'Hello?'
'Hi. Jacob here. I need intel on Bales, and I mean deep intel.'
'Hold on a minute there, Sean. I thought that Lev Ryumin has what you need?'
'Yes, he does, but he's just run off.'
'Run off?'
'Yeah — he actually ran out of my room while I was talking to him.'
'Weird.'
'Tell me about it. He's got something on Bales, though, something serious. Serious enough to make him sprint like his trousers were on fire.'
'So he got cold feet, then? Figures. Okay, I'll see what I can do. We've got a few people that owe us some favours at the White House. You think this is worth using up those favours for?'
'Hell yes,' Sean said, stopping outside his door and fumbling in his pocket for the key card. He pulled it out, but before he inserted it into the door he noticed it wasn't his key card at all.
'Hold that thought,' he said, examining it. It was a top level RFSA security pass. 'You sneaky bastard,' he said, grinning. Then he realised he was locked out of his room.
Section 3 — Welcome to the ISS
Chapter 11
An uneasy hush lay heavy in Mission Control. The engineers, scientists, physicians, mathematicians and other experts had prematurely outlived their usefulness, a collective limb severed from a body that wandered on alone. Despite the weight of a twelve-hour shift pressing down on his aging muscles, Aleks couldn't leave. It didn't feel right. No one would say anything if he took a break, caught up on some sleep — in fact they'd probably encourage it. Yet still he sat at his post, watching as other weary staff members dropped one by one from the fold. The clock ticked onwards. Perhaps Gardner and Fisher were working on repairing whatever damage there was to the station's communication systems, readying themselves to broadcast? Aleks could feel the tingle of expectant frustration twitch in his knee as he bobbed it up and down, watching the clock tick … tock … tick … tock. Any minute now the call would come through, any minute now. Unless the comms systems were well and truly dead, of course.
Dead. That was a word he didn't want to think about. Somehow he felt if he exited the room, he would be abandoning Gardner and Fisher to face whatever hellish form of death awaited them. He knew there was nothing he could do for them sat at his desk, but even if he did leave, all he'd do was worry somewhere else.
'Aleks, go and get some sleep.'
Aleks looked up to see Bale's stern face staring down at him.
'I —'
'That's an order. You've done a fine job today, but I'm going to need you rested if you're going to do the same again tomorrow.'
Aleks went to protest but thought better of it. He was too tired to argue, particularly with John Bales. Removing his headset and rubbing his eyes, he creaked up out of his chair, shuffled out of Mission Control and headed towards bed. A wall of cold night air hit him as he exited the main building, and stepping up his pace, he cut across the grass to the dormitories. He heard the door clink shut behind him, but almost immediately it opened again. Quick footsteps slapped on the damp grass towards him, and he turned to see who it was.
'Aleks, can I have a quick word?'
It was Bales, his white hair glowing silvery in the moonlight.
'Sure,' Aleks said, rubbing his hands together to stave off the chill.
'I wanted to thank you again for what you did in there,' Bales said, his voice thick with sincerity. 'You stayed calm and performed when it was needed of you the most.'
'Just doing my job.'
'I need to ask you something,' Bales said. 'May I?'
'Sure.'
'You've had an admirable career. You've served your country — and the world for that matter — with utmost loyalty. Can I count on you to keep that up?'
This took Alex aback. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it seemed to him like Bales was questioning his loyalty, even if it was draped in a thin veil of complementation.
'Yes, of course, but what —'
'Not everyone is like you,' Bales interrupted, 'not everyone can see the bigger picture.' He took a step towards Aleks, his hardened face looming in the night's mist, his hands reaching out and clamping down on Aleks' shoulders. 'I think you know what I mean, Aleks. And I think you know why I'm telling you this. I want to know that we're on the same team, that we're fighting for the same side, because when things come to a head I need to be sure that you'll be there for me, doing as I say.' His grip tightened, fingers digging into Aleks' flesh. 'I need to know what Lev Ryumin has been doing, who he's been talking to.'
'I don't know what —'
'Don't answer me now, Aleks. Take some time to think, to relax. It's been a hard day, and I don't want you to make any rash decisions with a tired mind.'
Aleks blinked, dumbfounded.
'If you make the right decision, I can promise that your career with the RFSA — even with NASA — goes better than you could ever have dreamed. If you don't, well — I can't promise that you'll be spending much longer on this base.' Bales gave Aleks a pat on the shoulder and released him. 'I hope what I've said makes sense to you. Go and get some sleep, and we'll talk some more in the morning.'
Without another word, Bales turned back the way he had come. The door into the main building had long shut behind him before Aleks even moved.
* * *
'All we have to do is flood the chamber and we can go in,' Gardner said, prodding at a collection of fat, well-spaced buttons on the wall-mounted control panel.
'And then what?' Sally asked, watching him work, then looking at the circular hatch that stood between them and the rest of the station. 'We just wander in, say hi, kick back and watch some TV?'
Gardner stopped pressing buttons.
'Look, I know as much about this as you do, but we both know we can't stay in here forever.'
