by Darren Beyer
Mandi’s mother nodded.
“So how do I do that?” Mandi’s raised voice drew some looks from others in the quiet cafeteria. She leaned closer to her mother and lowered her voice. “I can’t go on like this. I’ve got to get it to stop.”
“The only way to do that—other than solving the problem—is to leave.” Mandi’s mother’s eyes welled up with tears. “Perhaps, if Dauntless makes another journey to Eridani, it would be best if you… if you go to Grae.”
The thought of being close to Grae made Mandi’s heart jump, but the feeling was tempered by the sadness etched on her mother’s face.
“I can find a way through this. You can help me.”
The main lighting in the cafeteria flickered, then turned on. Mandi’s mother looked around the cafeteria, then wiped her eyes and straightened.
“I’ve seen horrible things happen to people who’ve tried to push through. They go mad from lack of sleep; some have gone into a coma, even died. I don’t want you to leave, but if you’re already having these dreams, then worse is yet to come. I can’t watch you go through that.”
Mandi grasped her mother’s hands across the table. “I’ll make you a deal. If you promise to help me solve whatever this is, then I promise that if it gets bad enough, I’ll leave.”
Chapter 9: E ridani
The stealthy attack skimmer sped along under autopilot at low altitude. Under the vivid purple morning sky, golden brown grass swayed in the Eridanian breeze, flattening as the skimmer passed overhead, leaving a long track in its wake. But Grae kept his attention glued to the sensor display. If this was a trap, sensors would reveal the first traces. If not, they’d lead him to the cargo carrier.
A countdown clock in the display reached ten, then five, then zero. Grae activated the mass sensors for a single ping. When there was no return, he reset the timer and made a turn toward the next reference position on the map. After a few minutes, it was time to phone home.
“Ice, this is Viking,” Grae called. “Ice, this is Viking.”
“Viking, this is Ice. We have you three by five. Go.”
“Grid references kilo seven, and kilo eight, negative returns.”
Grae noted the sensor timer was closing on zero again, and he sent another single ping. This time an audible chime sounded, and a dot appeared on the moving map.
“Ice, I’ve got a return. Strength four, bearing zero zero seven. Range thirty-two klicks.” Grae set a marker on the mini map and made a hard right turn. “Making perimeter check.”
Maintaining a constant distance from the marker, Grae took the skimmer along a wide circling arc around the area, constantly checking his passive sensors for any sign of danger.
“Perimeter check complete. Launching drone.”
A small disc dropped off the bottom of the skimmer and tumbled in the slipstream until its flight surfaces got it under control. It dove even lower than the skimmer, then turned inward toward the marker, hugging the ground, clearing it by mere meters. Grae brought the skimmer to a hover in a shallow gully so he could pay full attention to the video signal the drone returned.
“Ice, I’ve got something on visual.”
“Viking.” The voice on the other end had changed. Ivey was now his contact back at ops. “Can you send us a feed?”
“Stand by, one.” Grae checked the comm signal strength. “Negative, not without boosting the signal.”
Grae focused on the drone’s video stream. A cargo carrier had slammed into a low hill, spreading wreckage across the hillside. The fuselage had plowed a furrow into the low, treeless slope, but it was largely intact. All three of the right-side engines, however, had been ripped away, and disintegrated fan blades had shredded one of the engine fairings on the left. The carrier’s twisted skin, torn back during the impact, looked like the tentacles of a massive sea monster. Shattered composites and tangled metal created a debris field that ran the length of the hundreds-meter-long trough.
“Ice, the carrier has crashed. I’m moving to the site.”
“Viking, exercise extreme caution.”
Grae brought the skimmer to a hover a few meters above the ridgeline. As if it would do any good, he gave the horizon a brief visual scan before tilting the skimmer forward and speeding toward the site. He crossed the twenty kilometers and came to a hover just fifty meters from the wreck. It had clearly been hours since the crash. Nothing moved; no smoke rose in the air.
“Ice, I’m at the crash site. No sign of movement. Setting down and going in.”
