Armen Gharabegian - Protocol 7

She stopped in front of the Russian beauty. “Hey,” she said.

Nastasia’s head snapped up, surprised by Sam’s sudden arrival. For one moment she looked almost afraid-then just embarrassed.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I do not like to…take care of this…in front of other people.”

Sam gave her a gentle smile. “I am a doctor, you know. I might be able to help you.”

Nastasia shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not with this.”

“Is it asthma? There are many more advance treatments available these days, far past the old nebulizers.” She nodded at the little canniser-and-pump device in Nastasia’s hand. “That looks like a pretty up-to-date gadget, I admit, but-”

“No,” Nastasia said shortly. “It’s not asthma. And I prefer not to discuss it.” Her eyes burned for a moment, and then she looked away. “Thank you,” she said, dismissing Samantha.

“Oh,” Sam said, slightly stunned by the rudeness. “Oh. You’re welcome.” She turned on her heel and walked away quickly, stung by the rejection. Around the next ten-foot pile of debris, she found Simon and Lucas in deep conversation, and she didn’t like what she saw.

Lucas was lecturing their leader-again-and Simon was not taking it well. He shifted from foot to foot, scowled with impatience, tried to interrupt and didn’t succeed, balled his fists and let them loose again, all in an attempt to remain reasonable-or at least give that illusion.

Lucas was holding a complicated bit of robotics, a roughly spherical mechanism with more legs than body-something she had heard called a “scrambler drone,” just hours before.

“You have to understand the scope of what we’re dealing with here,” Lucas began again.

Finally, Simon had taken all he could stand. Samantha could see him snap, even from a distance. She held her breath and tensed; she almost covered her ears in anticipation of Simon’s explosive reaction.

“No,” Simon said, his voice dripping with badly suppressed anger. “I don’t ‘need to understand.’ I understand enough. You need to understand that I’m not waiting here anymore. Now just tell me: where the hell is my father being held?”

She had never heard him sound more tightly controlled…or more dangerous.

“Look,” Lucas said, sounding perilously close to condescending “I don’t think you-”

Simon grabbed Lucas by the neck and yelled, “I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

Max stepped forward and put a hand on Simon’s upraised fist. “Hey, let’s-”

Simon shrugged it off, his muscles tense as iron. “Tell me!”

It was Samantha’s voice that cut through him. “Simon!” she snapped. “Please!”

He faltered then, but only for a moment. His eyes flicked to the side to meet hers, and he abruptly let loose of the scientist’s jacket collar and stepped back, letting the man collapse to his knees, clutching his throat and gasping for breath.

Samantha started to say something more, but Simon held a hand up to her to stop the interruption. He had already communicated what he had intended: there was no stopping him, and Lucas understood that now.

“All right, then,” he said roughly, rubbing his neck. “Traverse the broken tunnel above the Gorge; that will descend a mile onto the opposite side, and take you to Dragger Station, where there are more Vector5 than I’m willing to deal with.” He gave him a hooded, hostile look-no longer the friendly colleague of a few minutes ago. “You’re welcome to take one of the MagCycles with you, if you think you can manage it. And good luck in that frozen hell.”

Simon didn’t thank him. He simply turned and walked out of the encampment alone, finding his small duffel bag and stuffing it with a few of the ration packs they had brought from the Spector and some climbing supplies. Max followed close behind, looking grim and resigned. He knew there was no stopping him at this point.

Samantha’s body had gone cold with the realization of what was coming next. It’s too soon, she thought. Too fast. The team had been given no chance to sleep; they had barely eaten. Their level of tension concerning their own survival was higher than ever, and here was Simon, already pushing ahead.

Ryan stood up and said, “Simon, how are we all going to fit inside one ice cycle?”

Simon turned back instantly. “We’re not.”

“But…”

“But what, Sam? I’m going down myself.”

Andrew shook his head violently. “No,” he said. “No. We’re in this together. You can’t just do this on your own.”

Simon held up his hand again as if he didn’t need compassion any more than he needed argument.

“I need you guys here,” he said. “You need to figure out how the hell to get us out of here.” He snapped a look at his father’s friend. “Hayden,” he said sternly, “I’m counting on you to get back to the Spector and make her operational again before I return. And that won’t be long.”

“You’re daft,” the inventor said.

“…And you’ll need Ryan and Andrew both to pull that off.”

Hayden looked stubborn for an instant. “You’re still daft,” he said defiantly. “You’re right, but you’re still daft.”

“Don’t you think for a moment that you’re leaving this camp without me!” Samantha said sternly.

“I am. They need you here, and so do I.”

Her mouth tightened into a hard line of pain. Nastasia was already gathering her own belongings. “I’ll come with you,” she said as if she already knew what the response would be. “You’re going to need someone to help you navigate, and I’m the only one here who has a sense of the continent’s topography.”

Right then, something clicked inside Simon’s head, as if it was meant to be. The note, the rendezvous, the sign on the back of her neck. It felt as if she was supposed to be here. He could not put his finger on it. He looked at her head on and simply said, “I know.”

Max allowed himself a small smile knowing there was more to this than he originally thought.

The room fell silent for a few seconds. Simon threw his half-filled duffel over his shoulder and said, “It’s time.”

He walked over to Samantha and kissed her. He tried not to notice how she was fighting to hold back tears. “Sammy,” he said gently, “I’m coming back. With my father.”

She couldn’t contain her emotions as he let her go; she turned from him, weeping as he stepped away and tapped Hayden on the chest.

“I’m counting on you.”

Hayden’s nod was almost too delayed, but Simon pretended not to notice. He had already moved on before Hayden had any time to respond.

Samantha turned back to look at Simon one more time. Instead, she caught a glimpse of Nastasia’s slim figure following Max and Simon toward the fleet of MagCycles at the far end of the dark tunnel, the silhouettes of their bodies growing smaller and smaller as they walked away, until she could no longer see them.

Max took only a moment to squeeze into the pilot’s seat. He was already adjusting his helmet as Simon climbed into the passenger seat, and Nastasia pressed in front of him in a space not truly meant for a third party. Seconds later, the cycle’s powerful engine fired up and an electric blue light began to glow from the sides of the magnetic wheel. Before they even had a chance to feel the vibration building beneath them, the cycle tore up the ice below its wheels and exploded into the dark tunnel at lightning speed.

Nastasia’s body pressed tightly into Simon. All Simon could think of was Oliver.

* * *

Samantha turned back to see Hayden and the men already hard at work. Exhaustion and starvation didn’t matter to them; they had been given a job: fix the Spector, find a way out, and they were going to do it. They had little time to reach the Spector before the CS23s reached it. They had to move fast. She approached and heard the tail end of an odd conversation.