Home Planet: Awakening (Part 1) (8 page)

After some heavy duty wrenching on the door wheel, the airlock finally opened and I breathed a sigh of relief. For a while, I thought it might have seized completely and once again praised the long-dead shipbuilders that I was not. That it was in an airless vacuum and hadn’t corroded that had probably helped. On entering the small airlock chamber—identical to the one I’d left in Module 3—I closed the hatch door behind me. The green glow of the status light next to it supplemented the dimness of the chamber’s lighting. The fact that both were working and that gravity had once more taken its hold meant this module was in better shape than the others were. But it was still emergency lighting, and I had to dial down the shading on my visor to see more easily. After a few attempts, the internal door opened and I stepped into the suiting-up room, closing the door behind me. My helmet HUD reported a pressure of one atmosphere, breathable air composition and a temperature of fifty degrees Fahrenheit—a little cold, but nothing like the winters in Idaho.

Desuiting went quicker than putting it all on. I kept the bottle connected to the suit back and laid it next to the helmet on the changing bench. Just one bottle sat in the bottle rack. It didn’t matter—I’d used only fifteen minutes of air and still had several hours left due to the rebreather technology. I pulled out the handgun from the fleece pocket, rechecked that the safety was on, slid out the magazine eyeing twenty rounds present.

Replacing the gun, I said, “So far, so good.” Then, I opened the door to the white and gray corridor outside. Looking left then right, the first thing I noticed was that, apart from the usual signs of decay, it was undamaged. At both ends, the passageway turned inwards at right angles, away from the outside of the hull. There were three doors along the wall opposite and two beside me—one either side of the spacesuit room. I listened for signs of life, my hopes not that high. Except for some ambient noise, it was as still as night. The time was right to try the intercom badge again. I tapped the device twice, waking it from its slumber.

I said, “Tiro, this is colonist Daniel T. Luker.”

I hoped for the clear English accent of Tiro, but once again got the badge woman.

She said, “Tiro is unreachable. The communications network is inactive.”

I sighed. My hopes that the command module was intact were apparently premature.

Oh well, let’s try again
, I thought, wishing for a lucky break.

“Intercom, initiate direct badge-to-badge comms,” I said, wearily. “Any active node in range.”

“Active node AD-005 is within range. Connecting ...” she said, accompanied by an intermittent chiming.

I stemmed my rising excitement, remembering what happened last time.

I said, “What details can you give on node AD-005?”

“AD-005 is an intercom badge.”

That was good news. Security droids, terminals and other machines had built-in devices. Badges were for pinning on clothing and people wore clothing—most of the time, anyway.

I asked the intercom about the clothed individual.

“Intercom, what is AD-005’s location?”

“AD-005 is on Level 10, sector C6.”

“Err, where would that be relative to me?”

“You are currently located on Level 10, sector C4.”

“AD-005’s distance from me?”

“A straight-line distance of one-five-one feet.”

“Which direction?”

“A bearing of two-eight-three degrees referenced to
Juno
bow north.”

Whoever it was was close, but he or she wasn’t being very talkative.

“Intercom, confirm connection to node AD-005.”

“Connection confirmed.”

Might as well go find whoever was wearing AD-005.

Should be to my right then left around the corner if I’m not wrong.

I set off, desperate to meet someone, anyone. Being alone was getting to me already. And it had only been hours since stasis.

My footsteps echoed on the metal of the quiet corridor. The scene was something between candlelight and normal indoor lighting, except its hue was harsh and white. There were the occasional dark zones where emergency lighting strips had failed. I passed through one on reaching the left turn then emerged back into the light. Up ahead—around thirty feet away down the new passageway—stood a man, his back to me, completely still. It was hard to see him in the dark patch, but he was of medium height and build and his hair looked blondish—a possible match for Reichs. He appeared a little taller and slimmer than I imagined Reichs to be, but it
had
to be him. After all, he was the only other survivor of whom Tiro knew. This was great news. It reminded me how much I missed company.

Smiling, I call out to him.

“Hey man, this is Dan Luker! ... Is that you Reichs?
Arnold
Reichs?”

Like there’d be another Reichs,
I thought, chuckling.

He turned around but said nothing just staring in my direction. He didn’t reply.

Maybe he’s been alone too long and psychosis has set in ... Can do all sorts of things to the human mind,
I thought.

His stasis pod suggested it as a possibility given that he’d left it some time ago.

“Hey buddy, can you hear me okay? I just came out of sta—”

Then I saw what he was holding. A handgun, dark and difficult to spot in the murk.

I grabbed for my own as he calmly raised his gun and fired, sending me rolling to the deck just in time. The two rounds were so close I felt the shock wave graze my jaw.

This bastard’s shooting to kill
, I thought as I crouched, taking aim.

I squeezed off four rounds before he could snap-return fire whilst running surprisingly fast around the corner behind him. I sprung up, covering his position. He now had cover and I didn’t, so I retreated backwards from where I’d came. Twice he poked his head around the corner and twice I fired back, trying to suppress him but happy to take him out.

If
you fire on a cop, expect to be taken down, no question,
I thought.
Even a former-cop
.

I felt my heart thumping when I made it around the corner. It’d been a number of years since I’d seen action. A number of years before stasis, that was. I had to think fast. The layout was largely unfamiliar to me, and for all I knew he could have been flanking around behind me. So I continued the retreat to the one place I knew I couldn't be surprised: the airlock.

I waited to the side of the suiting-up room door, ready for Reichs to walk through it. My plan was to grab and disarm him. He stood a good nine inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter than me. Unless he was some kind of world-class martial arts guy, I was confident he’d be no match. Once I had him, I would
make
him talk. It wasn’t how I wanted it to be, but he’d tried to kill me for God’s sake. He damned well nearly succeeded. And if I needed to shoot him, I would.