Grae landed gently on the flattest area he could find, and left the skimmer powered on. As he slid the canopy open, he was met by the warm, white Eridanian sun. A fresh breeze brushed his face. In a single, fluid movement, he hoisted himself out of the cockpit and leapt to the ground.
“Ice, Viking is in position.” Grae drew his pistol and scanned the area. “Something doesn’t seem quite right.”
“Viking, take your time—”
“Time is something we don’t have a lot of. Viking is going in.”
Grae quickly crossed the distance between the two crafts. The derelict’s hull was breached beneath one of the missing engine mounts, presenting him a way in. He turned on his helmet lamp and cautiously poked his head in.
Sunlight coming in through the breach in the hull illuminated a portion of the main cargo compartment, and light from the forward windscreen silhouetted the slumped bodies of the pilot and co-pilot. In a bank of seats along the left side of the cabin sat two more bodies. None of them moved.
“I’ve got eyes inside. No movement. Entering.”
Holstering his pistol, Grae stepped inside and crept to the nearest body—a woman, her long hair hanging in front of her face. As he got within arm’s reach, his foot slipped in something on the floor. His helmet lamp illuminated a pinkish fluid that had pooled in a drying puddle.
Gently bringing his hand to the woman’s chin, he tilted it back. The same pink fluid had run from her nostrils down her upper lip, and now covered much of her face and clothing. Grae carefully let her head fall forward again and brought his fingers into the beam of his light. Some of the fluid was on his gloves. It hadn’t quite dried, and he rubbed it between his thumb and fingers, testing its consistency.
Finally he removed his glove and checked for a pulse. There was none.
“Ice, this is Viking.” Grae sighed. “There’s a woman here, no obvious ID—she’s gone.” He looked at the other bodies. “And I don’t think any of the others made it either.”
“Viking, get out.” The urgency was clear in Ivey’s voice. “You won’t do any good there.”
“I just need to make sure—a few seconds.”
Grae quickly moved to the next body, a few seats up. When his light showed the same pink stream coming from the young man’s nose, he moved on to the cockpit. He saw the same thing there. There was no need to check their pulses—these men were dead. He looked down at his now ungloved hand and saw traces of pink liquid on his skin.
“Fuck.” Grae cursed himself. “Ice, Viking. Everyone is gone—and the crash didn’t kill them. Exiting crash site.”
As soon as he cleared the breach, he tore open a pouch on his flight suit and retrieved a small medical kit. He ripped it open, letting everything fall to the ground except for a squeeze tube of disinfectant and a piece of sterile gauze. He emptied the entire tube on his bare hand and thoroughly scrubbed it with the gauze. Then he turned and sprinted to his waiting skimmer. He didn’t wait for the canopy to close, or to strap himself in. Applying full power, he lifted off, spun, and sped away from the wreck. As he awkwardly slipped his harness over his shoulders, he set his sensors to actively sweep in a full three-sixty arc.
“Ice, this is Viking. Egressing now. I’m going to drop off comm. And I’ve got eyes up. If anything is within a hundred klicks, I’ll know about it.”
“Viking, that’ll light you up. If they’re watching, they’ll know you’re there.”
Grae let out a heavy b
reath.
“They already do. Viking out.”
Eridani’s sun shed its white rays on the barren hills and rocky crags, creating long shadows as it dropped lower in the afternoon sky. A trickling waterfall darkened the reddish-brown rocks and fed the low scrub brush at its base, creating a rare green contrast against the otherwise stark terrain. At another time, Grae could have stared at the beauty of the dry, desert-like landscape for hours. But now, he could spare precious few moments as the skimmer’s canopy slid open and the engines wound down.
Stiff from the long flight, he climbed slowly from the cockpit, grunting as he took the short jump to the ground. As he turned to the tall, shadowed cliff face next to the landing zone, he searched for a feature that might hide a door to an m-base. Spotting a recess concealed by shadow, he walked toward it. It was deep and dark, and he was forced to activate his helmet lamp as he moved inside.
