Touch Time

By R.E. Mason

A million years ago, Verdan’s moon was struck by an immense asteroid and smashed to bits. The shock wave generated by that collision struck Verdan with such force, it caused a disjunction in time and space, and the planet momentarily existed in two dimensions.


Before their combined gravitational attractions could pull them back together, massive chunks of moon and asteroid slammed into one of the Verdans. The devastation to that world, the two spheres were no longer copies of each other and could not reunite. They would evolve independently.


Touch Time is a story of a handful of pilgrims, scientists and technicians, who had come out from Adrian for work and adventure and had chosen to remain on Verdan, despite the difficulties imposed by that planet’s challenging environment.


But a new danger threatened those colonists. Without prior notice or a heads up, Adrian suddenly reversed a prior decision to shut down the base there. Instead, they intended to take control of that world for the purpose of preparing it to receive the influx of migrants soon to come there.


To put their plan in motion, Adrian sent a military unit out to secure the base and quell any resistance from the original colonists, and there would be resistance, for a while.


The Pilgrims knew, in the end, they’d be no match for the number of invaders Adrian would send to put them down. Unless they had some place to go, a sanctuary, they’d have no future. But known to only a few, there might be one place to go, if they had the courage to get there in time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Sep 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9781662952005

Book preview

PROLOGUE

THE VEIL

The discordant humming led Vera and Simon over and around the jumble of stone slabs at the base of the escarpment to a dark, narrow fissure in the wall.

It’s coming from in there, Vera said. Do we go in?

Simon hesitated a moment. Well, we’ve come too far to stop now, he said. If we follow that sound and mark the way in, we should find our way back out.

Vera led the way in, torch in one hand, guiding herself on the remarkably smooth walls.

The way through the passage was not difficult, just long. It ran fairly straight, punctuated along the way by niches and side galleries, which they carefully bypassed, focusing on the droning sound resonating off the hard surfaces.

At length, they emerged from the underground passage into a night of profound blackness. They saw not a single star or light of any kind in the heavens. The ring moon, Breccon, was missing.

It’s empty, like there’s nothing there, Vera said.

But we know there is, Simon said.

Their voices sounded muffled, as though they were filtered through heavy gauze. The light from their torches seemed to be swallowed up by the dark. They could see little of their surroundings.

Check your watch, Vera. Mine is stopped, Simon said.

Mine too.

Well, one thing hasn’t changed. That damn humming is still with us. It sounds closer, Simon said. Maybe exhaustion is playing tricks on us. Let’s stop here. We can’t see much of anything anyway. We can wait for daylight.

They made a quick camp right there and were asleep within minutes.

They awoke to find themselves in a narrow chasm. The walls were black, polished stone. The floor was covered with fine, rippled sand. The heavens were clear, a pale violet hue deepening to purple further east.

Close behind them was the opening to the underground passage, but in the opposite direction, the chasm appeared to widen and join a channel that continued eastward.

They left their packs against the wall, dug out some water, a little food, and some equipment they might need, and headed toward the channel.

Where the narrow chasm joined the channel, the black walls angled sharply left and right. On both sides of the entrance, patterns of five parallel grooves, mirror images of each other, rose from the sandy floor to the top of the walls. They appeared carved into the stone, with All the edges rounded and remarkably smooth.

They look like they were intentionally carved into that stone by someone who knew what they were doing, Vera said. And I think this may be the source of the humming.

Simon agreed. The discordant sound clearly emanated from the strange formations. But as to their origin, he was mystified. The only inhabitants on Verdan had been wiped out a million years ago, and though evidence showed they had some skill working stone, no research had proven anything at this level.

But Vera’s attention had turned to something up along the channel, a tongue of black stone that rose high above the wall and beyond a bend.

Simon followed her gaze. And that doesn’t look like it belongs here either.

No, Vera said thoughtfully. How far would you say it is from here?

Simon considered. Maybe a half league to the bend. Beyond that, who knows. Feeling her eyes on him, he added, I know what you’re thinking, but forget it. We don’t have much time here, and that stone’s going nowhere. You know we’ll be back, and we’ll have all the time we need to check it out.

