Some Fine Day (37 page)

Will frowns. “He needs rest. These are third-degree burns we’re talking about.”

I feel a burst of impatience and make myself take a slow breath. He’s just doing what he’s been trained to do, like I am.

“Will, the toads could come back at any time. Even if they don’t, more agents will be here soon. A lot more. We need to know where that plane is, and how to access the Nix data. Otherwise, Fatima and the captain and all the others are as good as dead. And so are we.”

Will looks angry, but I don’t think it’s directed at me. “Fine, I’ll hit him with ten milligrams of calpidem.” He retrieves a hypo and fills it from one of the bottles in the cabinet. “This won’t be pretty.”

Will injects the guy in the thigh and steps back. Nothing happens for about five seconds. Then he takes a shuddering gasp and his dark brown eyes fly open. He makes a high keening sound, like an animal caught in a trap, and tries to sit up. We grab his shoulders and push him down but he’s slippery with burn cream and his skin is literally black underneath and I’m terrified it will just come off in my hands.

Will starts talking in a quiet voice and after a couple minutes, the guy begins to calm down. He’s
seeing
us, at least, instead of whatever bad trip was going on in his head.

“You’re safe now,” Will lies. “I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you. What’s your name?”

“We should have burned the bodies,” the guy says.

“What?”

“We should have burned them post-autopsy, like the others. But we threw them over the side.”

“You mean the other scientists?”

“No, jerkoff, the
toads
.” He laughs mirthlessly. “It obviously pissed the rest of them off.”

“What’s your name?” Will asks again.

“Garza.” He winces in pain. “Who the hell are you people? Why am I still here?”

Will and I look at each other.

“Advance team,” I say. “We were on assignment in Nu London when the call came in. The rest are coming on a shuttle to lock it down at 0300.”

“Jesus Christ.” His eyes widen. “You mean we’re alone here? What about the rest of the crew?”

“They’re gone,” Will says. “Who shot you?”

He sags back on the gurney. “One of the guards. It was an accident. Afterwards, he dragged me into Goodlove’s room and pushed me under the bed. It was pandemonium. They came in the middle of the night. . . Is that door locked?”

“Yes,” I say.

“They figured out how to open the electromag cages. I swear to God, if I’d known how intelligent and vicious those things are, I’d never have taken this assignment. I’m a
biologist
, for Christ’s sake. I’m supposed to work with animals. The toads may not be human, but they’re definitely not
animals
.” His voice is starting to rise. “And now they send two kids to secure the station? What if they come back? There were dozens!”

“Take it easy, sir,” I say.

“Don’t tell me to take it easy! Jesus Christ!” He stares at us. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. None at all.”

“We have to restore communications, immediately,” I say. “I need all the computer passcodes. And I need to clear the prototype hangar. They could be hiding in there.”

Garza rolls his eyes. “Please. Be my guest.” He points at Will. “But you’d better leave this one here or I’ll have very unpleasant things to say in my debriefing report.”

“As you say. Major, is it?”

“Captain.”

“OK,
Captain
Garza. Now where do I find the codes?”

In his novella
The Time Machine
, the late nineteenth century science fiction writer H.G. Wells imagined
homo sapiens
evolving into two races: the bestial cave-dwelling Morlocks and the docile, parasitic Eloi. Which will we become, I wonder?

I don’t think it even occurs to Garza that we’re not who we say we are. This is not a place you stumble across, and we more or less look the part in our black clothing and steel-toed boots. He’s also experienced a traumatic event, although his personality makes it hard to feel sorry for him.

I guess if he questions Will too closely, he’ll figure it out. But that doesn’t matter anymore because he’s already given me everything. When I ask about the plane, he admits no one’s sure it works. Apparently, the Raptor was delivered to the station just weeks before 99’s meteorological research was shut down and they never sent a test pilot. Which doesn’t surprise me at all. Someone made a bundle on that plane. Who cares if it’s never actually flown?

I leave them together and go the perimeter door we entered through. It’s bolted shut from the inside now, just like the other three we found. I check my weapon again, hoping the ritual will slow my racing pulse. The guard down below carried a Browning HP service pistol as his secondary firearm. It’s a single-action semi-automatic, so you have to cock the hammer before firing. It has a full magazine. Thirteen rounds.

Garza didn’t know where the weapons cache is and I can’t waste more time looking for it. The Browning will have to do.

I put my ear to the door. Unfortunately, there’s no way to see what’s on the other side. The station is windowless, probably because of its proximity to Tisiphone, and all the external security cameras operated through the com center.

All I hear is howling wind.

I cock the hammer and flick the safety off. Then I ease open the door.

Sheets of rain sweep across the deck of the platform, and I’m glad it’s enclosed by a steel railing because the waves have picked up in the last hour. The hangar is located at the rear of the station, about a hundred yards away. Nothing is moving out here, although the visibility is lousy. I’m wearing a waterproof slicker I found hanging from a row of hooks in the common area, but I don’t dare put the hood up and lose peripheral vision.

I jog the length of the walkway, keeping an eye not only on what’s in front and behind, but above and below. For a split second I think I see something in the foaming water but it’s gone too fast to be sure. Then I reach a detached building that’s low and wide. I key in the numbers Garza gave me and the door clicks open. It’s dark inside, but I can see the outlines of an aircraft in the middle of the room.

It’s triangular, with twin turbofan engines jutting upward from the back end and curved tails that make it look like the manta ray I saw at Raven Rock’s aquarium when I was a kid. They designed it for VTOL capability: vertical takeoff and landing. Standing next to the plane, I’m confronted with the reality that I’m going to have to actually fly it and feel a little nauseous.

Time to see what we’re dealing with.

