The Darwin Elevator

Not that Skyler had a crew anymore. Or a ship, for that matter.

“What will you do when all this is over?” he asked her.

“You know I don’t think that far ahead.”

His gut told him to apologize, for everything that had happened. In the end he couldn’t bring himself to voice the words.

Kelly returned with a body in tow, a Nightcliff regular. Skyler could see a splotch of blood on the back of his head. “The only guard. Let’s go,” she said.

The man could be wounded or dead, and Skyler feared asking. A weariness grew within him from all the violence in the last week. It reminded him of the Purge, and that was something he preferred not to think about. The darkest time of the darkest decade in human history, from his perspective.

An expansive bay waited for them as they exited the corridor; it was nearly half the size of the hangar at the old airport. Strewn about the floor were a half-dozen utilitarian vehicles in various states of disrepair. Miscellaneous parts littered every flat surface, and the corners of the room were stacked with old containers, barely visible in the shadows.

Kelly held her hand up and dropped into a crouch, Samantha immediately echoing the move. Skyler took a knee as well, and let his ears adjust.

He could hear voices. Distant, casual, getting louder.

“Skyler,” Kelly said, at a whisper.

He moved up to her position.

“Take the guard’s place.”

“What?”

She shot a glare at his helmet, and Skyler remembered he still wore Nera’s uniform. He nodded once and hurried across the docking bay. At the far end he found a pair of large bulkhead doors, both open, and beyond that a standard Gateway hall running perpendicular to the room.

He guessed there were two people approaching, perhaps three. With only seconds to spare, he reached the entrance, leaned against the wall, and began to chew his fingernails.

Two men rounded the corner. One was a Gateway officer; the other wore the gray coveralls of station crew.

Skyler was thinking they might not even acknowledge him, but then the officer suddenly stopped.

“Don’t get lazy,” he said, analyzing Skyler’s stance. “Blackfield is on his way back, and there are still the two prisoners loose.”

Mind racing at the news, Skyler feigned a look of surprise. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“They caught ’em,” Skyler said. “The Ghost. Er, ghosts. Just a few minutes ago.”

“Bullshit. Where?”

The station worker had stopped now, too, and was listening.

“Up at the climber port, trying to escape.” Skyler gauged the man’s reaction carefully and sensed indecision. He pressed. “You should go take a look.”

The officer shifted on his feet, looking at the worker he’d arrived with. Then he turned to Skyler. “Can you help him out? He needs to lug some tools over to Section B.”

“Sure,” Skyler said. Too quickly, he thought, and added, “No point guarding this place now, eh?”

The officer had already stepped into the hall, his back to Skyler. “Thanks, mate.”

Skyler turned to the worker and saw Samantha emerging from the shadows behind him, quiet as a cat.

To his surprise, she didn’t kill him. Or even knock him out.

Instead Samantha positioned herself behind the man and put her gun to his back. “I sure hope you know how to launch one of these boats,” she said to him.

The captive worker, it turned out, was a big admirer of the Ghost.

“I’ve got no love for these Nightcliff thugs,” he said, and offered to help without conditions.

He led Skyler quickly to one of the repair ships. “It’s the only one in any shape to fly, I’m afraid.”

Skyler focused on the controls in the cockpit. There weren’t many. Three flat-panel touchscreens and fewer buttons than a soda machine. At least there was a fairly standard flight stick, probably for emergencies.

Samantha and Kelly talked in hushed tones behind them.

“There’s some emergency rations under the seat,” the man said. “Can’t help you with the controls, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Skyler replied. The little craft looked at least as old as the station. Belatedly, he realized it had a single seat. “Hang on, this one won’t do. Only room for one.”

“That’s okay,” Kelly said. Her level response came instantly.

“We’re staying here,” Samantha added.

Skyler stepped away from the craft. “What about Anchor?”

“Look,” Kelly said. “You heard that guard. Blackfield is on his way back. Your scientist may be the solution, but he is the problem. This is our chance to sabotage his power grab once and for all.”

“Besides,” Samantha added, “Tania could be with him, for all we know. We need to cover both possibilities.”

It fit Russell’s reputation to take a woman like that as prisoner. The thought sobered him. “Good point.”

“And if she’s not, we can buy you time and get a crack at Blackfield.”

He searched for a counterargument, some alternate plan. Nothing came to mind.

She stepped in close and gave him a soldier’s embrace.

“Quickly now,” she said. “We’ll give this fellow an alibi after you leave, and cover your departure. No one will know.”

Chapter Forty-four

Gateway Station

16.FEB.2283

Russell tapped his fingers on the armrest. He hated waiting.

Across the makeshift hospital room, Alex Warthen slept—medically induced, highly annoying. So much to do. Wake up, you prick.

When the nurse came in, Russell grasped her arm. More roughly than he intended. “Wake him.”

“No, sir, I cannot,” she said. “Remove your hand.”

He tightened his grip, enough to see her wince, before letting go. “Maybe I’ll wake him.”

“I’d advise against that,” the nurse said. “He needs rest. Could barely stand after—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said, voice thick from the medication. “I’m up.”

“Leave us, please,” Russell said to the nurse.

Finally an order that she obeyed.

Alex rubbed at his shoulder. “How long have I been out?”

“The entire time I’ve been here,” Russell said. “Ten minutes, at least.” He watched as the injured director arranged pillows to prop himself into a sitting position. Alex visibly winced in pain as he turned his body to stack them.

Russell checked his wristwatch.

“Thanks for the help,” Alex said.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. What’s our situation?”

Russell smiled. “Your agent inside Anchor Station proved immensely useful.”

Alex closed his eyes. For an instant, Russell thought he might have drifted off to sleep again. “How is Natalie?”

