by Darren Beyer
Mandi floated to the panel, scanned the document, and applied her thumbprint, with retinal scan and verbal acceptance as her signature.
“May I leave now?” She met Grae’s eyes.
Grae smiled, pivoted, and made a grand, sweeping gesture.
Kicking off the rear wall, Mandi pushed herself through the door.
A small room lay beyond. Like her berth, it contained minimal handholds or restraints and little beyond storage cabinets and a desk with a secured chair. She turned to see the label “Cell 2” on the outside of her berth. “Cell 1” was the door next to hers.
“You asshole,” Mandi said hotly. “This really is a prison!”
Grae shrugged. “Brig, actually. But, yeah. Now you’re an ex-con.” He smiled.
Mandi floated in the small room with one hand on her door, looking askance at the desk and wondering what a desk and chair were doing on a spacecraft.
“Dauntless, nominal gravity, brig.” Grae flashed a smile that threatened to turn into a laugh.
“Nominal gravity, brig, aye,” a computerized voice responded. “Gravity initialization in ten, nine, eight—”
Mandi spun in confusion as Grae floated passively.
“One, zero.”
A tug—minute at first—began pulling her toward the floor. Instinctively, she pointed her toes down. As they made contact, she steadied herself on the wall until the gravity slowly increased to what felt like a full g.
“Artificial gravity,” Mandi said, astonished. “You’ve developed artificial gravity?”
“Not exactly gravity. You probably know how hyperium coils create a repulsive force to keep the walls of a wormhole from collapsing. This uses a similar principal. It’s more like artificial anti-gravity. You’re being pushed toward the floor right now.”
Mandi looked up to the ceiling, then to her toes, standing up and down on them to test it. A large smile crossed her face.
“This—” She looked at Grae, still doing toe raises. “This is amazing.”
“Now you know one reason why we couldn’t let you out of the brig until we had assurances that you wouldn’t tell anyone. Would you like a tour? We’ve got a little time before we jump out of the Sol system.”
“Jump? But I thought—I’m not—Grae, I need to get back to Earth before you leave orbit. I know I signed that NDA, and I won’t say anything—” She paused at his expression.
“Mandi, I hate to tell you this—” Grae gave her an amused look. “—but we’ve just passed beyond Jupiter’s gravity well. Dauntless blasted out of Earth’s orbit the minute we came onboard.”
Chapter 30
Earth
“We already know that one bomb came from your company.”
Gregory Andrews leaned forward on his cane to listen intently as his colleague addressed the man dressed in an impeccable suit who sat in front of a panel of seven men and women of the Assembly Nuclear Oversight Committee.
“Members of the Assembly, AIC does not make nuclear weapons,” the man protested. “Nor do we supply nuclear material to anyone.”
Andrews smiled. The Earth-based counsel for AIC was getting a grilling by the esteemed Member of the Assembly from New South Wales. Andrews had put him up to it. He hated lawyers and was always happy to see one squirm, especially one from AIC.
“Certainly, the evidence from Alexandria does not support your statements. I hazard to guess that, when the evidence arrives from Mars, we will see the same indications. The difference is that on Mars now lie thirty-four people who will never return home to Earth and more than a hundred whose lives have changed forever.”
“I, along with everyone at AIC, watched in horror as events unfolded on Mars. That you would suggest that AIC had anything to do with that is beyond the pale. We manage our production extremely carefully, and our enrichment facilities are monitored according to international laws.”
“Do you seriously want us to believe that, with all AIC’s wealth and resources, it could not have some enrichment facility closeted away in a far flung star system or even in a hidden complex on Eridani? Do you take us for fools? And what of this?” The Assemblyman theatrically held up a small book worth of printed paper. “This latest security briefing on the Nashira Brigade lists dates and times of numerous hypercrypted communications from Eridani to the terror group, and one if its leaders was at one time employed by AIC!”