Vera made a face. I’m not saying we both go out there. We can split up. You work on this wall, and I’ll hike out to the bend for a look-see. From here it looks like that stone might block the channel. There might be another passage at that end. We should know that for the next time.

Simon was hesitant, but in the end, he yielded. Just to the bend, Vera. No further, please. Just down and back. We should keep in visual contact.

He watched her for some minutes as she headed up the channel. He wished he hadn’t agreed so readily. They should stay together, especially in this place. There were too many unknowns here.

He reluctantly turned his attention to the engravings on the wall. He suspected the discordant humming was caused by air flowing down along those grooves, though he hadn’t felt a stirring of air for the past two days.

To test his theory, he held a lighted match at the base of one of the grooves. When the flame flickered and bent away, up the channel, he knew air was indeed being pulled down from above.

But that just raised another question. The volume of air that was flowing along those cuts could hardly polish such hard stone. It had to take an incredible amount of air over a very long time.

Just then, Simon thought he felt a breath of air brushing his face. Even more, did he hear a slight increase in the pitch of the humming? The thought sent a shiver up his back. Was it his imagination? If not, what was happening? Either way, his gut told him they should get out at once.

Simon looked for Vera ahead in the channel, but she wasn’t there. Had she gone beyond the bend after all?

He started up the channel and, feeling suddenly fearful, forgot caution and broke into a run. He quickly went beyond his limits in the thin air. As he became dizzy and gasped for breath, his legs gave out. He stumbled to his knees, then lay flat onto the sand. As blues, reds, and yellows flashed and swirled across his retinas, he passed out, facedown.

Simon had no way of knowing how long he lay there, but he suddenly became aware of the change around him. The pitch and volume of the droning had risen. He felt swirling dust and grit against his skin.

Frightened, his mind in a muddle, he forced himself to his knees. He looked around for an understanding of his plight.

Vera. Where was Vera? He looked down the channel to the bend, but she was not there. He struggled to his feet and started forward again, screaming her name over and over, but his shouts were lost in the surging tumult.

As the bend faded behind a curtain of swirling sand and dust, Simon realized he could not reach Vera in time. He had to try to save himself, to get back to the packs and supplies in the underground passage.

The humming was becoming a deafening shriek. The driving sand pelting his face blurred his vision as he headed for the chasm and the passage.

Panic and fear were becoming all-consuming as he groped his way through the blinding barrage, aiming for the source of the growing sound.

Through the choking cloud of dust and grit, Simon looked for the carved columns in the black stone ahead, four on either side of what would be the entrance to the chasm. In his confused and panicked imagination, those eight pillars suddenly took on a different image, something from his beloved ancient myths. The columns became the eight black-clad guardsmen of the serpent, screaming their death chant.

He found himself in the valley of storms, witnessing the battle for domination between the black-clad army of the serpent and Adrian’s gray army.

In the myth, the battle went against the serpent, and with defeat imminent, he ordered his remaining eight guardsmen to buy him time to make his escape through an underground passage in the palisade.

Chanting their death song, the guardsmen stood their ground. As their mantra swelled to a terrifying shriek, they were cut down, one by one, while the serpent fled underground.

The worsening tumult made Simon’s progress nearly impossible. By the time he started along the chasm, a hail of sand and stone spewed from the underground passage. Whatever was pulling the air down from the plateau above drew it up through the tunnel as well.

Something twisted crazily toward him—one of the packs. He lunged for it and just managed to grab hold before it bounded out into the channel. He used it to shield his face against the onslaught and forced his way through the opening, into the passage.

Unable to see anything in the dark amid the blinding assault, Simon flailed about for some refuge. Then, as though sucked into a vacuum, he suddenly pitched sideways into a gallery. He smashed headlong into stone, crumpled to the floor, and lay there, stunned, only vaguely aware of the blood filling his eyes from a gash in his head.

Out in the passage, the tumult swelled to a deafening shriek. Rock shards ricocheted off the walls like shrapnel. Simon crawled farther back into the gallery, found a tight recess, and squeezed into it. He shoved his hands and arms through the arm straps and shielded his face with the pack.

As he began to lose consciousness, the image of Vera came to him. She wore the same sweet smile she’d given him earlier when they parted. She seemed to be trying to say something.

