by Joshua James
“Do it,” Ada said.
“What?” Tomas asked, looking around at her incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“The sooner you help them, the sooner this shit ends.”
“Fine. Uhhh, let me think…okay. What happened when we first met, on the Atlas? What did you give me? And why?”
Tanisha seemed to frown in concentration, searching for the memory. Ace raised his rifle, pointing it straight at her. Her eyes grew big, and fresh beads of sweat began pouring down her face. The entire front of her shirt was drenched now.
“Give her a second, asshole,” Tomas said. He put his hand on the butt of his own rifle.
“You were hungry,” Tanisha blurted out. “You were looking for food, said you hadn’t eaten breakfast and didn’t know when you’d get to eat again, especially since the kitchens closed in preparations for the fold jump.”
Tomas breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s right.”
“What did you give him to eat?” Ben asked.
“A pack of chocolate pudding. He said it was his daughter’s favorite. And if it was good enough for her—”
“It was good enough for me,” Tomas finished Tanisha’s sentence. “Happy? Is that enough for you psychos?”
Ace lowered his gun.
Ben took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said at last.
“Bullshit,” Tomas said.
Ada shook her head. “This is ridiculous. We just need a test of some kind so we can get it over with. Like a sauna,” she said, thinking of her own tests when coming back from food runs. She wiped sweat from her brow. “Hell, it’s just about a sauna in here now.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, thrusters maxed out will warm it up down here.”
Tanisha was shaking. “Can someone get me another stim shot? My arm feels like it’s on fire.” She was holding her hand over the stitched cut and pointing at the open med kit that was just out of reach.
“I’ll get it,” Ben said as he grabbed the stim shot from the kit.
“I can do it,” Tanisha said.
“No, I got it,” Ben replied, lifting her arm up and toward him. He was feeling guilty now.
Tanisha kept her hand clamped on the bandage. She was putting so much pressure on it that the edges were starting to curl up.
Ben knew he didn’t need to administer the shot right next to the wound, but there was something about the way she was holding it. He watched as a bead of sweat slid down between her fingers and under the bandage.
As it slid out the other side, he saw a flicker of motion. The skin flexed out of shape, just for a moment. Ben wasn’t sure what he’d seen, but when he looked up, he saw her eyes go wide.
Without hesitation, Ben dropped the stim shot and threw the med kit and its contents into Tanisha’s face.
Ten
Tanisha jerked back in surprise.
In the same moment, he wrapped his non-robotic arm around her neck, putting her in a headlock, then pushed off with his robotic leg, generating as much forward motion as he could. He extended his robotic arm, with all its piston-like strength, into her side and launched her across the room, against the bulkhead next to the airlock at the rear of the ship.
She smashed into it and seemed to momentarily go limp.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ada demanded behind him, but Ben was already moving again, grasping Tanisha by the collar and ripping open the airlock’s inner hatch.
“Somebody stop him!” Tomas screamed, but he was too far away to do anything before Ben shoved Tanisha in and slammed the hatch shut.
Ada reached out and grabbed Ben by the shoulder, spinning him around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? She answered everything—”
She stopped and looked down. Ben had his blaster right into Ada’s stomach. He didn’t even remember unholstering it.
Ace had his rifle aimed at Tomas, who somehow managed to have his own out in all the confusion and was pointing it back at Ace.
“You two stay back!” Ace said, as if he had the jump on everyone.
“I saw it,” Ben said. “I saw her skin react.”
“What the hell are you talking about,” Ada said. She was looking over Ben’s shoulder. “Look at her.”
Ben didn’t turn around. He didn’t trust Ada not to try something. “I know you can’t see it. I barely saw it right up close. But it was there. It was clear as day.”
“I need to see it—”
“I’m not letting her out of that airlock,” Ben said.
“Bullshit,” Tomas said. His eyes were wild, like an animal’s. “This is bullshit. You can’t do this. You’re seeing things. You’re seeing what you want to see.”
