Vessel (16 page)

The line went dead. Sean lowered the phone from his ear.

'Is everything okay?' David asked.

'No …'

'Can I do anything to help?'

Sean looked at him. Beneath his scruffy hair and permanent layer of dirt, David was a good man. He s
houldn’t have got him involved in the first place. 'Look, David — no matter what happens, you mustn't tell anyone I was here, or what we've spoken about. Do you understand?'

'Sure,' David said, nodding.

'And keep your door locked.'

David
invigorated his nodding.

Picking his bag up off the floor, Sean
headed for the exit with David following. Before he left, he turned back to David and held out his hand. David looked at it, then took it. They shook.

'Take care, David.'

'You too.'

Sean marched off down the long drive and didn't look back.

* * *

Sally awoke a
fter six dreamless hours. After trying to get back to sleep, she gave up, got dressed, and worked her way free of her tiny cocoon. Outside, Gardner was still affixed to the wall, clear tubes winding from his arms to the IVGEN unit mounted to one side. His elated expression hadn't changed; it creeped Sally out. He was like a giant toy, a glass-eyed puppet hanging from the wall, pulling a playful gurn at nothing in particular. As Sally propelled herself past him she got a horrible feeling that his eyes were following her. What made her skin crawl wasn't the thought of Gardner himself watching her, but something else watching her
through him.

She shook the thought from her mind and continued along the station.
Novitskiy, if he was up, would be in the Russian section, so she headed over in that direction. He wasn't there, but Chris was.

'I
— I'm sorry I shouted at you yesterday,' he mumbled.

'That's ok
ay,' Sally said, giving him a reassuring smile. She helped herself to a yoghurt pouch from the fridge.

'No, I really am. Since I've been here I've realised that I do have a bit of a propensity to
, well — snap.'

'Really, don't worry about it,' Sally said, sucking yogurt from
the pouch.

'I'm learning more about myself every day. Before, I would stop at nothing to be the best. I would trample on people just to get that bit higher. But now I realise that I can achieve more by using my strengths to help others.'

Sally stopped eating. She was getting a strange feeling that she couldn't pinpoint. 'What made you figure that out?'

Chris shrugged.
'Our situation, I suppose. Being so close to thinking there was no way out, that I was going to die up here.'

Sally resumed eating her yoghurt. She couldn't be sure, but she felt certain that Chris was leaving a particular detail out of his story.
'Do you think it — UV One I mean — has been communicating with us?' she asked.

Chris frowned, as if the thought hadn't already crossed his mind.
'I don't know. I mean, you're the communications expert. What do you think?'

'I think it has. At least I think it's trying. Perhaps it doesn't know how.'

'Perhaps. Maybe that's why Gardner ended up like … you know.'

Sally didn't say anything
.

'
Look,' Chris said, 'Novitskiy wants me to check Soyuz out and I need someone to give me a hand.'

'I'm not really qualified to do
—'

'It'll be fine.
Novitskiy's looking after Gardner, so that leaves you free to help me.'

Sally could sense an energy building around Chris
, the source of her strange feeling. The way his nostrils flared, the creases forming in his brow — something wasn't right. She backed away under the guise of putting her yogurt pouch in the disposal. 'I'll check with Novitskiy first —'

'No!' Chris yelled
, slamming his fist on the table. 'You're going help me so we can get off this god-forsaken hell-hole and go home!' His eyes flashed with anger and his chest swelled.

'Ok
ay,' Sally said, trying to maintain calm. She was backed up flat against the wall. 'I'll help you. Let's just keep it together, shall we?'

Chris w
atched her, and she watched him as his breathing returned to normal. He blinked his savage expression away. 'Okay,' he said.

They suited up
in silence, except for the odd word as they helped each other check zips and seals. Chris had already explained it was just a precaution in case Soyuz hadn't maintained pressure, but still Sally felt sick with nerves. The list of worries was long, topped by a fear of being sucked into empty space, finding Mikhail's corpse — which was a given — or finding something … worse. Worse how? She didn't know, and she didn't want to know, either.