The only sound Simon heard as he surrendered to his fate was someone screaming her name.

PART I

BEFORE THE GATE

Chapter 1

THE VERDAN SLEEPER

Aaron Faahr slumped in his seat at the helm, bored, waiting for the shift change so he could head to his closet and get some sleep.

A message popped up on the console’s display, informing him the ship’s solar receptors were undergoing a slight adjustment. He made a face, stabbed a finger at the keypad, and sent the notice to the maintenance log. The screen winked out, leaving him staring at his reflection on the darkened glass. He flipped a finger at it and settled back into the seat to finish his monotonous watch.

Since the cutover from manual to auto control some twenty million leagues back, the crew had had little to do beyond the mind-numbing job of monitoring the sensory and service units that managed the ship’s mechanical and environmental systems. Until they reached Verdan, they were just backups to a bunch of computers.

The return trip to Adrian would be more of the same, except the ship’s crew would be minus one member—him. He would not be going back. His father would finally get his way.

Aaron’s father had been a noted geo-economist in Adrian’s Centrum, the government’s inner advisory. That position had given him access to highly sensitive data. One particular study, he had found most troubling. Adrian was slowly dying.

At the same time, reports from the research station on Verdan, Adrian’s closest neighbor, suggested that planet, with increased support from Adrian, might one day be able to sustain a much larger, permanent settlement. That got the senior Faahr’s attention.

He began working on a long-range plan to get his son off Adrian and out to Verdan, where he could start the new life the planet would eventually offer.

Using his influence, he secured a seat for his son at the National Flying Academy and, following his graduation, persuaded him to bypass a military commission and fly Moon Runners between Adrian’s orbiting spaceport and her twin moons, Gowan and Cora.

But after several years as a Moon Runner, Aaron craved some excitement. He applied for a military commission and was soon flying missions over Adrian. It was a decision that put a deep strain on his relationship with his father, which continued until the old man’s death.

His father’s persistent criticisms led his colleagues to campaign against him and forced him from his position. The separation from his son and the loss of his work drove him into a deep depression and he eventually took his own life.

The treatment his father had received left Aaron bitter, and in an act of defiance, he followed his father’s final request and applied for a transfer out of the military and into the Sojourner fleet, running personnel and supplies out to Verdan.

His action brought on protracted trouble with his superiors, who argued that no rational flier would ever request leave from the military wing for an obvious demotion aboard a supply ship.

But Aaron’s resolve remained unshaken. He argued correctly that there were no restrictions that could deny him his request. After much wrangling, his transfer came through, and he found himself on the next Sojourner run to Verdan, sure that his military career was ended.

Something happened to Aaron during that supply mission. He fell in love with a planet, with a handful of misfits, and with one woman—Aubry Miori. Upon his return to Adrian, he applied for another supply run back to Verdan.

This time his superiors granted the request with little argument. Another ride on the Verdan Sleeper, as the run was jokingly called, would keep him out of their way and perhaps change his attitude. Aaron found himself on the next supply run to Verdan.

At the helm, Aaron swiveled around for a look at Verdan through the ship’s portside observation window. Though still weeks away, the pale green sphere seemed so close, so clear, he felt he could reach out and touch it.

His attention fell on one spectacular and fascinating feature—Verdan’s bejeweled ring moon, Breccon. It had formed a million years ago when an immense asteroid smashed into the moon, pulverizing it, and sending chunks of rock in all directions. A particularly massive piece had slammed into Verdan, knocked it off its axis, and thrown up a dense cloud of dust that encircled the planet for years, bringing nearly all terrestrial life forms to extinction.

What remained of the moon and its assailant now circled Verdan as a band of rock, debris, and dust almost one hundred thousand leagues out in space.

Mr. Chase, please come to the bridge, Aaron called out.

Wayman Chase, lounging at the media station aft of the flight deck, looked up from his reading with a frown.

No doubt the captain felt he had something important to show him, but any curiosity Wayman had at the start of the voyage had diminished to a glimpse through the observation window now and then during his watch, mostly to assure himself they were indeed getting closer to their destination. As he saw it, the sooner they got there, the sooner they could start back.

