The Darwin Elevator

Chapter Twenty-two

Gateway Station

4.FEB.2283

After an hour of lockdown, security finally came for Neil Platz.

He’d spent the time in his private office, running scenarios through his mind. What if the pilot Skyler hadn’t made it off the station? What if he failed to report back? A backup plan would be needed for inspecting the Aura’s generator deep below Nightcliff.

Neil toyed with the idea of explaining it to the council. Hell, even to Russell Blackfield. In the end he’d discarded that line of thought. If others knew of the generator’s existence, word would spread. Blackfield would be tempted to go poke around, perhaps making things worse. He might even do it on purpose.

All it took was one nutcase to go down there and set off a crude bomb, just as Sandeep had done to Foreshadow.

Neil still struggled with his options when he heard a commotion in the lobby beyond. Shouts, and tension thick as fog, came through the closed doors.

He stood and pressed the wrinkles from his slacks. After one last long look at Earth, he strode to the double doors and threw them open.

“What the devil is this about?” he roared.

His secretary stood behind his chair, pressed against the wall in the face of a squad of armed security guards.

“Search the entire place,” Alex Warthen said at the head of the group.

“Do no such thing,” Neil said.

The guards ignored the conflicting order and streamed by.

“This is an outrage,” Neil added.

Alex Warthen, pale-faced, mouth drawn in a tight line, stepped forward until he was just a few centimeters from Neil. He spoke in a quiet, deliberate tone. “What’s outrageous is the size of your damn testicles. You brought smugglers aboard my station under false circumstances.”

“I have no idea—”

“Enough, Neil. You’ve gone too far this time. You leave me no choice. I have four dead guards lying in the infirmary, along with two of your scavenger friends. One’s in the brig, and once she’s ready to talk, she’ll confirm what we already know.”

“This is all news to me,” Neil said. Two of the scavengers, dead. One captured. All he could think was whether Skyler had escaped. Warthen’s trigger-happy idiot brigade might have doomed everyone, and they’d never know it.

“We know one of them was here,” Alex said. “We have security cameras on the station, as you may be aware.”

“I can’t control every jackass who comes to this door. Present company included.”

Alex shook his head. He turned and waved to a guard behind him. The man came forward and handed Alex a portable terminal screen. Pad in hand, Alex tapped away for a moment before turning it to allow Neil to see.

“Watch,” Alex said.

“What is this?” Neil asked.

Alex produced a sad smile. “The earpieces my guards wear have cameras. This was recorded by the poor fellow assigned to escort the smugglers.”



“Roddy, what kinda piece they let you carry?” a young man asked. Neil had asked Prumble for a description of the entire Melville crew, and he guessed this was Angus.

The guard, Roddy, looked down at his drink. He picked up the glass and swirled it. “Just a little stunner.”

“Not the size that matters, eh?” a woman said with drunken mirth. Samantha, Neil surmised. The only woman in the crew, according to Prumble.

Roddy glanced up. The woman sat next to him, the young man just beyond her. “Only enforcers are allowed to carry coilguns. Too dangerous up here for the rest of us lugs.”

Samantha took a swig of her drink. She was uncommonly tall, with thick blond hair. “Can that little thing even put someone down?”

Roddy removed the device from his belt holster. He held it up in front of him. “Sure. The prongs go in, toxin releases, and whammo. Like they had a seizure.”

“Wonder if it could slow a sub down,” Angus said.

Roddy focused on him. “If one gets in here, I’ll find out—”

Samantha, studying the weapon, said, “Doubt it would work.”

Roddy looked from her, to the gun, and back. The motion of the video made Neil a bit nauseous. “You’ve faced one?”

“One? Hell, we’ve faced dozens.”

“Really?! What … I mean, how do you …”

Angus nudged Samantha with his elbow. “Company,” he whispered, just loud enough for the camera to pick it up.

Samantha whipped around to face the door, and Roddy followed her gaze.

The recording showed a squad of uniformed guards at the entrance to the bar. They fanned out to either side, while four entered and walked directly over to Sam and Angus.

