Redemption Protocol (Contact) (31 page)

“Indeed. I propose...”

“Five hours,” Weaver said.

“We can run our kit tests while the scientists work,” Tyburn said.

Whittenhorn nodded.

“Very well. Make it so.”

Whittenhorn gave Havoc a dirty look then turned away as the scientists stood up en masse, obviously keen to move to the next hab and start analyzing the information from the towers.

Havoc noticed Darkwood floating along with them. Darkwood seemed fascinated by it all, drawing energy from the enthusiasm of the scientists. There was a real buzz of anticipation building around what they could discover on the alien planet.

Touvenay approached Havoc.

“You brought me back from the brink with these finds, Havoc. I am determined to decipher this alien language before my contamination has a chance to take hold. It would be the crowning achievement of my career.”

Touvenay didn't need to say it could be the final achievement.

Havoc nodded toward Weaver.

“Weaver got it.”

Weaver looked at Havoc with a strange expression. She looked like she was trying to solve one of her equations but a term was missing.

Touvenay acknowledged Weaver’s contribution with a polite bow of his head as he strode away.

“Well then, thank you, Evelyn. I suggest we get going.”

Weaver held Havoc’s gaze a moment, then turned to follow Touvenay.

Hwan stood up and walked over to join Jafari, presumably to plan their sweep and scan.

Havoc thought about Hwan and how close it had been. Something bothered him about that situation as well. His intuition felt off. Was this the start of his journey to join Leveque? Out of this depressing thought he had an insight, isolating one of the things that had been needling him.

He waited as the scientists filed out. Stephanie finally broke away from Abbott and Havoc caught her as she walked across the room. She turned to face him he approached her.

“Listen, thanks for what you did before. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

He'd actually forgotten that she punched him until she started to say it.

“Don't worry.”

“I don't––”

Steph resented apologizing to people and usually disliked the recipient as a result, so it was best to minimize it even if he’d been bothered, which he hadn’t.

“It's fine.”

She nodded.

“Listen, Steph, I've got a question.”

“Go on.”

“Before, in the shuttle.”

“Yes.”

“Before we reached you.”

She started to go red.

“Mmm.”

“When you drew the short straw, you asked them to wait. That you had something to say. Something important...”

He raised his hands to suggest she could tell him it was none of his business. She continued to redden, her blush crimson on her pale skin. He watched her.

“Look, if it’s none of my business...”

“No.”

She paused. Her face went through a number of expressions that he interpreted as discomfort. He’d lived with her for nearly two years. He knew her facial expressions, the tone of her voice and the quality of her inflection. He wondered what she was going to say. She looked up at him, uncertain and embarrassed.

“I was going to say...”

She seemed to reach a decision and her expression, though still nervous, turned resolute.

“I was going to say that I should never have broken up with you.”

He blinked in astonishment as his mouth fell open.

She looked up at him, scanning his face.

“Well?”

 45. 

Tyburn and Ekker sat in the cockpit of a military shuttle in a dark hangar on disc five. Tyburn had locked down half of the disc, disabling all sensing and monitoring, ostensibly to allow the testing and calibration of their security kit. This was standard operating procedure on Alliance missions, so it didn't draw any particular attention or suspicion.

The transmission delay between the AV
Intrepid
and the ORC
Relentless
was short but noticeable.

> Greetings, Admiral Szabo.

> Greetings, General Forge. All goes well?

> We have at least one enemy agent on board, most likely United Systems. There has been an unforeseen fatality.

> Mission critical?

> Not at all. The fatality was planned. Just not in that location or this early.

> Your vessel is damaged.

> The damage is minor and irrelevant to our mission.

> You will uphold your side of the agreement, General?

> Of course, Comrade Admiral, and I expect the same of you.

> If you would only chip your citizens, General, you would have less of these agents.

> Perhaps, Comrade Admiral, but we cannot all be as visionary as the Orion Republics’ Confederation.

> No, quite. Have you identified any alien assets for extraction?

> We have completed a surface survey and identified several locations of interest. I am sending the data to you now.

> Your team moves quickly, General.

> When we have assets to recover, we will let you know.

> Of course.

The channel folded.

~    ~    ~

Admiral Szabo turned to his aide.

“Other agents. Excuses from a tinpot General. General of what?”

“Is all proceeding to plan, Comrade Admiral?”

“Of course. If these monkeys can provide anything useful then we can use them. But if there is any conflict of interest, well...”

Szabo didn’t say any more, he just smiled.

~    ~    ~

Tyburn turned to Ekker. His temper bristled like the hackles on a dog. He hated having to explain himself.

“That arrogant bastard.”

“All on plan?”

“Of course. And if we find anything that we can take for ourselves, we don’t hesitate.”

They both turned at the same time, responding to a flicker in the darkness. Tyburn peered along the hangar.

Someone was coming.

 46. 

Havoc stood in the Hub Hab, looking at Stephanie, astonished by her disclosure. She reached out and touched his arm.

