Zero-G (34 page)

“Stay there, Tammy. I want you right in the middle of everybody. And to show you that I'm not such a bad guy, your husband may join you.” He paused, then asked, “Is his name really Dougie?”

“It's Doug.” The husband answered. “She calls me Dougie.”

“And you allow it? Isn't that sweet.”

“Just what is it you want?” Roos's voice filled the hangar.

“Several things, and they're all going to happen in quick succession. First, I assume some of those computers have USB ports. Correct?”

Roos answered, “Yes, so what?”

“Dougie the hero is going to open the back flap of the backpack and nothing more. Got that, Dougie? If you unzip the wrong thing, you're going to get a face full of death.” Quain reached beneath his coat and removed the pistol he had already fired three times that day. “Or maybe I'll just shoot you. I like having options.”

Dougie nodded.

“Once you've opened the first flap, you'll find a small digital video camera. I want you to remove it and take it to Mr. Roos. Next to the camera you'll find a USB cable. Take that too.”

He did exactly as told, his hands shaking.

“The camera also has a media card if that will work better. There is a short bit of video footage on the camera. I want you to load it onto any computer that will allow you to send that video to your spaceship. Anything unclear about that?”

“Just motive,” Roos said.

“That will come clear in time. For now, just do as you're told.”

Doug removed the camera and the cable, then made his way to Roos, who took the device and handed it to one of the Ground Control technicians. “You know how to do this,” he told the tech. “Get it done.”

The tech hesitated, then said, “Will do.”

Roos patted the man on the shoulder, then said, “Let them know what's coming.”

The tech keyed his mike and looked into the video camera. “
Legacy
, Ground Control. We have a problem.”

THIRTY-ONE

T
hey're all strapped in.” Lance took his seat in the copilot chair and affixed his harness. “Burke looks bad. I don't think it's motion sickness or SAS.”

“But everyone is still alive, right?” Tuck's words sounded as if another man had uttered them.

“Yes, so far, but I have serious concerns about the secretary of state. We need to get him to a hospital.”

“There's another problem. Ground control is sending a video.” Tuck tapped the video monitor. “I don't know what's going on down there, but something has those people frightened.” He waited while Lance took in the scene.

“What kind of video?”

“I don't know. Ground Control came on and said they had a problem while you were back there taking care of the passengers.”

“Legacy,
Ground Control. You should be able to receive
this now. Let me know if it comes through.”

The video image of Ground Control gave way to another image that took Tuck several moments to identify, but when he did, his heart stopped beating. The video quality was poor and Tuck guessed it had been taken with an inexpensive camera. What he heard over his headset dumped a vat of acid in his stomach.

“Is that your . . . ?” Lance was unable to finish the question.

“It's my family. I can't make out where they are.”

“One thing is for sure, they're not at the spaceport.”

Tuck didn't need Lance to tell him that. The video showed his family standing in the opening of some kind of structure, but the camera shot was so tight, he couldn't identify it. Tuck keyed his mike. “Someone had better tell me what's going on and they had better tell me right now.”

No answer came.

“Ground Control,
Legacy
. Do you read me?”

“Stand by one, Tuck. We are awaiting instructions.”

Tuck looked at Lance. “Instructions from whom, Ground Control?”

“He wants me to ask you how everyone is doing up
there.”

Tuck was baffled. “Who wants to know?”

“He says his name is Quain.”

“Quain? The guy who drove me to the spaceport this morning?”

“That's what he said.”
Even through seventy miles of atmosphere and space that separated him from the communication tech, Tuck could hear his stress.

“What's he done with my family? Where are they?” Tuck was doing his best not to yell into the microphone.

“We don't know, Commander. This is the first we've
seen of it.”
There was a brief pause.
“He still wants to
know how everyone is doing.”

Lance answered. “We've got a ship full of sick people, Ground Control. One is unconscious.”

Tuck keyed off his mike and motioned for Lance to do the same. “I'm not getting the full picture here, but someone other than Roos is calling the shots. And whoever it is has done something to my family.”

“How can somebody take over Ground Control? Roos hired guards, and there are two Secret Service agents in that room. Maybe it's a whole team of people.”

“I don't think so, Lance. Ground Control keeps referring to ‘him,' not ‘they.' ”

Tuck activated the mike. “Ground Control,
Legacy
. Are we to assume that you have unexpected company?”

“Roger that,
Legacy
. We have a party crasher.”

Tuck heard Ginny's voice. “Hey, you guys? I think the reporter guy has passed out. He doesn't look so good.” She began to weep. “My head hurts so much.”

“I'll go back and check,” Lance said.

Tuck grabbed his arm. “How are you feeling?”

Lance hesitated before answering. “Like fresh roadkill.”

Tuck released him and moved to the passenger portion of the cabin.
Think, Tuck. Think.
A war raged in Tuck's mind. Competing for his attention were the sick passengers in back — each exhibiting symptoms like those that killed his crew well over a year ago — his endangered family on Earth below, and his confusion about what was happening at Ground Control. He also wondered if he had been infected too. If so, he had very little time to get his people back on the ground.

A new voice came over the headset.
“Commander
Tucker. It's an honor to meet you again.”

Tuck turned in his seat and called for Lance. His copilot appeared two seconds later. “I want you to hear this.”