I open the main cabin door to the flight deck and climb inside. It’s a two-seater, with a small cargo hold.

“Activate on-board computer,” I say, and the cockpit flickers to life. Besides the usual instruments to measure heading, speed, altitude, vertical speed, and vertical and lateral navigation, it has an array of sensors for gathering data on the hypercane: anemometer, barometer, others I don’t recognize. I program a flight plan to Tisiphone’s eye and am relieved to find that the controls are intuitive and user-friendly, even simpler than the older model X-50s I flew in the simulator.

I leave the Raptor activated but in hibernation mode, and run back down the walkway to the station, eyes squinted against the driving rain. The elevators are still on the surface, which is a good sign. I briefly consider disabling them but I’m afraid of damaging the vent tube. Rafiq’s cautionary tale about Sector G is one you don’t forget.

Garza is sleeping when I enter the medlab.

“I’ve done everything I can,” Will says. “He really needs to be in a hospital.”

“Don’t worry, the cavalry will take care of it,” I say. “I found the plane. Once it’s loaded with food and water, and I send Rafiq his data, we’re good to go.”

Will looks at me for a moment. “You really think you can fly it?”

“Yes. I just checked the controls. Everything seems to be working. At this point, it’s the only way out of here.”

“You’re sure they’re coming? I don’t feel very good leaving good leaving this guy behind. If he doesn’t get medical treatment, he’ll die.”

“By now, they know we aren’t splattered all over the tunnel. Trust me, they’re coming.”

“Let’s get started then,” he says, picking up his gun.

I tell him where the hangar is and leave him in the galley, stacking boxes of supplies. Then I go through the trashed com center to a room on the far side of the station where they keep the servers. It’s cooler in here, and I shiver a little as I speak the passcodes and jack the phone into an external port. Rafiq’s toy has the latest quantum technology, but the station servers are a lot slower. The minutes tick by and I start feeling more and more anxious. We’ve been here for more than an hour. Past time to be leaving.

The download finally finishes and transmits. I rip the phone out and run to the galley. It’s empty, and there’s a pretty big dent in their food stores. I guess Will is waiting at the plane.

I take a moment to lock the medlab so nothing messes with Garza until he’s rescued. Then I open the door to the walkway and step outside.

Tisiphone’s edge may be fifty miles away, but you wouldn’t know it standing here. During the time I was sending the data, the weather has deteriorated further. I lean into the wind and start walking. The whole structure is vibrating under the onslaught. I know the computer will help, but I’m not looking forward to taking off in this crap.

I’m almost past the elevator bank when something registers in my brain and I stop. Turn back. A little green light is on. The car on the left is descending.

Eight and a half minutes down, the same to return. Plenty of time.

But I start running as fast as I can anyway.

I skid around the corner of the station and that’s when I see them, against the far railing. Will, with Jake gripping him in a headlock and a gun to his face.

The image doesn’t compute. Jake? Here? But then I realize that one of the cars could have made a round trip while I was inside. He must have been a little behind the two agents on our tail. He’s the relentless type, so it doesn’t surprise me that he wouldn’t wait for backup.

“Drop it, Jansin!” Jake yells through the roar of the storm. “Drop it now!”

I stop. Toss my gun on the ground. It skitters across the rain-slick metal and halts midway between us.

“Just let us go,” I call. “You can say you never saw me.”

He’s quiet for long enough that my hopes rise a little. Then his face hardens.

“You know I can’t do that. Agents are dead.”

“They’re experimenting on human beings, Jake. That’s not what we signed up for.”

Will doesn’t seem hurt. He’s too smart to struggle, but I can read murder in his eyes.

“You’re a traitor. I wish to God it weren’t so, that it was anyone else. . .” He trails off and looks genuinely stricken for a moment, but pulls himself together. “I don’t want to kill you, either of you. But I will if I have to. Face-down on the ground. Do it!”

I drop to my knees.

“All the way!”

I lie on my stomach and press my cheek against the cold steel. I could have killed him back at Rafiq’s house, but I didn’t. It’s a hard lesson.

I turn my head a little so I can see his boots. And then I see something else, behind him. Climbing over the railing.

It’s too far to make out clearly, but I have a pretty good idea what it is.

Jake screams as it hits him, and I’m on my feet running for the gun. I reach it just as two more drop from the roof of the station. They’re between me and Will, so I take careful aim and shoot them both between the eyes. They fall without a sound. I stand there for a moment, trying to catch up with what I’m looking at.

Humanoid doesn’t really describe it. They
are
human, but they’re not at the same time. Webbed hands and feet. Small pink slits under the jaw that must act as gills, allowing them to transition between land and water. Pale skin, with fine blue veins visible beneath the surface. And the eyes. . . knowing, intelligent, but utterly alien.

Will steps over the naked bodies, which are as smooth and hairless as children, and grabs my hand. We start for the hangar but more toads are swarming over the railing and we’re forced back down the walkway. Jake’s still grappling with the first one as we reach a door. Of course, we locked them all from the inside.

I kick it hard twice before I remember I have a gun.

“Hurry!” Will yells, glancing over his shoulder, and I blow the lock off with two shots. We run inside, slam it and put our backs to the door. A second later something hits it with tremendous force. The door shudders and inches inward.

We’re in one of the storage areas. Dusty equipment is stacked up to the ceiling, most dating from the days when Substation 99 was a real weather outpost. A jumble of antennas occupies one corner amid boxes of broken gauges and old computers. It smells strongly of mildew.

The toads hit the door again, and this time the steel dents in half a dozen places. We’re nearly thrown off, but we bend our knees and
push
, and it clicks shut again. Will has gone very pale.