Blue shift protocol, p.7
Blue Shift Protocol, page 7
“You’ve got to get better.”
Penny touched the faded scars on Eames’ wrist before pulling the sheet up. She had asked her about them once. “Just an old tattoo I had removed.”
Eames’ tablet lay on the nightstand. A news page stood open. Administrator Goodhope’s activities weren’t the top story. Some mining ships had an accident. She read the highlights about the Kingfisher losing most of its crew. The Otter and the Nightingale had brought her home.
The tablet had message boards open that told more of the story. A big rock delivered, now in range of the station’s mining teams. For now, it was hands off. Plenty of rage in the comments section. Fear, too. Sabotage. Keeping the rock on lockdown was a Meridian ploy. Corpo loyalists were set on bringing back the bad old days. Idealists were ignorant of the fact that their hab was dying.
A text message waited, unsent. Penny didn’t recognize the recipient. Trenton Keller. The address suffix wasn’t anyone in the education department. Curious now, she found he was a spacer assigned to the Nightingale. Message history showed seven messages sent with no replies.
The ship and crew arrival site showed he was back on station.
What was it about this man that had sent Eames into her current downward spiral? No other messages in her inbox that stood out. Just work stuff. She had colleagues but no close friends or romantic partners since Penny had met her. She never brought anyone home.
A dark conclusion came to mind. This Trenton Keller was a fixer. Eames was out of product and had been maintaining herself on a dwindling supply of pills. Now her dealer was back and she was jonesing for a fix.
Penny closed the tablet. “I’ll take care of you.”
First, she needed to find out where this Trenton Keller lived.
THE ALERT ON TRENTON’S device roused him from deep slumber. His head remained fuzzy. Still in the beanbag, but Nikki was gone. The scented towel still hung on his neck.
The fact he had slept for ten hours like a baby reminded him why he loved his ex-wife so much. She knew him and knew her stuff.
It took him a moment to get oriented. Her place was dark and his toe caught the edge of a pulled-out chair. Groaned in pain as he grabbed his device, cursing himself for not silencing it.
All Nightingale crew report to the service desk.
Nikki emerged from the bedroom. Her new husband lay flopped on the bed with his feet sticking out of the sheets.
“Still keeping third shift hours, I see.”
“Sorry, I thought I had it muted.”
She read the screen. “You just got in.”
“Yeah. Maybe it’s a drill. Or someone hit the wrong code in the alert system. I’ll find out.”
“You have limits. Call in sick. You can let someone else reply.”
“Not with the Nightingale.”
“You’re an arrogant bastard. You think you’re the only one who can keep her running. That’s not true.”
He kissed her cheek. “There are others who might manage. But no one knows her like I do. If she’s heading out with a crew, I need to be there.”
A STOP AT HIS APARTMENT to gather his duty bag. Underclothes, hygiene products, a flash drive with manuals and his library. The rest would already be onboard the ship.
His call to the service desk had a canned message from Captain Toussaint confirming the alert and a tentative launch window in seventy-two hours.
Most of the crew would endure. A dose of bitching with a side of glee, since reduced downtime ensured a built-in bonus. For Trenton, it meant no wind-down and getting to his bird ASAP.
With the abbreviated maintenance cycle, the dock rats had even less time to crawl the hull to do patches or to run the hundreds of system checks needed. Things would be missed.
He’d be damned if he let the Nightingale go up like the Kingfisher.
When Saanvi called, he put it on speaker. “It’s me,” she said. “This alert is bullshit, right?”
“You know it’s not. Hope you didn’t make plans.”
“I don’t even have my feet under me yet. There’s not even an operations overview doc posted.”
“Welcome to my world. I have to wait until the general crew gets its mission brief.”
“I have a bad feeling about this. Listen, Trent. I used my clearance and had a search running. The rock—at least the part we brought back—isn’t uncharted. Composition and shape match something tagged from way back just after the colony ships’ departures.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“No, it isn’t. They mapped everything on their way out. We have years of feed with outer system data even after they stopped talking to anyone.”
“There’s got to be millions of objects with that composition.”
“Not when you get down to the nitty-gritty. It’s like a fingerprint. Its orbital track wouldn’t bring it to us. Not in a million years. The original asteroid was large enough that to get it back into our neighborhood would have taken substantial effort and precious resources.”
“So someone broke it up, shaped it, and hollowed it out.”
“And then pushed it our way. It’s a lot of work and precision for a splinter group. The colony ships could have grabbed it. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Okay. So let’s say they snagged it for resources and tried to turn it into a spacecraft. Why isn’t it halfway out of the Kuiper belt by now?”
She paused. “I don’t know.”
“This is all speculation. We can talk about this later once we get past our mission briefing and launch.”
“I’m not going. I’m sorry, Trenton. Maybe my nerves are still shot. I can’t clear myself. There wasn’t a choice. I’ve logged it with medical. For now, I’m in no state to fly or do much of anything.”
“I get it. Trust me, I do.”
