Vessel (11 page)

'Hi.
Sean here.'

'Sean.'

'Did you hear?'

'Hear what?'

'It's in the paper.'

'Sean, it’s three in the morning.
Enough with the riddles.'

Sean looked at his watch and did the math.

'Sorry — my mistake. But this is important.'

'What is?'

'Lev's dead.'

The phone went silent,
except for the hiss of static.

'
Lev Ryumin? Are you sure?'

'Positive. It's in the local paper right here in front of me. Page fifteen mind you, but it's here.'

'What happened?'

'Car crash, apparently. Rolled it off an embankment and into a ditch. I'm surprised it killed him.'

'Do the police think it's suspicious?'

'I don't know, but I
know I do.'

A crackled sigh
.

'Ok
ay, get on it. And see what you can find out with that card. But stay safe — don't do anything unnecessarily risky.'

'Of course,' Sean said, and hung up. He helped himself to another piece of toast.

Not much later Sean was battling commuter traffic as he weaved his way through the Moscow suburbs and South, out to a little town near Podolsk. He felt a relief to leave the concrete-smothered city behind, enjoying the refreshing feeling open expanses of countryside always gave him. After a few hours of driving, he pulled off the main road and crawled down a rutted track towards a dilapidated farm building. He parked up next to a rusted tractor with three wheels and a hole in the roof. This place always creeped him out. Letting himself into the building he called out:

'Hi! David?'

A crash was the response, followed by a short, middle-aged man with a mop of shoulder-length brown hair who popped into the hall from a dingy doorway. His face turned from annoyance to elation the moment he saw Sean.

'Sean! How are you?' he said in
a strange blend of Armenian and American accents, rushing out to shake Sean's hand.

'I'm great, thanks
— how are you?'

'Good, I'm very good,' David said, pulling Sean by the sleeve back through the doorway he had just sprung from. 'Can I get you anything to eat, to drink?'

'No thank you, I'm fine.'

'Are you sure?' David said, stopping to look at him
with a quizzical expression. 'I have plenty!'

'Really, it's fine,' Sean said, wriggling free of David's grasp.
As much as David annoyed him, he couldn't help but like the strange man. He was his go-to guy for all things computer technology, and had been since he'd arrived in Moscow many years ago as a keen-eyed and fresh journalist looking for his first big story. David had irritated him as much then as he did now, but the affection that had built in the intervening years kept them firm friends.

David grabbed him again and continued leading him through
the horrible and rather unsafe-looking building. They entered a large room, an old barn judging by the smell of manure and mildew. At the back was an array of computer monitors around an old office desk. Next to them was a scattered heap of tin cans, presumably the source of the crashing noise Sean had heard upon his arrival. Once dragged to the computers, David let Sean go and sat down on his moth-eaten desk chair. He looked up at Sean, expectant.

'So, what can I do for you?'

'I called by,' Sean said, 'because I was hoping you would be able to help me get some information.'

David continued to look at him, bright eyed.

'So …' Sean continued, 'I've got this key card' — he pulled it from his pocket and handed it to David — 'and I was hoping to see what we could get from it.'

David took it and looked
closely at it, turning it over, inspecting it.

'Russian Federal Space Agency, huh?' David said, looking at Sean
with narrow eyes. 'That's serious business.'

'Ar
e you okay doing it?'

'Sure, no problem. I charge mo
re for government hacks, though — you know that, right?'

'Of course.'

David grinned, a keen twinkle in his eye. What he did with all that cash, Sean thought as he looked around the disgusting habitation, was anyone's guess. He probably slept on a big pile of the stuff.

'This isn't any old
door-opening hotel key card,' David said, turning his attention back to the thin slip of plastic.

'You're telling me …
' Sean muttered.

'What?'
David said, looking at Sean with the sort of expression a confused dog might have.

'I
— never mind. What can you tell me about the card?'

D
avid resumed his studying. 'It'll be encrypted. Cryptographic hardware, true random number generator, that sort of thing.'

'Can you do anything with it?'

'This isn't the movies! I can't just plug it in and click a few keys!' David screeched, looking both agitated and terrified.

