“What?” He looked around quickly, thinking she’d seen something.
“Oh… it’s… he’s been watching us, Garry.” She moaned with tones of disbelief. “I feel so… so… soiled. Uck, I need a shower.” This time Garrison could see her convulsion as it translated through her suit.
“Okay Dominique, hold on, we have to act again. Ready?” He clicked the speaker on. “Dominique, go ahead inside and get the doctor’s suit. I’ll do a survey of the exterior for Center.” He kept the mic open as he circled the craft. Keeping up appearances, he gave vocal notation to the extent that he saw nothing unusual or out of the ordinary.
The intensity in Dominique’s voice was clear in his helmet, piping out to the trans-recorder. “Garrison, it’s a nightmare in here.” He completed his circumnavigation of the pod and ended up at the door, as she exited with a semi-wadded ship suit held between an arm and her suit. “There’s blood all over everything.” She held the frozen panel of fabric out. In the blue light reflecting from the ice world, the spray pattern across the suit looked black. As she rotated the flash-frozen suit to display more of the fabric, it appeared as if someone had taken a round sponge, about the diameter of someone’s neck, and pressed it here and there on the suit. “Remember the spray pattern of blood we saw on the outside of the scow? Look at the door jamb here.” She stepped out of the doorway, back on to the granite-hard ice, and swept her glove up and down the edge of the pod door frame. It also was smeared and splashed with black, and where the weak light of the interior cabin spilled out, it was revealed to be a dark red.
She said, “And that’s just the start of it. Where did all this blood come from? The doctor didn’t report an injury…” She detached her hand lamp and moved cautiously back into the escape pod. “Oh no…” She backed out quickly as Garrison moved out of her way, extending an arm to assure that she did not stumble and fall back like he had earlier.
“What is it?” he asked with concern.
Her breathing was pronounced in his ears; so was the sound that came from her throat as she choked back a retch. She waved her light in the direction of the interior, turning her gaze away.
With his hand lamp, Garrison looked inside, he was expecting something gruesome. Even so, he flinched badly, startled to see white, frozen eyeballs reflecting his light, staring up at him from the disembodied head lodged under the small crash couch.
While his skin crawled inside his suit, he stayed as calm as possible. “Alright, I’ve got that for Center.” He said it clinically, aware of the scrutiny the record was receiving, back home. “They’ll have to be satisfied with the holovid.” Center would say that he should have bagged it. Maybe he was being superstitious but he didn’t care; he didn’t want that thing on the ship with them. He said, “Let’s head back,” immediately regretting the unintentional pun.
Garrison turned off the external speaker, comfortable letting Center think that they walked the return trip in silence.
“You know, Dominique, whatever we are up against, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what those orders say—how ‘safe’ you’ll be; this thing is fucking deadly.”
She was silent for a moment, then, “Yeah, I’m right there with you. I’m really worried. I think that Clarence is in control of this mission, and that you’re right; his mood has turned to a dark sort of revenge. Probably fueled by the transmissions of us making love. Oh God…” She went quiet.
Garrison thought out loud. “We’ve got to milk this doctor for everything that he knows about this. We’re in a spot here; we can’t just abandon the mission. We’d end up behind bars for life, I suspect. And if we pursue whatever it is that we were sent after, we could end up as dead fetuses.” The last word came out awkwardly.
Frustrated, she pondered, “How are we going to get the doctor talking while Center is listening to every word? In fact, now that I think about it, they will probably prohibit any kind of information he could share. Anything that might be helpful; just like having us depart the scow before we could discover anything. Clarence is hiding critical information from us; he wants us to fail. To die.” Emotion had crept into her voice and she became clearly angry, focusing on Swan. Her commitment to BUMP was being abused, creating added conflict for her.
He looked off in the distance toward the QB1. “I’ve got an idea. It’s a long shot, and I need your support.”
“I trust you, Garry. You have my support, especially since I apparently can’t trust my current superiors at the moment. What’s your plan?”