He considered waving off the invitation. He’d have the helm in a few minutes, and he’d have his whole watch to stare at the planet if he so desired.

He shrugged. Oh, what the hell. For a little peace and quiet, I’ll take a look at that miserable rock.

Coming, my captain, he called out in an exaggerated lilt.

He released the restraining belt, pushed down on the armrests, and levitated above the recliner. He launched himself toward the flight deck and glided gracefully up to the helm’s seat, grasped a handhold on the bulkhead, and came to a smooth stop beside Aaron.

So, my captain. Has the welcoming committee finally shown up? he asked.

Better than that, Lieutenant, Aaron said. He tapped a finger on the window. Take a look for yourself and tell me what you think.

Wayman bent down and peered through the window. Doubtless he was expected to recognize something out there. If he wanted to avoid a long-winded geography lesson, he’d better find it.

After a moment, he said, Hmmm, if I had to guess, I’d say that’s Verdan, Captain. The pale green gives it away.

Good guess, my dear Chase. But what about that glittery thing circling the planet?

You mean Breccon? I thought I was looking for something less obvious, Wayman said.

Isn’t it spectacular? Aaron prompted.

Wayman took a longer look. The sight was impressive, but he knew he’d better come up with a little more than that to placate Aaron.

I understand it had a run-in with an asteroid some time ago, he said.

Very good, Lieutenant, but there’s a lot more to the story, Aaron said.

Of course there is, Captain, but before you get started, may I remind you that I have the helm in fifteen minutes? When we get down there, I promise I’ll take a good look at it every day, Wayman said.

Aaron shook his head dejectedly. You simply lack any sense of mystery and romance, Wayman. I bet Tori would be thrilled to death at that sight.

Then, sir, by all means, you should wake her up and give her a thrill, Wayman blurted.

I suspect she’d rather have you wake her, Aaron said, giving an exaggerated wink.

The remark caught Wayman by surprise. What are you implying, Captain?

Come on, man. There are only three of us on this ship. We’ve been out here a long time. Hell, a blind man could see you two are a little more than just shipmates, Aaron said. He shrugged. But it’s really none of my business.

It is your business, Captain, Wayman said, serious now. But I assure you, Tori and I have done nothing that would interfere with our duties and the safety of this ship. We’ve made sure of that.

Personally, Wayman, I don’t care what you do when I’m all tucked away in my closet. And if you two require a little more privacy, I’d be happy to step outside for a while, Aaron said.

Wayman snorted. I don’t believe you have to go that far, Captain. We shall endeavor to behave ourselves, he said, launching himself back to his seat.

Aaron watched him drift away. He’d developed a genuine fondness for the man, despite his obstinate and close-minded attitude regarding their mission. In a couple of weeks they’d be down on that planet, and who knows. Maybe Wayman would come around.

You’re missing the chance of a lifetime. You may never get back this way again, he called out to his retreating comrade.

Wayman flashed a toothy grin. Keep those good thoughts, Captain, he said.

Aaron shrugged. He’d have to wait for Kuttler. She would at least show more interest, whether real or contrived.

He turned his attention to the green planet outside the window, and his gaze fell on the ring moon. He followed its sweep from the southwest up to the northeast, where it disappeared into the planet’s night. As he traced the band around and around, his eyelids became heavy until he drifted off into a dreamy sleep.

Aaron was startled awake by a tap on his shoulder, and he blinked up into Wayman’s beaming face.

Time to wake up, Captain. I’d let you sleep, but I’ve got the helm in exactly five minutes. You have just enough time to log off and vacate that seat.

Aaron suppressed a yawn. Sorry about that. You should have thrown your coffee mug at me or something.

Not me, Captain, Wayman said in a serious tone. I was enjoying the peace and quiet. Besides, if anything important had come up, I’m sure I could’ve handled it.

That makes me feel more secure, just knowing you are alert and on the job, Lieutenant, Aaron said. Just let me finish up here, and she’s all yours.

He quickly ran through his final instrument and environmental check and logged in his helm report. After one more glance out the window, he released the clasp on the seat belt and launched himself up. As he glided past, he gave Wayman an exaggerated salute.

