Europa Deep, page 7
But, oddly, and perhaps worryingly, still no Cassie.
Surely they wouldn’t keep her in cryo for the entire voyage out? There were limits to how long a person could safely remain in cryo, so why—?
Ernest. The more Marcus thought about it, the more certain he felt. It had to be because of him.
Even now, years after Sergio had died, the resentful son of a bitch still harboured a grudge against her.
There were more shift changes as days and weeks and months swept by, the Veles journeying ever closer to Jupiter.
Then Javier inexplicably worked the second-last maintenance shift of the outward-bound journey entirely on his own, even as Cassie slept the voyage away.
This did not escape the attention of Harrow, judging by the angry words the oceanologist exchanged with his Commander when their shifts briefly overlapped. Finally, Harrow and Braemar returned to cryo, and Ernest had the ship to himself.
Shortly thereafter, catastrophe was averted. But only just.
Free of Braemar’s restrictions, Marcus would sometimes send a flying monkey that was under his direct control on a tour of the Veles when no one was around to see. While most of the crew had been selected for their expertise and professionalism, they were also subject to all the frailties of meatsack humanity, and there was just an outside chance he might stumble across a problem they had missed.
On one such occasion, a few weeks into Commander Javier’s solo shift, he was horrified to discover nearly all of the cryogenic pods containing the sleeping crew were on the verge of catastrophic failure.
The first thing he observed as the monkey entered the bay, flying on whirring fans, was a block of red and white text flashing on and off on one of the bay’s control panels. And yet, there had been no ship-wide alert: klaxons should have been blaring, with every comms terminal inside the Veles flashing up the same warning—that without immediate action, the cryonics would fail, and the sleeping crew would die.
Snapping out of his shock and back into action, Marcus drove the flying monkey towards a terminal. He had to let Commander Javier know there was—
No.
Marcus caught himself at the last moment. Using a manual alert to notify Javier that he was in imminent danger of losing his crew would also make him aware that the ship had a stowaway. And a rogue AI, at that.
Was it possible, he wondered, that Javier was behind it? He had rearranged the maintenance shifts so only he would be awake at this point in the outward journey—so was this a deliberate attempt to kill them off?
The thought chilled Marcus, and deep within the quantum circuits of his mainframe, his virtual self shivered.
Then, realising there was no more time to waste in indecision or fear, Marcus drove the flying monkey closer to the terminal displaying the warning message.
As difficult as it was, he managed to peck in a series of commands. At that moment, Javier was on the command deck, seemingly oblivious to the danger the others were in—or that another of the AREMs was watching him closely.
Marcus’ actions brought up more information. To prevent disaster, he’d have to dive into the code and risk revealing himself.
The thought of losing Cassie drove him to act immediately.
Accessing the central command computers soon confirmed Marcus’ worst fear: the Veles had been infected with a computer virus. Isolating and quarantining the self-replicating program took only seconds, but just when he thought it was over, Marcus himself then came under attack.
A rapid assessment led him to the conclusion that, rather than dealing with a simple computer virus, he was under assault by military offensive technology—the same type of highly adaptive and sentient malware that had sent civilization reeling during the Big Hack.
Overcoming and containing the malware took several hours of experiential time. Two minutes in the outside world.
At last, the alert died away and the cryo pods soon stabilized.
They were safe.
Yet there remained the question of who had uploaded the malware.
Javier still seemed the most likely suspect. Yet the malware had acted to prevent him from being alerted. Why would it do that if Javier had introduced it in the first place? Was it so he could plead ignorance at some later date—the ship never notified me, so how could I have known—?
Or was someone else responsible?
Then Marcus noticed something that had, until that moment, escaped his attention: two of the pods—which two, unfortunately, he could not say—had been left unaffected by the malware.
Why had they alone been spared?
While all of this had been going on, Commander Javier had remained on the command deck, working away at a terminal with the disk of Jupiter displayed on a screen in real-time—and still unaware of the drama unfolding elsewhere on the Veles.
Marcus knew that by acting to prevent a disaster, he had revealed his presence to whomever had been responsible for this attempted act of mass murder. Given enough time, they would find him—and presumably attempt to destroy him.
Slowly, Marcus came to the realisation he needed help. And out of all the crew of the Veles, there was only one he felt he could trust: Cassie.
What had she called him the very last time they had spoken? A machine that only thinks it’s a person.
That last encounter, full of Cassie’s grief and fury, had left Marcus shaken enough he never tried to contact her again.
But he could at least warn her. Even if, for now, it might be best to keep his identity a secret.
CHAPTER 5
ARRIVAL AT EUROPA
“Easy,” said a voice, gravelly and male.
Cassie’s vision was too blurred to clearly see who had spoken to her—a frequent side effect of long-term cryogenic freezing, as it had once been explained to her. That had been back when she trained for the first Europa Deep mission.
She felt hands press against her shoulders and lower back, helping her upright. Something cold and gelatinous lapped at her thighs, and when she tried to speak, all that emerged was an incoherent groan.
“Worst hangover ever, right?” said the same voice, not unkindly.
