Paragon

by Autumn Kalquist

  Tadeo took the blank data storage cube from the pocket where he’d stored his holo gear and handed it to the clerk. “Now I need some records.”

  The clerk inserted the small metal cube into the stationary and twisted his wrist. His eyepiece darkened. He gestured in the air, accessing patient files on a 3D interface only he could see.

  “Names?”

  “Dritan Corinth and Era Corinth. Put all their records on the cube.”

  “Anything else, sir?”

  “I also want full patient records on Samuel Smith, Tatiana Carizo, and Jonas Keen.”

  The young clerk’s mouth dropped open. He no doubt recognized the names of the three terrorists who had just been airlocked. He licked his lips and gestured for a few more minutes, then popped the cube out of the stationary.

  “Here you go.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Anything else?”

  “This is a confidential investigation.” Tadeo lowered his voice. “If you tell anyone about this data pull, you’ll find yourself in the brig. Or worse.”

  The man held up his hands. “I understand.”

  Tadeo took the cube and strode to the corner of the waiting area. He chose an empty bench against the wall and pulled his holo gear out of his pocket. He put on the eyepiece and pushed the cube into the handheld’s slot, then activated it with a twist of his wrist.

  The Infinitek logo, an infinity symbol, twisted in the air before him and faded into the mantra of the fleet.

  A Better World Awaits.

  Then five files appeared, the traitors’ names beneath each of them. He selected Dritan’s.

  Dritan Corinth; Sub-level maintenance

  MedBay: Physical

  Transfer from the London - Physical Results: Good health

  MedBay: Injuries

  Second-degree burn

  Follow-up - Healed and cleared for sublevel work

  Dritan had seen two different medics in his ten months aboard the Paragon. Nothing strange noted. Tadeo opened Era’s files next.

  Era Corinth; Repository Tech

  MedBay: Physical

  Transfer from the London - Physical Results: Good health

  MedBay: Population Management

  Implant removal

  Pregnancy test - Positive

  Follow-up – Genscanning - Canceled, amniocentesis performed

  Follow-up - Pregnancy defective

  The final date was flagged, and Tadeo’s stomach churned as he read it.

  Termination Procedure - Appointment missed

  Tadeo closed out Era’s records. Nothing strange mentioned on them, but he made note of the medic she’d been scheduled to see for her last three appointments—Medic Nora Faust.

  Sam, Tatiana, and Jonas had all arrived ten months ago, during the same transfer period as Dritan and Era. He combed through their records next. All of them had the standard physical exams as well as several follow-up exams for minor sublevel work injuries.

  When he reached the end of Tatiana’s record, his eyes caught a flagged item. He tapped it.

  Tatiana Carizo; Sub-level maintenance

  MedBay: Population Management

  Annual Implant Renewal

  Note: Patient arrived for yearly implant renewal complaining of pain from termination procedure performed on the Meso one year prior. Patient refused procedure and demanded consult with Medic Nora Faust. When Medic Faust was not immediately called in, patient grew angry, striking out at Medic Meletsky. Medic Faust brought in to perform patient’s implant renewal procedure, and patient was started on 80mg grimp.

  Tadeo deactivated the holo gear, and his pulse quickened. Why had Tatiana asked for Medic Faust, specifically, by name like that? Medic Faust had also treated Era. Could there be a connection?

  Tadeo’s commcuff buzzed, and Omar’s ID popped up. Tadeo stood and walked to the edge of the waiting area, away from anyone who might overhear.

  He answered the comm. “Raines.”

  “We’re done in the airlocker’s cubic,” Omar said, his voice thin, tinny through the ancient earbud in Tadeo’s ear. “Found nothing else. Where do you want me next?”

  “When you looked through the terrorists’ cubics in singles sector,” Tadeo said, “you didn’t allow maintenance workers in, did you?”

  “No—only guards. But we did a clean sweep.”

  “Is it possible you missed any attached panels?”

  Omar paused. “Maybe? We didn’t rip the whole cubic apart to bare metal like this.”

  “Bring the power cell insert to my locker on six, grab something to eat from mess, then head back down to singles sector with Gemma,” Tadeo said, keeping his voice low. “I want you two to tear apart the terrorists’ bunks again. Every single place in the wall, ceiling, and floor. Just to be sure nothing was missed. I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tadeo turned off his commcuff. It would take the records tech hours to figure out who that medlevel card may have belonged to. Omar’s search would likely turn up nothing, and then they needed to search the Repository, which could take days. So while he was still on medlevel, he’d follow up on this connection between Era, Tatiana, and Medic Faust.

  He headed over to the population management station.

  A brunette clerk gestured, engrossed in her holo screen. “I have an appointment during the morning shift,” she said to the patient in front of her.

  “Excuse me,” Tadeo stepped up to the station.

  The girl’s head jerked toward him in surprise. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I need to see Medic Faust.”

  Her hand tightened into a fist mid-air. “Nora Faust is no longer a medic.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She has power core sickness. She’s in hospice.”

  “What room?”

  The girl pressed her lips together and performed a series of hand gestures. “Hospice MedBay D, Bed 124.”