“I’ve promoted her to Head of Backstabbing.”

“She works for me,” Alex said.

“On loan to me, then. I still need her.”

Alex glared at him, a look Russell felt like wiping away with a swift punch to the broken collarbone. He leaned forward instead and met the man’s gaze.

“Thing is, Alex, I think she went native up there. Fell for her gorgeous boss, and who can blame her. Now either she, or Dr. Sharma, has told me a blatant lie. Until I find out who, Natalie is not leaving my side. She’s collateral.”

Alex lay still for a while, gingerly probing at his wounded shoulder. “So where is she?”

“In my climber. Waiting for our departure.”

“And where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Russell stood. “That information is on a need-to-know basis.”

A long silence followed. “I thought we were partners in this.”

Russell decided to ease off a bit. Alex needed to be an ally for a while longer, perhaps. “We are. No offense, but this place has too many ears.”

“The council? Don’t worry, they’ll sit this out. Once things are under control—”

“Not talking about them. Fuck them; they’re good as gone.”

Alex Warthen stared straight into Russell’s eyes for a long time. His chin kept scrunching up, then relaxing. “We never discussed disbanding the council. You’re not the only person with a stake in this.”

Russell walked to the end of the bed. “I said I wasn’t talking about the council. Save that for later. I’m talking about the missing soldiers. Up to thirteen now.”

“Thirteen. Christ …”

“Seven of them mine. It’s getting out of control.”

“I’ll talk to Larsen.”

“Nonsense. You rest up. I’ll get Larsen and the rest of them motivated.”

Russell turned and pushed through the curtain before Alex could respond. He smiled as he strode from the medical ward. A slow undermining of Alex’s command structure fit well into his plans. And with you stuck in here, friend, it’s that much easier.

“How’s he doing?” Captain Larsen asked as Russell exited the infirmary.

Russell didn’t break stride. “Join me for a drink.”

“Sir.”

The burly man fell in step beside him, along with three Nightcliff guards.

Russell thought back to his after-sex run along the parapet of the fortress, full of energy, laughing at the men trying to keep up with him. Not quite the same up here. This place felt like living in a bunker.

It hurt to admit, but he missed the feeling of wind on his face. Once he ran things, he decided he would split time between orbit and Darwin.

He willed himself to focus. “What are you doing to catch these mythical ghosts?”

Larsen cleared his throat. “I’ve posted men at every junction between A and C. We think we’ve isolated them there.”

“How is it they are still loose, Larsen? It’s been seven bloody days.”

“Ah,” Larsen said, “well. The maze of air shafts, maintenance tunnels, and equipment rooms are not well documented. And they seem to know where all the security cameras are. I ordered some repositioned, and we caught a quick glimpse. We immediately sealed off the surrounding areas.”

“Good thinking.”

Larsen laughed, a sad sound. “I thought so, but they’re clever. That one image is all we got.”

“Show me,” Russell said.

“Sure,” Larsen said.

“Now.”

They walked straight past the tavern, deserted save for the bartender. A short distance later they entered the interdeck connection hall. Roughly twelve guards snapped to attention at the sight of the two officers and their escort. A few appeared to have been napping.

“Any sign of them?” Russell asked one bleary-eyed young man.

“No, sir!”

“Not hiding inside your eyelids, eh?”

“Uh …”

Russell pushed the boy into the main hallway. “Run a lap, Private.”

“A … a lap? Alone?”

“Yes, alone, you moron. We’ll call you Private Honeypot. Get to it.” The kid stammered, then unslung his rifle and sprinted off down the curved hallway. “You,” Russell said to the other guard, “you’re Corporal Bull’s-eye. Go the other way.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, jogging off at a pace bordering on insubordination.

“Captain Larsen, we need to have a little chat about discipline,” Russell said as they continued into Section B, toward the security office.

“Alex generally handles—”

“Alex can barely move, and he sleeps more than these blokes. You need to get this shit under control.”

“I’ll discuss it with Alex.”

“No, you just discussed it with me. I’ll make the decisions until he is up and about.”

That statement bought a few seconds of hesitation from Captain Larsen, which Russell found gratifying. “Thank you, sir,” the captain said.

Halfway to the security office, Russell heard a strange noise. The faintest scrape of fabric on metal. He placed it somewhere behind to the left. Casually he unholstered his pistol and placed a bullet in the chamber, covering the barrel of the gun to deaden the sound.

Larsen spoke in a low voice. “Something wrong?”

“Maybe. Have you got a wireless?”

“In the office.”

“I want this hall sealed off. Ay-sap.”

Larsen hesitated. “Shit,” the captain said aloud. Too loud.

“What?”

“Forgot to update the water distribution orders,” Larsen said.

Weak acting job, Blackfield thought. “So what?”

“A real bitch to fix once the climbers leave. We’d better take care of it.”

Russell sighed. “Run on ahead. I’m exhausted. Meet you there.” Russell snapped at two of his guards who were close behind. “You and you, go with him.” They both nodded.

Larsen jogged ahead, the two soldiers falling in with him. Russell waited until they were out of sight.

He slowed to a stop, turned to the one remaining guard on his right. “Soldier, your boot is untied.” Russell gave a deliberately exaggerated nod toward the floor.

“Sorry, sir,” the guard said. The man took his time, pretending to tie the shoe.

At last, competence. Russell leaned against a support beam on the wall, pushing his hands and the pistol into his jacket pockets.

He strained his ears. Beneath his own breathing, the fidgeting soldier, and the constant vibrating drone of the air processors, he heard the sound again. The barest whisper of metal scraping metal, from behind the kneeling guard. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">