Just keep her heading toward that round thing out the window there. In case you’ve forgotten, that’s Verdan, our objective, he said.

You may rest easy, sir. I’ll keep an eye on it. I suspect it’ll be there when you wake up, but if it disappears on me, I’ll sound the general alarm, he said.

Wayman lowered himself into the seat before the console and adjusted the restraining belt. After making his initial entry into the log, he punched in a series of buttons and a screen full of text appeared before him. He settled back to read and start his watch.

Tori Kuttler was on the treadmill when Aaron drifted up to the exercise station.

Good morning, Ms. Kuttler. Out for your constitutional, I see. I trust you slept well?

Tall and strikingly handsome, with shoulder-length red hair and large green eyes, Tori already showed a rosy blush from her exertions. She took the conditioning program seriously and was undoubtedly in the best shape of the three of them. It was her diligence that compelled her two crewmates to follow a more stringent exercise program.

I slept very well, Captain, and thank you. Wayman tells me you already got a jump on your naptime. Six hours isn’t enough?

Six hours is certainly enough sack time for anyone, my dear Kuttler. I guess just sitting there staring at the planet relaxed me a little too much. I can assure you it won’t happen again.

I am comforted by that, Captain. We will overlook it this time, Tori said.

I appreciate that, Lieutenant, Aaron said. Oh, and if you get a chance, you might want to look at Breccon. It’s quite spectacular. I’m sure Mr. Chase will be more than glad to point it out to you, if he can still find it.

Tori grinned. I’ll see if he’ll share some of his knowledge with me. And I look forward to your lecture on the subject in six hours.

At your pleasure, Ms. Kuttler, Aaron said with a jaunty nod. But now, sleep awaits.

He pushed off and glided smoothly up to the small galley station, caught a handhold, and paused to consider the unexciting possibilities on the menu. He quickly rejected them all and shoved off for his closet.

The ship had three sleeping compartments on either side of the hatchway that led to the rear service module and access to the main engine compartments and the ship’s docking stations.

Referred to as closets, the compartments were barely large enough for a hanging sleeping bag and a narrow wall locker for clothing and personal items. They provided just enough room for sleeping and about all the privacy one could get on the ship.

Dressing had to be undertaken with the narrow door slid open to allow more room to maneuver. Under these conditions, even the shyest flier lost his modesty within the first week or two.

Aaron held onto a handgrip, removed his slippers and his thin flight suit, and crammed them into a net bag above the locker. He zipped himself into the sleeping bag, letting his arms dangle out the sides.

Before settling in, he put on a light set of earphones connected to the entertainment unit, selected some music, and adjusted the volume. Last, he slid the narrow door shut, extinguishing the overhead light.

But sleep hesitated. His thoughts were on the planet he had left far behind and on the world just up ahead, so close now.

In a matter of days, Verdan’s green pallor would give way to shades and shadows, then to long-awaited features that would tug at him as surely as the planet’s gravity now reeled in his little ship. Home was just ahead.

Chapter 2

MIORI

Aubry stared, wide-eyed, up into the blackness of her room. It had been a fitful night, and she could use more sleep. With the arrival of the supply ship bringing long-awaited supplies and news from Adrian, this would be a busy day.

But more important to Aubry was the return of Aaron Faahr, the man she had fallen in love with on his last trip here. Aaron had said he’d be back and would stay, though she had doubts he would. Few fliers wanted to make the long, dull trip in the first place, let alone return to this desolate world. But Aaron had.

Aubry had been surprised at how quickly she had fallen for him. She’d been alone for some time and had chosen to remain so. Several others here had wanted to have a close relationship with her, but she had graciously declined their offers.

But her attraction to Aaron was almost immediate, and he readily returned the interest. What began as a budding friendship quickly became romantically close, and she had done nothing to slow it down, knowing he would be returning to Adrian soon enough.

Now, after so long apart, Aubry wondered if he would be the same man who left almost three years ago. Even more, would he find her the same woman? She doubted she’d changed that much, but what about him?

From down along the passageway came the metallic click of a compartment door closing. Seconds later, footsteps passed by her room and faded into the hum of the ventilating system. Apparently someone else had had trouble sleeping and was probably heading up to the mess for some coffee.