  Tadeo turned and headed for the back of the waiting area. The glass doors slid open, and he forced himself to pass into the wide corridor beyond. The sharp, sickly-sweet mix of cleaning solution and power-core sickness drugs made him break out in an immediate sweat and sent a wave of nausea through him. He breathed through his mouth and focused on the metal triquetra and double-helix symbol engraved on a panel at the end of corridor. Medics in light blue suits bustled around him, heading deep into the level.

  His mind went to the grimp in his pocket—and to the fact that he could get high for the rest of his life off the stash they had on medlevel.

  When he’d been coming off grimp on the Meso, his mother closed down the command level medcubic under the pretense of repairs, and one medic watched over him every shift until the grimp was out of his system.

  The bone-deep pain, the hallucinations, the sweating and vomiting—it was unbearable. But then the grief returned along with the rest of his emotions. Dealing with his pain over Kit was the worst part of the withdrawal.

  After Kit died, his mother was there for him every hour of every day. She saved him. She somehow managed to run the ship and nurse him through his grimp addiction, then through his grief. She was his strength when he had none.

  He was sixteen when Kit died, beyond the caretaker sector mentality of desiring to be coddled by a mother or by anyone else. But he loved Kit, and she airlocked herself because of him. There was nothing worse than that.

  As he came down off the grimp, all the grief rooted within him bloomed into something fierce and terrible. His mother held him and talked him through it, made him see the truth.

  “She made her own choices,” his mother said. “Both of you did. And her last choice was hers and hers alone. Some of us simply don’t have the genes needed to bear this burden. Some can’t handle the pressure of doing their part in this fleet—of living selflessly to ensure humanity makes it to New Earth.”

  “This was my fault,” Tadeo said.

  “No. Kit chose this. Not everyone can see the truth—
that the darkness of space will end someday. And that the end of our darkness will be our new beginning. It could be just on the other side of the next jump. The survival of the human race depends on colonists who believe in that and have enough faith to do what’s needed to get there. Kit didn’t have that faith.”

  He felt betrayed when she said it, as if Kit hadn’t deserved to live. “The fleet’s not better off without her.”

  His mother gripped his hand tight. “You may have made mistakes, but you get to live and make new choices. Will you dedicate your life to this fleet—to leading your ship? Or will you let her choices and mistakes destroy you both? I know what you’re made of. I know what this family’s made of. We’re strong. The Raines family never quits.”

  He got angry at that—punched a dent in a wall panel and injured his hand. But his mother was right. Kit killed herself. She’d quit. In the end, he’d decided to survive. And to lead.

  Tadeo kept his eyes on the words engraved above each corridor he passed.

  Population Management.

  Physicals.

  Injuries.

  Hospice.

  He turned down the hospice corridor. Half the level was dedicated to the dying. He reached medbay D and stepped into the vast, dimly lit space.

  A young medic got up from a chair near the door. “Can I help you?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yes. I need to speak to Nora Faust in bed 124.”

  “Right this way.”

  She led him past dozens of cots, each with thin curtain barriers between them. Most had the curtains drawn for privacy, but the patients he could see were hooked up to machines, sleeping or staring into nothing with glazed eyes.

  Some people chose to die on their own ships when the power core sickness came for them, but many chose to die with the comfort of an unending supply of drugs in Paragon’s hospice bays. Core sickness spared no one. For an entire lifetime, the power cores radiated every colonist’s cells. Their superimmunity—a gift of the Legacy Code—kept the radiation at bay for only so long. Eventually, the immune system turned on itself, confused, overzealous, attacking the very body it was supposed to protect. Tadeo didn’t want to go out like that.

  They reached bed 124. An old woman with short gray hair lay in the bed, a white sheet pulled up around her. Tadeo shifted on his feet and glanced back toward the exit. There was no way this dying woman was any kind of lead. He’d made a mistake coming here.

  As the medic set up a chair beside the bed, Nora’s eyes opened.

  “Medic,” Tadeo said. “Can you turn on that light?” He gestured to the lume bar above Nora’s cot.

  “Yes, sir. I can from the front of the bay.” The medic drew the curtains, and the sound of her boots on the tile floor receded.

  It was even darker with the curtains drawn. Tadeo took a seat, but the space was so small, his knees brushed the cot. Nora Faust sat up, flapping impatiently at the wires attached to her chest. They connected to a metallic disc and led to the life monitoring box beneath the cot. The metal machine beeped lowly in the silence, joining the chaotic hum of the other machines in the bay.

  “I get the pleasure of a guard visit?” Nora asked. “Welcome to my new cubic.” She pursed her lips and gestured around at the curtains, then pointed to the canteen next to her cot. “I’d offer you a drink, but the water tastes like it came from the kak in recyc. The dying don’t need to drink clean. Policy, you know.”

  Her gray hair reminded him of the streaks of gray in his own mother’s hair. She was getting up in age… in her forties now. Most people didn’t go to hospice until after they turned fifty, but some died younger. Guilt tugged at Tadeo. He needed to visit the Meso.

  Tadeo coughed and crossed his arms. “You don’t look like you belong here.”