“Fiona Howlett will fill in. She’s champing at the bit to get shuttle hours in. She’s good. I’ve reviewed her logs. XO Isles already gave her the green light. But it’s you I’m worried about. You can sit this out too.”
“I can’t do that. Nightingale flies, I fly.”
“I have a bad feeling.”
“There’s a pill for that.”
She laughed, but it carried no warmth.
He needed to end the call. Get to the Nightingale and begin the first round of his own diagnostic programs. Give the ship a once-over, then do it three more times. Then he’d grab a shower and shave in the ready room and check the schedule.
“We’ve been through the wringer,” he said. “You need to get better. I’ll manage. I’ll show up and grind it out and be back home. It’s going to be okay.”
“You need a clear head too.”
“If that was a requirement, they’d have canned my ass years ago.”
“You’re not hearing me. I’m scared. Trent, we’ve hit it off before, so I need you to listen. Something about this rock isn’t right and this new mission has everything to do with it. Stay with me. We can both declare duty deferment. We have the days stored up, so why not? Come on, we’ll make a thing of it. Act like everybody else on Nexus who doesn’t have to strap in and let themselves be crushed to death just to make rent.”
The air in his apartment felt thin. “Saanvi...”
“I need you. I don’t want to be alone. Don’t you get it? If you go, you’re not coming back. The Nightingale is a cursed ship.”
“We’re both a little tired.”
Her words grew dreamy. “You know the new River Park? They just fixed it up with all those waterfalls. We can go walk the trail. Bring food from the bao place back to my studio. Make love. We could even watch the launches from the viewing auditorium and realize we survived by staying home.”
“We can talk when I get back. I need to report in.”
“I know you still have a thing for Nikki despite the fact that she’s moved on. Come over. We’ll laugh together. Dream together. I’ll kill you. We’ll share what neither of us has had in our lives for longer than anyone should. We’ll watch what’s coming and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.”
His breath caught in his throat. “What?”
Silence on the line.
“Are you there?” he asked.
Trenton’s thumb went for the end call button. Then he saw the dark screen of the device. He tapped the screen and woke up the communication app.
A call with Saanvi had ended five minutes ago. He couldn’t work up enough spit to swallow. With trembling fingers, he set the device down, as if it might burn him.
The bathroom’s plastic tiles creaked. The automatic lights had gone dark. He made a fist and strode to the hall. Someone was messing with him. The bathroom light winked on. No one there. His packed Dopp kit waited to be thrown into his duffel.
Fog on the mirror, yet he hadn’t showered. A scent of musk, and not his brand. The aroma faded. He ran a finger through the condensation and rubbed the moisture between his fingers. Then he picked up his device. His thumb hovered over Saanvi’s contact number.
What part of their conversation had actually happened? His mind swam as the walls felt like they were closing in.
The door buzzed.
A young girl in her mid-teens stood outside. No one on his block had kids this young. She pounded on the door. He threw it open.
“You’re Trenton?”
“Yeah?”
“My friend’s sick because of you. If you don’t leave her alone, I’ll bring so much security down on your head, you’ll be drowning.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Idon’t know you or your friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
When he tried to shut the door, she stuck her foot in. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Look, kid, you’ve got the wrong place. I don’t know who told you my name. Someone’s pranked you. I don’t have time for this.”
The Dopp kit went into the duffel and he zipped it up. She was inside now, glancing about the apartment as if expecting to find something. His device buzzed. A repeat of the earlier notification.
All Nightingale crew report to the service desk.
After tabbing his acknowledgment, he shouldered the duffel bag. The girl remained in his way.
He charged past her. “There’s nothing here worth stealing.”
She followed him down the steps to the tram stop. The railed transit shuttle pulled up seconds later. He tapped his bracelet on the reader. “Dock L.”
When he sat, she sat next to him. She wasn’t wearing a bracelet, which meant she was along for the ride.
“You looking for credits?” he asked.
“I don’t want your money. I want you to stay away from the university.”
“Fine. I’ll stay away. Now leave me alone.”
“That means the uni cafeteria and the faculty housing too.”
“I’ve never set foot in any of these places.”
“I know your face. My friends do too. If we see you there, we’ll call security.”
He watched the blocks streak past as the tram sped down the residential avenue and into a service tunnel. A moment later, they were zooming towards the transit station where he would take the elevator to the dock where the Nightingale waited.
“You hear me?” she pressed.
“Yeah, sure, kid. Just something to tuck away for later? Don’t get on an empty tram with a stranger who might not be as friendly as me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Yeah, I can see that. But if you’re planning on threatening someone with security, have a way to back that up with an actual com message so you can call the cops. You’re not wearing a station bracelet and it doesn’t look like you have a phone. You’re a scrap.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“All right. Unregistered. You got the wrong Trenton and you’re in the wrong place. Get off at the next stop and get your head straight.”
“Professor Moira Eames. Promise me you’ll never see her again.”
The tram screeched onto the platform. Over a dozen other cars were queued up to leave on their respective tracks. Workers were coming and going. The station buzzed with activity. The door slid open.
