by Cheri Lasota
He knew that just to the right the gigantic Cavitran Drive stood on its sturdy pedestal. Lining every bulkhead around it were monitoring systems and computers used not only for the Cavitran but also for various other power systems.
“Don't just sit there, Hunt. Get this drive back together again.”
“What do you expect me to do? It's missing a critical part, and I don't know where it is. I can't even 3D print a new part because the designs are missing. Vida Rosado is the expert on this ship. She can fix it when she gets here.”
“Where is she, Hunt? You work closely with her, yes?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar to Solomon, but he couldn't place it. The whir of the machines masked the nuances of the guy's voice too much. If he hadn't mentioned Tavian by name, he wouldn't have been able to tell it was him either.
“Like I told you, no one can find her.”
“Contact Rosado on her UiComm now,” the interrogator demanded.
“We may be Reachers, but we're not completely devoid of intelligence,” Tavian said, his voice dripping with sardonic irritation. That Solomon had no trouble hearing. “Her Ui is no longer responding.”
At that, Solomon heard the dull thud of a fist hitting flesh. Tavian grunted loudly. “Dammit. I told you what you wanted to know,” he said, his voice even more muddled, as if he had blood in his mouth. Solomon balled up his fist, feeling a particular need to punch someone . . . Well, he'd get his chance soon enough.
“I talked to her myself,” the interrogator said. “She said she would report to the Cav as soon as she arrived onboard.”
When he said that, Solomon's heart sped up double time, and he dropped the hex key onto his chest. Dextra stared at him, eyes wide. Solomon blew out a shaky breath. She gave him a “what the hell?” look.
“It's Mads Graversen,” Solomon whispered to her.
“What? What is he doing all the way back in the Cav?” Dextra said, her voice rising as she said it.
Solomon shook his head, willing her to quiet down. He needed to hurry. But even when he got the panel free, what the hell was he going to do? He couldn't take on three people at once, and Mads wasn't just someone he could put down. Mads was the same size as he was, and he knew the guy could handle himself. He figured Tavian might be able to fend off one. But that left one of them free to grab Dextra if she were spotted. And they'd realize she was either his captive or had fallen into league with him.
“Sir, Nautilus Command requested a status update on the Cavitran Drive repair.”
Ah, Jonesy and Baern had finally made an appearance.
“Who sent you?” Graversen asked.
“The crewman sent to tell you was called away on an urgent task, and we were available. We were heading this way to see if Tavian Hunt needed assistance anyway.”
“I repeat: who sent you?”
“I'm sorry, sir,” Baern said. “But I can't recall him telling me his name, and he didn't have a badge on. He had on a blue uniform, of course, and he had brown hair. Do you recall any further details, Jones?”
“No, our apologies, sir.”
“But why were you sent here?” Graversen wasn't buying it. “Why didn't they just message me?”
“I don't know, sir.”
“Never mind. Win, go report our status using my office comm unit. And Yamoto, go put out a ship-wide call for Drive Ops Chief Vida Rosado. She's up to something, and we need to figure out what it is. Tell Command I suspect she aided Reach in sabotaging the Cav, so they need to find her ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
Solomon heard the Cav Compartment's slider open and close. All right. That left Tavian, Baern, and Jonesy plus Graversen. They could take him easily.
Solomon couldn't message his crewmen to warn them, so he thought it best to wait for the moment when hopefully Mads would be close enough to the panel that he could surprise him. Solomon had no idea if he had a weapon, but he'd have to risk it.
It only took five minutes more of tense conversation and awkward silences to get Mads in the right position. He could tell when he had stepped on the side of the panel, as Graversen's weight made the loose panel creak.
Solomon gave Dextra a look to let her know he was going in. She nodded and tensed up immediately.
Moment of truth: either he'd be the conquering hero of all mankind or shortly find himself back in a torture room. He was two seconds from finding out.
Solomon shoved against the panel hard with the heel of his palms and felt Mads Graversen's heavy weight shift off the plate as he fell.
Solomon immediately popped up through the hole and shouted, “Somebody grab Mads!”
The room was utter chaos for a moment. Graversen had fallen back against Baern who was butted up against the base of the colossal Cavitran Drive rising up through the center of the compartment, the metal plates of the giant magnetron at the top gleaming in the room's harsh light. Jones was obviously struggling to make sense of what was happening as he got into position to hold Mads down, albeit with a sense of shock that he was restraining a man who had the authority to kick him off the SS Challenge permanently.
Graversen was built like a tank, all shoulder and chest. Solomon was a bit taller, had a longer reach, and was more fit overall . . . hopefully.
“Grab his other arm,” Solomon yelled at Tavian.
While Tavian jumped up to take hold of Graversen's arm, Solomon saw Dextra struggling to pull herself up into the compartment out of the corner of his eye.
“Get out of here, Justice!” Solomon shouted. She scowled at him and started to respond, but Graversen was struggling to break free. It looked like it took the full strength of all three men to keep him restrain him.
Mads yelled out in Danish, and Solomon assumed by his tone it was something like, “Get off me, you bastards.”
