Chapter 10

Colette collapsed, out of breath, into the seat beside me. They shut the doors immediately, and the craft's engines started spooling up to lift us off the ground.

"Glad they had some extra seats on this flight," I remarked.

"Very funny."

I smiled as the craft seemed to tilt itself onto a soft cushion of air, and bounded upwards. My stomach dropped briefly as it did so, as if jolted by a sudden elevator jerk, but it steadied just as quickly and we were pleasantly on our way. In about an hour we would achieve orbit. From there several small shuttles would dock, and passengers would have the opportunity to cross the airlock into their respective vehicles, which would take them to their ultimate destinations. A special pod was coming for me, courtesy of the freight-hauling company. That pod was charged with ferrying me to the freighter before it rocketed out of the system. I had paid them a pretty penny for it, too.

I looked over at Colette. She was an amazing lady. I'd never seen such brazen and unwavering tenacity in a woman before. Hell, I couldn't remember seeing that kind of raw chutzpah in a man.

I had defied her at every turn. I had criticized her, mocked her, sassed her. Any other rational human being would have slugged me and gone on their way. In fact, I had been working rather hard for that outcome. But Colette Thornbush could not be shaken. She could not be deterred from her goal, despite all the verbal and logistical hardships I had put in her way.

She was definitely an asset to the Gaian government. As far as the Atlas matter went, Gaia didn't have a lot going for it. They didn't have the political or economic clout to pry this Earth company off their land, and although they had a small law enforcement force, it was community-oriented, and completely incapable of enforcing the government's will militarily against an aggressor, even on its own planet. Earth had Gaia over a barrel, and the rogue planet's only hope lay in unconventional tactics...and unconventional people like Colette. Resourceful, daring people who were completely dedicated to the cause.

I started to feel bad about my intransigence. I really wanted to help her. If things had been normal for me, if I was just a fat retired cat looking for something to do like I had planned to be, I would have jumped at her plea for help. Ok, maybe not jumped. But she would have had me on a Gaia transport a long time ago.

With this renewed respect and admiration unexpectedly blooming inside me, I started to take in her entirely captivating appearance, something I had been deliberately ignoring. Her skin was soft and, I expected, warm, yet it was countered by the determination in her face. Her hair fell down to her shoulders in dark, hypnotic waves, and I had to fill in the heart-wrenching dimples from memory. The last time I could remember seeing a genuine smile from her was in Billy's Cafe, when she'd brought me that caramel covered biscotti, and I found myself wanting to make her smile like that again. A full, spontaneous, sincere smile. But for better or worse, my skill seemed to lie in evoking from her a very persistent scowl.

She looked over at me, conscious of my stare. "I don't want have to use force, Sean."

"I beg your pardon?"

She didn't answer at first, as if she didn't want to be the one to tell me the hard-bitten truth. "You're coming with me to Gaia. Whether you want to or not. We can make this easy for us, or hard. In this case, I'm hoping you're the kind of man who likes to take the easy way out."

I dismissed her undeservingly confident words. "You may be right about that. Eventually. But considering the fact that you're still hanging around, and we're only about an hour now from boarding that freighter, it looks like we'll be going to Sirius IV first."

She laughed lightly, like I had made some obviously and pathetically empty threat. "There's only one possible outcome to this situation, Sean, and that's you heading to Gaia with me. Today. You might as well reconcile yourself to the inevitable." Her gaze on me focused, as if to add specificity to otherwise vague words. "It will make things much easier for you. For the both of us."

The easy and relaxed confidence in her voice surprised me. It stood in sharp contrast to the frantic pleading and desperate arguing that had characterized the bulk of her interaction with me thus far. I decided not to try to figure it out. I simply accepted the fact that Colette was a complex woman. That was a safe bet for sure (what woman isn't?), and the mere acceptance of the fact preserved the relative peace I was enjoying in my mind at the moment.

Besides, I had bigger and more urgent mysteries to solve than the personality of the woman sitting next to me.

Reflecting on the now-confirmed existence of the lawyer Rindilosk, it seemed that the contract between me and Geelan, establishing our partnership, had been a legitimate one after all, to the extent that it was drawn up by a real lawyer. I didn't understand that. Why had Geelan paid a lawyer to draw up a contract that was ultimately meaningless, a contract that was only there to round out an entire package of utterly fake information?