“Now, now, Assemblyman,” Andrews chimed in, “we should not be bandying about unfounded accusations. This is the Euramerican Coalition, and even though AIC is headquartered trillions of kilometers away, it is still entitled to the same presumption of innocence that we afford all of our citizens. This means a full and impartial investigation.” Andrews turned toward the AIC counsel and cast a reassuring smile. “You shall get one.” His smile tightened.
“Thank you, Assemblyman Andrews. As I’m sure you know, we granted the Coalition liaison on Eridani access to our reactors and records the instant we received news of the nuclear material seized in Alexandria. We are cooperating in every way we can.”
“I know you are, and we thank you for it. As I’m sure you know, there will be requirements for more.”
“We will cooperate in every way that the law demands.”
“The law, yes, but what about the people?” The New South Wales representative leaned forward. “The families of the victims? What about what they demand?”
“Our colleague from Australia has a point.” Andrews held up a hand. “The letter of the law may not suffice in this case. As Chair of the Nuclear Oversight Committee, I have the authority—” He looked the panel up and down. “—with Committee approval, of course, to conduct an investigation of any nuclear-related incident. As such, I hereby propose that an investigatory team comprised of nuclear inspectors, industry personnel, and forensics experts be formed immediately. This team will travel to Eridani forthwith, and AIC will provide unfettered access to all nuclear facilities. I believe in fairness, justice, and the rule of law. If this team finds everything in order, then AIC will get our seal of approval and our sincerest thanks for allowing an open and transparent investigation.”
“We have anticipated such, and we are confident that our facilities are clean. I look forward to coordinating the visit with the team leader.”
“You’ve already started. That leader will be me.” Andrews smiled thinly.
***
Andrews limped to his office through the halls of the Assembly House, his cane echoing off the marble floor. His assistant, in her sensible shoes, trailed silently. With Erik out of pocket, she would have to handle all the details. Although she’d been with Andrews for longer than he could remember, she’d never before been a part of a sensitive plan. He would have to use extreme care in what he told her and how it was conveyed.
“There is a delegation heading to Eridani.” Andrews kept his voice low. “I will be the lead. It won’t be announced for another day, but I need you to get everything in order ASAP. The list of members should be in your comm, along with transport information and schedule.”
“Yes, sir.” She slowed, scanning her comm. “Mr. Hallerson will not be joining you?”
“Not on this trip. Erik is otherwise—engaged.” Andrews’ cane rang out against the marble floor.
Chapter 31
Eridani
Jans leaned back against the headrest, gazing under his lids through the windshield of the corporate helo. The coastline scrolled by below, and he could barely make out the unmistakable shape of AIC Tower rising above New Reykjavik in the waning evening light. How many times had he seen this same view with Sophia on their return from some exploration or sightseeing jaunt? He took a deep breath, let out a sad sigh and closed his eyes. He’d picked a bad time to visit the farming facility on Aires Island. The better part of a day’s travel from home, it had been the wrong place to be caught during humanity’s first true nuclear terror attack. Jans’ absence from New Reykjavik that day had not played well in the press.
&nbs
p; “New Reyk Tower, helo November, five, four, alpha, inbound from the west, ten kilometers, requesting direct AIC Tower, pad four,” the pilot called into his headset.
Jans brought his head forward and looked to the spaceport, which would soon welcome a nuclear inspection delegation.
“Roger, Tower. Cleared to land, five, four, alpha.”
The helo came in low over the coast, crossing the beaches and shallow tidal lagoon, before flying over New Reykjavik. As it neared AIC Tower, the pilot pulled back on the collective, shooting the helo up the side of one of the tower’s cylinders. At the top, the pilot came to a hover, testing the wind, then guided the helo to the empty helipad with a giant number 4 emblazoned in its middle. The wash from the helo’s turbines buffeted a rooftop garden of exotic Eridani blooms next to the pad. As the pilot gently touched down, Jans saw Danny Dagan exiting the door from the central glass dome.