'Sure, of course,' Sean said, stepping back
to give the small man some room. 'Whatever you can do and whenever you can do it is fine by me.'

David's
cheeks were flushed pink and his fringe hung limp over his face. 'Sorry,' he said. 'Sometimes people expect too much, you know?'

'I know,' Sean said.

'But not you, though.'

'Not me.'

David grinned.

'I'll have a look at it now for you,' he said, swivelling on his chair to rummage through a pile of what Sean had
dismissed as broken and discarded electronics. From it he pulled a card reader, which he plugged into his computer. He slotted the card in. Navigating the on-screen menu, he opened a window filled with — to Sean — meaningless code.

'Interesting …' he mused, scrolling through the
mess of letters and numbers.

'What is?'

'This isn't an RFSA key card at all. It's printed on one, but the data is from something else. It's a key card alright, for a man called John Bales — Major General John Bales.'

'Bales?' Sean repeated, confused
. 'A
Major General
?'

'Yes, US
Department of Defence.'

'Are
— are you
sure
?'

'Positive.'

'Jesus Christ …' Sean said in a quiet voice, propping himself up against David's desk to support his weakening knees.

Chapter 12

'Are you Major Roman
enko?' Gardner asked, guiding his weightless body closer to the man with cautious apprehension. Sally followed him through the narrow hatch between the modules and drew up alongside him to see the source of the Russian accent for herself. A skinny man floated at an unfolded dining table, a vacuum-packed meal pouch held halfway to his mouth. His black, patchy beard didn’t quite meet his black, patchy hair, and the void between was filled with pale skin that glowed under the fluorescent tubes.

'No,'
he said. He put the tube protruding from the top of the pouch into his mouth and squeezed, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. 'We don't get beans in Russia. We generally don't seem to like them for some reason.' He pointed the pouch at Gardner and Sally. 'The Russians, that is.'

He
sucked the pouch clean and deposited it in the waste disposal, then propelled himself towards the two Americans. Sally felt an instinctive urge to pull back, but she followed Gardner's lead and held fast, even though she could feel him stiffen up. The Russian outstretched his hand as he brought himself to a stop in front of them.

'I'm
Captain Evgeny Novitskiy,' he said.

Gardner took the hand and shook it. Novi
tskiy then offered it to Sally; she did the same. Novitskiy beamed. 'You must be hungry.'

At the word, Sally's stomach growled. She hoped no one heard it.

'Let me get you some coveralls and then I'll prepare you some food.'

He squeezed past them and
shot off down the station with startling speed and agility. Sally and Gardner shared a look, and Gardner leaned in to whisper something almost imperceptible to her.

'Stay close to me.'

Sally recognised the wariness in his voice: it was the same feeling that troubled her gut as well. They both watched the Russian scoot into a module and out of sight.

'I'll guess your sizes
— don't be insulted if I get them wrong!' he shouted to them.

Before long he was back with two pairs of coveralls similar to the ones he was
clothed in, which he handed to them with a grin. He was either ignoring the ashen look Gardner was already wearing — Sally assumed she looked about the same — or he just didn't see it. They dressed in silence while Novitskiy helped himself to something more to eat.

'I love the food you Americans have,' he said wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. 'Every visit to your food supply is another sweet surprise.
Normally everything we eat is monitored, but not any more.'

Sally pulled the zip to the top and fastened the Velcro strip
across it, trying not to take her eyes off the small Russian for too long at a time. Gardner was done, and remained where he floated.

'Come and sit down,' Novitskiy
said, patting the table. 'I'll get you some food. Do you like sausages? We have some quite delicious
bangers and mash
' — he forced a strange interpretation of an American accent onto the name — ' that I can get for you.' He paused, looking bemused. 'Or is bangers and mash British? I forget.'

Still beaming, he glided to a wall-mounted compartment
and retrieved fresh food pouches for his guests. He fed them into another compartment, shut the small door behind them and jabbed a button. 'It won't be long. Please — sit down,' he said.

