When I came to, the building was in tatters. There was a hole the size of a bus through the airlock and armoury walls. Air was rushing out thanks to the pressure, which also took the smoke with it, but it was fanning the flames which were roaring over the gantry. Harris was out cold on the floor next to me, and as I looked around, the two marines that were closest were in a shit state, crumpled on the floor by the entrance to Flight Readiness.
The small group of marines that Hennessey had brought in with her seemed to be okay, although they were all on their arses and wriggling fingers in their ears. The walls between the armoury and Flight Readiness had protected them somewhat.
My Proxy was still on, but glitching badly. I could feel the shield edge against my legs, flickering on and off. As the seconds ticked by, I felt distinct elements of pain in my legs. I looked down and my flight suit was shredded. There were sharp metal bits sticking out of my shins and calves, and I could see blood trickling down.
I could feel the pulsating gyro-spheres from the Pilgrim and guessed it was still hovering above the launch pad. The light was a mixture of blue and dancing orange from the flames.
A klaxon sounded above us, and suddenly the gusting breeze stopped. I guessed they’d switch off the pressure, so we were now operating at normal atmosphere. I wondered, stupidly, if that meant we’d all have to go through DECON again.
Smoke was filling the room, and other noises were filtering in. I could hear a lot of groaning, and some screams that sounded like they were outside. The ground crew would have been out for the Pilgrim to land, but they were far enough away to be shielded from most of the blast by the gantry, I hoped.
I pushed myself up very slowly and assessed my condition. There was a ringing in my ears, but it was faint and fading. My right forearm felt like someone had hit it with a sledgehammer. I was still gripping my Proxy like my life depended on it, and a small voice in my brain told me to let it go, which I did.
My back and arse felt bruised too, but that was hardly surprising; I must have hit the deck quite hard. Everything was a blur and I could hear voices now, coming from behind us in the Opps centre. There were people moving through, and medics attending to the bodies on the floor.
I checked Harris was breathing and shouted for a medic, before shuffling over to the marine that was on my left when the bomb detonated. He had blood cascading out of his nose and ears, and the left side of his face was blackened and dead-looking. I checked his pulse and couldn’t find one, but then I could barely feel my fingers. I shifted him around so that he was lying with his back to the wall and legs outstretched along the skirting. His hands had debris imbedded all over them, and I guessed he’d tried to shield himself from the blast and they’d taken the brunt of the impact.
The pulsing got louder and stronger, and I could feel it throbbing through my shoulders and neck. I heard the familiar winding sound of the Pilgrim’s landing gear coming down. I guessed it must be relatively safe out there if they were still going to land.
One of the medics got to me and started fussing about my face, but I brushed him off and told him to look after the two marines at the front first. My injuries weren’t life-threatening. Theirs might be.
Harris stirred; I pulled myself over to him and gently rolled him onto his side so he was facing me. His cheeks and hair were singed, and his legs looked to be in a similar state to mine.
“What the fuck happened?” he shouted hoarsely over the wailing of the klaxons.
“Don’t try to move, mate. Medics will get to you in a second. You took a big hit there.”
“Why aren’t we both dead? We were yards away.”
“Who the fuck knows? Managed to deploy my Proxy while I was saving your arse. You can thank me later. I’ve still got bags that need carrying.”
He laughed, but it quickly turned to a coughing fit and a grimace, and he clutched his chest. He’d hit the deck face first, so I expect he’d broken a few ribs in the maelstrom. Another medic got to us now, and I pointed them to Harris.
I looked back and saw Hennessey standing there, hands on head, in total bewilderment. She looked completely unscathed, probably because she’d put some distance between herself and Brian when the bomb went off. The marines were picking themselves up now, and a couple of them were helping the medics and clearing debris away. The Flight Readiness room had vents and ducts swinging from the ceiling, and it looked like the lockers had fallen over in a twisted mess of metal.
The medics were getting Harris strapped on to a stretcher on my right, and the other two were doing the same with the marine on my left. He must be still alive, which was good news. The other marine they’d left where he was, and there were some already cordoning off the area. Not so good news for him.
The whole back side of the armoury was missing, and the areas around the hole were scorched and twisted. There was a fire crew outside putting the flames out from the gantry. Time seemed to be fluid at the moment, and I wondered how much had elapsed since the blast. My brain was numb. I kept having random, inconsequential thoughts. My vision was fading in and out too, and I could feel a pounding sensation developing in the back of my head.
The medics hoisted Harris away, and another pair came over to me. I could hear them making an assessment, but I was dizzy and struggling to make sense of the words. Many hands lifted me and I was comforted by how gentle they seemed to be. I opened my eyes again to see what was going on, but everything was spinning, and my entire body felt like it was vibrating. One of the medics put his hand to my head and pushed it back down, and everything went black.