The turbines began to wind down, and the pilot began the shutdown procedure.
“Thanks for another spectacular flight.” Jans clapped the pilot on the shoulder and undid his harness.
“You’re very welcome, sir!”
Jans opened the helo door to a stern-faced Dagan, who stepped aside as Jans ducked under the blades and straightened. They walked together purposefully toward the dome, down the avenue of flowering native shrubs.
“You know this is going to come back on us, Danny,” Jans said loudly over the waning engine noise. “The Hyperion move should have eased the pressure on us, but clearly someone has greater designs.” He spoke more quietly as the volume of the engine dropped. “This just shows what lengths they’ll go to.”
“Once I would have called you crazy for such a statement. I would have considered the bombing a coincidence.”
Jans raised a surprised eyebrow. Coincidence wasn’t even in Dagan’s vocabulary.
“But now—”
“We’re being set up, Danny. The charade in the Assembly is the prologue to a very unpleasant second act. We must be ready to fight back.”
“I agree in one respect.” Dagan shook his head. “‘They,’ as you say, are setting us up, and they have taken steps that I never would have imagined, although I am capable of much imagination in this regard. However, it is difficult to attack your enemy when you do not even know who your enemy is or why they are attacking. Their motive must be more than simple greed.”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about nothing else since I saw the footage. It could be one of our rivals, a foreign government—hell—even the Coalition. But why? That’s the disconcerting question. I’ve assumed all along that everything was meant to keep us from reaching the cusp of the Hyperium Paradox, to keep us from gaining military might through a full monopoly on hyperium production. That’s why I gave up Hyperion. But there is more here. Someone must know about Helios. Someone is looking to take us over.”
“I have worried about the same for some time now,” Dagan said, “But we have picked up nothing—and I mean nothing—showing that anyone knows of the existence of Helios.”
“If they don’t know, they suspect. And a corporate takeover would be one sure way of finding out. I’m wishing that we hadn’t turned off the Gaussian mission,” Jans mused. “You’ve told me a hundred times that this is all related. Knowledge is power, and the knowledge of all this is out there. I gave in to the pressure, Danny.”
Dagan slowed his walk, and Jans stopped to face him just outside the closed door of the dome. All around, the Eridani foliage of the rooftop garden stood out against the twilight sky.
“I have a confession to make.” Dagan lowered his head. “I never sent the mission cancellation.”
“But—”
“It is not for the reason you think, Jans. When Raymus missed his check-ins, I worried that he had been compromised. Sending any message in that situation—no matter how cryptic—could have easily made a bad situation worse. Besides, I had no way of knowing if he would retrieve it. Now I’ve received a signal from Quito. All signals point to Raymus getting off Earth.”
“What?”
“The rendezvous with Dauntless also likely happened. And there are no signs of Dauntless being detected by any Coalition listening networks.”
“I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you.” Jans pressed his mouth thin.
“I would prefer neither.” Dagan let a rare, pained smile show as he opened the door and stood aside.
“You mother—” Jans smiled in spite of himself. He took a breath and let out a sigh as he walked through.
Dagan followed, and the door closed behind them with a hiss as it sealed.
“Down to business, Danny,” Jans continued in a hushed tone as they walked down a carpeted hall. “We’ve got to limit the damage. Let’s get out press releases hinting that the uranium in the Mars bomb could have come from us.”
Dagan raised a questioning eyebrow.
“If we don’t control this story, someone else will. Our narrative is that we’re being used. We get it out there that we’re doing our own investigation. I need to get out to our uranium facilities and put on a show for the cameras. Get on the front lines, so to speak.”
They reached a lobby directly under the apex of the dome, where an elevator waited to carry Dagan downstairs. Although Dagan had an office on the top floor, he seldom used it. He didn’t like being in the penthouse.