The MRM
Two module where Soyuz was docked was right above the dining table, so as another precaution they closed and sealed all the hatches in the service module. It was something of a relief to shut the hatch that led down into the MLM. Module secured, Chris waved Sally after him, and they negotiated the tight funnel to the airlock. With a raised palm he told her to hold position, then unsealed the airlock to Soyuz. Sally held her breath, waiting for a horrible rush of wind to suck her out, but none came. Chris pulled the station's hatch inward, then unlocked Soyuz's hatch and pushed it outward. Sally looked past him into the cramped spacecraft, a feeling of dread creeping up inside her. Soyuz, however, was empty.

Chapter 17

Aleks had never been in so much pain in his life. His eyes, his lips, his ribs
— all at once they pulsed with white hot agony in time to his palpitating heart. The taste of blood was strong in his mouth, but his jaw ached too much to spit it out. All he could do was swallow, making his face burn twice as much under the fire of his tenderised skin and his stomach roil with the metallic-tasting fluid.

Through the small window,
a bleached light began to glow. The sunrise, after the longest night of his life, brought fresh hope, but that feeling faltered at the sound of a key turning in the door. Tied to a chair, he could only turn his head to see who was coming for him next. Bales walked in.

'I've brought you some breakfast,' he said in a
jovial kind of way that made it seem like he hadn't noticed Aleks' bruised and battered state.

Aleks said nothing, watching Bales
with a mix of loathing and apprehension as he walked towards him across the small room.

'I got you porridge.
I hope you like porridge.' Bales dragged a chair in front of Aleks and sat down, ladling a spoonful and holding it to Aleks' mouth. 'Here. Eat.'

Aleks turned his head away, flinching at the pain
triggered by the movement. 'I don't want any,' he mumbled through lips sticky with blood. It wasn't true; he did want it, having not eaten for around twelve hours — or maybe more, he had no way of knowing — but the thought of chewing and swallowing made him nauseated. Also, he didn't know what kind of trickery Bales was trying to pull, and he needed to be on his guard.

'Come now,' Bales said, lowering the spoon. 'You need to eat.'
He held the spoon up again, closer to Aleks' mouth.

Again Aleks turned away.
'Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?' he said.

Bales
put the spoon and bowl down on the floor. When he sat straight again, his face was grave. 'You've done a bad thing, Aleks. But I understand why you did it. You're a proud man. You’re a man who wants to do what he thinks is right. This time, however, you made a mistake.' He leaned towards Aleks, who stiffened. 'But people make mistakes, and I'm willing to overlook this one if you help me set it right again.' He sat back, lips spreading into a broad grin as if they were the best of friends sharing a joke together.

As much as Aleks felt wary of Bales' newfound friendliness, a part of him crying out for relief
latched on to this sudden goodwill, believing it without hesitation. It was going to be hard to keep that part of him suppressed for long. 'What do you want me to do?'

Bales chuckled,
spreading his affability on thick. 'You gave me Sean,' he said, looking down at Aleks' blood-soaked shirt, 'albeit with a little persuasion, and I'm grateful for that, really I am. But I need you to do one more thing. The trap is set, and now I need you to get him to walk into it.'

Guilt joined the throbbing nausea in Aleks' stomach. He had tried so hard
to resist the never-ending torrent of blows, but he was just too old to stand up to that kind of treatment forever. After all, Sean was a journalist, sticking his nose where it didn't belong, so he should expect to get on the wrong side of people — and in this case, the wrong side of the wrong people. He was young and fit; he should be able to fend for himself. That was the thought that helped ease Aleks' conscience as much now as it had done when he'd given up Sean's phone number. That part of him crying out for relief had won over, leaving him powerless to resist it. 'What do you want me to do?' he whispered, swallowing his shame deep down.

Bales
' grin spread even wider.