“Isn’t it possible, Ben,” Ada said, trying to calm her voice. She slowed her breathing. “That you’re wrong?”
Ben stepped back, removing his blaster from Ada’s gut. His own back shoved up against the airlock hatch.
In the silence, Ben could hear noise. It was Tanisha, sobbing uncontrollably on the floor of the airlock.
“Please,” she said. “Please don’t do this.”
Ben felt sick to his stomach. Was he wrong? Was Tomas right? Had he just seen what he wanted to see?
No. I saw it. And I saw her panic when she saw me see it.
“C’mon, man,” Tomas said. He and Ace were slowly moving towards the airlock in what would look to an outsider like a choreographed move, with weapons pointed at each other as they went. “Does that sound like an alien monster to you?”
Ben took a deep breath. “No,” he said. “That’s what makes it so hard.” He slammed his robotic arm against the airlock panel to his right. The word “DEPRESSURIZING” flashed in red letters inside the airlock chamber.
“No,” screamed Ada, reaching for the panel.
But it was too late. Ben had started the airlock cycle. The outer door wasn’t open yet, but all the oxygen was sucked out of the chamber. He let the blaster drop to his side. Ada just stared at him in shock.
“You son of a bitch!” Francesca screamed as she lunged at Ace from behind. He shrugged her off with an elbow to the chin, but in that moment of distraction, Tomas managed to wrench the gun out of his hands and daze him with a stiff blow to the head with the butt of his own rifle.
He spun around and raised the rifle to shoot Ben.
“Tomas, no!” Ada screamed, jumping in front of Ben.
“Move, Ada!” Tomas said, tears streaming down his face. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that asshole.”
“No, Tomas,” Ada said firmly.
“He just killed Tanisha,” he screamed. “He just killed her.”
Ada just shook her head, saying nothing. Ben could see her shoulders rising and falling with adrenaline. His own heart was pounding.
Then he heard a small voice, echoing up out of the airlock behind him and through the intercom next to the hatch.
“I’m sorry,” it said. “I’m so sorry.”
Before he was sure it wasn’t just his imagination, Ben saw Ada’s shoulders tense up. She slowly turned to look at him. Tomas, too, lowered his gun, a look of shock and confusion on his face.
Ben turned around and looked through the small porthole on the airlock’s hatch. Sitting in the center of the depressurized chamber was Tanisha. She looked small and frightened, but she also looked remarkably unaffected by the lack of breathable air.
“I just wanted to be her. To be one of you,” she said, her voice cracking over the intercom speaker. “I really did. I mean that.” She looked up. “We’re so lost without you. Without this. Is it weird that I miss my kids? Even though they’re not mine?” She rambled in the airlock’s vacuum.
“Tanisha,” Ada breathed, putting her hand to the airlock window.
Tomas reached the airlock and stared in. His shoulders drooped. The rifle slid out of his grip and fell to the ground. “No,” he whispered. “No, it can’t be.”
Tanisha slowly unfurled and stood. Her human qualities were starting to break down. He
r skin began to turn grey and sinewy, her limbs gangly and wrong-jointed. She was growing more alien by the second, but the face didn’t change. It still looked just like Tanisha.
She moved to the outer airlock door. “We’re not all monsters. Remember that. And know that he’s watching you, Ben.”
Ben felt the dryness in his throat as he said, “Who’s watching me?”
“Your father.”
Tanisha opened the outer airlock door and was sucked out into space.
Eleven
AIC Intelligence Director Heather Engano stood at her ceiling-to-floor window on the top floor of the Voyager Tower, looking down at the living quarters that spread out below. Clad in only her bathrobe, she sipped on a glass of vintage Scotch. Each sip of the beverage that pre-dated man’s expansion into the stars was more expensive than most of the transports flying across Vassar-1’s skyline.
Reaching from horizon to horizon, the massive hypercity covered a third of the surface of its namesake planet. Another third was under massive greenhouse domes, and served as farms and water treatment plants. The last third was a wasteland. It was a rather unique rock.
