by Cheri Lasota
The guard in question stood alone just inside the hatch.
“Heya, Flip,” Solomon said loudly, startling Flip Hedgely out of his stargazing via the large window across from him. “Heard any news today about the nuclear standoff?”
“Uh, what? Oh, it's just you, Sol. What the heck did you do to your hand, man?”
Solomon glanced at his bandaged palm and shrugged. “Eh, just a maintenance task gone wrong. No news from the ground?”
“I've been holed up here for hours, so I don't know firsthand. But I overheard Command folks saying that it's really happening down there. Dropping nukes left and right, apparently.”
Flip started to stare openly at Dextra, and she uncomfortably turned toward the window.
“Good-day, Miss Justice. Saw your mother come through a while back.”
“How long ago did they pass by here?” Dextra asked, her voice clipped.
“Oh, not more than fifteen minutes or so. Just after the rest of the other passengers.”
“Ah, we were, uh, detained longer than I thought,” Solomon said, a little more awkwardly than he intended, as he rubbed at the bandage on his palm. “We're running late for the Joint Command meeting, so we've got to get going.”
“Yes, you'd best get on, then. No need to mess with your spacepass. Your mother will be asking for you, Miss Justice.”
“All right. Thanks for the updates.” Solomon glanced back before they continued on. “Hey Flip, if you hear a call to board the ship, don't delay, okay?”
Flip frowned but nodded. “Yeah, sure, man. Will do.”
Solomon looked out the fenestella as they passed by. Below them, massive and glorious in its scale, was the main hub of the Nautilus-11 Space Station. When the Founding Families first commissioned his father's company to construct the station back in 2046, its spiral arm rotated to simulate artificial gravity. Once the artificial gravity generator had been invented and implemented, the Founding Families had charged Reach Corp's engineering and construction teams with the task of retrofitting Nautilus-11 into a stationary space station.
By 2060, Reach Corp had completed the majority of the work on Nautilus-11 and began their work on Sideris Station and eventually the other ships in the Nautilus Fleet. It seemed at the time that his father's work would never end. Solomon grew up on the station, watching year after year as progress was made. His father was a workaholic, and the only topics they ever discussed were engineering, aeronautics, or astrophysics.
Once he was old enough, his father sent him to the ground for more advanced schooling, first at Berkeley and then a year at Cambridge. After that, he did graduate work at Georgia Tech and MIT. Mads had tracked him down at Georgia Tech and continued to follow his grad work when they both ended up at MIT. Graversen wanted to bring him back to the Nautilus-11 to take up his father's work, something he had nearly sworn off after having a falling out with his father. For Solomon, school was a break from the endless education his father had given him.
“I need to send some encrypted messages via your DOT unit. Do you mind?”
Dextra looked dubious. “I suppose not.” She held out her wrist, and he held onto her synth-leather covered forearm lightly as he navigated through her device's interface to the message center. He tapped out messages to Tavian, Vida, Kasen, and Brooker asking for a status update. Then he deleted the messages to make it harder for them to find.
“Thanks,” he said, letting go of her arm. “Let me know if any of them send responses.”
“Won't they assume you're still in custody and that I'm attempting to trap them into revealing information?”
“Possibly. They don't know you, but they know your mother. It's a gamble either way. If any do respond, keep me posted.”
Next up, they'd have to get through the T4 Hatch into Nautilus-11's Gravitational Flux Chamber, which would take them from micro-G to simulated Earth gravity in a matter of minutes. Well, less than a second. The electronics needed to reach a steady-state, which took several minutes longer. A much faster process in the ten upgraded Founder ships that had already left them in the dust. Solomon wished now that he had retrofitted his own ship with even better capabilities than he had theirs. Ungrateful bastards. He heaved a sigh that rippled down to his bones and wiped a hand down his face. That line of thinking was just going to piss him off even more. Besides he had his next hurdle to focus on.
The Grav Chamber was going to be the biggest risk thus far. The chamber was full of cameras. They also had to get by the Nautilus guard stationed at the entrance. That Challenge Command still thought he was tied up aboard the Trafero was his main advantage, but it wouldn't be long before they discovered he was missing.