A polite voice from the speaker said, “You’ve arrived.”
Yet Trenton didn’t move from his seat. “You said Eames?”
“You heard me.”
The chime on the door dinged impatiently. “Please step out of the car.”
Three workers in jumpsuits climbed aboard and scanned their bracelets. They eyed Trenton and the girl irritably.
“Come on, fella. We’ve got a schedule.”
Trenton took Penny by the elbow and led her out to the platform. They waited until the tram scooted away.
“You know Eames?”
“Do your ears work? Yes, I know her. And I want you to leave her alone.”
“I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years.”
Moira Eames had been a materials analyst, geologist, and survey coordinator aboard the Nightingale ten years ago. She had quit following the revolt, taking a teaching position at the university.
The girl had murder in her eyes. “You’re lying. She messaged you a dozen times. And now she’s sick because of whatever pills you’re pushing.”
“I’m not a drug dealer. I don’t use, I don’t sell, and I swear I haven’t spoken with her.”
“Prove it.”
If the day hadn’t been so strange, he would have laughed and walked away. Instead, he took out his device and checked the texts.
Trenton, I heard you’re back. This is Moira. Call me.
I know it’s been a while. Having trouble. Hope you get this.
Moira again. Text me.
PLEASE RESPOND.
It remembers. We aren’t forgiven.
The phone notifications hadn’t shown the messages before. Surely a coms system glitch.
A pair of security personnel in their black ball caps moved along the platform towards them. The casual waves of their data readers told him they were conducting a sweep. Was it the impending mission or the visit of the Meridian flunky that had them on high alert?
“You need to go,” he said to the girl.
“You know the professor. What do those messages mean?”
“I’m not talking about it with you. Look, they’ll scoop you up and I guarantee your day will get a whole lot worse.”
“I’m not going until I know what’s happening. Who are you to her?”
He whispered a curse. Again, he led her by the elbow towards the hangar elevators. Bracelet scanners awaited them. No one was watching. He swiped his wrist and rushed her into the lobby. When he hit the call button, an elevator dinged. It took a moment to open, and precious seconds for the maintenance grunts to shove a floor cleaning machine out of the way.
The two cops had followed them. One consulted their data pad and scowled.
“Move it along,” Trenton urged the janitors.
A baleful glower and the pair moved even slower. Once they cleared the threshold, Trenton got them into the elevator.
The smaller of the two officers jogged towards them. “You two, hold it.”
Trenton spammed the close-door button and selected the service floor. The cop was too slow. He smacked the doors with his palm as they shut. The elevator dropped.
“What’s your name, kid?” Trenton asked.
“Penny.”
“Okay, Penny. Let’s agree on one thing. I know Eames. She was a crewmate of mine. But I’ve never sold her or given her drugs. So you have until we step out of this elevator to tell me what’s going on with her. Because the Chucks are going to call their buddies on the level where we’re going. So you have that long to convince me you’re actually Eames’ friend and not running some kind of scam on me. Deal?”
Chapter Fifteen
Penny smirked as the elevator sped downward. “You called them Chucks.”
“What?”
“I said you called them Chucks,” Penny said.
“What else would a station rat call security?”
The elevator let them out. No one stood waiting. If Penny was running a racket, she was being quite cagey about what she hoped to gain from him. How did she even know Eames?
His passkey took them into a back corridor.
“We can talk in here.”
Trenton confirmed no one was in the Dock L break room before leading her inside. A tiny table, a countertop with a rehydrator and microwave, and a wall screen with more dead pixels than stars in the sky.
A quick check of the cabinets and he realized he couldn’t find what he was looking for. “Wait here. Look bored and no one will hassle you.”
She took a seat where she could watch the door, leaning on her hands and staring dully at the Jilly-Jolly ad playing on the monitor.
He ducked into the locker room. Dock Service Personnel Only. Nightingale’s crew had their own shower, storage, and equipment space in the staging area near the airlock and cargo bay. This suite of rooms was for the handful of station workers assigned to the dock.
Someone was in the shower and another in a toilet stall.
He went to the service locker closest to the manager’s office. Admin Only. Using a screwdriver, he popped it open. Temp ID bracelets for extra work gangs not normally assigned to the zone. If things were on schedule, they’d be wiped weekly and in need of re-coding by the floor supervisor. No one from admin had signed in on the log sheet in a month.
He grabbed a bracelet and brought it back to Penny. She had gotten into the insta-soup and was slurping down noodles.
“Put this on. It’ll at least get you back up the elevator and onto a tram. Just don’t get scanned by the Chucks. Now tell me about Moira.”
She told him everything she claimed to know about what was going on with Professor Eames. At least the accusations of his being a drug dealer had stopped.
Moira Eames was sick, strung out, and going through something. That it coincided with his own hallucinations was immaterial. A coincidence. He had been told enough times by a station therapist about the toll their work exacted from a healthy psyche. Pain and stress compounded. And the aftereffects could manifest much later, as they were doing with Eames.