He paused, as if thinking, before resuming his button pushing. A quiet hiss that built into a gigantic roar in a matter of milliseconds startled Sally, but its presence seemed to reassure Gardner, who looked pleased. As fast as it started, it quietened again.
'Why didn't they let us in when we were back on board Progress?' Sally said.
'Any number of reasons. They might still be in the radiation protection compartments. They might be asleep. They might not have seen us coming.'
It seemed that Gardner was clutching at straws.
'But it's a good thing they didn't open that hatch,' he continued, 'because it could have ripped Progress apart and dumped all the station's atmosphere outside.'
He ended the sentence in a cheery way that lingered in Sally's mind. The silence in which it lingered wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one: it was one charged with electricity, a capacitor for whatever uncertainty awaited them. The glowing red light next to the hatch was bright and angry, and Sally willed it to stay red forever. It turned green. Neither of them moved — they both just stared at it.
'I suppose this is it,' Gardner said.
Sally couldn't be sure if she'd said, I guess so, or just thought it.
Giving himself a little nudge, Gardner drifted over to the hatch and grasped the lever with both hands. Sally heard the breath he took before guiding it anti-clockwise, taking one of her own and holding it. A gentle nudge was all Gardner needed to push the hatch open.
The white walls of the airlock continued into the Quest module, only the space between them was wider, but not by much. Following Gardner, Sally negotiated the inner airlock hatch into what looked like a space cloakroom. On the walls hung two bulky American EVA suits, much larger and thicker than the Russian ones they had worn for the launch. Their helmets were covered in soft drawstring bags, hiding the shining visors. Motionless and in line, she imagined the bagged spacesuits queuing on some medieval death row, waiting to be decapitated. The feeling of eyes watching her through the soft material gave Sally a prickle that crawled all over her. She shivered.
'We can de-suit here,' Gardner said, 'it'll be easier to move around.'
'I thought yo
u said you'd … been in your suit?' Sally said, wrinkling her nose at the thought.
'I was kidding! You don't think I can hold myself for six hours?'
Sally didn't respond, but she gave him a glare anyway.
'I just wanted you to feel comfortable,' Gardner said, holding his hands up, 'that's all.'
A bit at a time, they helped each other take off their suits, unclipping and releasing the helmets, gloves and boots first, then unzipping and peeling off the main carcasses, leaving them in their shorts and vests. The work was hard, particularly in near-zero gravity, and it made Sally hot. She was glad to be free of the suit, and she enjoyed the cool air that flowed across her bare arms and legs. Having secured their suits, Gardner headed for the exit, beckoning Sally to follow.
'Let's go and find the others. Then we can put some more clothes on and get something to eat.'
Sally hesitated, so Gardner slowed himself against the ring of wall that surrounded the open hatch between Quest and the rest of the ISS.
'It'll be fine — I promise,' he said, holding his hand out to her.
Giving herself a mental slap, Sally nudged away from the wall towards him. Without the suit, the weightlessness felt remarkable — fun, even — but right now she had neither the mind nor the stomach to enjoy it. As she approached Gardner, she brushed the ceiling with a casual hand, steering and slowing herself to a stop next to him.
'You're a natural,' Gardner said, smiling.
'Thanks.'
The open hatch led to another small module, connected at each end, at the top and bottom and ahead by more modules. The hatches ahead, above and below led to darkness; to the right stretched out at least thirty or so metres; and to the left was a pink wall with a tight conical tube that bent upwards and out of sight.
'Hello?' Gardner called out in a raised but uneasy voice.
They waited, but all that came back to them was the sound of the slow moving air and the electrical systems that moved it.
'Follow me,' Gardner said, pushing out to the right and down the long, white tunnel. Sally followed, drawing herself along handhold after handhold. Every surface was covered with them, as well as laptops, cables, buttons and all sorts of complex-looking equipment. It was a menagerie of science, with not a single space wasted. She ducked and weaved through cluttered spots, past semi-folded tables and around lumpy pouches held to the wall with Velcro.
'Strange — none of the hatches are closed,' Gardner muttered to himself as they reached the end of the long tunnel. He looked left and right down into the two modules attached either side of them, and Sally did too. Empty. Sally shivered despite the pleasant ambient temperature, leaving her exposed skin prickled with goosebumps.
'Let's check out the Russian side,' Gardner said, kicking off back the way they had come. Sally followed, not wanting to be left alone, and pushed herself off into a spiral, steadying herself as she caught up with him. She had somehow angled herself so that what was the ceiling was the left wall and the floor the right. Everything was familiar: the wires, the laptops, the buttons, the equipment — but it was all rearranged. The disorientation made her head swim, so she looked forward, concentrating on Gardner's socked feet, and pushed on. This was going to take some getting used to.
It was easy to recognise where they had started because of the tightening conical section that blocked their path and the pink wall that surrounded it. Following Gardner, she ducked below a black and yellow speed-limit sticker and into the cone. It was unlit and surrounded with bulging padded bags, which closed in around them as the cone narrowed. Although the exit was tight, they fitted through no problem, emerging into yet another module.
But this module was different. Soft white fabrics and high-tech equipment gave way to olive green metal and rough beige material. The noise was different too: the soft hum of processing air had become a louder, more industrial whine, emanating from the metal pipes that threaded from wall to wall, countless manual valve taps sprouting from them.