He was trying to reach behind his head to his DOT, likely to try sending an emergency call to Dickson Edge. While the three Reachers held him down, Solomon punched Mads solidly in the nose. He felt the cartilage crunch beneath his knuckle and the spray of blood scattered over all of them. He had to admit, it felt damn good. He'd been wanting to do that all day. While Graversen's head lolled back, Solomon reached behind his ear and yanked off his DOT device, tossing it into his pocket.
Mads shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind, flinching when wrinkling his broken nose clearly caused him considerable pain. “You're going down for this, Reach. You're going to get us all killed.”
“I'm trying to save three thousand Reachers. And I will succeed—with or without Challenge Command's permission.”
“You sabotaged the drive, didn't you?”
“No, I didn't.” Well, it was actually the truth.
“Help!” Mads called out, trying to get the attention of anyone outside the compartment.
Solomon glanced toward the door, and realized Dextra had completely ignored him and was standing in the corner of the room.
“Disable the door,” Solomon said to her.
“Code?” was all she said.
“Five-nine-three-eight,” he mouthed to her, so Mads wouldn't overhear.
While she coded that into the panel, Solomon glanced at Tavian. “Have you got anything we can tie him up with?”
Graversen struggled hard against their grip when he heard that, probably because he knew that he'd never get free to warn the other members of Command if they restrained him more permanently.
“Hold him down, guys. We've got one shot at this.”
“We got him,” Jones said. “He's not going anywhere.”
“So you say,” Mads spit out.
“I've got some cords in the maintenance box,” Tavian said.
“Get them now.”
Tavian rummaged around in a utility drawer at the far corner of the compartment. “Who is she?” he asked, not turning around.
“I'm XO Alexandra Justice's daughter,” Dextra said, lifting her chin at them all, daring them to say a word against her.
�
�Keep your mouth shut, Justice,” Solomon demanded, hoping he could convince Mads she wasn't involved in the coup. He tried not to look at her. If he did, he'd give the game away, as Mads was watching them closely. He hoped she understood what he was trying to do.
Tavian tossed Solomon the cords and held down Graversen's legs while Solomon tied his ankles and restrained his wrists behind his back. He put up a valiant and loud fight in the process.
“Have you got anything to shut him up?” Solomon asked Tavian, unable to keep from smirking at Mads. Nothing like one-upping your old mentor.
“You're talking to a member of Challenge Command and your former professor Solomon Reach. Have some fucking respect.”
“I wasn't talking to you, Graversen,” Solomon replied, his patience wearing thin. He squeezed his fist and almost reveled in the pain. Quite soon, he was certain that fist was going to make contact with the esteemed Professor Graversen again.
Tavian wrinkled his nose and lifted up a greasy piece of cloth. “A dirty work rag?”
Graversen scowled. “Someone's going to find me in here, Reach. And I'm going to make sure Command sends you out on a very long spacewalk.”
“Is that before or after you torture me to death?” Solomon retorted, holding up his bandaged hand.
Baern glanced at Tavian. “Stuff him.”
Afterward, they proceeded to work quickly through a hail of muffled Danish swear words from Mads, who they deposited in the far corner of the compartment and hooked securely to a lockout/tagout box at the base of a row of systems panels.
Once Mads was secured, the Reachers gathered on the opposite side of the Cav Drive out of Graversen's earshot and eye line. For good measure, Solomon glared at Dextra.
“You stay back in the corner. I'll deal with you in a minute.”
She turned her back to Mads and flashed Solomon a quick smile before anyone else could see. Thank goodness, she was quick-witted. She was becoming more of an asset with every passing moment.
“Okay, here's the deal. Baern and Jonesy, I need you babysit the Cav and Mads while Tav, Dextra, and I go on a little errand.”
“Yeah, but—” Baern started.
“Will you be missed by your supervisors?” Solomon asked.
“Doubt it, but even so, I don't think they'll put out a call for us. We should be good,” Jonesy said.
“All right, once we're out of this compartment, disable the door again. Override code is five-nine-three-eight. Baern, you're good with numbers. Remember that code. It's critical that no one is allowed in here—not even Reacher crew.”
“Five-nine-three-eight. Got it.”
“This mission is confidential. Tell no one what we are doing here. Only open this door for Tavian or Vida or me. And don't tell anyone where we are going.”
“Um, boss, we don't know where you're going.”
“Yes, well, keep it that way.”
“Yes, sir.” Baern touched his fingers to his cap out of deferential habit.
“Tavian, you all right?” Solomon asked. Hunt was looking roughed up, with a cut above his eye and blood coming from his nose and mouth. Still a handsome devil for all that.
“Yeah, but have you heard from Vida?” Tavian asked, as he rubbed his bloodied face.
“I debriefed her on Nautilus. She's waiting for my call.”
“Where has she been?”
“She won't be back in time to help you reassemble the Cav. Can you do it on your own?” Solomon asked.
“I ought to be able to,” Tavian said, glancing at the Cavitran Drive, “I'm the one who pulled the damn thing apart.”
Solomon nodded and waved Dextra over. “Do you want to stay here with them?”
