The Furnace Page 4

  The ship’s heat shield had held up remarkably well. I had made a point to keep the dedicated shield display in my field of view constantly during the voyage, but all systems registered in the green. It was perfect.

  I stared at the temperature readout incredulously: fourteen hundred and ninety Kelvin. Damn. The people who lived and worked at this station would be very tough individuals. Imagine being outside in a vacsuit, beyond the heat shield designed to protect human life. It bordered on insane.

  High-speed particles radiating from the sun were another danger in space, but it was something we’d long since learned to deal with. The solution was another example of technology mimicking nature: the Earth’s magnetic field intercepted and redirected these particles to both poles and created the unforgettable auroras seen at higher latitudes. I had seen it once or twice as a youngster in western Canada. Ships and stations like SOLEX used the same principle—powerful artificial electromagnetic fields surrounded our vessels and protected us from solar radiation.

  Had the pressure of living in this remote, dangerous environment finally gotten to someone? Had a crewmate snapped under the strain? Was Jimmy the unfortunate victim of someone’s silent, secret, psychotic break?

  I shrugged the thought aside. Nonsense. There would have been warning signs and a variety of other indications. Neither the captain nor the Council rep had reported anything unusual on SOLEX. Of course, they could have covered up that type of escalating behavior, but it was unlikely. Both Manfred Fredericks, the captain, and Brick Kayle, the Council rep, were solid CCF officers. They would have notified the Command Group if the crew had started to act odd.

  I would just have to dig a little when I arrived.

  That’s what I was good at, after all.

  * * *

  SOLEX grew larger as the autopilot brought me in under gravtrav. It was exactly as the schematic at Mercury CG had shown: a series of connected cylinders, the huge solar collectors, and the antenna and transmitter that beamed its invisible microwaves to Earth. At first it was simply a silhouette against the sun. As my jumpship swung past the station to position for docking, however, the brightness of the hull startled me. Then I recalled that the ceramic heat shield reflected much of the shortwave solar radiation.

  On either side of the connected modules was the broad expanse of a solar array, each two hundred meters long and comprised of a steel mesh grid and dark panels that shimmered in the starlight.

  The ship coasted into the docking bay, and its huge hatch sealed soundlessly behind me.

  SOLEX One CCF Solar Experimental Facility #1

  Microwave-conversion Study/Close Orbit—Sol

  Station Components:

  Module A: Life Support/Engineering

  Module B: Officers Module (OM)

  Module C: Common Mess/Clinic/Command Center

  Module D: Microwave-conversion Module (MCM)

  Module E: Crew Module (CM)

  Module F: Scientists’ Module (SM)

  Module G: Docking Port/Bay

  Module H: Storage

  Module I: Storage

  Module M: Mass Driver

  Personnel:

  Officers: 6

  Crew: 5

  Scientists: 4

  Project Initiation: 7 Oct. 2400

  Project Duration: Unknown

  Project Status: Nominal; Output: 12,034 MWe

  Command Group: Mercury

  CG CO: Lt. Cmdr. J. Lassiter, CCF

  Captain: Lt. Cmdr. M. Fredericks, CCF

  Design: Lt. S. Ramachandra, CCF

  Part Two: Investigation

  Investigator’s Log: Lieutenant Kyle Tanner,

  Security Division, Homicide Section, CCF

  I checked my oxygen reserves for the thousandth time and groaned inwardly. I had become compulsive about it, studying the readout every few seconds as if it would make a difference.

  It didn’t.

  Only thirteen and a half hours remained.

  I had managed to open the innards of the suit’s communit, but it had proven more difficult to modify than I’d hoped. The unit’s transmitter was omnidirectional, which severely limited its range. I knew I had to change it to unidirectional and extend its capabilities if I was going to have any chance at all. It would mean aiming manually toward Mercury and hoping that the sun’s radiation wouldn’t block the signal. A one-in-a-million thing, if it actually worked. I didn’t even know where Mercury was in its orbit. I had guessed when to fire the mass driver. Hopefully I was at least in the ballpark.

  I also needed to increase the power to the comm, if at all possible. I couldn’t risk frying its circuits, but a little extra juice could only help.

  Sighing in frustration, I turned my head and brought the sun back into view. I couldn’t believe my predicament. My suit’s interior temperature continued to rise; pretty soon the coolant layer would cease to function altogether. When that happened, I’d probably only have minutes left.

  The throbbing in my shoulder had also proved to be a huge distraction. Trying to manipulate fine tools with gloved hands was hard enough, but doing so with an injury made things even more difficult.

  I snorted. I couldn’t catch a break. The problems kept mounting.

  As soon as I thought that, a series of coughs racked my body, and when I finally managed to reopen my eyes and see through the tears, my chest tightened in sudden terror.

  There was blood on my visor.

  The internal bleeding had started.

  Chapter Four

  Two people greeted me at the air-lock hatch: Captain Manfred Fredericks and Lieutenant Shaheen Ramachandra. Fredericks was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and an angular, weathered face. His eyes—which exuded confidence—seemed older than his forty years. I noted with dismay that his expression was hard and his gaze cold.