Aubry’s head dropped back down on the pillow, though she knew there’d be little chance of getting any more sleep tonight. Her mind was on Aaron and Sojourner, and now, on something else—coffee.

She got up, dressed quickly, and headed up to the hub to join her fellow insomniac. If she couldn’t sleep, at least she’d have some company.

At the top of the ramp, she hesitated. Across the hub, the company mess looked dark and empty. Had she just imagined hearing someone come up here? Disappointed, she figured that since she was here, she might as well have the coffee.

She crossed over to the mess, flipped on the overhead light, and headed back to the galley. She prepared a cup and slid it into the oven to brew.

While she waited, she leaned back against the counter and absently took in the domed room and its sparse furnishings.

Apart from the cooking area along the wall behind her, two long tables took up much of the floor between the galley and the entrance. A stack of stools stood on either side of the open doors.

Pictures and photographs hung from the curved and arching walls. One caught her eye.

In a thin black plastic frame was a faded yellow photo of a white oval structure with low walls and a domed vaulted roof, set in a bleak and rolling landscape—the first permanent structure on Verdan.

Aubry had first seen that picture in a school text years ago. It had fascinated her that people from her own world could go and live on another planet. She had read the accounts of their lives, learning about the hardships and isolation they endured. She’d wondered how she would do in that situation.

But by the time she made her way out to Verdan, that tiny, inadequate structure in that photograph had expanded to its present configuration, and the complement of scientists and technicians had grown to thirty-three, with room for more.

The man most responsible for that expansion had been an imaginative and persuasive engineer—Sadu Fenahr.

A critic of any expansion of the base on Verdan, Sadu had been chosen to go out to assess the practicality of continuing and maintaining the station. Detractors in Adrian’s Centrum had assumed he would return with the recommendation to shut down the costly experiment, but in that, they were mistaken.

Not long after arriving on Verdan, Sadu had undergone a conversion of sorts. Inspired by the challenges faced by the small company fighting to survive on a stark and hostile world, he called for the project’s expansion, arguing that Verdan might become a viable alternative for colonization for a select few, should Adrian’s declining socioeconomic and environmental situation make life untenable there.

In the end, his persuasive arguments and dire predictions garnered him enough support to proceed with his plans, though the project had its detractors. Given enough time, they might persuade some of the less enthusiastic members to reconsider their position.

To blunt the critics’ flagging enthusiasm, Sadu had to make the project more cost effective. He needed to show enough progress that suspending operations on Verdan might be more difficult.

Sadu had identified a source of building materials already on Verdan—the twelve-by-four-meter cargo containers previously brought out on the supply ships and abandoned on the plains around the complex. Their tough skins and superb insulation made them ideally suited to withstand the planet’s harsh conditions.

He had the cylinders cut into four-meter sections and hauled back to the building site, where they were coupled together and extended to provide passageways of any length and configuration, off which compartments for personnel quarters, storage rooms, or specialized work areas would be fixed.

Over two decades, two wings, called tubes, were constructed in this manner and joined to the hub. The first, Tube 1, off the east side, included an infirmary, several storage rooms, and a longer compartment at the end for the communications and computers. The second, Tube 2, lay off the west side of the hub. Along its length were attached cylinder sections for small, personal quarters. As the base’s complement grew, this wing was lengthened to add additional living compartments.

Next, a rectangular structure, the garage, was prefabricated on Adrian and assembled on the plain east of Tube 1. It provided protection and maintenance for the six small, boxy, battery-powered tractors demanded by Sadu.

Before the tractors, the heavy labor had taken an alarming toll on the personnel. One of the casualties was Sadu Fenahr, who succumbed to enervation brought on by the hard work in the planet’s extreme conditions and thin atmosphere. The tractors did much to relieve the most severe problem threatening the workers—heavy lifting and hauling.

Last, a domed oval structure was joined to the hub’s south side. Called the greenhouse, it housed the experimental nursery where attempts were being made to adapt selected plants and vegetation from Adrian’s southern deserts to Verdan’s stingy atmosphere and parched environment.

A ping from the oven’s timer brought Aubry back from her daydream. She gave the photograph a nod and a smile, retrieved her coffee, and went back to the counter to enjoy it.

