them, was still watching out for them.

  After going up approximately twice the height of a standard story in a high-rise, he came to a landing with a door. A sign next to the door proclaimed it to be “Level 1A,” but he had no idea if this was his intended destination. He looked down at the schematic on the handheld, noticed that the glowing dot indicating his location had turned red. All right, so not this one.

  He climbed again, coming to another landing, this one labeled “Level 2A.” Now the dot had turned green.

  His heartbeat sped up a little, and he made himself take a long, deep breath, knowing that he had to keep his wits about him more than ever. At least he was dressed simply, in a plain dark gray jacket and gray pants, an outfit that shouldn’t attract too much attention even in a place like this, unless all the workers wore bright yellow coveralls or something similarly distinctive.

  But he couldn’t worry about that now. What was far more worrisome was the keypad located next to the door.

  The handheld buzzed again, and he looked down to see that the schematic had disappeared temporarily, and the screen instead showed a sequence of numbers.

  8211987612

  Derek tapped in the digits, and the door swung open. No time to even murmur a thank-you; instead, he slipped inside and took a quick glance around.

  He stood on what appeared to be a metal gangway that ran around the circumference of a circular space and overlooked a mass of machinery. In the background, he could hear a steady chug-chug-chug sound. The air here smelled even worse than it had in the tunnel, but at least he seemed to be alone for the moment.

  His handheld beeped again, and he could see his dot morph into a green arrow pointing to his right. Clearly, that was where he was intended to go. Walking quickly, he made his way approximately ten meters away from the entrance to the stairwell, then stopped. He could see why this was where his benefactor wanted him to go.

  The machinery clogging the space ended abruptly, and below him was a conveyor belt carrying what seemed to be an unending stream of bodies in various stages of decomposition. That was a quirk of the Cloud, it seemed; some were now only skeletons, while others looked as if they had been dead for only a few years, or at most a few decades, not centuries.

  Bile rose in his throat, but he forced himself to grab the vid-corder he had slung over one shoulder, pick it up, and aim its lens toward the unspeakable sight below. A minute of the conveyor belt itself, and then panning toward the hulking piece of equipment the belt fed into, taking with it its grisly cargo. It was from this machine the chug-chug-chug sound emanated, and it would take a person with far less imagination than he had to guess at what was going on inside that machine.

  “Got it,” he whispered.

  His handheld buzzed. Link to your device. I’ll take care of the upload from there.

  He did as instructed, bringing his handheld up against the side of the vid-corder, letting the beam carry the data from one device to another. A second went by, then another.

  Got it, came the message. Good work. Now get your ass out of there.

  Derek couldn’t argue with that. He slid the vid-corder by its strap back over his shoulder, then hurried back toward the stairwell.

  Only the way was no longer clear. Six guards in black uniforms stood there, flanking two men Derek had hoped he would never see again. One was Conrad Waite, eyes cold and hungry, and the other was General Marquez, ranking officer in charge of the Zone, and the person who had been responsible for making sure Derek got a one-way trip to Titan. />
  “Hello, Dr. Tagawa,” said General Marquez. “It’s been a while.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It should have worked. They’d been so careful. There hadn’t been any signs of surveillance, video or otherwise, in this neglected little corner of the facility. The minutes had ticked by, and Cassidy had waited, telling herself it was going to be fine, that the place was huge, and who knew how long it would take Derek to reach a spot where he could get some truly incriminating footage?

  But then the two trucks pulled up, and the men in the black uniforms had gotten out, and she realized things had gone horribly, terribly wrong.

  She hadn’t put up any resistance. What would have been the point, except giving them a chance to beat her up a little?

  Now she sat in a small gray room, hands shackled in front of her. Those were the only restraints they’d used. She could get up and walk around, but what was the point? There was nothing in here except the chair in which she sat. No table, no other chairs. Not your standard interrogation room, then.

  Right. As if you have any idea what one of those would even look like.

  In the wall to her right was a door, and above an illuminated ceiling. The light was just a little too bright, and made her want to squint. She guessed that was on purpose.

  And her mind kept churning away with, Where’s Derek? What did they do to him? Is he hurt? Does he know I’ve been captured? Somewhere at the bottom of all that was, Did he get the recording?, but that seemed trivial compared to the hopelessness of her current situation.

  Also, she was thirsty, the odd acrid aftertaste of the air she’d breathed while outside still somehow caught in her throat, but she kind of doubted anyone was going to come in and offer her a drink. She supposed it could be worse. At least she didn’t need to go to the bathroom. Not yet, anyway.

  The door opened, and a man wearing the gray-green uniform of the GDF’s ground command stepped in. Judging by the silver stars tacked to his high collar, she thought he must be a general of some kind, but beyond that she couldn’t guess at his rank.