  Shaheen was the station systems officer and the chief engineer. I couldn’t help but stare at her. She was East Indian with long, straight hair and delicate features. Her lips weren’t full; rather, they were slim and pressed tightly together. Her figure was incredible—it was obvious even under the black uniform—but what really captivated me were her blue eyes. Bizarre to see such a thing on a woman from her part of Earth. It was unique and exotic.

  “Lieutenant Kyle Tanner, Homicide,” I said after a second.

  She tried to suppress a smile. “Who else would you be?”

  Startled, I studied her for another moment. She had spoken with a British accent. “I guess you don’t get many visitors,” I finally managed.

  “Indeed,” Fredericks said. “You’re only the second person to arrive since we started this little experiment.” He gestured toward a hatch. “This way to your quarters.”

  The starkly lit corridor was uncommonly narrow; the three of us couldn’t walk side by side. It was awkward carrying on a conversation as we marched through the station. The tight partitions meant to contain atmosphere in case of a hull breach would permit only two of us through at a time. The steel grating rang with each step. The polished bulkheads cast fuzzy reflections. We passed a sign that said Module D.

  “I’m sorry I had to come,” I said. “I know this sort of thing is difficult.” I frowned inwardly. Introductions in these situations were always the same.

  The captain shot me a sideways glance. His look held a hint of annoyance. “It is. I hope you can find the answers quickly.” The comment held an obvious suggestion: Finish and leave as fast as you can.

  I hesitated. “It’s quite a mystery you’ve got here.”

  Shaheen said, “I’m sure you can solve it. The Torcher was a tough one, but you got him.”

  “You know about that,” I muttered.

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Unf
ortunately.”

  The captain snorted. “I’m hoping it’s just a little vandalism. Bizarre, yes, but—”

  “Someone died, Captain.”

  “Call me Manny.” We rounded a corner and ascended a steep ladder for two levels. “The death was accidental. What happened afterward was unfortunate, but doesn’t mean it was murder.”

  I remained silent. I hoped he wouldn’t object too much to my presence on SOLEX. Sometimes my investigations caused a lot of tension, which could in turn hinder communication. Getting people to feel free to come speak with me was an essential part of the job, and I couldn’t risk jeopardizing that.

  Shaheen noticed my discomfort. “Don’t worry about Manny. It’s his command, after all. He’s just upset—”

  He pierced her with a glare. “Don’t analyze me. You don’t know that.”

  “Sure I do.” She turned to me. “Look, we’ve been living together for nine months now. It gets pretty intense. We see each other at our best and worst, and I know Manny pretty well. He’s bothered by what happened to the body.”

  I absorbed that. The lack of military protocol between them grated on me. SOLEX was a CCF station with a visiting officer aboard. “No matter what you think, Captain—”

  “Manny,” he said again.

  “—someone on board this station is pretty sick. Don’t you think it’s best that I find this person, murder or no?”

  He stopped abruptly and turned to me. “Of course I want to know what happened. I just can’t believe there’s a murderer here with us.”

  “It’s pretty frightening,” Shaheen added.

  “I’m hoping it was a prank of some sort,” he continued.

  I had dealt with his attitude on many occasions. He simply didn’t want to believe that someone he had worked with for almost a year was capable of this kind of crime. But the fact was that someone here had done it, and we needed to remove that person from SOLEX as soon as possible. The crew’s hold on survival this close to Sol was tenuous. They needed to be at their best at all times. “Anything’s possible,” I said in a flat voice.

  “Just don’t come into this thinking it’s murder right off the bat,” he said with an edge.

  Shaheen read my expression. “He’s not new at this, Manny. He’s good. He got the Torcher.”

  The captain fixed me with a cold glare. “Finish this as quickly as possible. Then get out.”

  We locked eyes for a long, hard moment. I sighed. So much for good relations.

  * * *

  I had only a few minutes to orient myself with my cabin—which, according to the sign on the hatch, was located in Module B, level three—before I had a visitor. It was Lieutenant Junior Grade Brick Kayle, the station’s tall and muscular Council rep.

  “But don’t hold that against me,” he said with a grin, after introductions. His Australian accent was enormously likable, but I reminded myself that even killers had friends. “He seemed so normal,” they’d say. “He kept to himself. He was a nice guy.”

  “Why would I hold it against you?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. As the station’s political officer, it was his job to keep his eyes and ears open at all times, to search out dissension among the personnel. A careless comment could result in arrest and prison, or worse. People generally disliked Council reps.

  “You know,” he said in a sheepish tone. He gestured to the symbol on his uniform—the warship and galaxy of the Terran Confederacy’s political organization.

  “Don’t worry, I work for them too.” I shrugged aside his concern with a wave of my hand. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m here to escort you to the officers’ mess for dinner.”