Reaching out blindly, Cassie clasped a forearm.
No, she wanted to say. No, it’s nothing like that.
In truth, she felt…serene. Free of the constant tug of Earth’s gravity, something had shifted deep inside her: something she had forgotten.
Something very like happiness.
“That’s it,” the voice continued, calm and professional. “Evan? Give me a hand here.”
A second pair of hands joined the first, holding her steady as she struggled upright, her bare feet scrabbling for purchase on something that felt like bathtub enamel. Another attempt at communication ended in more incomprehensible mumbling.
“Give it time, Miss White,” said a different voice. Was it the one called Evan? He had an English accent. “It’s a long, slow process. Trust me.”
Cassie nodded, allowing herself to be guided into a seated position on the flat edge of the metal cryo pod. A gurgling, hissing sound echoed from flat metal walls, and she guessed one of her helpers was using a suction pump to suck up the sticky gel drifting through the bay.
“Here,” said the second voice, pushing something warm and fluffy into her hands. “Dry yourself.”
Cassie half-heartedly wiped at her skin and support garment with the towel. Once the towel was soaked through, she was offered a second, and she used this to rub vigorously at her hair.
Although she groggily remembered having it cut close to her skull immediately prior to going into cryo, it had grown out by several inches over the intervening weeks. Surprisingly long, it seemed to her. Something about that fact filled her with foreboding, but her head wasn’t clear enough yet to figure out why.
A sudden flare of light made Cassie twist her head to one side, blinking away tears.
“Sorry.” The first voice again. “Just checking your responses. All good, I’d say, given how fast you seem to be recovering. Doctor Haunani, by the way. I’m the mission medical specialist.”
“Nice to meet you.” The words felt thick and sludgy on her tongue. Then she coughed explosively.
Cassie felt a sharp pinprick on one arm.
“Ow,” she muttered. “What is that?”
“Nothing to worry about,” said the doctor. “Don’t hold back on coughing, by the way. It’s going to take time to get all the cryogenic gel out of your lungs. But you should take a shower now. Clean the rest of the gel off.”
“Shower?” She swallowed, her throat raw and scratchy. The word came out more like huwurr?
“Only the best for us,” said Haunani. “We’ll have to zip you inside, and you’ll need to wear a breathing mask, but it still beats moistened wipes.”
Her vision had sharpened enough by now that she could see the doctor’s grin. His face was round and smooth with full lips, his own hair cropped close to his skull. The one called Evan looked younger, perhaps in his late thirties, with shoulder-length brown hair that floated in a curly mass around his head. He wore drawstring pants and a t-shirt, while Haunani wore a standard mission jumpsuit.
“Time to move,” said Evan, taking careful hold of her upper arm.
Cassie allowed herself to be guided, step by step, away from the cryogenics tank. She caught her reflection in the burnished steel door of a metal cabinet.
After nearly fifteen months in cryo, she’d expected to look thinner. But the realisation of how much fat had drained from her face still came as a shock.
She’d almost have thought she’d been asleep for a lot longer.
The shower was about what she expected, a plastic tent she had to zip closed. Stripping off her one-piece support garment, she got to work cleaning the gunk off with the aid of a hose that first sprayed water, then sucked it all back up again at the press of a button.
After she’d towelled herself down for the second time, she worked the zip down a couple of inches and told them she was coming out.
“Sure,” said Haunani. “We’ll wait outside.”
When she emerged, she had the bay to herself, at least for a few moments. She grabbed up the mission jumpsuit they had laid out for her and dressed quickly. A screen displayed someone’s vital signs—heart rate, blood pressure and core temperature. Hers, she guessed.
The two men re-entered the bay just as Cassie pushed one foot through a loop attached to a bulkhead in order to anchor herself.
“Your responses are excellent,” said Haunani. He had a look of slight disbelief.
“Amazingly good,” said Evan. He anchored himself to a handgrip close by the bay entrance. “I could hardly do a thing until I’d been out of the tank for hours, but you look hardly affected at all.”
Cassie squinted at him. “Nice to meet you too,” she said, clearly enough this time, although her throat still felt raw and the lights all felt too bright. “Evan…?”
“Harrow,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Evan’s our oceanologist,” said Haunani. “I gather you’re our replacement for Kernov?”
“Who?” Cassie asked in a half-croak.
“Arkady Kernov,” said Harrow. “Our original dive specialist. Actually,” he continued, something shifting in his voice, “I wondered if you knew why…?”
“Give her a chance,” said Haunani, giving the other man a look. “She’s barely out of the tank.”
“I don’t know who Kernov is,” Cassie managed to say, “or why they took him off the Veles.” It was getting easier to talk, but she had to take her time. “They asked me to join the mission just days before the Veles left orbit.”
“You’re really showing a remarkable rate of recovery,” said Haunani. “Take this.”
Reaching for a squeeze-bottle velcroed to one bulkhead, Haunani ripped it loose and tossed it towards Cassie. It drifted towards her in a slow spin, and she caught it with ease.
Evan Harrow muttered something under his breath, and Cassie looked his way.
