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Bright white light shone through a gaping hole in the roof of the closest AED research and development facility, like a stage light illuminating the star of the show. The jagged hole the result of an explosion six weeks earlier.
A warning popped up on the dashboard of Cade’s ship.
Space City quarantine zone. Do not cross.
This AED research facility is closed and quarantined by the Space City Council. No admittance is permitted per the Zlondin Treaty of 2015.
Cade switched off the warning and proceeded toward the facility, one in a swarm of hundreds of solar-powered satellites, laboratories, and space habitats orbiting Equuleus, the white dwarf star. It was Equuleus’s light that spotlighted the fissure in the closest orbiting facility.
Aileen McKensie had been right. AED was covering something up, and it had cost her father his life.
Mr. McKensie had worked as an engineer on the AED antimatter engine development program to power Space City’s next-gen spaceships. Cade’s research indicated these future spacecraft would capture dark matter as they flew through space. With scientific estimates projecting five times as much dark matter in the universe as regular matter, future space cities could travel into interstellar space instead of remaining within a solar system to collect solar energy. AED promotional material also indicated the antimatter engine would exhaust zero harmful emissions.
The engine sounded like a gold mine for AED. What had caused the explosion and shutdown of the facility?
In addition to telling Aileen’s family that Mr. McKensie’s body wasn’t recoverable, they’d also paid her mother a seven-figure sum. As their CEO had put it when he made the offer, “we take care of our own.” Of course, the payment had come with an agreement that the family would not pursue legal action against AED. To Aileen’s horror, her mother had accepted. That was when Cade had discovered her crying in the garden beside the spaceport back home.
A second warning popped up on his ship’s dashboard.
High levels of radiation within the facility. 6.8 roentgens per second.
He flinched, his blond hair falling across his face and covering his eyes. He tucked it back behind his right ear and raised his wrist-comp to his mouth.
“What were the radiation levels of the worst nuclear disaster on Earth?” he asked.
“The ionizing radiation levels within the Chernobyl reactor meltdown were estimated at 5.6 roentgens per second,” a feminine AI voice with a British accent answered.
He fought off the panicked desire to abandon his investigation. “What are the effects of exposure to that much radiation?”
“If exposed, a human being would suffer a fatal dose of radiation poisoning in less than one minute,” the AI replied. “I would not advise landing.”
“Thanks for the wisdom,” he muttered.
The ship had ample shielding and he wore a rad-hard explorer suit. But one untimely breach in the ship’s hull, or unnoticed nick in his suit, would likely spell his end. He wanted to know what was going on and help Aileen get some closure over her father. They were friends. But he didn’t want to die at seventeen discovering the truth.
As the main docking port for the facility with the hole in its roof drifted onto his forward viewing screen, a surprised shout escaped him.
A Malsain ship was docked there.
He stuck out his right hand and a hologram of his ship’s controls wrapped around it like a glove. With it he maneuvered his ship behind a nearby facility. Had anyone on the Malsain ship noticed him? Why was a Malsain ship here?
For several minutes, he debated what to do. He couldn’t land and confront the Malsain alone. He doubted whoever it was had come alone, unlike him. Nor could he alert Space City authorities to their trespass without revealing his own.
He should return home now. This whole thing was crazy. He never should’ve come. But if he slunk away now, what would he tell Aileen McKensie? Sorry about your dad, but you’re on your own?
A concussive blast rocked his ship, slamming him forward into his restraints. Alarm bells rang.
Cursing, he activated full throttle. Nothing happened.
“Please, don’t let there be a hull breach.” Not with all this radiation. He raised his helmet and pulled up a damage report.
A second blast pounded the ship, eliciting more curses from his lips. Three engines offline and the fourth at minimal efficiency. His ship drifted.
He couldn’t escape. The best he could manage was an emergency landing at the main docking port, which extended from the facility about two hundred meters into space.
A third shot shook the ship so hard he bit his tongue. His eyes watered. The hologram controls around his hand disappeared. The ship angled into a collision course with the Malsain ship.
Who was shooting at him?
He frantically typed on the hologram computer screen to reboot the system and get the steering back online. In the time it took the system to restart, the Malsain ship loomed large ahead.
He raised his hand, but the hologram controls didn’t re-engage. Screaming in frustration, he braced for collision.
At the last second, the Malsain ship vanished. He crash-landed on the dock. The rough landing threw him back in the captain’s chair. A rending screech from his hull scraping over the dock made him cringe.
The ship came to a stop at the edge of the dock. He didn’t dare breathe for fear that any little movement might cause the ship to fall off into space. He was already within Equuleus’ orbit. The ship seemed settled. He heaved a sigh of relief and slumped back against his chair.
He was alive.