From where she stood, she could see across the hub and down into Tube 2. Nothing stirred. Those footsteps she’d heard must have been a dream.

She considered going back to try to get some more sleep but rejected that as a waste of time. Instead, she thought she might as well get a jump on her day. She finished the coffee, stacked her cup, and headed down into Tube 1.

At the bottom of the ramp, she was surprised to see the door open and a light on in the communications room at the end of the passage. Had she found the other insomniac?

Feeling oddly uneasy, she approached the room with some hesitancy, pausing to take a look before going in.

Sitting at the desk on the opposite wall, Gabe Remo appeared absorbed in something on the monitor, unaware of the onlooker behind him.

Aubry strained to see what held his interest. It wasn’t much, but enough for her to recognize the layout as a page from the communications log.

She frowned. As a communications specialist, she had primary control over the data in that log. Gabe had no reason to be reviewing it.

When Gabe suddenly got to his feet, Aubry stepped back into the darkened passage and immediately felt embarrassed at her reaction. Gabe probably had an acceptable explanation for being in there. She would let it go this time.

She turned back for the door and nearly collided with Gabe, who was hurrying from the room. He grunted and lurched to the side, slamming into the doorframe. He groped for the door handle to steady himself and gawked at Aubry in shocked surprise.

At that moment, Aubry thought he looked like a panicky, guilty boy who had just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.

Good grief, Gabe, you scared the hell out of me. I didn’t expect to run into anyone down here at this hour.

I, I, I couldn’t sleep. I came down here to, uh, to check on the cargo. That’s all, he stammered.

Easy there. Nobody’s hurt, Aubry said. After a moment, she asked, So?

Gabe looked puzzled. So what?

Slowly enunciating each word, she asked, So what about the cargo?

Embarrassed, Gabe said nervously, Ah, the cargo. Nothing. I found nothing. I couldn’t contact them. They’re either all asleep up there or the ship’s in the communications shadow.

Aubry’s brow furrowed. Well, if you’re stopping for coffee and want some company, I’m buying.

A gracious offer, but I think I’ll head back and try to get some sleep. This is going to be a busy day, and I want to be ready for the party tonight, Gabe said.

Aubry swept her hand in the direction of the ramp. In that case, I shall not keep you from your arduous schedule.

Gabe nodded and headed for the ramp. He glanced back to find Aubry watching him from the doorway. The curious look on her face made him uneasy, and he turned and hurried up for the hub.

The encounter left Aubry unsettled. She knew Gabe could be an odd bird at times. She tried telling herself that perhaps this was just one of those times. With a shrug, she headed into the room and plopped down in the chair at the desk.

For some moments, she just stared at the monitor’s blackened screen, unable to dispel the odd feeling that Gabe hadn’t been forthright with her, as though he was purposefully hiding something. She shook the thoughts from her head and got to work.

She brought up the communications log to check for messages coming in or leaving the complex. What she found in the log gave her pause.

If Gabe had tried to contact Sojourner as he said, an entry to that effect would be in the log. There was no such entry.

Perhaps she had misunderstood him in the confusion in the doorway. They’d both been a little rattled, though Gabe seemed a bit more anxious than the situation called for.

But now she was suspicious, and she brought up the orbit calculator to get Sojourner’s current position in orbit. She had initialized the program, entering the date and the ship’s time and telemetry when it first passed over the complex.

Gabe said Sojourner must have been in the communications shadow when he unsuccessfully tried to contact her. But instead, the calculator showed the ship had to be almost directly overhead when he made his attempt.

Aubry hit the update button to refresh the screen. The information fields flickered and brightened with the same results. Her unease grew.

Almost certainly, Gabe would have used the locator before trying to contact the ship. He had to have known it was passing overhead.

What’s going on here? What are you up to, Gabe? she whispered.

She checked the communications log again for the number of radio transmissions recorded since the last log refresh, an automatic routine performed every fourteen days, where a backup copy of the log was made and various statistical fields were re-initialized.

The current I/O count read twenty-two.

Aubry made a manual count of the actual entries in the log and came up with twenty, all between the ship and the complex. A second count came up with the same result. Two entries were missing.