'Stay close,' Gardner said.
Sally tried to avoid looking into the yawning mouths of dark modules that passed by on either side. They left the module and entered the next, which was covered in its entirety with beige material. It was also littered with storage cylinders and boxes that were piled up and secured with bungees, filling half the module's height. Sally realised the walls themselves were lined with the softer of the two Velcro weaves, and the objects clinging to it were stuck there with the other. Ahead, Gardner had stopped, so Sally did, too. She tried to look around him, but he had manoeuvred himself upright in the tight space, blocking the view.
'Hello …' Gardner said, keeping himself steady with a handrail.
'Hello,' an unseen voice responded in a thick, Russian accent. 'I wondered when you'd get here.'
* * *
While munching on a piece of lukewarm toast, Sean turned the card Lev had left him over and over between his fingers. The first piece of toast finished, he stretched over to the room-service tray and picked up another, then continued with the newspaper article he was reading. He finished the second piece of toast, brushed the crumbs off the newspaper, put Lev's card away and retrieved his mobile phone. Number dialled, he held the phone to his ear, picking soft, mushy toast from his teeth with his tongue. There was a ringing, and a voice answered.
'Hello?'
'Hi. Sean here.'
'Sean.'
'Did you hear?'
'Hear what?'
'It's in the paper.'
'Sean, it’s three in the morning. Enough with the riddles.'
Sean looked at his watch and did the math.
'Sorry — my mistake. But this is important.'
'What is?'
'Lev's dead.'
The phone went silent, except for the hiss of static.
'Lev Ryumin? Are you sure?'
'Positive. It's in the local paper right here in front of me. Page fifteen mind you, but it's here.'
'What happened?'
'Car crash, apparently. Rolled it off an embankment and into a ditch. I'm surprised it killed him.'
'Do the police think it's suspicious?'
'I don't know, but I know I do.'
A crackled sigh.
'Okay, get on it. And see what you can find out with that card. But stay safe — don't do anything unnecessarily risky.'
'Of course,' Sean said, and hung up. He helped himself to another piece of toast.
Not much later Sean was battling commuter traffic as he weaved his way through the Moscow suburbs and South, out to a little town near Podolsk. He felt a relief to leave the concrete-smothered city behind, enjoying the refreshing feeling open expanses of countryside always gave him. After a few hours of driving, he pulled off the main road and crawled down a rutted track towards a dilapidated farm building. He parked up next to a rusted tractor with three wheels and a hole in the roof. This place always creeped him out. Letting himself into the building he called out:
'Hi! David?'
A crash was the response, followed by a short, middle-aged man with a mop of shoulder-length brown hair who popped into the hall from a dingy doorway. His face turned from annoyance to elation the moment he saw Sean.
'Sean! How are you?' he said in a strange blend of Armenian and American accents, rushing out to shake Sean's hand.
'I'm great, thanks — how are you?'
'Good, I'm very good,' David said, pulling Sean by the sleeve back through the doorway he had just sprung from. 'Can I get you anything to eat, to drink?'
'No thank you, I'm fine.'
'Are you sure?' David said, stopping to look at him with a quizzical expression. 'I have plenty!'
'Really, it's fine,' Sean said, wriggling free of David's grasp. As much as David annoyed him, he couldn't help but like the strange man. He was his go-to guy for all things computer technology, and had been since he'd arrived in Moscow many years ago as a keen-eyed and fresh journalist looking for his first big story. David had irritated him as much
then as he did now, but the affection that had built in the intervening years kept them firm friends.
David grabbed him again and continued leading him through the horrible and rather unsafe-looking building. They entered a large room, an old barn judging by the smell of manure and mildew. At the back was an array of computer monitors around an old office desk. Next to them was a scattered heap of tin cans, presumably the source of the crashing noise Sean had heard upon his arrival. Once dragged to the computers, David let Sean go and sat down on his moth-eaten desk chair. He looked up at Sean, expectant.
'So, what can I do for you?'
'I called by,' Sean said, 'because I was hoping you would be able to help me get some information.'
David continued to look at him, bright eyed.
'So …' Sean continued, 'I've got this key card' — he pulled it from his pocket and handed it to David — 'and I was hoping to see what we could get from it.'
David took it and looked closely at it, turning it over, inspecting it.
'Russian Federal Space Agency, huh?' David said, looking at Sean with narrow eyes. 'That's serious business.'
'Are you okay doing it?'
'Sure, no problem. I charge more for government hacks, though — you know that, right?'
'Of course.'
David grinned, a keen twinkle in his eye. What he did with all that cash, Sean thought as he looked around the disgusting habitation, was anyone's guess. He probably slept on a big pile of the stuff.
'This isn't any old door-opening hotel key card,' David said, turning his attention back to the thin slip of plastic.
'You're telling me …' Sean muttered.
'What?' David said, looking at Sean with the sort of expression a confused dog might have.
'I — never mind. What can you tell me about the card?'
David resumed his studying. 'It'll be encrypted. Cryptographic hardware, true random number generator, that sort of thing.'
'Can you do anything with it?'
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