Redemption Protocol (Contact) (22 page)
Marsac was gone. No surprise there.
Incredibly, Brennen was alive.
He checked the details of the contamination alert. There was lots on the list, all ranked. Flashing right at the top of the list was tettraxigyiom. Havoc was stunned. At least it had dissipated – the system showed its ruptured tank was exhausted. Various other substances were still venting, but nothing so dangerous. He closed off the flows as he located Brennen on shipnet.
Brennen hung from a shattered girder thirty meters away, suspended on a cable bundle about five meters below him and twenty meters above the struts of disc five.
Shipnet indicated the lock was clear. Havoc leaned forward and punched the button to open it.
> Get in the lock.
Havoc cast to Brennen and got no response. Brennen was autocasting his vitals – they were poor and he was unconscious. Havoc grimaced at the minimal jet capability of the recce suit under his tux. The casts transmitted back and forth instantaneously.
Weaver and Stephanie hustled forward as Havoc took a binding pack off the wall and stepped to the ragged edge of the hole. The main danger to the ship was disc four debris collapsing onto the disc below. He fired a filament wire out to a strut on disc three above him and another to a more distant strut of disc five, near a lock, below. He leaned out and fired a final wire across to a more reliable looking strut at his level. He equalized the tension in the wires as much as he could and leaned out, hanging over nothing, holding on with one hand.
Weaver and Stephanie pressed into the lock as the door closed. Weaver’s eyes widened as she took in his position on the edge of the bubble and the filament wires running from his suit.
> You’re going out there?
> Yeah. Get back to the Hub Hab.
Stephanie looked alarmed.
> Are you sure that’s a good idea?
> Go.
The lock closed.
Havoc dropped out over the edge of the ragged hole into space. It was a semi-controlled swing rather than a proper rig but it should get him down to Brennen.
The exposure of space hit him. He hung on the damaged rim of a ship with discs above and below him. There were precipitous drops in all directions, some infinite. Fine ice crystals clustered on the struts and cables around him.
Havoc paid out the wire above him, reeled in the wire below and used the third to stabilize his position and drift. It wasn't precise but it was enough. He lowered toward Brennen, inspecting Brennen’s condition as he got near.
Brennen was a mess. His feet and his left arm below the elbow were missing. The low pressure and blast screen may have prevented Brennen from dying instantly but he still had terrible impact injuries. Havoc had no idea if Brennen would survive. What he did know was that Brennen had to be high enhanced with some major g-shock augmentation – if Brennen hadn't been, he'd already be dead.
Havoc swung into Brennen, not as gently as he would have liked, and wrapped his legs around his chest. He used his filament blade to cut through the cables above Brennen, taking care not to cut his own wires, and they both swung free.
He paid out the wire above him, reeled in the one below and kept them in line using the third wire until it was obstructed by another spoke and he had to release it.
> I'm bringing Brennen to disc five, lock J-three. He needs medical attention.
> We're here, Abbott replied.
Havoc opened the external lock and bundled Brennen inside. As the inner lock opened, Abbott and Charles gathered Brennen and lowered him the floor. Chaucer knelt down next to Brennen and attached three autoinjectors to his neck.
“We need to get him to the medstation.”
Havoc turned to Abbott.
“Can you take care of him while I secure the debris?”
Abbott looked incredulous.
“You're going back out there?”
Havoc looked down at himself, still in his tuxedo.
“Sooner is better.”
Charles frowned at him.
“Do you know why Marsac...?”
Havoc felt bleak.
“I think the signal came from one of us.”
31.
Havoc entered the lock leading into the Hub Hab.
He'd done a quick clean up, securing the damaged structures on disc four to reduce the risk they’d break off and damage other parts of the ship. They'd lost an entire module of test kit, but the damage had been localized and the integrity of the ship was intact. They'd been as lucky as hell in that respect.
Havoc didn’t know if the biobomb target had been what the saboteur wanted to blow up – presumably not the test lab – or if the target had been Marsac himself. Anyone who wanted to take out the
Intrepid
would have a much easier time with Marsac gone.
He stepped through out of the lock. People sat around, mostly wearing the white overalls issued after decontamination. Everyone had been scrubbed, including him on his way here. Unfortunately, the contamination he was worried about couldn't be treated that easily.
He looked at Chaucer as he approached the crew.
“Brennen?”
Chaucer’s voice sounded thick with shock.
“He’s very sick. His internal injuries are terrible but survivable.”
“Great.”
“But that’s not the problem...”
Havoc frowned as he approached.
“Oh?”
Chaucer turned to Leveque, who answered for him.
“The tettraxigyiom. Brennen’s unlikely to recover mentally, even if he makes it physically.”
Whittenhorn looked condescendingly at Havoc.
“He might have been luckier if he’d slipped away.”
Something in Whittenhorn's tone irked Havoc.
“Slipped away? Are you saying I should have left him out there?”
Whittenhorn didn’t answer as he walked to the front. Abbott shook his head.
“No.”
Havoc thought Whittenhorn might have answered differently as Whittenhorn turned to face everyone.