* * *
The following twenty-four hours felt like a year. Command put Compression Echo on total lockdown. The shuttle had been forced to land as it was struck by debris which compromised the hull, so they sealed the whole Launch Bay off to everyone while the ground crew and engineers did their bit.
For the first time in Compression history, the site was swarming with ICP investigators. Crews were isolated to their Stages, and they herded BRMC personnel back to the barracks, with the exception of those on roster at Opps and SECO 2.
When I woke up I could hear voices around me, but they were foggy and muffled like I had cotton wool in my ears or something. My legs were stinging and my back was aching, but I didn’t feel quite as broken as I suspected I should.
I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in an infirmary, but I couldn’t say with any conviction that it was the one in Stage 2. It looked bigger, although I’d only previously seen it from the doorway. There were probably twelve beds in here, all occupied by people in various states of injury. I tried to sit up and felt a sharp pain in my hand. When I looked down, I discovered a needle inserted into the back of my hand and taped down. I followed the tube up to an IV, which was dripping slowly.
To my right was a woman—I couldn’t make out her face, but she had short, dark hair that seemed to be matted with blood. On my left was the marine who had taken the brunt of the blast, or at least I assumed that’s who it was. He had bandages all over his face, wrapped tightly around, and his arm was in a cast along with both of his legs. They’d hooked him up to a machine that bleeped softly every few seconds.
I shuffled myself backwards until I was a little more upright, which attracted the attention of the medical team. A woman approached me wearing camo fatigues with a red cross on her shoulder, and introduced herself as Medical Officer Jane Pullman.
“You took quite a hit there, Jaxon. I’m amazed you’re still alive. Do you remember what happened?”
“Vividly,” I replied, and she laughed.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s not something you’ll forget for a while. Anyway, how are you feeling?”
We chatted back and forth for a bit. She told me that the damage to my legs was superficial and everything had been glued up in the HolloDoc and was starting to heal. My arm was a livid purple colour from my wrist all the way up to my shoulder, and incredibly tender to touch. I’d bruised my backside and my back in the fall, and taken a hell of a bang on my head, which explained the vision problems and the headache, but I’d be fine in a couple of days and able to resume light duties.
“And I mean light. You are lucky to be alive after that ordeal, so you just remember that, when you’re deciding whether to do some combat training.”
I smiled, and she walked away. She’d disconnected my IV, which was basically a painkiller, so I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up. My shins were stinging and felt really tight, but with so much glue on my wounds it wasn’t surprising.
There was a fresh flight suit in my locker, so I ditched the robe and put it on, then had a quick look around the ward for Harris, but there was no sign of him. I wandered out of the door and looked left. It turns out I was in the Stage 2 infirmary, so I took the short walk over to the Stage 2 entrance and headed into the rec room. The crew were all at the windows overlooking the Launch Bay. They turned as I walked in.
“Jaxon!!” Laura screamed and ran at me. I frantically waved her off before she launched herself on me and did any more damage. She pulled up and then put her arms gently around me.
“I thought you were dead. We all did,” she said through tears.
“They didn’t tell you I was okay?”
“Nobody told us anything. We’ve been locked in for the last twenty-four hours.”
“I’m not surprised. They locked the whole site down, I think. There are police everywhere though. I saw some in the SECO 2 corridor as I came over.”
“Yes, everyone has been interviewed. They’re taking statements from everybody on site.”
The rest of the crew crowded around me and started asking questions. I motioned them to the dorm, and they all followed. I needed to lie down. My back was aching, and honestly, I could probably have slept for another half a day. My system was full of drugs, and clearly they weren’t ready to disperse the fog that clouded my ability to think.
I told them everything that had happened, omitting the part about the note and the dead drop. I didn’t need them asking questions about that around Mark. Amanda and Laura could read between the lines—I could see it in their eyes, but the entire story would have to wait until I could isolate us from the rest of the crew.
We sat around chatting for an hour, and then were interrupted by a marine I’d never seen before. He was holding a hollotab, which he looked at as he walked in.
“I’m looking for Jaxon Leith, Amanda Barclay, and Laura Watkins.”
“What the fuck is it with you three being called off for secret meetings, eh? That’s twice this week.” Aoife looked properly pissed off.
I feigned an ‘injury voice’ for her benefit. “Don’t worry about it, Aoife. It’ll just be the Eloise shit all over again. I expect it’s the same people that did this.” I pointed towards the windows, even though there were at least two walls in the way. She just raised her eyebrows at me.
We followed the marine through the rec room to the corridor and walked down to the airlock at the skybridge. He escorted us through and then pointed us to where Cooper was standing. She just nodded, and we followed her back to her office where Grealish and Hennessey were patiently waiting.
“Where’s Tyrone?” I asked as soon as we walked in.
“He’s been airlifted to Chelsea Barracks University Hospital. We don’t have the necessary medical gear here to put him back together properly, but don’t worry. He’ll be back in a few days,” replied Hennessey.
