“Fine.” I turn the camera on.
“Jesus Christ,” says Jessup. “No way. Why the hell aren’t you in the clinic right now?”
I catch my own image in a small screen at the corner of the display. It’s hideous.
Almost as disturbing is the reaction on all of their faces.
“Guys, relax. It’s just swelling. I feel fine.”
“Then why is blood trickling out of your nose?” Laney says a little shrilly.
I wipe a sleeve under my nostril. “This? It’s mostly mucous. Normal.”
“Bullshit,” says Jessup.
I’m hearing that word a lot today.
I need to take a different tactic. “Okay, so you send your NASA doc up here, what’s he going to say that Warren hasn’t already?”
“They can bring you back down.”
“Oh, so you want to put me in my present condition onboard a spacecraft that’ll pull at least three g’s on reentry and make me go through that? Did your specialist tell you what the current research is on vacuum trauma and high-speed reentry? Medically speaking, it’s probably best if I stay here.”
“So you’re a doctor now?”
“Warren is more than up to the job of treating me. The best course of action is for me to stay put.”
Jessup fixes me with an intense scowl. I can tell he’s thinking this over and realizes the urge to bring me back to Earth was more of a knee-jerk reaction than one made from a sound medical point of view.
“That still doesn’t help with the fact that you’re up there with a killer.”
“True. But I have a solution to that.”
Fifty-Four
Revelations
“How are you going to stop this person from killing you?” asks Jessup.
“By turning the rest of the station against them. I want to come clean and tell them why I’m here. Hell, half of them have already assumed something close to the truth. It’s time to fess up and admit that I’m actually working on behalf of the government in some kind of fact-finding capacity.”
“We’ve gone over this, David. We need to protect what and how we know about the Chinese satellite.”
“And we will. Whoever tried to kill me probably did so under the orders of Silverback. They probably think this is just about the destruction of the ship and the potential theft of their samples. Now that we know the canisters are somehow involved, that gives us a plausible explanation for the focus of the investigation.”
“You’re not an investigator, Dixon.”
“No. I’m not. But I’m all we got up here.”
“If I say ‘yes,’ how do we proceed?”
“First I tell everyone what I’m up here for — or rather the shaded version of the truth. Then we try to find the other canister.”
“You think the thief still has it in their possession?”
“No. They may have moved it. Or maybe not. Either way, it’s a good place to start. If I can get the whole station looking for the canister in teams it’ll give me a chance to observe them and also look for other clues.”
“And if they’re paired up it’ll give them less opportunity to kill you,” adds Laney.
“Yes. Assuming they even want to try at this point.”
Jessup has a pained look on his face. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this.”
“We can’t let him stay up there,” says Laney.
“Hey! I thought you were on my side?”
“Have you looked at yourself? At the very least we should move you to the US/iCosmos or some other station.”
I was hoping Laney would be in my corner. I’d take her response as some kind of betrayal, but the hurt in her eyes as she looks at me tells me an entirely different story.
“Menace, I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” She turns to Jessup. “You can’t seriously be considering this? Hasn’t David suffered enough?”
“It’s what I was meant for, kiddo,” I reply. “I’ll be fine. Besides, once I’m out in the open I get to have my comm on full-time and you plugged into my ear.”
“You sure you want that?”
“No question.” I try to smile, but stop when I see the jack-o-lantern in the lower corner of my screen.
“Okay,” says Jessup. “We keep you on the comm 24-7. No more sightseeing by yourself. Always have at least two other people with you in case one of them is the thief. Ideally, keep everyone in one area.”
“Easier said than done. These people are like cats. But I’ll try to put some fear into them.”
“I’m going to task one of our surveillance satellites to monitor communications.”
“It’ll be encrypted.”
“Probably. But we can see what part of the station somebody is transmitting from. Also, we can use our lasers to bounce off the hull and eavesdrop.”
“Wait? Wasn’t the satellite doing that before?” I ask.
“You weren’t our only priority,” says Jessup with no follow-up.
Baylor types into her keyboard. “David, I’m sending you a file for the 3D printer.”
“Captain, I don’t think I need to continue this charade anymore.”
“This one you do,” says Jessup.
I open up the file to have a look. It’s a pistol — but not a conventional one with chemical bullets.
“What the hell is this? A laser gun?”
“No,” replies Baylor. “A handheld rail gun. The coil powers a pneumatic pump that shoots plastic bullets. They’re lethal, but they wont poke a hole in the station unless you aim them somewhere you shouldn’t.”
I rotate the design and look at it from a few different angles. “Jesus. This looks like a real gun.”
“That’s the point,” says Jessup. “Baylor will send you a 3D holster too. If you’re going to come out of the closet as a government operative, then it’s important to look the part.”
Damn. A gun. A gun in space. This never works out well for me.
“Last question. What agency do I tell them I’m from?” I’m pretty sure I can’t say Penumbra.
“Well, our charter from Congress just got authorized. So tell them the truth: Tell them you’re from United States Space Operations.”
“So, Space Ops? Cool. When do we get badges?”
“Let’s hold off until you can take a proper ID photo,” Laney replies.
Fifty-Five
Inpatient
It takes 30 minutes for the printer to assemble the gun and the robotic manipulators only five to fit all the parts together. I’d test fire it, but after my shoe mishap, I’d rather take the chance I won’t need it then have it blow up in my hand.
I slide it into the holster under my jacket and leave the zipper open. The whole point of the gun is to make it look like I’m some kind of authority.
I hope everyone else buys that, because I sure as hell don’t.
My intercom rings and Warren’s angry face appears on the monitor. I buzz him through the outer hatch and open the door to my module.
“Of all the stupid patients I’ve dealt with…” He spots the gun under my arm as my jacket opens in the air current. “Jesus Christ. Did you suffer brain damage too?”
I grab him by the arm and pull him inside my lab. The effort sends icy needles through my arm, but I try not to show it.
I point to his medical backpack. “Painkillers. Give me whatever you can that won’t make me foggy.”
“You mean locals? Like injections? No way.”
“This isn’t a debate. In ten minutes I’m going to call everyone together and I can’t look like I’m about to fall to pieces.”
Warren floats there, staring at me, trying to figure out if I’ve gone mad.
“I’m a government agent sent here to investigate the explosion of the transport craft.”