A few meters in, a gray metal door awaited. A darkened panel, dusty with disuse, was mounted next to it, and Grae removed his glove to wipe its face with his hand. A dim blinking red light illuminated his fingers.
“Emergency base echo. Raymus, Grae.”
The screen displayed a keypad, and after Grae keyed in his passcode, it turned solid green. A solid clunk emanated from the door and echoed within the cave, but the door didn’t open.
“Really?”
Grae grasped the handle with both hands and slid the door into its recess. Beyond it, dim lights flickered on, illuminating a concrete hall angling downward. Instinctively, he looked down at the pitted floor. Two lines of footsteps disturbed the thick layer of dust—one leading in, and another out. At once, he dropped to a knee, his service pistol in his hand. With his free hand, he reached to the nearest print, ran two fingers along its length, and rubbed them against his thumb. A light layer had fallen within the print.
Grae stood, relaxed, and holstered his pistol. Scratching his itching forearm, he stared at the prints for a few seconds, then turned to look back toward the skimmer.
“Skimmer,” Grae said into his comm, “activate camo screen.”
A fabric covering blew out of the top of the skimmer and covered the craft in a misshapen screen. Within a second it had taken on the color and texture of the surrounding rocks, protecting the attack craft from both visual and electronic detection,
Grae stepped through the doorway. Again he pulled on the handle of the bulky thing, grunting until it closed with a resounding thud. He peeled off his helmet and wrinkled his nose; the air was heavy and stale. He proceeded down the hallway. As with the other bases, three interior doors awaited at the end of the sloping hall. The one straight ahead led to a storeroom and galley; the one to the left led to the bunks. The door on the right accessed the control center—and it was here that the footsteps both entered and exited.
Grae opened the storeroom door and turned on the lights. Weapons racks and storage cabinets lined the walls. Crates and boxes littered the floor. His grumbling stomach pulled his eyes to a crate labeled “Dry Rations – Fit for Human Consumption.”
He shook his head. “Dinner.”
Grae turned back, opened the door to the control center, and stepped inside. He flipped the light switch—nothing. Repeating the action a few more times did nothing to change that result. So he turned on his helmet lamp and placed his helmet on a table, illuminating an array of dust-covered equipment. Mentally crossing his fingers, he powered on the main unit. To his relief, its holo screen came to life, displaying the spinning AIC logo of its warmup sequence. When the logo disappeared, Grae logged in and accessed the base’s controls. A whir of electric ventilation fans greeted his engagement of the conditioning system. Next he opened the communications interface. He was officially past due—way past due—and he needed to get a message back to the ops base. Ivey would be going nuts by now.
Grae had his choice of radio, laser, or microwave transmission. With the clear skies outside, he chose to extend the base’s laser communications array, aligning it to the nearest mountaintop repeater. He opened the messaging application, and was surprised to see a “new message” indicator flashing in the corner of the screen.
He double-checked the laser status.
Aligned – Not Connected.
For several long seconds, Grae stared at the flashing icon. He brought his hands to his chin and leaned his elbows on the control console. His gaze shifted to the footsteps showing in the light of the hall outside.
“Who left you?”
His gaze returned to the message indicator.
“Someone went way out of their way. Was it one of us? Or them?”
Abruptly, Grae reached into the screen and opened the message. A rare gasp of surprise left his lips as his nearly bald, elderly, heavyset, Israeli boss appeared on the holo screen. Danny Dagan.
“Mister Raymus,” Dagan began, with his trademark thick accent. “If you are seeing this, then the worst has happened—or the worst has not happened, and for some reason you decided to visit one of the m-bases where I left this message for you.”
Grae checked the date on the message. It had been left just a few weeks before TSI and the Coalition had invaded and took control of Eridani.
“Since the bases are offline unless enabled from inside, and I could not know which base you might visit, I had to manually place this in a number of locations—so forgive me if you get it more than once.” Dagan let out a chuckle. Grae never had quite understood his sense of humor. “If the circumstances are indeed dire, then Jans needs to see this. If not, I trust you will keep it for your eyes only.”