I controlled my breathing and waited silently. I could wait for a very long time—patience being an important virtue for a cop. Patience being an important virtue, period. I thought about this guy, Reichs. It was either a case of mistaken identity or he’d lost his mind. They were the only explanations that made any sense. If he wasn’t mad then he had some serious beef with whoever he thought I was.

I listened and I waited. Then I waited some more but detected no sign of him. Then I realized how stupid I’d been. I’d forgotten all about the intercom badge. If could I work out his location with it then he sure as hell could work out mine.

“Damn it!” I whispered angrily.

Well, assuming he knows where I am, it’s only fair I take a look-see for him,
I thought. To keep tabs on me he’d need his badge active.

“Intercom, what is AD-005’s current location?”

“AD-005 is on Level 10, sector C4.”

Same sector as me.

“And tell me AD-005’s distance and bearing from me?”

“A straight-line distance of thirty-three-feet with a bearing of three-four-nine degrees referenced to
Juno
bow north.”

That meant he was somewhere along the last corridor I’d ran along. My guess waiting at the corner for me to emerge from the suiting-up room. I couldn’t wait here forever, but then again, neither could he. I’d also have the element of surprise, but it was definitely a risk. If I were in his shoes, I’d be zeroed in on the door ready to shoot first.

Then an idea struck me. Removing the badge from my fleece, I placed it in an open locker and started donning my spacesuit. There was more than one way into this module. I just needed to go and find another airlock.

With a last recheck of my air supply, I opened the hatch to space and the harsh brilliance of Aura. Following a hunch, I sped around the lower curve of the hull toward the antipode of my origin—Level 10 on the western side of Module 1—in nautical terms, the port bow. My second spacewalk had come earlier than I’d ever imagined, but I felt a growing sense of confidence guiding myself under thruster power. It would take under two minutes from airlock to airlock. The quicker the better. The sooner I got to Reichs the less chance he’d discover my ruse. After crossing the lowest point of the hull, I flew a wider arc than the module itself, giving me some elevation above the port side. That made spotting the airlock hatch far easier. The first was located at around Level 18. I’d use it if I had to. Then I saw what I’d come for—the airlock on the other side of Level 10.

On arrival at my insertion point, I followed the same drill as before. Identical chamber, spare spacesuits, helmets, and bottles. Also a dark blue crew flight suit with the name
Dutta
on the nametag. A pair of standard issue black boots stood below the hanging flight suit. Maybe Dutta, whoever he or she was, had gone for a spacewalk and hadn’t come back. I desuited and readied my weapon, safety off, one in the chamber. With any luck, that’s where it would stay if I did this right.

I eased open the door and scanned left then right, but saw and heard nothing. The corridor looked a mirror image of the other side. I turned left and then hung a right fifty or so feet later heading toward a set of double sliding doors marked,
Navigation.
Miraculously, the doors swished open as though the ship were pristine and new. The musty air and thick layer of dust over the dead equipment inside dispelled the fantasy. In the center of the large room sat a square table with a central column holding it up. Around it, eight stools were laid out, two per side. I examined the corporate logo on the table edge—apparently the company was called
NuvoTech
and it was a
Holo-Space Navigator.
It reminded me of the holographic game machines popular back in the day. I guessed that was what it was—a holographic display table. Workstations, terminals, and what looked like equipment closets lined the walls. A door to the left carried the label,
Bridge.
The door on the right read,
Communications
and underneath it said,
Sensors.
Straight ahead, past the holographic table, the double doors were simply marked
Level 10 Starboard
. And that was the way I went. The ship narrowed slightly toward the nose and it wouldn’t be far until I reached Reichs’s position. On leaving the navigation suite, I drew my gun and advanced quietly along the corridor toward a set of windowless firebreak doors. For whatever reason—I could think of quite a few—they had closed, their magnetic anchors no longer holding them against the walls. Beyond them, if I was correct, would be Reichs with his back to me, eyes trained on the door, waiting to shoot me. This was when I wished I had an optics probe like the SWAT guys used.

Instead, I eased the left door open ever so slowly, wary that any sound could alert him. Holding my gun in a double-handed grip, I applied more weight with my shoulder until my aim made line of sight down the thirty-foot long corridor. And there he still stood—Reichs with his gun pointed to the airlock I’d left five minutes before. If he turned now, it’d be me that fired first, no question. But that’s not what I wanted, so I slipped past the heavy door, holding its handle to cushion its return with my eyes and gun still firmly on Reichs. He didn’t move. I’d managed silence so far. I started ghost walking slowly toward him, soundlessly rolling down my bare feet with each step. The closer I got the more accurate I could be and I shifted aim from his center of mass to his legs. He was no good to me dead, although he didn’t seem to share the same opinion of me. Surveying the corridor, there were only two notable features. On the left was a single door with a plaque I couldn’t see clearly. Opposite was a narrower door of the sort I’d seen previously labeled,
Equipment
—an equipment closet. Now just fifteen feet from Reichs, his blond hair came into view. It was surprisingly well cut and, although it was hard to tell, I saw no signs of a beard. I had expected one—crazy guy, alone for months or even years... He wore a long-sleeved top, fitted, light blue. His trousers were navy blue, standard crew issue. He’d definitely gotten himself in shape since his 3D image scan. But the height was about right. This was Reichs all right, former-rich-boy-turned-crazed-shooter. At six feet behind him, if I didn’t act soon he’d hear me breathing.