Sally looked to Gardner, and he nodded, so she followed him to the table where they both waited in silence.
A ping, and the food was done. Novitskiy retrieved the pouches and passed them to Sally and Gardner, who took them. Sally tore the nozzle open and, with trepidation, started to eat. The first mouthful was nauseating — because of nerves, not taste — but the second went down with ease. Her stomach rumbled in agreement as she squeezed food into her mouth, and her light-headedness began to fade. Novitskiy watched on, looking pleased. When the food was finished, he took the pouches and disposed of them, and sent two drink cartons tumbling their way.

'Catch,
' he said, a playful lilt to his voice.

Sally
did, and Gardner too. Having plucked the tumbling pack from the air, she quenched her thirst. The silence as she drank was almost buzzing in her ears, yet Novitskiy did not seem to take offence — if he had even noticed. He continued grinning, watching the pair of them nourish themselves on his provisions. Her body and mind refreshed, Sally was able to think clear thoughts. The thoughts smouldered into questions, which in turn burned upon her tongue. But as much as she wanted to spit them out, she waited, leaving the situation to Gardner's discretion. She gave him a look she thought said all that, and the slight hint of worried resignation on his face seemed to confirm he'd understood. He sealed his water pack, stuck it down onto the table and cleared his throat.

'Where are the others?' he said,
the bold, matter-of-fact tone he'd attempted cracking towards the end.

Novitskiy shrugged, his pleasant humour
unwavering.

'Williams, the American
— he's down in the MLM,' he said, pointing to an open hatch in the floor.

'What's he doing down there?'

'Watching, I suppose. He spends a lot of his time down there now.'

'And Romanenko?'

Novitskiy's pleasantness faded a fraction, if only in his eyes, but it returned before he spoke again.

'He had to leave.'

Sally frowned.
What are you talking about?
she wanted to say, to yell, but she didn't dare.

'Lea
ve?' Gardner asked.

Novitskiy shrugged again, like a schoolboy who didn't want to tattle.
'I don't know. You'd have to ask him.'

'But he's gone, right?'

'Yes.'

Novitskiy's
short answer and sliding pleasance indicated the conversation had reached a dead end, and Sally looked from one man to the other as they considered each other. This odd relationship was evolving fast — too fast.

'Can you take
me to Williams?' Gardner said.

Novitskiy's beaming expression returned
. 'Sure. Follow me.'

He turned, gliding in his organic way
, and darted down towards the MLM. Gardner beckoned Sally to follow, and she trailed behind him as they went after Novitskiy. As they plummeted down, the disorientating somersault gripped Sally's full stomach and she slowed, pausing to shut her eyes and take a breath. Her bubbling insides churned, then eased. She released her breath in a gentle blow.

'Good g
od, Sally, you've got to come see this,' Gardner called out from below.

Dinner under control, Sally
opened her eyes and pushed on into the MLM, which opened up into a dim shell with a few soft storage bags and an airlock at the far end. Gardner and Novitskiy had joined a stocky, balding man — Williams, she presumed. All three focussed their attention on a small window. As Sally drew alongside them, a gasp escaped her as she saw what they saw: a shimmering, black object, trapezoidal in shape, tracking their orbit a few hundred metres behind.

* * *

Aleks had been in that cylindrical room more times than he could remember, yet today it felt like the first visit all over again. The usual people were there, using the usual equipment; the usual hum radiated through the air as chatter and air-con sang in harmony. But, as a flagpole claims the land in which it penetrates, Bales stood in the centre of Mission Control, his command absolute. As Aleks approached his station, Bales gravitated towards him, his dominance radiating from him like heat from a fire. Aleks could almost feel it burn.

'Good afternoon, Alek
s,' he said, taking a seat next to him. 'Did you have an opportunity to think about our little discussion?'

The mere sound of Bales' voice made Aleks want to throw up.

'I know what you did,' he said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. 'I know what you did to Lev.'

'An unfortunate accident from what I hear,'
Bales said, pulling a sombre face, 'and I am truly saddened to be made aware of it.'

A hot throb swelled in Aleks' temples.
The fire was raging, and he needed to get away from it before it consumed him. 'I'm sure you are.'