Grae glanced toward the open door to the hall.
“I must tell you that I have not been entirely truthful with Jans. No one else inside AIC knows what I am about to tell you, but since you’re seeing this, I’m probably dead, so I no longer fear the backlash from our esteemed CEO.” Dagan gave a sardonic smile. “Though he was before your time at AIC, you know of Nassir Khalid. The information I’m about to tell you should convince you it is critical we contact him. The future of AIC, and possibly the balance of power of humanity, depends on it.”
Chapter 10: Helios, Eridani System
And that is why I consider it critical to seek out Nassir in the Outer Sphere and enlist the help of his Nashira Brigade. Grae, I am entrusting this to you. It is important. One could say it is the only thing that is important.”
Danny Dagan stared into the camera for a few more seconds, then the message ended and the holo screen went blank.
Looking to the faces of the others around her, Mandi saw she wasn’t the only one to be shocked. Sophia, Jans, and Gisela all had their mouths hanging open in the silence of the control room. Grae’s face appeared on the screen, looking tired and haggard. Mandi studied every detail.
“That’s a hell of a message, isn’t it?” Grae said. Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he took in a breath. “Leave it to Danny to figure out how to get it to me after—well, after he’s gone. He knew that if I was able, I’d get to Eridani, and eventually make it to an m-base. And since the bases can’t be connected to from the outside, they’d be safe from Jans’s Mace virus.” Grae raised half his mouth in a wry grin. “I hate to tell you this, Jans, but I think Danny has been in contact with Nassir for a while. Someone physically put this message in my local folder months ago—at least.”
Mandi beamed with pride for Grae and the responsibility he carried.
Jans paused Grae’s message. He let a closed-lip smile raise the corners of his mouth. “Just before this all started,” Jans said, “we were in my office. I asked Danny point-blank if he was in contact with Nassir. He said no. He lied to my face.” He shook his head and resumed playback.
Grae moved closer to the camera. “Danny knows Nassir has something important. Something so important that even mentioning it on an encrypted message for my eyes only was too risky for him. I don’t think I have to tell you that we need whatever help we can get. Danny also left me the procedure for a meeting. Nassir’s peop
le maintain a presence at a place called Ouricsen Station. It’s a privately run mining colony in the Tau Gruis system, and it’s out there— as in way out there. From what I’ve heard, it’s a common transit point for people and cargo coming and going from the Outer Sphere. You need to send people under assumed identities, and make contact using the procedure outlined in the attached files. Danny also provided the credentials and specific IDs—they’re all attached to this message.”
Grae’s eyes narrowed. “And Jans, there’s no love lost between Outer Sphere groups and the Coalition, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t sell their mother if it meant getting the supplies they need. If you send people, and I think you have to, they have to be careful—stay in character at all times. If anyone finds out they’re with AIC, their lives wouldn’t be worth the clothes on their backs. Good luck—and tell Mandi hi for me.”
The message ended. In the silence that followed, Jans glanced over at Mandi and winked.
She flushed and smiled.
“Am I going to be the only one to state the obvious?” Sophia said. “The Nashira Brigade is a terrorist organization. If we get linked with them, any hope of winning popular opinion goes right out the window.”
“They are, and it would,” Jans said. “But Danny risked a lot to not only make contact, but maintain it. My concern is about what Grae said there at the end. These Outer Sphere groups are a desperate bunch.”
“It’s Nassir, Jans,” Gisela interjected. “He was once one of us, and he knows about—” She looked up at the ceiling, gesturing at the interior of the Anghazi. “He knows about all this, or at least the one on Hyperion, and he’s kept it a secret. Why would he change now?”
“He got a little extreme,” Sophia snapped.
“Yes, he was always a little extreme in his beliefs—of all people, I should know. But after all that’s happened, perhaps the meaning of the word ‘extreme’ needs to be redefined.”