“She's a Founder, Chief.” Tavian stared at her. “Are you sure . . .?”
Solomon softened his gaze as he settled his eyes on Dextra. “She's one of us now.”
She gave him an off-kilter smile, and he grinned back.
“I am going with you,” she whispered. “I could be useful, and my mother is going to disown me when she learns what I've done anyway.”
“Done what?” Tavian asked, one eyebrow cocked toward Dextra.
“Never mind, Tavian. We need to get going.” Solomon started to walk around the Cav toward the door.
“It's my wife, Solomon,” he heard Mads say in heavily garbled speech.
Solomon walked around the Cav Drive pedestal to find Mads had partially spit out the rag. His face had turned a deep shade of red as he gagged. Was it anger or fear he saw in his old mentor's face? He honestly couldn't tell.
“What are you talking about? You aren't even married.”
“I am,” he said, though Solomon could barely understand him.
“Take that rag out of his mouth, Tavian.”
Tavian strode over and yanked the rag from Graversen's mouth. He proceeded to curl his lips in contempt, spitting out the taste of the grease and dirt.
Once he had recovered somewhat, the look he gave Solomon stopped him in his tracks. “I've been married for more than a decade to Jessia Mardan. She's an American. I met her at MIT. We kept it secret, as my father maintained that she was holding back my career.”
“I never saw this woman. You never mentioned her.”
“Why would I tell you—one of my students?”
Solomon thought back to those days. He had never seen Mads with any woman, not even at the events or parties they both attended. But the look in Mads's eyes was one he had never seen before. Desperation? Fear? It was so unlike him, Solomon almost believed it must be true.
“It is the truth, Solomon,” he said, as if in answer to his unspoken thoughts.
“If it is, why are you bringing her up now? What does she matter to me?” Solomon said, his frustration mounting.
“She was denied, Solomon. She had markers for leukemia. But she's still clean. No cancer yet.” Mads's voice was breaking, his short, thickly accented words muffled as if he still had the rag in his mouth.
Solomon had a sick feeling he knew what Mads was about to say.
“Sol, my wife is in Serica Sector waiting to board. She should have been granted passage. She deserves a chance to live, just like the rest of us.”
Solomon looked up at the ceiling and blew out a long breath, trying to avoid the awful memory that was spilling into his brain, but he couldn't stop it.
***
“You can't save her but you can save thousands upon thousands of others,” Mads had said. Somehow he tracked down Solomon at the hospital on the day he finally discovered his half-sister's whereabouts.
“How did you know I was here, Professor? Did you talk to my roommate? He was the only one who knew I was coming here.”
Professor Graversen ignored his question, refusing to even look in through the inner window at his sister as she lay utterly still in her hospital bed, ravaged by what her doctor had called a rare form of mitochondrial disease.
“Take your father's place at Reach Corp. Don't turn away from your chance to save humanity from extinction. One girl versus the lives of so many others. Is it even a choice? She is a half-sister from your father's previous marriage, yes? She doesn't even know you. Why complicate her life when you could save so many others? She is well cared for by the state.”
“She has no family left. My father is gone and my mother died in a terrorist attack before I . . .” Solomon pressed his hands to the glass in frustration. “I barely remember her. I was only five.”
No matter what he tried, there always seemed to be a wall between him and his family. If it wasn't space or death, it was the ravages of sickness and the ever-present need to save the company his father had built at the expense of everything else.
“The doctors . . . What did they tell you about her future?”
“They said she has no chance for a normal life at all,” Solomon mumbled under his breath.
“Her mind is dead even though her body goes on living,” Graversen stated with cold finality.
That realiz
ation cut him through. He'd spent so many years searching for her, hoping—no knowing—that he was meant to save her and care for her, and now that purpose had been taken from him. He felt the loss of her as if she had already died. Without her as his guiding compass, did he even know what direction he wanted to go in life anymore? He knew which direction Professor Graversen wanted him to go: up. One hundred and forty-four thousand kilometers into geosynchronous orbit, to be exact.
But wasn't that what he had always wanted? To spacewalk, to live among the stars? To take over the company his father had built? It was a dream that didn't exist for billions of others. How did he get to be so lucky? He had been born with a brilliant mind and every opportunity possible while his sister had drawn the short straw. He knew he didn't deserve it. But if he had a chance to save so many others, shouldn't he take it? Would that make this moment easier to bear?
He knew the right answer was simple. Of course, he must take over Reach Corp now that his father had passed away. The furthering of the human species versus the loss of one life, even that of his sister? He must go. He had no choice at all.
“How did you know I was here?” Solomon asked again.
“Your father told me to watch over you. I've kept an eye on you this past year. Just before he died, your father told me you would someday try to find your sister. He told me to accompany you on that day.”
“He wanted me to abandon her?” Solomon stared at the professor's inscrutable face. “Or was it you?”
The professor never answered his question.
***
“Tell me the truth, Mads,” Solomon said, kneeling to face him squarely. “Was it my father who wanted me to abandon my sister all those years ago?”
Mads stared back at him. “My answer to that question was irrelevant. You knew you had to do this. For all of humanity.”