“I'm scared, John. I don't mind admitting it.”

He nodded. He wondered about the feelings of disorientation he was having. He felt like a punter who can tell something isn't right with the orchestra, but doesn't know enough to identify which instrument is out of tune. He could sense something in his environment, at least he felt that way, but he didn't seem to have the tools to isolate it. It was unusual – his intuition was usually good. Except with the women in his life, of course, but as a guy he took that as a given.

He glanced over at Leveque then looked back at Stephanie.

“Are you feeling ok?”

Stephanie wrapped her arms around herself.

“I think so. It just feels so unfair.”

He nodded.

Stephanie looked around the room.

“I mean, for everyone.”

Havoc frowned at this extraneous detail. She looked at him.

“You?”

“Fine,” he lied.

Stephanie put a finger on his chest, tracing a shape on his recce suit.

“You're going to look after me aren't you, John? Make sure nothing happens to me?”

He looked down at her. She stared at him, biting her bottom lip.

He felt something stirring.

“Yes.”

“I hear you play tennis?”

He laughed.

“Are you serious?”

 47. 

Violette Hwan wandered drowsily along the side of the dark hangar on disc five, trying to concentrate on the glowing instrument in her hand. She felt sleepy due to the sedatives she'd taken. She was helping Jafari to scan for relay transmitters. It was a mindless activity, which suited her perfectly.

She was still coming to terms with the revelation of her terrible secret. She'd always thought she’d be disabled by the shame of it. Instead, she felt a kind of release. It was as if she’d needed to touch bottom to push back up. She'd never realized the weight bearing down on her until it had lifted off.

She became aware of the readout from the instrument in her hand. Positive lock. She stopped, confused, as the military shuttle loomed overhead. She froze.

Someone was communicating in a locked down part of the ship.

It could only mean one thing.

Her heart raced ahead of her thoughts, a jackhammer blocking her senses. She couldn’t think straight – she felt befuddled with the sedatives. What should she do? She couldn't just stand there.

Whoever was communicating didn't know that she'd detected them. They might not even know she was here. Even if they did, if she kept moving they might not suspect she knew about them. But if she kept walking, she'd trap herself in the end of the hangar. She needed to get back to the spindle to cast for help.

Terror gripped her heart, making her nauseous. What was the right thing to do? The longer she stayed, the more likely she’d give herself away. Unimaginable horrors menaced her from the shadows.

Panic squeezed in on her, surrounding her on all sides.

Fight or flight?

 48. 

Weaver was in the science hab. Images of the towers, both inside and out, covered the walls. But Weaver wasn’t looking at those. She was looking, along with everyone else, at Fournier.

“Jed, are you alright?”

Fournier sat nearby, staring into space as he delivered a bewildering soliloquy of what was apparently nonsense, though with Fournier you could never be sure.

“...the idea that such a function will decohere is nonsense since the branching history presents the opportunity for the black walnuts to take root, but beware they inhibit the other plants though juglone release.”

Fournier stopped speaking. His eyes remained unfocused and his lips continued to move.

Weaver knelt by Fournier’s seat and spoke gently to him.

“Jed, can you hear me?”

Fournier’s eyes were vacant. He seemed lost.

Weaver reached for Fournier’s hand and squeezed it gently. Fournier slowly turned his head toward her. She could see it in Fournier’s eyes as he reinhabited his mind, like a returning family switching on the lights across the front of their house.

“What?” Fournier said.

Weaver blinked.

“What?”

“What you said.”

“What I said?” Weaver said.

“Do you remember what you said?”

“What?”

Fournier raised an eyebrow as he looked around the room. He turned back to her and patted her hand.

“You're alright now, my dear.”

She laughed nervously.

“Jed, you've just had some kind of episode. You were sitting here and talking. You mixed a lot of subjects together. Do you remember?”

Fournier's face turned serious.

“No.”

Fournier tuned out, but in an appreciably different way – he was accessing shipnet as he played back what had just happened in the room. The creases across Fournier’s brow deepened.

“Oh dear. Well, for the moment I am back.”

Weaver smiled sympathetically. Darkwood stepped forward and patted Fournier's shoulder.

“Good to have you back.”

Fournier nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“And to spare any further embarrassment, I have already classified myself as 'amber' in our happy scheme.”

The atmosphere was subdued for a moment. Fournier's nonsense monologue was a painful shard of reality in the otherwise soothing balm of denial.

Fournier gestured at the images of towers lining the walls.

“Shall we take the first step?”

There were murmurs of anticipation as the scientists spread across the room, ready to take up the challenge. They were drawn to the tower images the way reptiles were drawn to heat – the energizing effect was the same.

Weaver found it incredibly exciting. They were lucky to have all this information so quickly. Except that it wasn't exactly luck, of course.

Havoc was an enigmatic character. She knew he was an evil bastard, they all did. He was dangerous and he didn't have any morals. But he was also bold and decisive and they needed that. He was also, she hesitated to admit, a bit exciting and unpredictable.