How a planet as small as Vassar-1 had become the central power of the AIC was a story that historians would enjoy telling for generations. That Director Engano had played a key part in making it happen wouldn’t feature in those stories: not now, and perhaps not ever. It would take generations of time and the revelation of many, many secrets. Even then, she doubted it. She was very good at what she did.
“HUD,” Engano said before taking another sip. “What time is it?” Her artificial eyes lit up a light blue, and the time was displayed digitally in her line of view. The eyes weren’t mandatory for all intelligence officers, and certainly not for her. Frankly, no rules were. But she’d come up through the ranks, and still identified with her people in the field.
That was the reason why prized assets like Moreno could contact her directly. Not that Moreno deserved it, exactly, but her father did, and Engano was nothing if not loyal to those who were loyal to her—and powerful enough to repay that loyalty. Moreno’s father was both.
As usual, it was later than she expected. She was supposed to have met the defense minister almost an hour ago. Time was one thing she couldn’t control. Maybe the only thing.
Most people would panic if they missed a meeting with one of the most powerful people in the AIC, but Engano wasn’t most people. Funny how few people understood that true power lay in secrets.
“HUD, show me my notifications,” Engano said as she took another sip. A holographic exclamation point appeared in front of her. There was a number under it: 1,132. “Show me notifications from Tier-3 and above.”
The number reduced to just a dozen messages from those she deemed critical. Anyone else in her position might have a dozen messages from other members of the Intelligence Committee, but the last thing she cared about was what her fellow politicians thought. Her critical messages were all from operatives.
What do we have here?
The first message Engano opened was from an asset recently sent to infiltrate the UEF post-attack cleanup on Magellan 5.
ASSET “LUNAR SON” REPORT 234
As previously reported, the devastation is almost total. Only three hundred survivors on site. Found evidence of AIC weaponry, pieces of BOP missiles, 200mm dreadnought rounds and incendiary bombs. Serial codes are missing or non-trackable.
I have not ruled out the possibility of black market activity, though rumors of eyewitness reports citing dreadnoughts and fighters are pervasive. I don’t know where pirates or terrorists could acquire a dreadnought.
I’ve expended twenty thousand in credits on getting feelers out to the wider distribution worlds. I’ll send another update if or when I hear anything. Best of luck with the Senate until then.
Received April 3rd, 0600 hours.
Thanks, Garrett, but I don’t need your luck. What I need is irrefutable proof that we didn’t do this shit.
Engano finished her drink. She turned from the window to go and pour herself another glass, and was reminded that she wasn’t alone in her apartment this morning. There were clothes strewn across the floor, and the smell of bacon cooking from her kitchen.
Dammit, I forgot he’s still here. And he’s cooking breakfast.
As she walked across her bedroom towards the door, an urgent message flashed up. Speak of the devil. It was her favorite power broker and occasional lover, Senator Thomas Moreno.
Heather? You up? The defense minister is here waiting for you, losing his damn mind. Get rid of your boy toy and get over here. He’s talking all sorts of nonsense and the rest of the council aren’t gonna wait forever. I’ll see you here. GET A MOVE ON!
Going as fast as I can, Tom. And your jealousy is both obvious and wearing thin.
Engano turned the corner and headed down the long hallway that led to the kitchen. The walls of the hall were video screens showing nature scenes from back on Earth. Like many on Vassar-1, she’d never been there, but found the ones playing videos from the ocean strangely comforting.
“Hey, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead.” A naked young man, about twenty years her junior, stood at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs. He turned, making only his bare behind, muscular back, and model-quality face visible.
“I had a lot of fun last night, Zeke,” Engano said. “Now it’s time for you to go.”
“It’s Zed,” he said, not seeming that upset about the error. “And if you just hang on a second, I’ll have this done—”
“I have your number, Zed.”