Just minutes ago, she had watched Gabe sitting right there, looking at something in this very log. Had he been deleting records? If so, why hadn’t he altered the record counts as well?

His reaction now led her to suspect she had caught him in the act of doing something out of the ordinary. Altering the log would be considered a serious infraction that called for an explanation. But was it worth the embarrassment and turmoil it would likely cause if she reported it?

If Gabe had in fact contacted Sojourner, an entry to that effect would be in the ship’s communications log, unless that had been scratched as well. If it existed, it would be an easy matter for her to get a copy of it.

To do that, she would need permission from Aaron. But that would have to wait for now. Aaron would have a lot to do to prepare to leave the ship. He wouldn’t have the time or privacy to help her now.

What if she just went to Gabe and confronted him with what she knew and suspected? Would he tell her the truth? Then again, how would she know? It was a dicey situation.

Aubry felt her instincts were correct. They had a problem. But what?

Chapter 3

BAD TIMING ALL AROUND

Laughter drifted down from the hub and into Peatrie’s quarters. Sounded like the welcoming party was in full swing. He should be up there with his friends, not down here sorting mail.

But Peatrie needed a little time to himself to think. Something Aubry had told him earlier kept nagging at him, about a strange encounter with Gabe Remo in the communications room earlier this morning, missing entries in the log, inconsistencies in Gabe’s story, and suspicious behavior.

Peatrie had learned to trust Aubry’s instincts, and he could not overlook them now. She was concerned; therefore, he was as well.

A heavy rap on the door brought his head up with a jerk. He grimaced. He recognized that knock as belonging to the last person he wanted to see just then—Milo Kort.

Come in, Milo, he called out wearily.

Milo came in, carefully closed the door, and stepped over to the desk.

Excuse the interruption, Peatrie, but some of us are starting to think you’re avoiding us. I volunteered to come down and check on you and escort you up to the party.

Escort, Milo? Peatrie said, sounding a little indignant. My lights have been out for quite a while now, and as I’m sure you can see, I found my way down here without any help and without getting lost. I’m pretty sure I can find my way back up to the Hub, and with my eyes closed, Peatrie said.

Milo winced. Peatrie, you took that all wrong. You know damn well I’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, he said. Sometimes I think you’re a little too sensitive.

Okay, let’s drop it, Peatrie said. "But be honest, Milo. You’re down here to bug me about the cargo again.

Milo hesitated. Okay, you got me, he admitted. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a few minutes to discuss the cargo.

Old friend, before we begin, you and I have this little discussion each time a supply ship arrives, and my response hasn’t changed. We will know about the cargo when Gabe posts the manifests, after he looks them over first. That’s his job. That’s the way it’s done. You know that.

Sure, sure. Guess I just need to complain to someone, Milo said.

But why me? Peatrie muttered under his breath. Okay, if we must, he said. The chair’s by the door. Sit.

Milo turned for the chair and screwed up his round, hairy face. He swept the chair up in a meaty hand and held it out at arm’s length.

I take it this is another one of Reenah’s creations. When in the hell is she going to come up with something that fits my big butt? he grumbled.

Reenah Lasche, the complex’s chief mechanic, ran the garage. Particularly resourceful and creative, she had designed and fabricated the metal-studded wheels for the tractors to replace the rubber tires that proved so inefficient and incompatible with Verdan’s challenging conditions and terrain.

She and her husband, Jeri Nantz, had built the two windmills that provided much of the electricity for the base and ran the pumps to bring up the water from what had once been a substantial aquifer lying beneath the sand and rock cap.

She had indeed created the very chair that now aggravated Milo. She had fabricated it from tubing and tie-down straps salvaged from a cargo cylinder. A number of her creations were scattered throughout the complex, including a larger version of the chair in Milo’s own quarters.

Milo, you may not waste my time complaining about Reenah. I’m one of her biggest fans. Besides, you know very well she built you a chair to fit your fat ass, Peatrie blurted, immediately wishing he hadn’t said that.

His feathers ruffled, Milo slumped heavily against the door, folded his thick arms defiantly across his wide chest, and glowered. It was a display lost on Peatrie.

I didn’t come down here to get insulted, he grumbled.

Another wave of laughter