“I’m just…surprised you could catch that,” he said.
“As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now,” Haunani said to the oceanologist, “Miss White is an Opt.”
“Of course,” said Harrow, looking sheepish. “I mean, I could—”
He could see the faint silvering of her eyes, he meant.
“Drink that,” said Haunani, gesturing at the bottle he’d thrown to her. “It’s a nutrient shake. And remember to drink lots of water—you’re going to be extremely dehydrated.”
Putting the bottle to her mouth, and suddenly realising how thirsty she was, Cassie squirted some of it down her throat. She tested banana and lemon mixed with something faintly medicinal. Within seconds, she’d drained half the contents.
“So,” she said at last, her voice still raw, “I guess you’re the previous shift.” She glanced around the bay at the other cryogenic tanks. “Who’s my shift partner?”
The two men exchanged a look that sent alarm bells ringing in the back of Cassie’s mind.
“What?” she asked, looking between them.
“Before they put you in cryo,” asked Evan Harrow, “what did they tell you about the maintenance shifts?”
Cassie shook her head, baffled. “Tell me? Not much. Why?”
Another look passed between the two men, full of unstated significance. “He means,” said Haunani, “did they tell you that you’d be doing any maintenance shifts at all? Or that there might be…changes?”
Cassie blinked, utterly confused by now. “I don’t know if my head’s scrambled from being asleep all this time,” she said, “but I was told I had two scheduled shifts on the outward voyage, same as the rest of you.” She looked between them, her consternation growing at the sight of their worried expressions. “Right?”
“There’ve been some developments,” Haunani said at last, looking very ill at ease.
“Developments?” Cassie echoed. Her eyes grew wide. “Has something gone wrong?” She cast a wild look from one to the other. “We’re still on our way to Jupiter, aren’t we?”
Haunani squared his shoulders and visibly made an effort to meet Cassie’s gaze. “We’re already there,” he told her. “We entered orbit around Europa two days ago.”
“That’s not possible.” Cassie’s voice was flat and disbelieving as she spoke. “It’s a three-year trip to Jupiter. They scheduled me to start my first maintenance shift fifteen months in.”
“The whole of the crew has been awake for seven days now,” said Harrow. “Except for yourself.”
“But my shifts…?”
“Commander Javier worked your shifts in your place,” Haunani continued. “I’m afraid you’ve been asleep the whole way out.”
Cassie stared at him, dumbfounded. “What did you say the commander’s name was?”
“Javier,” said Harrow. “Ernest Javier.”
Ernest Javier?
Cassie swallowed, a hollow void where her guts had been. Ketteridge, you son of a bitch.
He must have known Ernest was in charge of the mission. How could he not? And he’d kept it from her.
“There’s no justification for keeping me under this long,” she said, her voice full of dread. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Well…” said Haunani, looking embarrassed, “it’s definitely not recommended. There could be long-term consequences.”
Cassie stared at him in alarm. “What consequences?”
Haunani shrugged feebly. “Nothing to be overly concerned about. But it might be different for you, because…” He let the words trail off.
“Because I’m an Opt, you mean.”
“In fairness,” said Haunani, “you look about ready to run a marathon. Most people can’t walk in a straight line this soon after being decanted, let alone string a sentence together. But you?” He chuckled. “I’d almost think you hadn’t been under at all.”
“Now I want you to tell me why I’ve only just been pulled from the tank,” she demanded.
“We don’t know,” Harrow admitted. “That’s one reason we woke you. We hoped you’d be able to tell us.”
There was something in the way the two men were looking at her that triggered a sudden suspicion. “Wait a minute. Did you pull me out of cryo against orders?”
“Commander Javier hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about why you were still in your tank even now,” Haunani explained, looking pained. “We talked—I mean, everyone in the crew had a discussion about it—and we decided we weren’t happy once Ernest said he had no intention of decanting you.” He shook his head. “It’s crazy. And we need you awake to help us figure out why.”
“Yeah,” said Harrow, “and also if you know about the two—”
Haunani shot him a look before he could finish, and Harrow shut up.
She looked between them, unable to hide her deepening confusion. “Then who worked my shifts if I slept through them all?”
“Commander Javier moved the schedules around during our first weeks out from Earth,” said Haunani. “I didn’t know until I woke up and found I was doing a shift with him—what was meant to be your shift. It wasn’t until we were all awake we put two and two together and discovered none of us had worked with you.”
Harrow cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “we were wondering…if you knew why he’d do that?”
Cassie had an excellent idea why Ernest had done it. Probably the only reason he hadn’t shoved her, tank and all, out of the airlock at the first opportunity, was the prospect of facing a murder charge once he got back to Earth.
And now he was in charge of the Veles.
I am so fucked, she thought miserably.
“He’s agreed to explain himself at a crew meeting,” said Harrow. “That’s eighteen hours from now. And…there are other questions we have for him.”
“Like what?”
“Well,” said Harrow, “you’re not the only one we weren’t expecting to be here.”
It took a moment for her to understand what he was saying. “You mean, I’m not the only crew replacement?”
