J Mauldin - Final Solution

I raised a hand in protest. “With respect, sir, I have duties to attend after our meeting.”

“Take the Goddamned drink!” The trembling glass in the Captain’s hand nearly dumped its precious cargo, four delicious fingers of aged whiskey.

“On second thought, I believe I will.” I took the drink.

“There we go. We’re having a good time.” He tossed back his glass, drinking half of its contents in one swallow before setting it on his desk.

I took a sip and clutched my own like a lifeline. It was good whiskey, real good whiskey, the kind people got knifed and thrown out the airlocks for in the lower levels.

“Do you know why I called you in here?” His question came out in a growl, releasing a hidden maelstrom of insects into my stomach.

“No, sir.”

His eyes drilled into me. “It seems we have a little situation, something only three people know at this time, and I’d like to keep it that way. This is the sort of thing that if word got out, it could be bad for all those involved. Might even be deadly, if you catch my drift. It puts me in one hell of a bind.” His platinum wedding band tinked against the glass twice.

I took another shaky sip and swallowed. My last drink. Firing squad to the Cargo Bay.

“Do you have a guess as to what it is I’m hinting at, Master Engineer?”

“No, sir, I don’t.”

The Captain emptied his glass and massaged his face. He looked so tired. I could almost smell the inside of the brig from here. It was a closet, like the trays at the morgue they put bodies into. They’d lock me up, and if we survived, I’d go straight to prison on Mars. A year later, I’d be dead from malnourishment, excessive labor, or a bacterial infection. There had to be a way out of this. Could I apologize for what I’d done? Would he accept it? It was clear he wanted to keep this whole thing under wraps. Locking me up without a cause might just make things worse. Questions would be raised. I mean, shit, César alone would hound him to death for the truth.

“David,” the Captain said, his words brittle. “We have a spy on board.”

My clutched hands fell open, crystal glass tumbling to the rug. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Captain.”

He waved a hand and picked up the unbroken glass. “It’s fake bear skin anyways, it’s all fake. Think that’s silk on the bed?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but did you say…”

“Yes, I did, and don’t repeat it. Just in case we’ve been bugged.”

I can’t say I was relieved in knowing this talk was not because of Liberty, given that the alternative could kill us. “How did you find out?”

“Transmissions have been leaving the ship, beaming ahead of us, not behind. I don’t know how, but someone placed a virus in our computer system that, upon power restart, transmits our exact location. The Axis has a sensor network, just like us, but this helps them be more accurate when they fire. I believe we’ve taken care of it for now, but the Razor could still get in a few good licks.”

“But wouldn’t the, um… person… be helping to sign their own death sentence?”

The Captain nodded and refilled my glass. “Which is why we have cause to be concerned. If they’re willing to do that, then they might just sabotage the ship and finish us swiftly.”

This time I tossed the drink back in one gulp, no sipping. With whiskey that fine it was nearly a sin. “What can I do, sir?” My throat caught fire only an instant before my veins.

“That’s the spirit.” The Captain smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Goddard, you’re a bit wild, a bit overly curious at times, but you’re a good man. Most of all, you’re a man I know I can trust. Very few people on this ship have been close to my family, and I am now aware Liberty and you were friends back in Arsia Mons. Platonic friends .” He put great emphasis on the last words. “You have access to this ship in ways others don’t, and for good reason. There are some subtle changes I’d like to make in order to protect us, and I know you’re the man for the job.”

“I am?”

“Without a doubt,” he stated, staring at the trophies up on the wall. For an instant I caught a glimpse of his greatest strength, the one aspect of his personality that no matter how hard he could be it meant something real. The ability to inspire. When he was on your side, he had a way of making you feel empowered. I could help him, I really could. We would find this spy and take them out. Maybe after it was done, he wouldn’t be so bothered if his daughter just happened to take a shine to this new hero.

“Sir, what do you need me to do?”

Although there might not be many, there is one, rarely considered advantage to the matter of security in an interplanetary conflict circa the late 21 stCentury. Distance has ever been a great defense in war, but in our case, there were few options for traversing it. Not like you could hike around the back way and sneak into enemy territory, making a few strategic stops here and there, at this lump of rock or that. Commercial traffic between the inner worlds was reserved for the lucky and the rich, therefore, the potential to slip through bureaucratic holes in a massive screening queue wasn’t an option. Few flights traveled between Earth and the Brethren colonies, and those were predominately freighters, loading and unloading their cargo at orbital platforms or space elevators. A grand total of zero ships made direct contact with the Axis.

We did well to keep out of their way in all matters, even civilian. For these logistical reasons, stowaways, spies, and even saboteurs had fallen out of vogue. It could take years to get a human asset into position. Too long to be effective in any measurable sort of way.

Nevertheless, ships from Earth sometimes ferried newcomers out to the colonies who might’ve originated someplace nefarious, and theoretically, those could find their way onto a warship with the right set of forged documents. And then the real threat, the Sol Net, where even though you might not could physically travel someplace restricted, you could have indirect contact with agents of the Axis who might convince you to change allegiance remotely. Either way, old timey human intelligence wasn’t all that popular anymore. And unless secrets far above my clearance had been kept well-hidden from view, this had been the case for well over two decades.

That was what made this whole thing peculiar. A spy. Here. But how?

The Captain’s job was my golden ticket to a better life. I was going to find that damned spy, or rather, the target, and bring them to account for their crimes. My time was now.

Central storage was a challenge to reach without César catching me. He was always at my heels, a puppy wanting to be seen doing a good job, and though I couldn’t believe he was our target, he had loose lips and a loud mouth. If he caught even a whiff before this was resolved, the whole ship would know in a matter of days, if not before.

I glanced over my shoulder, clicked open a small locker flush against the wall, and removed a compliment of fifteen half-inch grey-white cubes. I stuffed them into a jumpsuit pocket and closed the door, heading off to the first leg of my shift as if everything were normal. That was the key, right? Act casual, just another day in the soda can of death.

“Goddard,” Devins said, nodding as we passed one another in the hall.

“Good day.”

I sucked in a breath and hurried on. We were on better terms that we had been, but things were still awkward since the blowout.

It seemed that the ion thrusters had been acting up. Not enough to cause serious alarm, or to slow our acceleration—since we were only pushing them at eighty percent—but enough to make me wary. I was starting to believe there was a serious leak, and with this new information about the target, wondered if the person in question had done some careful sabotage. A leak here, an improperly charged cathode there. All normal. We were bombarded with a variety of cosmic particles day and night that could cause damage. Who would notice a little premature breakdown?