Then I recognized that it was the linchpin of the entire scam. It was the one document that committed me, the one document that bound me to transfer all my money to him. So maybe it made sense after all. Of all the documents a con artist would need to be legitimate, that would be the one. That document was enforceable in court. It didn't matter if all the rest he showed me were false. If I put my name to a partnership that obligated my finances to him, Geelan would have me dead to rights, no matter what.

So that left the bigger question. Why had Rindilosk died? Under what circumstances had he died, and why were they mysterious ones to begin with? Did Rindilosk know Geelan was a crook? Maybe Geelan realized he had left that loop open with me, that I would use that information to find him. Was Geelan just cleaning up the mess he had left behind?

Perhaps the matter was not that close to home. If Rindilosk took Geelan as a client, the lawyer may well have had other unsavory clients, and perhaps he ran afoul of one of them. Or maybe he just killed himself. Or perhaps he did die of natural, if still unexplained, causes, as Colette had said. She might have been lying, but she might also have been right, strange as that sounds.

I sighed. I wouldn't know until I got there. But Colette might be able to help me in the meantime. She was relaxing in her seat, with her eyes closed. As if storing up energy for what was to come.

I leaned toward her. "While we're sitting here, can you do more research on Rindilosk? Search the Sirian news, legal cases, whatever? Maybe we can find out more about him, what might have happened to him."

She replied without opening her eyes, her voice serene. "My people are already working every angle we've got. When I learn something, I'll tell you."

I stared at her, but she didn't break her repose. I leaned back in my seat. Why was she so damn relaxed? We were very close to the point of no return. I was exceedingly comfortable with that, mind you, but she should have been bouncing off the walls by now. She should be grabbing my the lapels, shouting in my face, maybe hitting me over the head with that little black satchel she carried.

Maybe she had just tuckered herself out. Lord knows she'd been hustling and bullying me enough since I met her. I took a big breath and relaxed more comfortably in my seat for the rest of the trip.

After a while, the orbiter achieved apogee and settled into its geostationary position. Shuttles and pods started docking with the craft, and I shook Colette to attention. "We're here. Let's go."

A subtle glimpse of disappointment (or frustration?) crossed her face, but she quickly erased it and valiantly got up with me.

We made our way to one of the airlocks. She seemed preoccupied as we waited our turn to enter the airlock, and I guessed that she was desperately checking messages, hoping against hope for some information to come across the wire that would compel me to reverse my unyielding course of action. I left her alone, and waited for our transfer to the pod.

We finally boarded our tiny little pod, a rusty old three-seater that had just enough room for us and the grumpy pilot. I didn't know what kind of hell she would have raised if there had only been room for me. I was glad not to have had to find out.

We got strapped in, and the little pod spun around and headed for a freighter in the distance, parked out towards the stars, beyond the close-orbit traffic of shuttles, spacedocks, and maintenance and tourist stations. The freighter seemed poised to leap out of the solar system, just waiting for its stubby little pod to get back with the high-paying hitchhikers.

Colette was quiet and withdrawn on the way over, periodically gripping the small satchel she held in her lap. I leaned over to her. "You ok?"

She seemed startled by my question, but she recovered quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Fine." My intrusion seemed to shake her out of her mild state of self-hypnosis. The light came back to her eyes, and she renewed the focus of her attention on me. "Sean, this is your last chance. Going to Sirius IV is a fool's errand, and you know it. Getting your money back doesn't even compare to the horror that's killing my daughter, what's killing thousands of people on my planet. But I recognize this is probably the most important decision you've made in a long time. So please don't screw it up." I watched her, unfazed, but I listened patiently as she continued. "You know Atlas. You know how they work, what makes them tick. You have inside knowledge that can really make a difference, that can SAVE LIVES."

Her eyes lit up suddenly and she interrupted herself. "I've got it!"

"What?" I said tiredly.

"You be Geelan!" She stared at me with all the intensity stored in her solid athletic frame.

"What?"

"Geelan conned you, right? He convinced you that there was a cheap, alternative source of rimonium. Do to Atlas what Geelan did to you. Con THEM!"

The idea was so original and underhanded that I actually gave it a moment's thought. But I shook it off just as quickly. "When I get back from Sirius IV, yes, we can talk about that. It sounds like a good idea. But not now. I've got to find out what happened to Rindilosk."

Her face hardened again. There it was, that icy resolve chilling the air between us again. It surprised me how much I found myself regretting it this time. For some reason, the idea of jerking her chain just didn't seem fun anymore. She had gone back into her combat mode, and I just felt bad.

"We have all the resources on Gaia that you're going to find on Sirius IV," she urged, straining to keep her voice calm, straining to keep the rising panic in her voice at bay.