  Nora sniffed. “If they keep drugging me up, I will.”

  “When were you diagnosed?”

  “Two days ago. They took me off my shifts. I should still be working. It hasn’t progressed much yet.”

  “In population management, correct?”

  “What is this about?” Nora sighed and looked at the curtains like she wanted to escape. “Shouldn’t you be guarding someone on command level or something? We had terrorists on this ship, you know.”

  Tadeo stiffened and tightened his fists. What was wrong with this woman? She talked like a disrespectful sublevel half. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

  The lume bar above the cot finally flickered on, and Tadeo squinted against the sudden bright light.

  Nora leaned over the cot, peering at him, and stopped a few inches from his face. “Who did you say you were again?”

  “Lieutenant Raines. I’m on the president’s personal guard. Now—”

  “Tadeo Raines?” Her eyebrows leapt upward, and her hand darted out to touch his face.

  Tadeo pushed her hand away and jerked back against his chair. You did not touch a guard like that. Ever. But this woman was old and dying, and he needed to get this over with so he could move on to the Repository. “Ma’am, I just have a few questions to ask about some of your patients.”

  Nora laughed and crossed her arms. “You look just like your mother.”

  Tadeo stilled. “Excuse me?”

  “What did you want to know about my patients?”

  His mother? How did this medic know anything about his mother? “Are you from the Meso?”

  Nora’s expression hardened. “No. I’ve been here my entire life.”

  “Then how…” Tadeo shook his head. He didn’t have time for this. He activated his handheld and started the audio recording program. “We’re beginning the interview now. Please state your name.”

  “Nora Faust.”

  “Nora, did you see a patient named Tatiana Carizo?”

  Nora stared at Tadeo for one long moment, then licked her lips. “Hmm. Name doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “Really? Interesting. We just airlocked her for treason. I thought every person on this ship knew Tatiana’s name.”

  “How unfortunate.” A small smile appeared on Nora’s lips. “No. I can’t remember ever treating her.”

  She was lying. Tadeo was sure of it. But why? “Tatiana’s file says she assaulted Medic Meletsky. I’m surprised it wasn’t reported to the guards. Tatiana should have been thrown into the brig. But instead, she asked for you—by name, and you stepped in to talk to her. What did she say to you?”

  “Can’t remember.” Medic Faust tapped her head with two fingers and met his gaze. “It’s these core sickness drugs. They addle the mind.”

  “Tatiana came in for a routine implant renewal and complained of pain from a recent termination. You talked to her.”

  “I do renewals all the time.”

  “I need to know what she said.”

  “I suppose she said she was in pain,” Nora snapped. “You have the file. Stop asking stupid questions.”

  For a moment, Tadeo was too shocked to reply. Who did this woman think she was?

  “Tatiana was a terrorist,” Tadeo said through gritted teeth. “We need to know what she said to you.”

  “I have no recollection.”

  “Were you supposed to terminate Era Corinth’s pregnancy this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me what she said to you during your examinations.”

  Nora considered Tadeo, sweeping her gaze from the top of his head down his uniform. “No. I don’t think I will.”

  Tadeo’s face heated, and he forced himself to unclench his fists. “You’re refusing to answer the question?”

  “Era said nothing unusual.”

  Tadeo took a breath and leaned back in his seat. “Do you know what Era did last night shift?”

  “What is this about? I’m done answering questions, and I need rest.” Nora looked through the crack in the curtains. “Medic!”

  “Era airlocked herself last night.”

  Nora’s hand went to her chest. “What?”

  Tadeo kept his gaze o
n her, unblinking. “Maybe you know why she did it. She must have said something to you.”

  She clutched the sheet, twisting it in her grasp. Then she closed her eyes and settled her head back onto the pillow.

  “I’m conducting an investigation,” Tadeo said. “Do you know something about Era and Tatiana? Were they working together?”

  Nora didn’t open her eyes. “Go away.”

  “Sit up.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Sit up and answer my question.”

  Nora rolled away from him.

  Hot anger lit up in Tadeo’s chest, and he leaned over the bed to haul Nora into a sitting position. Her arms were icy cold. She was so thin, so frail.

  She opened her eyes, and there were tears in them. “Do you think I don’t feel every death? I do,” she said, her voice hard. “You’re a Raines. If you want answers to your questions, ask your traitorous mother. Now get your hands off of me.”

  Tadeo froze, his hands still clutching her arms, and she pulled away from him. He sank back into the chair, his heart pounding. My traitorous mother?

  “My mother is the most loyal captain in the fleet—and a model every captain should follow,” he said, his voice low, threatening.

  Nora narrowed tear-filled eyes at him. “I was around long before you, boy.”

  “You don’t talk about the captain of the Meso that way,” he said roughly.

  “How about the son?” She wiped at her eyes. “You’ve followed right in your mother’s footsteps. You’re both a curse on this fleet.”

  Tadeo balled his hands into fists and stood. “Will you or will you not answer the questions I’ve asked you?”

  “I will not.”

  “You realize what this looks like—that you’re protecting a known terrorist?”