* * *

The taxi, as they all did, smelled funny. It was a strange blend of cinnamon and cigarettes, and Sean did his best not to heave as its driver negotiated the back roads of Korolyov at frightening velocity. His stomach could normally handle the pace, but today his nerves wouldn't allow it.

'Here will do,'
he said, clutching his seatbelt, and the driver stopped. He paid the fare and got out, surveying his surroundings as the old Trabant took off, tyres chirping. It was a deserted street, damp with early morning rain, and as he walked along it he stretched out the aches left by a night in his pop tent. As miraculously small as it folded up, the miracle only went so far: it wasn't the most spacious of sleeping environments. Still, it was better than sleeping in a hedge, and he wasn't going to be staying in any hotels for a while.

It was strange being back on the street again, homeless. As a journalist in
his field he knew a certain level of dedication was required of him, but it always made him feel like a small country mouse in a very large city when everything he owned was slung over his shoulder, including the place he laid his head at night. The bag he carried — which went with him everywhere — contained the ideal journalist’s survival guide inventory — at least it would have done if such a thing as the journalist’s survival guide existed.
Perhaps I should write one
, he thought to himself as he trudged on.

In
with his tent was a penknife, custom built into the base of a torch to make carrying it through customs easier; his phones; three Kendal mint cakes; a notepad and several pens; a global phrase guide; and a few other knick-knacks. He also had a stun gun — but this was no ordinary stun gun. He'd picked it up in a camping store in east Sormovsky a few years ago; it was disguised as a travel radio that slipped easily into a pocket. It packed a hell of a wallop, depleting its entire battery charge in five blasts.
It may only be five blasts
, the man who sold it to him had said,
but one is enough to get the message across
. The shopkeeper had demonstrated it on a goat tied up behind the counter, which made a noise Sean would never forget. But still he bought the stun gun, which even played FM and AM band radio.

This constant chatter in Sean's head served as it always did to stop him turning on his heel and running away. He found distracting himself before a big interview, a stakeout or potential capture and torture as he might be experiencing today
, a necessary device to keep his head in the game. But as he drew closer to the RFSA building, he could distract himself no longer: he needed to be prepared. As he crossed the road he fumbled around in his bag, retrieved the radio-shaped stun gun and pocketed it. He expected to be searched and hoped it would go unnoticed.

A familiar buzzing fizzed through his leg, and he withdrew his phone. It was Aleks' number.
'Hello?'

The voice that answe
red was not the same as before: it was Aleks himself. 'Hello, Sean, it's Aleks.'

'Aleks! Are you alright? Where are you?'

'I'm fine, I'm fine. Look, I need you to do me a favour.'

'Sure, anything.'

'I —' Aleks sounded nervous. 'I need you to give yourself up. Bales will kill me if you don't.'

Sean slowed
, his heart and mind racing. 'Okay …'

'Listen care
fully to what I'm about to say and do
exactly
as I tell you,' Aleks said.

Sean
wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder and grabbed his pad and pen from his bag.

'
Come to the RFSA office,' Aleks said in a slow and deliberate voice. 'Be here in thirty. Bring your phone, too. You'll be met by some guards. Don't try to fight them — it's no use. Bales just wants what belongs to him back. Oh, and meet them at the main entrance.'

Sean scribbled as fast as he could.

'I don't want to end up like Lev's cat …' Aleks said. He stuttered a nervous laugh.

'Ok
ay,' Sean said, reading the transcript over. 'I'll be there soon.'

* * *

'He's not here …' Sally whispered, not believing what she was seeing.

Chris
unclipped his helmet, and Sally did the same. Pushing himself into Soyuz, Chris negotiated the cramped vehicle and returned with a confused look on his face. 'The airlock bolt would be open if he'd left Soyuz. He can't close it again from the outside. But it's still completely sealed. He's — vanished.'

A chill prickle
d Sally's skin. It didn't take much thinking to realise where Romanenko had gone. 'UV One,' she breathed.