“Alright, now that everyone is finally here, I am officially assuming the position of Mission Commander.”
Havoc thought the crew didn't greet this news with unalloyed joy, but then he was probably biased by his contempt for the little weasel.
“Mr Chaucer, Mrs Leveque, please could you explain our position.”
Chaucer gestured stiffly to the room, deferring to Leveque. Havoc thought Chaucer was taking this pretty hard. Leveque stood up.
“Everyone has been contaminated with tettraxigyiom, to some extent.”
“Isn’t that illegal. I mean, to use it?” Kemensky said.
Humberstone nodded.
“It's illegal on Federation vessels.”
“And Union vessels,” Bergeron added.
Darkwood spoke calmly.
“And this ship is neither.”
“Though we’re under a Federation mandate,” Humberstone said.
“And an Alliance flag,” Bergeron said.
Abbott gestured in frustration.
“Can we save the legal arguments until we understand what’s happened?”
Ekker leaned across the table. His approach was rather more direct.
“Why the fuck are you using tettraxigyiom, Darkwood?”
Darkwood waved a hand.
“Performance. It’s a small risk for such a great increase.”
Ekker’s eyes lit up.
“A small fuc––”
Abbott banged the table.
“Can we leave the why and wherefores! I’m sure most of us simply want to understand what this means.”
“Hear hear,” Touvenay said.
“It’s not good,” Leveque said, “it causes significant degeneration in the brain.”
Abbott raised an eyebrow at her.
“Meaning?”
Leveque spread her hands.
“It causes the patient to dissociate from reality for variable periods; we refer to it as 'losing time'. But it also decreases inhibitions and eliminates emotion. In practice that results in indecisiveness, poor judgment and aggressive behavior.”
“So what you’re saying and correct me if I’m wrong, Mrs Leveque, is that we could all lose our minds?” Abbott said.
Leveque’s face was desolate.
“Yes.”
There was a collective gasp.
“But not yet?” Havoc said.
Leveque shrugged.
“Going on the level of exposure; in one week, one third of us will have complete and irreversible degeneration and in three weeks a quarter of those remaining will as well.”
“Holy fuck,” Novosa said.
“We can fix this, though, right?” Ekker said.
Leveque shook her head.
“There isn’t a known way to fix this damage. That is why it's...”
“Illegal,” Bergeron said.
“Not typically used,” Darkwood said.
“
Typical
, in situations where it is used, to carry treatment kits,” Leveque said.
Stephanie stared at Darkwood.
“Of which we have?”
Darkwood glanced down at his lap.
Leveque looked crestfallen.
“None.”
“Fuck,” Tomas said.
“What a blunder,” Jafari said.
Darkwood waved his hand dismissively.
“Bear in mind that treatment kits only prevent further degeneration. They don't undo the damage done. Full treatment is a sophisticated medical procedure and we don't have the required resources on this ship. We’ve had a terrible accident. There’s no point playing the blame game.”
“If we were to freeze ourselves, would that arrest the damage?” Stephanie said.
Leveque nodded.
“Yes, it would slow it down.”
Bergeron sat forward abruptly.
“So we need to refreeze ourselves?”
Leveque shook her head.
“The journey home is too long for the contamination not to run its course.”
Stephanie frowned.
“Run its course?”
Leveque nodded.
“You have received your dose. Each individual’s outcome is unknown, but over time those affected will experience episodic symptoms. For those severely affected the episodes will gradually increase in duration and severity until...”
“Until they’re mad?” Stone said.
Ekker clutched at straws.
“But we won’t die?”
Leveque sounded grave.
“If you suffer complete degeneration then you won’t know who you are, where you are or what you’re doing.”
The crew reeled at the unexpected news. The bomb had been awful but everyone had thought they’d got away with it.
Stephanie’s eyes flashed.
“We’re dying? What the fuck is wrong with you, Darkwood!”
Havoc thought he was the only person not shocked by his ex-fiancée’s outburst.
Touvenay’s voice was curt.
“We're not all dying. It appears that half of us, on average, are dying.”
Bergeron spun round to look at Havoc.
“We should never have chased him. You should have let us go!”
Whittenhorn clasped his hands behind his back, trying to look like leadership material.
“There is no point in panicking. We can hold those responsible in good time.”
Havoc shook his head. He was still trying to get to grips with the situation. He looked at Leveque.
“So over the next week you would expect...?”
“An increasing number of us will exhibit some mix of symptoms including losing time, increased obsessive-compulsive behaviors, an inability to distinguish memories from the present, paranoia and an increased propensity to violence.”
Bergeron’s hand covered her mouth.
Fournier looked startled.
“Good God.”
“And we don’t know who? I mean, we can't predict?” Stephanie said.
Leveque’s voice cracked.
“No, we can't. Around half of us will make it. And some of you might be augmented in ways to protect you from this. I have no idea about that.”
“We’re dying,” Ekker said.
“This isn’t fair,” Stephanie said.
Hwan shrugged.
“This is fate. It's karma.”
Stephanie looked appalled.
“You think you
deserve
this?”
Hwan clasped her hands in her lap. She didn’t answer.