Lance nodded but the motion came far more slowly than it should. “Donnelly is still conscious, but I don't know for how much longer.” Tuck feared Lance would soon lapse into unconsciousness along with Burke.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I'm here. You're Quain?” The civility was forced, an act on Tuck's part. He had many other words he wanted to say.

“Isn't technology amazing? I'm way down here on
Earth and you're way up there in space, and we're talking
as if we were in the same room together. And this
wireless headset makes my life much easier. It wouldn't
do for me to turn my back on some of these people. I don't
think they understand me.”
The speaker paused, then said,
“I imagine you would like to be in the same room
with me.”

You got that right.
“You're the same man that drove me to the spaceport today. I thought we got along well. Why such a change in attitude?”

Laughter poured into Tuck's helmet.
“I have to say,
Commander, you're one cool customer. You've just seen
that your family is in danger and you're talking to me
like an old pal.”

“Don't fool yourself . . . pal. You have the advantage. It's in the best interest of my family to be polite.”

“I think you'd be less polite in person.”

“Let's cut the small talk, Quain. You must have some kind of business with me, so let's get to it.”

“Polite and perceptive — now I'm rather glad you didn't
die on
Atlantis
. You caused me quite a bit of embarrassment,
you know. You also delayed a rather lucrative
payment.”

Implications of the words struck Tuck like a fist to the sternum. “Are you saying you caused that? I've heard of crazy people taking the blame for someone else's crimes, but this takes the cake.”

“I assume you bought the same lie that everyone else
did. I can assure you the medicinal poisoning from the
dermal patches was no accident.”

“Like I said, crazy people take the blame for others.”

Quain's tone chilled.
“I'd go easy on the crazy-people
talk if I were you. I have over fifty hostages in the hangar
and several hundred more outside. Oh, and I almost
forgot, four others hidden away — others you care a great
deal about. So from now on when you speak to me, you
will speak to me with respect, or you will be returning
home to an empty house — if you get to return home at
all.”

“All right, Quain, I believe you. Tell me what you want.”

“Let me bring you up to speed. In the midst of these
VIPs is a backpack filled with a bio-bomb. It contains the
same genetically engineered germ that killed your crew on
Atlantis
and was supposed to kill you, except it doesn't
contain the delaying agent. Unlike your
Atlantis
crew and
your current passengers, these people will die quickly.
Badly, painfully, but quickly. I've placed another such bio-bomb
under the bleachers of the crowd waiting for your
return. In my hand is a dead man's switch. If I release the
switch, both bombs will go off and my personal brand of
biowarfare will be released into the air. You have a sample
of my work with your passengers. Tell me, Commander,
how many are sick now?”

“I think you know the answer to that. All of them.”

“Everyone except you.”

“How do you know I'm not sick?”

“Because I didn't contaminate your flight suit.”

“Is my family still alive?” It was the hardest question Tuck ever had to ask.

“For now. I have them locked away safe and sound.”

Why would he do this? Why poison an entire space crew? Why kill dozens of people he didn't know? Tuck had no idea.

“What is it you want, Quain? You must have some kind of goal. I can tell you're no dummy, so I know you aren't doing this for kicks. What do you hope to gain?”

“You're right about that, Commander. I'm no dummy.
People are motivated by only a few things: love, money,
and power. I don't care about love, but the last two weigh
heavy in my decision making. I'm in this for one thing
and one thing only: wealth. If you have wealth, you
have power; if you have wealth and power, you can buy
love.”

Lance moved his hands to his stomach and leaned his helmeted head back against his seat. “Well, I can see why he doesn't teach philosophy.” He coughed.

The same feeling of helplessness that had washed over Tuck during those horrible hours during the
Atlantis
crisis inundated him once again. His family needed him, and although only seventy miles separated him from the surface of the Earth, he was several hundred miles of flight path away.

“So you're holding everyone down there hostage, is that it?”

“Bingo. But not in the way you think. I will be out of
here in a few minutes. It's surprising, Commander, you
haven't asked the really important question yet.”

“You mean, why did you poison everyone but me?”

“Exactly. It's not that I like you, but for the moment
I need you and that really galls me. You should've died
those many months ago, but you had to wear the wrong
patch. Had you worn the patch designed for a man your
size and weight you would be taking a dirt nap now. I
hadn't planned on your choosing a patch designed for
women.”

“Yeah, well, I'm a twenty-first-century kind of guy.”

Lance whispered to Tuck, “Don't antagonize him. He may be smart . . . but I don't think he's stable.”

Tuck switched off his mike. “I'm trying to keep him occupied and hoping someone down there can do something.” He was grasping at straws, but straws were all he had.

“I know your glibness is an act, Commander, and
that's all right with me. Every second you waste is
another second closer to death for your passengers and
your family. So don't let me hinder you; you waste all the
time you want.”

“I'm listening.”

“The rest of my plan I think I'll keep to myself. Here's
all you need to know: you are to stay in space until everyone
on board is dead. Then and only then may you make
reentry. The reason you are alive is that I'm afraid Mr.
Roos here has some auto-control system installed on
Legacy
. I'll have to admit I never thought NASA could
land the Shuttle without a crewman at the controls. If you
break my little rule, your family will die. How's that for
being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea?”

“I think you have more than money in mind. There's someone on board you want dead.”

“Very astute, Commander. Very astute, indeed. I also
want you to suffer, and watching your passengers die is
one way to do it.”
. . .