As soon as she entered the kitchen, coffee was instantly dispensed from a tap on the far wall.
“But I….”
“Really.” Engano gave Zed a pity kiss. “It was great. You were great.”
She was about to sit down on her incredibly comfortable couch when there was some insistent knocking at her door. She moaned to herself as she went to the door. She didn’t need to guess at who would be standing there.
“Good morning, Stacey. What can I do for you?”
Stacey Walbruce, her personal assistant and secretary, cocked her head as she looked at the director’s bathrobe disapprovingly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Twelve
“You’re not even dressed, Madam Secretary,” Stacey said.
“It’s been a busy morning already.”
Stacey glanced at the empty Scotch glass, and Engano self-consciously moved it behind the door as she stepped aside to let Stacey in.
“I’m sure you know that you’re late for your Senate meeting, Madam Director.”
“They sent you down here, didn’t they?”
Stacey ignored her question. “I know it’s not a priority of yours, Madam Director, but it is on the calendar.”
Not following the calendar was something akin to murder and treason in Stacey’s world. The universe might be on fire, but it would have to find a slot in the calendar first if it wanted the director’s attention.
“I can see the headlines now. Senate shuts down in anticipation of intelligence director’s visit.” Engano said, setting her glass down on the foyer table. “You want a drink, Stacey? You seem a bit stressed.”
“I’ll pass, Madam Director. I’d also like to pass on telling the defense minister that you have to reschedule. I already did that for three other senators this morning.”
Zed walked in. He was fully clothed. He smiled and gave Stacey a friendly nod before turning to Engano. “Can I call you?”
Engano gave him a kiss on the cheek. “If you want to, sure.”
As soon as he was out the door, Stacey rolled her eyes. “Another one? That’s three this week. It’s not even the weekend yet.”
Stacey always judged. That didn’t bother Engano, though. In fact, she welcomed it. Her assistant did more than just schedule meetings and take the calls she didn’t want to; she was the conscience that Engano had lost on her way to the top. She’d given up gir
lfriends a long time ago. Stacey was the only person allowed to give her shit.
“I don’t keep count.”
“You’re a hot mess, ma’am.”
“Yeah,” Engano got up. “I know.” She made her way to the bedroom and got dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, they were on a hover transport.
“You know, no matter how many times I see it, I never get sick of it,” said Engano as she stared out the window.
There were about ten other vehicles in the entourage. There was no such thing as traveling alone for Engano. It wasn’t just the war and the UEF spies to worry about. Now they had the Oblivion to worry about, and for Engano and her people, it was a big worry.
Originally it had only been Earth that had to deal with the Oblivion cult’s terrorist attacks. Some so-called experts thought it was because the members were opposed to the UEF’s foreign policies and restrictions on their religion.
Engano’s intel said something different. Her sources believed they were embedded scouts, native to the worlds where their true non-human leaders would invade. Non-humans was the euphemism she had to use because she couldn’t bring herself to say aliens.
It seemed crazy. But even if the Oblivion were crazy, they were still dangerous.
She’d shared intel with her UEF counterparts through the backchannels that were available to two groups on opposite sides of a bloody war. She never knew if they were deemed credible. Engano still had her own reservations, but she’d learned a long time ago not to doubt her people without good reason.
“Never get sick of what, Madam Director?” asked Stacey, who wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy sending messages back and forth to different government officials’ offices, trying to repair the damage her boss had done this morning.
“The city.” Vassar-1 was beautiful. Unlike the cities of Earth, there was room on this planet to spread out and expand, so there weren’t the kinds of endless super-stacked buildings that humanity’s cradle had. Certainly the skyline wasn’t small; it befitted a powerful city. But there was abundant green in the form of park spaces all over the city, built under a previous generation’s green initiative, that were guarded and maintained by the proud inhabitants today. With the temperature stable at a pleasant twenty-two degrees Celsius all year, there were tropical plants, palm trees, and a wide variety of fauna that didn’t have to endure the cold of a winter.
