Static, then.
The deed was done. Foreshadow Station, the first of the Builder’s vessels, became nothing more than a cloud of debris expanding into the emptiness of space, or into the atmosphere to burn up.
No record existed of the fourth panel. No possible way to ever see the fifth or sixth. Neil carried only the knowledge of when the events would occur. The schedule, mapped out with simple markings between the murals. Earth’s orbit around the sun as a constant, shown in multiples and then fractions. Sandeep worked out the pattern: each event a 0.42 reduction in time from the last. Neil had spent the last year trying to coax Tania into figuring out the pattern on her own, lest he be forced to admit his insight to the plan.
Neil glanced at the data cube, and the printed label on the side. Numbers, random to anyone else, but to him they laid out the time between each of the six events.
27.86, 11.70, 4.91, 2.06, 0.87
Twenty-seven plus years between Foreshadow and the Elevator. Almost twelve before SUBS arrived. The five-year gap since then arriving imminently.
Neil had yet to wrap his head around the meager two years they would get before the fifth event, and not even a single trip around the sun before the finale.
HHe alone carried the Builder’s timeline, like a one-ton boulder shackled to his ankle. That and the knowledge that he’d killed Sandeep. He’d murdered Tania’s father. And now, in a twist of fate that chewed away at his gut, she was helping to fill in the blanks left behind by her father’s actions. He’d even sent her out to Hawaii, among the subhumans. He’d asked her to risk her life to discover what he already knew, simply to let someone else figure out the schedule. To earn valid pretense to act more deliberately, to get a head start.
Sandeep had failed, in that sense. Neil’s madness, if the term applied, never abated. He felt more thirst than ever to know what the Builders would do next.
The future, his future, depended on it.
Chapter Nineteen
Above Darwin, Australia
4.FEB.2283
When the countdown ended, nothing happened. The ship should have fallen out and away—a backward swan dive from one hundred kilometers.
“Where’s my release?” Skyler asked.
They were well above the atmosphere, yet the Melville remained firmly attached to the climber.
Angus reached above his head and toggled the release-readiness switch. Twice, and then a third time. Despite showing green, nothing happened. “Canceling the push-away,” he said. “Malfunction?”
“Jesus. Ours?”
“Has to be theirs. We’re green on this side.”
Skyler leaned forward, trying to scan the cockpit displays for errors that Angus had missed. Ultimately Gateway had final control over release. A safety mechanism, to prevent the ship from separating too early, or too late. The indicator from their side showed green as well. “Maybe that power blip earlier caused it?”
Angus shrugged. Hours ago, at the start of the ascent, the climber car had stalled for a few seconds. Nightcliff control had said, in a pointedly worried tone, not to worry.
The intercom crackled. “What the fuck, guys?” Samantha said through the speaker.
Skyler elbowed it, forcing it to the off position.
In the pilot’s seat, Angus held up a hand. They could both hear the voice through their headsets.
“Melville, this is Gateway control. Detecting a code red failure in the primary latch. Confirm.”
Skyler put a hand on Angus’s shoulder, indicating he would handle it.
“Control, this is Melville. Confirmed, we’re still attached.”
They waited thirty seconds in silence.
“Did they hear you?” Angus asked.
“Control,” Skyler said into the microphone, “Melville. Confirm primary latch failure. How about a switch to secondary?”
“Melville, there is only the primary,” came the voice.
“Why the hell is it called ‘primary’ then?” Skyler muttered.
An uncomfortable minute passed.
“Melville,” came the voice, “we have to bring you on up to Gateway to troubleshoot.”
Angus turned in his seat to look directly at Skyler. His eyebrows arched so high, they almost disappeared under his helmet.
“Control, repeat please. You’re bringing us up there?”
“Affirmative, Melville.”
Skyler grinned. “Copy. How about a grand tour while we’re there, eh?”
“Negative,” the voice said. “You will remain on board at all times.”
“How long is this repair going to take?” he asked.
Another long delay. “Unknown,” they came back with, after a few moments.
The possibility that the mission might end before it started tugged at Skyler. More than a week had passed since the return from Hawaii with no news, and no new requests, from their benefactor.
Skyler had tried, twice, to get information on Tania’s status. The guards at the Nightcliff gate turned him away, though he suspected they didn’t know anything. A crane operator, whom Skyler found in a hookah bar not far from the fortress, was friendly enough and, after a small bribe, willing to ask around. He didn’t come back the next day as promised.
Then Prumble had received a specific order from Platz for a set of spare filtration units that were, hopefully, sitting in a long-abandoned warehouse in Abu Dhabi. The mission came as a welcome break in the monotony, and Skyler figured Prumble could ask about Tania when the goods were ultimately delivered.
Samantha opened the cockpit door and floated halfway inside. “What the hell’s going on?”
“We’re stuck,” said Angus.
“No shit. Takai looks like he’s going to piss himself back here.”
“Not now, Sam,” Skyler said.
It took another hour for the climber to reach Gateway. A pair of robotic arms extended from the inner ring and began to unload the cargo containers attached.
Skyler and Angus watched as two workers, in full space-walk gear, drifted out from an airlock just above the main cargo bay. They floated past the Melville’s canopy and disappeared from view.
After twenty minutes of silence, the radio crackled to life. “Melville, Gateway. Clamp’s frozen in the locked position. Going to take about eighteen hours to fix.”
Skyler shook his head. “No can do, Gateway. We’re not outfitted for an extended stay. Not enough air.”
“We will extend a transfer tube.”
“No airlock for it. We’re only designed to drop from the Van Allen.”
Another long pause on the other end. “All right, Melville. We’re going to disconnect the whole climber section and bring it and your ship inside. We can do the work in here.”