“Danny.” Jans lowered his voice even more. “I don’t want them to find a single shred of information pointing to Helios. I know you’re careful about these things, but double check—triple check—”
“I know what to do.” Dagan sighed. “And the Mace Contingency?”
“I don’t even want to think about engaging it.” Jans paused, thinking of the plan he and Dagan had conceived in case things got too hot. “Let’s meet in the morning about preparing for the Assembly delegation. We need to plan this thing out, and make sure all our bases are covered.”
This delegation was more troubling than it appeared. Helios had a small nuclear reactor onsite to provide supplemental and backup power to the main fusion reactors. Now AIC would have to account for the uranium used on Helios. If they disclosed that they had an offsite reactor, it would be inspected. And if they didn’t, they’d have to cover it up.
Dagan nodded and stopped at the elevator. Jans clasped his shoulder, then turned and walked toward the front door of his suite. When he reached the polished, carved wooden door, he paused, turned toward Dagan and tipped a salute, as his head of security nodded soberly and stepped into the elevator.
Jans placed his palm on the door’s access lock. However, instead of glowing green and unlocking the door, it remained unresponsive. Jans reached for the door handle and tested it. It was unlocked. Slowly he cracked open the door. Inside the lights were out. They shouldn’t have been. The automated systems should have detected him coming down the hall and turned the lights up for him. Opening the door wider, he stepped into the darkened entryway and reached for the manual switches. They didn’t work either.
“Lights full on.” Jans looked up through the clear ceiling to the stars just becoming visible in the darkening sky. His head snapped back down immediately. Something or someone was here with him.
He was not alone.
Chapter 32
Sol System
Mandi craned her neck through the sliding door into the small, cramped space. A sink was hidden in a nook in one wall, and two long bulging, curved panels adorned the room. Grae walked to one of them and placed his fingertips on a small screen to one side. The panel opened, revealing a cylindrical bunk compartment with a small holo screen, a few drawers, and control panel.
“This bunk is yours. The big drawer has some nano-weave uniforms. You’re pretty tall for a women’s size, but they should adjust to fit. The smaller drawer has a toothbrush and other, well—”
“I got it,” Mandi looked around the tiny bunk compartment. “Maybe I should go back to the cell.” She smiled.
“The brig,” Grae cor
rected her. “You get used to it pretty quickly. With this—” he reached into the control panel, “—you can adjust everything. Temperature, lighting, background sound, how firm you want the mattress—it’s all set right here. You can even change the gravity level, which is pretty cool. I sleep better on Dauntless than anywhere else. It’s as though you’re in a cocoon, your own little world.”
“Perhaps I could get used to it—”
“This is also where you’ll go if we do any high-g burns. The whole berth rotates on its axis. If the alarm sounds, get in here right away. Being stuck outside your bunk during a burn is not fun.” Grae pulled his arm out of the control panel, brushing Mandi’s shoulder, and abruptly jerked it away.
“And the room?” Mandi looked around at the other curved panel.
Grae colored. “This is our room. Each room has two berths, each with its own privacy door. I will be in the other berth, but, I assure you, the privacy is complete.”
Mandi turned to face him, her back against her berth. “I still can’t believe you got underway without telling me.”
“I don’t want to go over it again—”
“You don’t have to.” Her voice softened. “I’m joking. I understand.”
Grae’s shoulders relaxed.
“I should be thanking you. Everything has gone by so fast that it’s only now sinking in what you’ve done for me.”
“That’s understandable. You’re caught up in something big. You didn’t mean it to happen, but it did. I wish there had been another option, but you know leaving you behind wasn’t an option, and we couldn’t just pull up to a space station to drop you off before we blasted out.”
“Speaking of blasting out—why didn’t I feel it?”
“You wouldn’t. The same system that keeps you anchored to the floor also negates some of the forces we’d normally feel during maneuvers. Like right now. We’re still close enough to system defense nets that we’re only accelerating at about one and a half g’s. The system can negate up to five.”