“How much experience do you have with this Light Skipper?”
“I’ve flown it once before. As you have seen, it’s very intelligent, almost as if it were anticipating our needs. What do you need to know?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I’ll talk fast, we’re almost back to the ship. I want to see if we can force an airlock malfunction so that we have no atmosphere on our return trip. We’ll give the doctor the third EVA ship suit. We can listen to as much of his story as he’s willing to tell.
“As you can see, his suit is stiff as a board from leftover moisture, and all covered with blood. Probably be extremely smelly when it thaws. He won’t be able to wear that thing, right?”
Dominique held the suit out. It was frozen stiff, seeming ready to shatter. “Yes, I’d say you’re right.”
“Okay, watch what you say. I’m turning the speaker back on for a moment.” Once he’d done so, he said, “You know… that suit is disgusting, and full of moisture. Look how it’s frozen. Well, the doctor can use the third EVA suit on QB1. Not as comfortable as a flight suit, but less bulky than the suit he’s got on. We’ll put that mess in the cabinet to thaw out and dry. Maybe we can get the cabinet’s sterilizing function to work; that thing’s likely to put off a powerful odor as it warms up.”
“Okay,” was all she said, ever more self-conscious of the eavesdroppers.
The suit speaker went back off. “Do you have any ideas how we can accomplish the sabotage?”
“I’m concerned about that, Garry. As far as I can think, it would be something I’d have to do from the control board, like you did with these suits. By the way, nicely done.” She was glad to give him the acknowledgement, after how angry and suspicious she’d been when his ‘mistake’ had damaged them.
“Thanks, but I’m afraid that Center is going to be on the lookout for anything like that. It seemed that we just barely got away with my little stunt.”
“Yeah, damn, you’re right, and here we are back at the ship. We can’t stall. Come on, let’s just get the doctor into that third suit and we’ll work it from there. Maybe we’ll think of something on the fly. If we do, then let’s just take action without consulting each other.”
“Right. And watch your sub-vocals onboard, maybe I’m paranoid, but let’s not take chances.” She nodded. “Switching on the speaker now…”
The remaining conversations were, at once, natural, but also for show. As soon as the doctor was in his EVA suit, and as comfortable as possible, he wanted to share information without prompting. Just as they’d anticipated, the comm chirped and a generic voice instructed them to forestall any further statements until the doctor could be debriefed aboard the Medallion. They acknowledged, giving each other a sideways glance. They’d been lucky to hear his first story of ghosts, it seemed.
* * *
Dominique announced, “Make ready for lift-off.” It would be gentle but they were webbed in, the doctor in the sleep-cubby couch.
They had stripped back down to their flight suits, putting their EVA ship suits and Comani’s thawed, bloody flight suit back in the damaged suit cabinet, its heaters functioning well enough to slowly dry the accumulated moisture. Garrison had simply pushed the expensive hibernation suit out the lock onto the icy landscape. It would be there for some future salvage mission, along with the escape pod.
Garrison had not been able to conc
oct a way to jamb the doors of the airlock and was frustrated, feeling that this Swan was getting the best of the situation. He watched his board during the pre-flight sequence, then said, “Hold on, I’m getting a malfunction reading on the airlock doors…” He looked at Dominique, the question of coincidence plain on his face. She returned a puzzled look and a slight shoulder shrug.
“What’s the problem?” She fussed with her board, looking into the same displays that he was monitoring.
“Says ‘Incomplete Seal.’ What the hell?” Center would hear their perplexity; it was real. The captains shared the eerie feeling around the event’s synchronicity.
“What’s your status, QB1?”
She replied, “Uh, still working on that, Center. Be with you in a minute.”
Garrison launched into a humming tune, catching her attention, he motioned at his throat, reminding her about the sub-vocals. She nodded.
“Garrison, I can’t find anything wrong in the signal channels, the doors appear to be working. Would you do a visual?”