“We’re supposed to stay in here for eighteen hours?” Skyler said.
A different voice came over the air. “Without proper decontamination, you must remain—”
“Decon us then,” he said. “Nothing we haven’t been through before.”“God,” Angus said, “not that again.”
Another long period without a reply. Then, “You and your crew will be under escort, and must remain in Section B. You will leave all weapons and contraband on board.”
“Section B,” Skyler said. “Sounds thrilling.”
Before long, the Melville, with a large portion of the climber attachment, was tucked safely inside one of the giant cargo loading docks. After thirty minutes of waiting for the huge room to pressurize, the crew received permission to exit the ship.
A man in a yellow hazard suit and protective mask greeted them. He led them through a tunnel to the outer edge of the station. Gravity slowly returned to normal as they traveled toward the rim.
At the entrance to Decontamination, the man directed Samantha to a separate medical area. She made a rude gesture behind her back as she walked away.
“This way, please,” the man said to Skyler, Angus, and Takai.
Skyler thought the contrast between here and Nightcliff couldn’t be sharper. Clean white walls, air that didn’t churn the stomach, and a professional staff.
“Please disrobe,” the man said, “and enter through there. I’ll have your clothing disinfected.”
Skyler followed the instructions silently. Angus and Takai followed his example. The door led to a narrow industrial shower. Takai made his way into the room last, and the moment the door closed all three were inundated with hot water from nozzles on the ceiling. The liquid smelled like it contained additional chemicals.
Under the warm water, Skyler began to relax. He tried to remember the last hot shower he’d taken, but came up with nothing. “I could get used to this,” he said.
Angus grunted agreement.
Decontamination went by much faster compared to the medieval methods in Nightcliff. Drying himself, Skyler wondered if Tania was still down there, and how she fared. There had been no word of her fate since Skyler and crew were released eight days earlier.
An idea came to him, as part of a daydream. He could deliberately incur another inspection and thus another trip through the fortress. He saw himself staging a breakout, rescuing the gorgeous doctor, fleeing into the danger and chaos of the Maze. The brigand hero and his dark princess, escaping the madman’s castle—
“You lover boys enjoy the shower?” Sam asked as they exited the medical center.
The daydream faded. “Sam! Hardly recognized you all cleaned up.”
She grabbed her crotch and squeezed like a rugby captain. “They’ve got a tavern here. How cool is that?”
Skyler turned to their escort. A true guard now, wearing a black security uniform, armed with some kind of stun gun. “Is that in Section B?”
“Yes,” said the man.
“Well, lead on then.”
They passed through the wide reception room. Skyler continued to marvel at the cleanliness of the place. Compared to the run-down state of Darwin, Gateway looked like it had been built yesterday. Skyler had risked his life many times to find spare parts for places like this. Seeing it in person gave him an odd sense of pride.
Angus kept the guard’s ear busy as they walked. Skyler fell back a few paces to be alongside Samantha. “Keep your ears open,” he muttered. “Might as well try to drum up some business while we’re stuck here.”
She stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “Never a boring mission with you in charge.”
“What, this is my fault?”
She looked down her nose at him. “Skyler, I’m in orbit. First time, probably last. I’m going to have a drink, in orbit. Relax, in orbit. You handle the business, in orbit. Sound good?”
Picking up her pace, she moved ahead to walk with Angus.
When they reached the bar, things did relax. Angus and Samantha eventually wore down their guard and convinced him to have a drink.
Skyler took a table on the far side of the crowded room. Takai joined him.
“I think,” Skyler said over a truly delicious cider, “you should head back to the ship. Offer to help with the repair, or say you’re uncomfortable in here. Something. I’m not happy with them crawling all over it.”
“Agreed,” Takai said.
“Trick will be getting word back to us, if something is—”
“Skyler Luiken?”
A middle-aged man approached their table, flanked by two others too grim to be there for leisure.
“That’s me,” Skyler said.
He leaned in close and dropped his voice. “I represent Neil Platz. He’d like to have a word with you.”
Skyler searched for deception in the man’s face, and found none. He looked to the bar. Sam and Angus were laughing with their supposed escort. “Here? We’ve got a chaperone.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” the man said. “Platz is in his office. It’s a short walk.”
“My crew?”
“They should remain here,” he said, leaving no room for debate.
Skyler and Takai exchanged a glance. “You’ll be okay?”
Takai shook his head. He kept his eyes on Skyler’s.
Skyler frowned and turned to the man. “Thing is, there’s a problem with our ship, and we need to be ready—”
He leaned in close. “The business with the latch?”
Skyler said, “Yes, that.”
“The latch is fine,” he said under his breath. “We needed an excuse to get you up here. Let’s not waste any more time, eh?”
Skyler hesitated.
“Your ship will be fine.”
“What does Platz want with me?”
The man looked Skyler up and down. “Wondering that myself,” he said. “Shall we?”
The three men led Skyler from the crowded bar to a junction hallway that he assumed linked Section B to the “upper” sections. They stayed behind and directed Skyler to walk ahead.
A woman greeted him at the other end.
From the gray in her short hair, Skyler put her age at fifty. Still, her tight jumpsuit showed a muscular, lithe figure.
“Kelly,” she said, extending a hand. “Kelly Adelaide. Though some call me the Ghost.”
Skyler shook it. “Interesting title. What’s your role in this organization?”
“Whatever delicate tasks Neil needs done.”
Skyler grinned. “How’s that going for you?”
The hint of a smile crept into the corners of her mouth. “I’m a busy woman. Where’s the guard they assigned to you?”
“Drinking,” Skyler said, “with the rest of my crew.”
She nodded and led him through a series of corridors. When the silence went from polite to awkward, Skyler asked, “Does Platz own this station?”