Bales gave him a thin smile. 'So I trust you'll be dedicating yourself to the program,' he said, 'to the others here, to those on board the ISS whose safety is reliant upon our performance?'

Aleks
thought his teeth might crack his jaw was clenched so hard. He could almost
see
the fire twinkling in Bales' eyes. 'Fine,' he said at last. He felt hollow, as though he had just coughed up his soul. But it was necessary, and he had to remind himself of that.
It was necessary.

Bales nodded. If he was
revelling in Aleks' defeat, he didn't show it. 'Thank you, Aleks. You've made a wise decision.' His face wrinkled into a snarl and he leaned in close to whisper, 'But if you do neglect your duty, you will be
finished
…'

He
lingered, the fire heating his breath, then stood back and gave Aleks the thin smile again. 'Thank you for your time, and I'm sorry for your loss.'

Bales returned
to his post. Aleks couldn't help but stare at the back of his head, revulsion making his hands quiver. Sure, he would do what Bales told him to do. He would sit at his desk like the trained lapdog he was, pressing buttons and flicking switches. But he would be watching. Watching and learning. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of card, a business card, given to him by his late friend, Lev Ryumin. It read:

Sean Jacob
— Journalist

* * *

'It's beautiful …' Sally whispered, nose almost pressed against the window. When at last she broke herself away from the view, she was met by the hollow stares of both Novitskiy and Williams, who had moved in close behind her. She hadn't noticed them, and for a moment she felt locked in, before realising they were staring past her and into space.

'
You're Williams, yes?' Sally asked the balding man in as calm a voice as she could muster. Like Novitskiy, his chin too had an unkempt patchwork of beard sprouting from it.

'Uh huh,
' he said, his words slow and slurred. He blinked, and a more alert state of consciousness seemed to snap on. 'But you can call me Chris.'

'Ok
ay, Chris,' Sally said, nerves tingling, 'what can you tell me about UV One?'

'UV
what?' Chris said, looking confused.

'The
vessel,' Sally said, pointing back over her shoulder with her thumb.

Chris shook his head.
'There's nothing to tell. It just floats there, following us — watching us.'

Watching us?

'What do you mean by that?'

Chris
raised his eyebrows, as if it were a question he'd never asked himself before. 'I don't really know,' he said. 'I just — feel it.' He looked straight at Sally, his cold blue eyes glinting in the Earthlight. 'You will too. You wait and see.'

A sudden blanket of claustrophobia smothered Sally, shrink-wrapped and close. Her skin itched with sweat.

'Do you know where Major Romanenko is, Chris?' Gardner asked, his voice loud in the silence.

Chris broke his gaze away from Sally and looked at Gardner. 'He's gone.'

'Gone where?'

'I dunno. He took Soyuz.'

'Shit …
' Gardner muttered.

So that's were Soyuz had gone. Sally's stomach dropped when she realised they had no way to get home. It was a sickening thought that she tried to ignore, but couldn't. Gardner seemed to be grappling with the same revelation. He chewed his lip, a distant look in his eyes.

'Shall I show you to your
quarters? Novitskiy asked, breaking Gardner from his daze.

'Sure
. Why not.'

Novitskiy led the way, and he, Gardner and Sally drifted
back through the station to the American end. As they neared the rear airlock, Novitskiy stopped himself on a handrail. 'This is the Harmony module,' he told them, 'and these are your quarters.' He pulled open the narrow door on a tent-like unit that wasn't much larger than a cupboard. Inside, a sleeping bag nestled against the wall. 'The other one is on the opposite side,' he said, pointing to an identical unit. 'The toilet, if you need it, is that unit over there.'

Sally looked where he was poi
nting and remembered she'd needed to go earlier. Her bladder twinged anew.

'I
f you'll excuse me,' she said. She looked to Gardner who, after realising she was asking permission, nodded.

'Well, I'll leave you both to it,' Novitskiy
said, rubbing his hands together. He turned tail and slipped off towards the Russian end.

'I'll be back in a minute,' Sally said, heading to the toilet.