“Yep.” He unwebbed and stepped to the inner door. Sure enough, it was not fully seated in its boot-seal. He couldn’t quite believe the luck of this. He wasn’t sure if it could be called good fortune, but he did not want to mess with it. Unfortunately, he had no choice; he had to see if the door would close. He punched the manual control, and it slid fully open. Stepping cautiously toward the outer door, aware of the potential for instant frostbite from the outside atmosphere, he saw the same failure.
“Yeah, we got a big problem here. Neither door is fully sealing.” Eighre Masc’s atmospheric pressure was close to their norm, so the problem was minor while here on the surface; a temperature concern only. Keeping the cabin safe was a non-issue as long as they stayed here, but in space they would leak to vacuum quickly. He stepped back to his couch, got his helmet, and handed Dominique hers. “I don’t think you need the full suit, but hold on to this, just in case.” He stuck his head into the cubby. “You put on your helmet, Doc.” He handed the web-constrained man the helmet from the bracket next to the sleep-couch.
Stepping back to the lock, he turned to the EVA suit cabinet and pulled out one of the ship suits. He was assaulted by a putrid, heavy smell. He’d made a mistake putting the bloodied suit in there. Grimacing, he pulled on one of the repaired EVA shells over his skintight flight suit, not needing to attach the more intimate aspects of the suit. It was still damp but warm, the contaminating odor wafting up out of the collar to his nose.
Refraining from comment beyond a grunt of disgust, Garrison snatched the doctor’s vile suit from the cabinet, rapidly moved into the lock, and closed the inner door manually. It stopped short of full seal. He called back to Dominique, who had unwebbed and was propped up on an elbow looking back at him, still un-helmeted. “I think you’ll be okay, it’s not bad enough to let too much cold in, but put it on so we can talk.” He put on his own helmet, turned on the suit-attached trans-recorder and activated the external speaker. “Okay, Center should be reading this. Everybody else read me?” Dominique and the doctor both gave the affirmative, and it went out over the suit speaker to Center, maintaining the desired illusion. He continued his narration. “Opening the outer door… seems fine in opening operation.” He chucked the suddenly-stiff outfit out next to the hibernation suit. It broke into several glass-like pieces as the frozen fabric hit the surface. “Closing door… nope, it’s not seating. Center, can you advise?”
In the cabin, Dominique had to remove her helmet to clearly hear the response from the comm.
“Have you run diagnostics?”
She responded, “Been running a couple of routines. Nothing shows up on the board; everything gets a green light, other than the warning ‘Incomplete Seal.’ It’s a contradiction. I don’t know that it’s something that we can handle from here.”
“Standby QB1.”
Garrison came back in from the lock, testing the inner door once again; it remained unsealed. He removed his helmet and slipped between the couches, intentionally brushing against Dominique’s hand. She responded with a gentle pat on his suited thigh.
“QB1, take one day to perform mechanical diagnostics. If you cannot find and fix the problem you’ll need to fly the craft as is. We understand your situation. Secure all facilities for vacuum. Your two-day flight to the rendezvous point will not be difficult. We suggest that your passenger be sequestered in the sleep cubby. Assuming the seals on that door are still functioning, it will act as an atmosphere-secure zone. You and Captain Bartell will need to remain suited for the entire return trip, considering your negative atmosphere once you’re in space. We want the doctor to remain suited despite the atmosphere in the sleep cubby. It will be a safety precaution, in addition to providing for his sanitary needs. Be sure all suits are fully charged with sustenance packs and all connections are enabled.
“Captain Astra, do you have reception from Center inside the suits? External suit pick-up will not be sufficient.”
“No, but Garrison… Captain Bartell, can arrange something before we depart.” Garrison nodded when she looked at him.
“Make your preparations and contact us when you are ready for flight. After rendezvous and transfer of the scientist to the Medallion, Captains Astra and Bartell, you will pilot the Quantum Butterfly back to Dock Toroid Alpha.”