Dextra tucked in behind him as he pulled her along by the hand toward Nautilus Hatch T4. Unfortunately, three Challenge crewmembers were loitering around talking with the guard stationed at the Grav. How the devil were they going to neutralize them?
“Wait here,” Dextra said. “Let me see what I can do.” With that she let go of his hand and moved toward the guard station.
“Dextra, wait!” Solomon whispered, but she was already halfway down the corridor. He ducked back behind a bend in the docking module when the guard glanced toward his direction. Solomon didn't quite know what to make of this woman. She had guts. He had to give her props for that. But he had no idea if she'd get him thrown in lockdown or what. He watched from the corner, taking care to listen for anyone else approaching the area. The last thing he needed was to run into Edge or Graversen.
“Look, guys, I know you're on break, but I'm on urgent Command business,” Dextra said, her voice friendly and relaxed. “I need to go see Shuttlemaster Valek.”
The guard—Solomon thought his name might be John something or other—cleared his throat gruffly, and said, “What's this business to do with?”
“I apologize, Mr. Beecher, but it's confidential.”
Ah, yes. John Beecher was his name. Solomon remembered him only as the guy who replaced the last Nautilus guard who was dismissed for peeing in the micro-G module after a drunken night in the Paradise Bar on the SS Challenge's Watch Deck 16. What he didn't remember was whether this new guard or his chatty buddies were anti-Reacher. He'd find out soon enough when the guy responded to Dextra's evasive answer.
“Humpf,” was all Beecher could muster, sporting the ridiculous look of a miffed English gentleman from bygone days.
Dextra's smile lit up her face as she tried to assuage the man. Solomon was well aware it would have worked on him. And it seemed to be working on Beecher, who looked rather dumbfounded. “I do apologize, Mr. Beecher,” Dextra continued. “I am tasked with relaying a message to Valek, but I am not at liberty to say more.”
“Well, John, we'll leave you to your official business,” one of the other crewmembers said to Beecher as she squeezed his arm and flashed him a toothy grin. “Come by the bar after your shift, eh?”
“Yeah,” said the other one, a tall, skinny fellow with a long, horsey face. “Gia wants to tell you all about her latest theory on natural wormholes. Ha ha!”
“Shut up, Felix. It's a solid theory. I even asked the guys in the Astro Lab about it . . .” Solomon couldn't hear anymore as their voices trailed off down the opposite corridor.
Well done, Dextra, Solomon thought. Behind her back, she motioned him to follow her.
Solomon floated down, pulling himself along faster via the bulkhead handholds.
“Hold that grav flux, John. I need to head over to the Shuttle Sector myself,” Solomon said, hoping his voice came off sounding good-natured and easy.
Beecher frowned. “And what's your business here, Chief Reach?”
“Same reason that Dextra Justice is heading that way, I imagine. Going to see Shuttlemaster Valek on the SS Challenge as well, I heard?”
“Yes, I am, actually. We must be on different errands, though.”
“I think so. Anyway, you got room for one more, Mr. Beecher?” Solomon asked.
“Certainl
y, Chief,” the guard said. “But we need to hurry. I'll be relieved shortly.”
Perfect. That meant he wouldn't be around to answer any questions later about why he let Solomon Reach slip through his grasp. Solomon smiled despite himself. He might make it through this alive. Well, through the Grav Flux Chamber, at least.
“Not a problem, John,” Solomon said, hoping his smile wasn't too over the top. He wasn't cut out to be an actor. Frankly, he wasn't cut out for subterfuge and torture either. “We'll be fluxing out of your hair in no time.”
“Yes, just say the word, John,” Dextra said, flashing that smile again. Damn, she was stunning.
“Just a moment,” Beecher said. He coded them in via the panel log. Solomon hoped it wouldn't flag them immediately, but nothing seemed amiss as he waved them through the hatch.
They both nodded to him as they strapped into two of the seats that lined the bulkhead.
“You know the drill,” Beecher said, as he programmed the door to shut and stepped out of the Grav.