'What's that?'
Chris said, drifting closer to her, head cocked to one side.

'UV
One.'

Chris heard her this time, and recoiled at the words.
'But — why? Why would it take him? And how?' He looked over his shoulder into Soyuz, as if expecting to see something he didn't want to. Pushing Sally away, he heaved the airlock shut again and sealed it.

'
Can this take us home?' Sally asked.

'Uh, yeah,' Chris said, pulling the locking lever tight. 'Seems in good condition
to me.'

'Do you think the communication system still works? I wonder if Romanenko got to that as well?'

'I don't know,' Chris said, floating by to reopen the module hatches. 'I'll run what we've found by Novitskiy before I do anything else.'

Sally
could see it in his face and hear it in his voice: he was scared. Not just scared, terrified. The silent ghost ship had returned, the man he blamed himself for killing, gone. Worst of all, obvious physical evidence that UV One was not just in his mind, or any of their minds, had turned up right at their front door. The cage was open for him to leave, but just outside its safety lurked something he didn't want to see.

'How long do you think it'
ll take before we can go home?' Sally asked as Chris opened the final hatch, the one down into the MLM.

He stopped
, flushed pink, the exertion of opening all the hatches painting a sheen of sweat on his face. 'Couple of days or so at the most. Got to make sure the hull is structurally sound and all the systems are operating as they should.' His eyes were big and white, an expression that looked out of place on a man like him. He gave Sally a curt nod, then retreated from the module, leaving Sally by herself.

A couple of days,
she thought.
A couple of days and we can go home.

Later that day they all reconvened for
the evening meal. Eating together was an unspoken tradition that brought Sally comfort, even if the atmosphere at the table was tainted with nerves. They shared a joke or two between them, cursed Novitskiy's cooking and recounted amusing anecdotes about their individual lives back on Earth. It wasn't until they'd finished eating that the subject of the craft docked right above their heads came up, and only because Sally forced it to.

'So I hear it's
just a few days until we can pack our things and leave,' she said, broaching the topic like it was no big deal.

Chris looked at Novitskiy.
Novitskiy looked at his lap.

'What?' Sally said, picking some food from be
tween her teeth. 'Will it be more?' She looked between Chris and Novitskiy, their silence turning her nonchalance into concern, then worry. 'What's wrong?'

Novitskiy
sighed deep and slow. 'I'm sorry, Sally,' he said, not looking up at her. 'I should have mentioned it sooner, but I didn't. I didn't want you to worry.'

Sally's mouth
went dry. She tried to speak, but couldn't.

'Soyuz should be fine,
' Novitskiy said, 'and it'll only take a few days to check it over. But we have a problem.' He looked up, straight into Sally's eyes, and she could almost feel his weariness weighing her down. 'There are four of us, and only space for three on board Soyuz.'

'T
here's enough space to squeeze a fourth person in, surely?' Sally said. 'It looked like there was — I checked.'

Novitskiy
looked more and more broken up. 'I'm afraid not. The extra mass would likely kill all of us on re-entry.'

The silence after Novitskiy had finished speaking echoed in Sally's ears.
'So who's going to stay?' she whispered.

'I don't know
,' Novitskiy said, looking down again.

Chris
shuffled on the spot. 'Why don't we leave Gardner?' he said in a low voice, almost as if he didn't want Gardner's frozen body at the other end of the station to hear.

Novitskiy looked
at Chris, then at Sally, his face expectant.

'We're not leaving him here,' Sally said
. 'I can't believe you'd even think that.' She folded her arms, appalled by the suggestion.

Chris shuffled again.
'But he's in a coma —'

'No!' Sally snapped, and Chris stopped talking. Silence resumed.

'We don't have to leave him like this,' Novitskiy said. 'We can — you know — help him …'

Sal
ly stared at him. 'Are you serious? You want to
kill
Gardner?' She leaned back, shaking her head. 'I can't believe I'm hearing this.'