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Chapter 5
Nicolas Carver: 2053
Carver should have been in the room.
He should have been at the table, asking the questions. It seemed only fitting. This man had been on his agency’s space station, doing God-knows-what with his classified information. That, compounded with the fact that the man claimed the identity of a dead child, and Carver was cut out for one hell of an afternoon.
After all, the man couldn’t be Ryker.
He couldn’t be.
Ryker was dead.
Refusing his request to be in the room, the interrogators insisted that Carver watch from afar. So there Carver was, arms crossed against his broad chest as he peered at the disheveled man through a one-way mirror. To even look at the intruder made Carver’s stomach churn. Still, he couldn’t peel his eyes away.
“Something to drink?” the interrogator inside the room asked as he offered the man a can of soda. He adjusted his tortoiseshell glasses, scratched at a radiation burn on his neck, and gave an inviting smile to the man.
The intruder turned it down. “Why am I being questioned?”
“We’re just trying to learn more about you. You understand, don’t you?”
“I’ve told you everything there is to know. I survived the Prescott mission and have been stuck on the Gateway since. How many times do I have to explain it?”
“Hey,” the questioner made a defensive gesture with his hands, “I believe you. But those guys out there,” he subtly nodded to the one-way mirror, “won’t have the same reaction. If you were to give us a sign of what your business is here, it would help clear this up.”
The man shook his head with a frustrated smile. “You don’t believe me. God, you can stop pretending. It’s pissing me off already.”
“Sir, with all due respect, the information you gave us about yourself doesn’t add up in the way we would like. We have at least a couple dozen files that say otherwise.”
“I understand how this may sound. But please, you have to trust me. I don’t have a mental issue, and this isn’t some sick prank,” said the intruder as he twirled a silver ring on his index finger.
“Just see it from my perspective: a man shows up claiming to be someone who has been dead for twenty-three years. Now, I’m not completely ruling out the possibility that you’re telling the truth, but—”
“I didn’t just ‘show up.’ I flew on a goddamn dropship down from the Gateway! Name one way I could do that without already being up there with enough knowledge to launch one.” He spoke through his teeth with forced restraint.
“Sir, I need you to remain calm.”
Carver sensed that the interrogator needed help and moved for the door. He opened it, striding inside with the confidence of a man who hadn’t been told to stay away. “How are things going in here?” Carver asked.
The interrogator stood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carver. I seem to be having a little trouble.” He dipped forward a little, hands folded behind his back. Then, he itched the burn on his neck again.
Carver clapped the interrogator on the shoulder. “No worries. If he’s a spy, he’s trained to stay quiet.” Carver wasn’t sure if the man was a spy, but the alternative was worse. Far worse. “You.” He pointed at the man. “How many colonists were on the Prescott mission?”
“Before or after the crash? Or the meteor? Or the Red Plague—”
“The original crew,” Carver said.
The man took a minute to think it over. “Nine-hundred-eighty-four, I think.”
Carver nodded thoughtfully. “You studied. I’ll give you that.”
“I didn’t study,” the intruder said.
“Fine. Maybe you were a part of Prescott. Maybe I shit rainbows and have a pot of gold in my office. Regardless, we’ve gotta run some tests.” Carver checked his watch. “First, we’ll determine who you are, then—”
The man shook his head. “What kind of tests?”
“Second, if the outcome of the first test is in your favor, then we have to be sure that you’re not infected.”
“Infected? I lived up there for twenty-three years! Don’t you think I’d be dead by now?”
“We can’t take any chances.”
“No? Then what are you doing here?” He pretended to cough. “Pretty risky, don’t you think?” He coughed again. “If I’m infected.”
Carver gave him a hard stare but said nothing.
“Well, I’m not doing it.” The man sat back and crossed his arms. “Fuck your tests.”
“If you’ve got nothing to hide, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Carver motioned at two guards in the hallway. They lumbered into the room and approached the man.
The intruder sat up straight, on alert. “Hang on. You can’t—”
One of the guards grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. The other guard slapped restraints around his wrists as he pleaded, “No! No! I’m telling the truth!” The man looked at Carver as if he would find any help there.
The next thing he knew, he was being pulled toward the exit with kicking legs and thrashing shoulders. “Please! You have to believe me. I’m Ryker Gagarin. You don’t need to use me as some fucking lab rat! I’m Ryker Ga—!” His voice cut off abruptly as the door shut.
Still in the room, Carver looked at the interrogator. He signaled for him to come closer, then lowered his voice. “About the tests…”
“We’ll have them done right away.”
“Right, yes… But if he is who he says he is,” Carver paused. “I need to be the first to know.”
Zach Croft: 2053
“Come on, Jason. You’ve got to let me see him,” Zach said. He pulled out the cafeteria chair and sat down.
“I would if I could, but I can’t. Nobody sees him. Carver’s orders.” Jason shrugged, then took a bite of his sandwich.
Zach looked to Cora for help. She chimed in. “Zach just wants to ask him a couple of questions.”
“What’s the point?” Jason said through a mouthful of food. “They’re going to do DNA tests. That’ll tell you if it’s him.”
Zach adjusted his approach. “Look, you know what we went through up there, what I’ve lived with since. This is important to me. Please.”
“I know. I do. But I can’t just—”
“Jason. Look at me.” Cora said. Jason reluctantly turned his head in her direction. “This is important. Just do this, okay? For me?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Just five minutes. Right, Zach?” Cora raised her eyebrows in Zach’s direction.
“Or less.”
Jason chewed this sandwich slowly, then nodded. “Fine. Five minutes. I’ll radio in to get you clearance.”
“Thank you,” Zach said, then darted for the door.
Cora stepped forward and hugged Jason. “You’re the best.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, then followed Zach out the door.
Jason took another bite of his sandwich, a small smile on his lips.
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