“Thank you, John. See you next time around,” Dextra said, flashing that winning smile again and straightening her cap more fully on her head. A tendril of hair had slipped from under her hat and fell across her forehead. He had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck it back in. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly instead.
Focus, Reach. You've got a job to do.
Solomon kept an eye on the fenestella at the far end of the Grav. The next hurdle stood there, but this time it was one of his own. Security Specialist Aaron Borden had been with his Reacher crew since its inception. Normally, he worked security aboard the SS Challenge, but it looked like they were short-handed at the moment, likely due to the news of nuclear war. He'd need to talk to Borden immediately after fluxing through the Grav. He hoped the man would be on board with his plans.
Solomon closed his eyes while the Grav worked its magic, accumulating gravitational charge within just a few minutes to turn micro-gravity into artificial gravity by means of electromagnetic waves and a whole lot of science Solomon hadn't bothered to concern himself with when he had plenty of other issues to deal with as lead aeronautical engineer on this project: design, logistics, materials handling, gatejumping, cryo science, and on and on. It was a good thing he paid smart astrophysicists to work the detailed numbers. He didn't have time for that shit.
As the minutes passed, a solution to his predicament started to take shape in his mind, and it all revolved around Nautilus-11 Docking Commander Daniela Marcks's son, Zander. Solomon visualized his plan as a series of steps up a staircase.
First step: get to the Joint Command board meeting on Nautilus and somehow eavesdrop undetected. He needed to uncover the Founders' ultimate endgame as well as track down where the docking commander was going to be for the rest of the day. Life was about to get very unpleasant for her very shortly.
Second step: somehow make it aboard the SS Challenge. This would be the most difficult step of all, and he didn't have a clue how he was going to pull it off.
Third step: if Tavian reported in that he had disabled the Cav Drive, Solomon would move on with the rest of his plans. If he didn't hear from Tavian, he'd have to head to the Propulsion Sector and somehow disable the drive himself.
Fourth step: attempt to contact Brooker and Kasen. Brooker held his ace card, and he hoped he'd get the man what he needed before it was too late. He knew Brooker had likely successfully spread the airlock rumor, but no one had heard from him.
Fifth step: if necessary, locate Tavian in the Propulsion Sector and debrief. If Tavian had completed his task, he'd have him sit tight while he went after Daniela Marcks's son.
Sixth and final step: he had to find Zander. He should probably find him first but without knowing Tavian's status, his plan wouldn't succeed. Hopefully, Marcks was working over in his usual lab station on the SS Challenge.
He felt Dextra's touch on his arm and it startled him. He'd been too far gone into his mental calculations to notice the instantaneous switch back to gravity. He shook his head to focus on the here and now. He contracted and relaxed the various muscle groups in his body, trying to get used to the weight of the gravity again. It wouldn't take long, but he might have to move fast once out of the Grav Chamber. Strangely, his hand felt worse. The bandage had helped a bit earlier, but now his hand was throbbing nonstop.
“Your hand hurting you?” Dextra whispered, her eyes crystalline with concern.
“A bit,” he acknowledged. “But we've got to get moving.”
“Will he let us through?” Dextra asked, nodding toward Aaron.
He was studying Solomon from the edge of the Grav slider, raised eyebrows and all.
Solomon smiled at him as he took Dextra's hand and helped her up on unsteady feet in the sudden gravity well.
“Haven't seen you in a while, Chief. How's it going!” Borden said, his Boston accent an oddly comforting reminder of Solomon's MIT days.
“Aaron, do you trust me?” Solomon asked, wobbling a bit from the gravity.
Aaron's eyebrows rose even further. “Um, yes, sir. I do. Without a doubt.”
“You've got to be certain, because you're about to put yourself in danger on my account.”
Aaron frowned, one side of his mouth twitching. “What do you need?”
“I want you to block anyone from leaving the Challenge. Say you've been instructed to by your superiors, and don't give any further information than that. And I need you to ask Riva to do the same at the Cargo Hatch on the SS Challenge. Don't lock it down, though. Anyone who wishes to board may do so.”
Solomon gave him a few seconds to let that sink in. Aaron's mouth bobbed open like a fish for a moment.