  I glanced at my watch. Damn, time had passed quickly. I hadn’t eaten in hours, and I was famished. I threw my pistol and holster on the bunk. Although it was technically part of my uniform, I didn’t want to intimidate people by walking around the station armed. A distant part of my mind screamed at the decision, but I overrode it perhaps a tad too casually.

  It would turn out to be a huge mistake.

  “Is Council rep your only duty?” I asked as we started for the mess. I already knew the answer, but I wanted him to talk openly as much as possible.

  “Nah. I’m also the scientist liaison.”

  Jase Lassiter at the Command Group had said there were four scientists on SOLEX. Brick’s job was ensuring that they had all the necessary supplies and equipment for their studies. The scientists had to inform CG of each experiment through requisitions and paperwork. Brick made sure everything got done with minimal disruptions.

  “There are four of them here, right?”

  “Exactly. They’re always hidden away in their labs, looking at the only thing there is to see outside. Taking measurements, testing theories, and so on.”

  As we moved through the corridors, I realized how dangerous being here really was. The sun, only five million kilometers away...

  The killer, possibly within arm’s reach...

  And I on my own, as usual.

  “You’ve been here nine months now,” I said.

  “It’s tough, I won’t deny that. Everyone goes a little stir-crazy now and then.” He stopped in his tracks and looked at me. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m not implying that one of us is crazy enough to kill someone!” He brushed a hand through his blond hair. “Sheesh. I’m just a little nervous talking with you, Tanner. Don’t mind me.”

  He showed an enormous lack of protocol in the way he addressed me. I outranked him, and yet he called me simply by surname. I certainly wasn’t a stickler for protocol, but he was acting a little too calm for my liking. It was almost a facade. Then again, he had served here for nine months and probably felt at ease with the other officers. I remembered that even the captain insisted on using his first name. Perhaps I was reading too much into it.

  We continued toward the mess in silence. Eventually he said, “Jimmy was a great guy. Everyone loved him. I can’t believe someone did that to him.”

  “You mean the murder?”

  “I mean cutting his head and hands off. Who the hell would do that?” He grimaced.

  “A lot of things don’t make sense at first, until you ask the right people the right questions.”

  He looked at me. “Well Tanner, I hope you’re good at your job. I want answers too.”

  * * *

  The officer’s mess was the most ornate room I had seen on SOLEX. It was still all metal and plastic, but someone had attempted to give it a little class: there was a Monet print hanging directly beside the long table, a few fake flowers and even a curtain that hid a viewport.

  “Don’t let it get to you,” Shaheen Ramachandra said. She walked toward me with a drink in hand. Nonalcoholic of course—alcohol was forbidden in the CCF. Her blue eyes were fixed on mine. “Here, this one’s on me.”

  I accepted it gratefully. “Don’t let what get to me?”

  “There are no viewports. It bothers people at first. You’ll get used to it.”

  I frowned. “What about that?”

  She looked at the curtain and grinned. “Fake. Behind is just more bulkhead.”

  “Oh—the heat shield.” I recalled that it had to cover every square centimeter of the station. An opening—even a small one—could spell disaster.

  A slim, jittery man with dark features appeared at my side. He had an old, lined face and jet-black hair. It was a curious combination. “Hello, Lieutenant. I’m Lars Malichauk.”

  Ah. The doctor who had filed the report. I had many questions for him, which he must have realized. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “It’s nicer to meet you. We don’t often get new people here.”

  “When we do,” Shaheen said, “we like to have a little celebration.”

  I gestu
red at the table. “That’s quite a setup.” There were candles and even glassware, as opposed to the usual steel dishes.

  A voice from behind: “Don’t get your hopes up. We’re only eating standard rations. That’s all we ever have.”

  Captain Fredericks entered the mess and marched straight over. He smiled cordially, evidence of his previous displeasure gone. Or perhaps just concealed well.

  “Hello, Captain,” I said.

  “Manny,” he reminded me. “Please, no more Captains.”

  “You didn’t have to do anything special for me.”

  “Nonsense. You’re the first new person we’ve seen in a while. We have to acknowledge that fact.”

  Malichauk’s face twitched. “Indeed. It gets a tad wearisome talking to the same five people at dinner every day.”

  “But I thought there are also four scientists and five—” I halted abruptly. “Four crew, I mean.”

  No one seemed to notice the slip.

  “Sure,” the doctor continued. “But we never see the scientists. They’re always locked away, studying the monster out there.”

  “You must give them checkups now and then.”

  “Once a month. Other than that, they’re a very shy group.”

  “And the crew?” I pressed.

  “Busy manning the station. Shaheen sees them more than I. She’s the chief engineer.”

  I pursed my lips. This was odd. “And you never see each other? Three separate groups of people who never socialize? What about dinners? Lunches?”

  “Lars overstates things somewhat,” Manny said. “We all see each other quite often. The reality is that Lars is the one who’s isolated, not the other way around.” He raised his hands as the doctor opened his mouth to object. “Oh, come on now—you do lock yourself in your clinic often enough.”