"Yeah, everything but the people," I snorted, “which is where the real information is.”

"Please, Sean, I'm begging you." Her eyes were earnest and sincere.

She had run out of cards. And time. The pod bumped unexpectedly against the hull of the freighter, and there were all sorts of hissing and clunking noises as the pod was secured and the airlock pressurized.

"Please, Sean." Her voice was just above a whisper. Her hands alternately clutched and released her satchel, like a cat kneading a carpet.

The somber curl of my mouth offered only a silent apology. "Are you coming with me?" I asked.

The hatch opened to the airlock, and the pilot waved me out. I undid my straps and pulled myself gently out, floating effortlessly into the short, stubby airlock. God, it felt good to float in zero-g again. I couldn't believe how much I had missed it. The sudden thrill of that utterly comfortable feeling spread through my body, and I felt a giant wave of hope and excitement course through me. I missed space. I knew I was back home. I did some gleeful somersaults in the airlock, waiting for the pilot to join me, and Colette if she decided to come. I found myself earnestly hoping she would.

I heard some commotion behind me, and I looked back. Colette had gotten her straps undone, but when she pulled herself up she had hit her head against the top of the pod, and flipped herself upside down. She was struggling and cursing to get oriented so she could shoot herself into the airlock. The pilot was cursing too, but in utter frustration at the seeming idiocy of his passengers. He gave her a rough shove from his seat, and she barreled toward me in an uncontrolled spin. A disoriented cry escaped her lips. I planted my body against the rear of the airlock, and stretched my arms and legs to get myself vised in position. Then I reached out my hands as Colette spun toward me and in a single combined motion I righted her and pulled her safely into my arms, where her face landed inches away from mine. We stared at each other for a moment, as both our breaths caught, then she pushed away, more gently this time so she could stay in control of her body.

"Thanks," she grumbled.

"That's ok. Takes practice. I'm an old hand."

The pilot joined us, and the hatch to the pod closed. We waited for the airlock to pressurize to the level of the freighter, then the inner hatch opened, and we drifted into the dirty, unkempt interior of the freighter.

The pod’s pilot directed us to a seating area nearby, and helped us strap in. He showed us how to reach him with a computer-controlled intercom within reach. "Strap it tight, we're outta here in 5 minutes," was all he said before he vanished from sight.

Colette was clutching her satchel, and had one hand stuck in it, not moving. She was swallowing, and looking intently ahead of her.

"Yes, Sash, yes!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Thank God. What have you found?"

I looked over at her. Her eyes were getting wider by the second. "Jesus..." She listened some more, and I watched her hand slip out of her bag. "Are you sure?" she challenged the invisible caller. A pause. Her voice took an air of finality. "You’re absolutely sure?" she queried. More quiet. "Hold on. I want him to see this for himself. Aw, thank Christ," she added for her own sake.

She looked at me with the kind of relief only the mother of a dying child can feel. A call icon flashed in my peripheral vision. "I'm conferencing you in," she said. "You gotta see this."

I acknowledged her hail, and two images appeared in front of me: Colette -- as she appeared sitting next to me -- and a slim, middle-aged black man, with only a thin layer of curly hair on his dark head. He stood before a nondescript tan background. It could have been a wall, or a curtain, or anything else for all I could see.

"Show him, Sash," she exclaimed. "Show him everything you showed me."

The man nodded and turned his head slightly to face me. A new window opened on my desktop, which displayed a recorded feed from a routine surveillance camera of some sort. It looked like the gate to some industrial facility of some kind. In the background wandered Earth soldiers, weapons slung at their side. One person came across the camera, and another went. Then I saw a third enter the frame, standing between two other men, as if escorting him in. The Sirian looked up at the camera with that trademark zombie stare, and I could clearly see that it was Geelan.

"Where did you get this?" I exclaimed. "When was this taken?"

"Do you recognize the face of that Sirian?" the black man intoned.

"Yes, yes! Where did you get it?"

Sash took a breath of deep satisfaction. "Then it is your 'Geelan' after all. We have a few more Sirians coming across our shores than you Earthlings do, but still not too many."

"Fine. Where did you get this video? How long ago was this?"

Sash shrugged. "The video is only a week old."

"Where was it taken?"

"It's very odd," he said. "It was a tricky signal to catch. Corporate signals always are." Sash looked at me intently, as if his expression said it all. "That video feed is from a surveillance camera here on Gaia. The camera is located just up the road, at the main gate to the Atlas rimonium mining facility."