Dominique’s mouth fell open; the stress of feeling maligned by Swan caused her character to break just a little. “What! Aside from the fact that we are more effective out here, in regards to handling the current emergency, we will need a rest after living and working in these suits non-stop. Who gives this order for our return?”
The comm officer was neither cowed nor cooperative. “You do not question orders, Captain Astra. You will return immediately after you have dropped off your passenger. It is the hope that nothing else fails; your mission so far has not been uneventful in this regard.”
Caustically, she bit off, “Thank you, Center.” But this little malfunction was just what they needed in the present situation. And the earlier suit mishap had been Garrison’s orchestrated action. So, other than her annoyance, Dominique could not find any anxiety within. She had no explanation for how this malfunction could have happened, but she was now more appreciative of the delay than before. The coincidence was no less odd than Dr. Comani’s story but, like his story, something deeper was at work here. She was eager to get into the EVA suits so that she could get Garrison’s take on the various oddities. But the coming flight, with its limitations, would mean a lack of rest for the two of them. They needed to prepare their bodies for the extended suit time, and more closely examine the damage that Garrison had caused to them; the heaters and eliminative systems needed to be up to the challenge.
Accordingly, Garrison informed Center that they planned to stay an additional twenty-four hours. He expected an objection, but Center agreed.
That agreement gave him pause and he wished they could take off immediately. He was now given to second-guessing not only Center’s instructions, but also its agreements with his own motivations. It was maddening. At least he knew he was being played; he’d do his best to figure his own counter moves.
CHAPTER 56
EVENT: DAY 16, 1400 UT
Amio was sweating, despite the cool air of the station.
The soft padding sound of his gecko boots seemed like drumbeats in his ears, competing with the blood that pounded there.
He was answering a summons from the admiral. He’d expected it sooner than the entire day that had passed. He had been on edge, and was now not certain whether the delay meant that something good or something bad was about to happen.
He slowed, measuring his steps as he took up the last thirty meters to the man’s office. He had been back here just once for an informal meeting since his arrival on-station. At the time, he had stood at parade-rest; the environment seemed to insist on formality and discipline,
despite what the admiral offered.
The door was open. He moved directly to the center of the open space in front of the desk, positioned himself on a two-foot black square in the black-and-white floor pattern, and gave a salute. He held the knife-edge salute to his forehead, attention-posture rigid, while he waited for the admiral’s acknowledgement.
Eventually, Swan looked up from the zephyr in his hand. “Sergeant. Thank you for coming so promptly.” He released Amio with a lazy return salute.
Amio was relieved to hear an even tone in the admiral’s voice. He responded, “To the best of my ability to serve, sir.”
Swan considered the sergeant with a lingering look. “Good, good, that’s exactly the attitude that I’m looking for…” he glanced back at the zephyr, “…Bellamy. I saw that your Outfit had to arrest one of my men the other day.”
Here it comes. “Yessir. I was aware that he was working with you, so I handled the matter personally. Sorry that it has inconvenienced you, sir. When I apprehended him in Vegas Slice, he had officially come onto his duty schedule. In an earlier encounter, I found him already quite intoxicated. He was kept in custody for some hours preceding his duty schedule, released when he reached a reasonable sobriety level, so he could return to duty. I had him monitored, and reacquired him in a bar where he was found to be intoxicated while on duty. I suspected that it might go that way; he was very depressed.” He kept it short, hoping that a small explanation was enough.
“Yes, I am sure that you followed protocol, and don’t worry about the inconvenience, I don’t want to be surrounded by buffoons any more than you might. That isn’t why I summoned you, anyway.”
Amio, let out a silent sigh of relief. As hoped, Swan had only reviewed Hanson’s exaggerated arrest report; the sergeant had made sure that his two reports were kept as separate as was possible. The trip back and forth to Earth wasn’t a part of the arrest documentation.
Parallel Extinction (Extinction Encounters Book 1) Page 32