Grealish stood up and walked to the window, then turned and sat against the window ledge.
“Well, we are in the shit. Remember our inside source in the AoG? They kicked her half to death and then threw her out of a moving voX just up the road. She managed to warn us and died on this floor ten seconds before the bomb went off in Echo. How are you doing, Jaxon? Sara told me you’d taken the brunt of it?”
“Lucky to be alive, Sir. And very grateful to be honest.”
“As are we. Sara also told me about the note and what happened subsequently. I shudder to think how many bodies we’d be clearing up if he’d gone unchallenged.”
“Note? What note?” asked Amanda.
Sara explained the day’s events, and I chimed in occasionally to fill in the gaps. Neither of them knew I had been talking to the guy when he detonated the bomb. Laura looked at me anxiously, motherly concern all over her face.
Grealish took control again. “Okay, so here’s what we know. Someone on the Bertram kidnapped Brian Latimer’s wife and twin daughters, and was holding them hostage in order to manipulate Brian. He hasn’t seen his family for six months since his rotation down here, which was due to end yesterday, so he was under incredible stress.
“Obviously they targeted Opps, though it’s unclear why, as yet. It wasn’t a target for body count purposes, or they’d have bombed the barracks.”
“Could it just be the AoG sending us a message, Sir?” asked Laura.
“I don’t think that’s their style. I think this was a specific target. All the intel so far has been about Echo, and we’re no closer to understanding why.”
“Hang on a minute.” My mind was suddenly racing. I could feel pain all over my body as my brain shook off the fog that had been clogging up my senses. “You said he’d been stationed down here for six months? Six?”
“That’s correct. Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’? How the fuck did he get his hands on a bomb? This wasn’t some kitchen-chemical-chuck-in-a-bit-of-fertiliser-and-a-bag-of-sugar explosion. This was a device with a trigger and a dead-man’s switch. So how did he get his hands on it?” I could see the dawning comprehension on the faces around me.
Cooper recovered first. “Well, it can’t have come in from land-side. You’ve seen and been through the scanners at DECON 4. In DECON 1 you walk in as naked as the day you were born and are given new kit on the other side. Everything that goes into DECON 1 we incinerate, ergo no bomb.”
“And that’s exactly my point. This can only have come from the Bertram. And what’s worse is that for that to be true, it must have been built there. I assume all Compression sites have similar security and procedures for entry?”
Hennessey spoke. “Almost carbon copies. Same layout, same process, everything. Nothing gets in from land-side. That’s how we can easily rotate crews between each site, because everything is the same.”
“Well, then you’ve not only got a terrorist on the Bertram, but they’re building bombs there. And flying them down here. Any number of people could have done it. Could be a pilot. Could be one of the ground crew in Globe 11 in cahoots with a member of ground crew down here. How difficult would it be for them to send notes to each other inside cargo, or in a hidden dead drop on the Pilgrim?”
Hennessey seemed most troubled by this. “Jaxon’s right. This can’t be an ICP issue. It has to be BRDF or ground crew.”
“There’s still information getting out, Sara,” I reminded her. “It can’t all be an internal issue. Someone land-side is receiving messages and relaying them, and we’re no closer to figuring out how, let alone who.”
“Well, we need to start making progress immediately. They’re evacuating all Compression personnel in the next week and closing the process off to any further Occos. Crews 42 and 43 will be the last to ever pass through this facility.”
“What?” said Laura. “They’re ditching the site?”
“The brass thinks it’s better to stem the flow of incoming now and prevent any further breaches. It makes sense for a change. Now they only have to deal with existing problems, and not new ones.”
“So, basically we’ve got a week left to figure out who’s leaking information from this site, before we join a space station that we know to be compromised.” Hennessey was totally matter-of-fact about it.
“What about Mark?” He hadn’t been mentioned so far, and I wondered if he was no longer in the picture.
“Mark Hanson is what we call a ‘person of interest’. I still need you guys to keep a close eye on him, but he’s a lower priority than finding the ICP leak land-side. Or figuring out how intel is getting out, with or without ICP collusion.”
“We know there’s ICP collusion. Otherwise how did Mark, Leon and Eloise get into this facility?” It seemed so long ago that this intel was our priority concern.
“It doesn’t matter now. Everyone has been ordered off site on rotation, so a new crew is already in. Whoever it was got away with it. And since there’re no further crews incoming, it’s no longer a problem.
“That said, the brass have given me carte blanche to set up a counter-intel team on the Bertram, specifically to deal with the on-site threat. And that’s you six, including Tyrone. Amanda, strangely, being compromised as you have been may actually be an advantage because nobody will expect your involvement any more. I’m pulling some strings to get you all stationed where you’ll be most effective, and I’m still working on identifying locations to meet safely when we’re on board.”
“Any questions?”
There was a general shaking of heads.
“Find them, or we all die.”