“Am I allowed to ask why, sir?”
Shrewd fellow.
“I'll give you the abbreviated version. Joint Command just fucked the Reachers over and gave three thousand of our people a ticket down the lifters toward certain death.”
“Wha—?”
“I couldn't believe it either, Aaron. But there it is. I'm trying to keep those three thousand Reachers onboard the Challenge so I can save their lives, and I need your help to do it. I will handle the rest. Will you help me?”
Aaron turned speechless, but bless him, his noggin' was working just fine. He nodded with all the vigor of a woodpecker hammering away at a tree.
“Good man. You just saved three thousand of your coworkers. Not bad for a days' work, eh?”
“Very good, sir. Yes, sir. I'll call up Riva. What else can I do?”
“If you keep your mouth shut, I'll give you a raise.”
Aaron smiled. “I do believe I can manage that, Chief.”
“Wait, sir,” Aaron said, distracted as he apparently read a Ui he'd just received. It gave Solomon a start. If Challenge Command caught sight of them via the Grav cameras, his recent torture session was shortly about to be extended. His hand twitched at the thought.
“I've just received a . . .” Aaron's long forehead rippled into a frown. “Well, it seems Tavian Hunt has a message for you, though the Ui came from Jazeem Rajan.”
“Yes? I've been waiting for a message from Rajan actually.” Solomon kept his voice sounding monotone and bored. The less information that caught Aaron's attention, the better.
“Jazeem relays that Tavian requires assistance in the Propulsion Sector.”
“Ah, as expected. I'll send someone else to assist. Anything else?”
“No, that's it.”
“Solomon, we'd better go,” Dextra whispered from behind him.
Solomon pulled her aside, out of Aaron's earshot. “Tavian must have been detained by Challenge Command. Doesn't bode well. If Edge gets a hold of him and makes him talk . . .”
“Is he strong-willed? Maybe he could handle—”
“Tavian?” Solomon nearly laughed despite the gravity of the situation. “No, that's definitely not how I would describe him.” Now put a beautiful woman within three feet of that ladies' man, and Solomon might hav
e a different opinion. Solomon kept that last thought to himself as he stared at Dextra's black-shimmered lips. Unfortunately, he then started to picture Dextra Justice strapped down in a torture room while Edge extracted exactly what he wanted from her.
“Look, I think I better go it alone from here on out,” Solomon said. “They are going to look at the cameras eventually and realize you let me go. You should stay hidden somewhere. Maybe even in your cryo bed. No one would think to look for you there.”
“You and I both know I'd be useful to you.”
“Useful, yes,” he conceded, “but safe, no. You're in procedures. Doesn't all this make you . . . uncomfortable?”
“Of course it does.” Her sideways smile disarmed him utterly. “But it would make me more uncomfortable if I had to worry over you, not knowing if they've caught and tortured you again. I saw the look in the commander's eyes. He won't stop until he gets the information he wants out of you.”
Solomon bit his lip, thinking. He was starting to like this woman—possibly the result of space-imposed celibacy and the minor fact that she saved his life—and putting her in danger made him uncomfortable. But he couldn't deny that she would either be useful in the execution of his plan or as a bargaining chip should it come to that.
“Stay close to me,” he said. “We've got a long way to go.”
Solomon figured they'd make it down to Nautilus-11's Main Hub in about 15 minutes, granted there were no delays. The Transporter Hub, where both Trafero- and Transfero-class transporters docked upon arrival, was connected to the top of the massive cylindrical module that connected all the major hubs of the space station. The Systems Hub, where the majority of the systems and engineering sectors resided, was located below Nautilus-11's Main Hub.
“Take care what you say from here on out. And keep your head down. Too many cameras . . .” Solomon let his voice trail off.
Dextra nodded. “Which lift?”
Solomon waved a nonchalant hand toward the sign labeled “Passenger Lift 1.” He figured they were less likely to be stopped if they took passenger lifts and entrances instead of crew routes throughout Nautilus-11 and SS Challenge. They'd stand out more against the passengers around them in their black and red uniforms, but at least they wouldn't be recognized as easily among their own crewmates.