They carried exotic weapons, Neil saw. He knew about coilguns: built for use in places where flames were something to avoid at all costs. Magnetized coils inside the body propelled special bullets that wouldn’t spark. No combustion and little recoil. Lethal at close range, but safe inside a space station. A few crates of the weapons were safely tucked away inside Hab-8, though Kelly said the risk of fire from a regular gun was actually quite low, and they need not bother. But Warthen’s people had regulations to conform to. Without such concerns, Kelly preferred overwhelming firepower, and trust in the fire suppression systems.

Roddy stood abruptly. “Evening, Commander Weck. Is something wrong?”

Commander Weck was a short man. Bald and soft, with a scowl saying he wanted to prove otherwise. “Who owns that boat in bay four?”

Roddy looked past the man, to a table in the far corner. Neil saw the last smuggler sitting there, the engineer named Takai. The poor fellow looked white as a ghost. The other chair at his table was empty. Skyler must have occupied it.

Roddy answered, “He’s right over … Well, he was over there. I …”

“Yes,” Commander Weck said, eyes darting toward the bar, the drinks. “Amazing that he escaped under your vigilant watch.”

Samantha came into frame, on her feet now. She dwarfed the watch commander. “Is there a problem, Bonaparte?”

“Who the hell are you?” Weck asked.

“Sam. I crew on that ‘boat,’ and my captain probably just stepped out to take a shit in your precious station. He might even do it in a toilet.”

The camera tracked Roddy’s frantic gaze from her to the young pilot. Angus winced at the woman’s slurred words.

“Ah,” Weck said, “you’re familiar with such a device?”

Samantha smiled. “Your face reminded me.”

On reflex, he put a hand on his slung weapon.

“Know how to use that thing, Hightower?” Samantha asked.

“Take it easy, Sam,” Angus said.

Roddy moved between them. “Commander, relax. They’re just waiting until the repairs are done.”

“Bollocks,” Weck said. “There’s nothing wrong with their ship. Someone sabotaged it. And now their captain is missing. Coincidence?”

Angus spoke up. “Impossible. I’m the pilot, and that latch—”

“Someone ask you a question?” Weck said.

Angus snapped his mouth shut.

Watching, Neil felt his mouth go dry, and he swallowed.

“Enforcer Nichols,” Weck said over his shoulder.

Another guard behind him stepped forward. “Sir.”

“Take them to the brig, have their ship searched, and find—”

Samantha kicked the commander square in the chest. He tumbled into a nearby table.

“Bloody hell,” Neil whispered to himself.

She wasted no time, picking up the weapon Roddy foolishly left on the counter. She fired the toxic prongs into the guard called Nichols. Within seconds, he was convulsing violently.

“Sam, what the hell?!” Angus shouted.

She dove forward, landing on the third guard as he fumbled with his rifle. Her fist flew into his jaw with a deep thud.

Roddy watched all this without moving. He saw Takai, the engineer, crouched low, moving along the wall toward the door. He probably intended to leave and find Skyler, or run for their ship.

The melee raged in the center of the tavern. Guards dove on top of Samantha. Workers scrambled out of their seats, pressing themselves against the walls.

Roddy turned to look at Angus, perhaps thinking he should finally perform his duty as a guard. But Angus had moved already. He crouched down over Weck, who lay limp on the floor, and wrestled the man’s rifle away.

“He’s armed!” Roddy shouted.

Guards leaned in from either side of the entrance, raising their weapons.

Angus tried the trigger, but the weapon didn’t cooperate. He frantically fumbled for the safety.

“Drop it, now!” yelled a guard from the door.

Angus found the button and pressed it. He raised the gun and pulled the trigger. But Commander Weck, who’d come around, kicked wildly at the pilot’s ankles. Angus lost balance just as the gun chattered, spraying bullets wildly along the ceiling.

Panic erupted.

Most of the workers still in the bar dove under their tables. A few ran for the door, escaping an instant before the guards there began to return fire.

Roddy crouched behind his bar stool. He watched as Angus jumped behind the only solid cover in the place, the bar itself. The guards sprayed bullets in short bursts toward him. In a panic Roddy threw his arms over his face. Neil heard the sound of bullets hammering into the walls, the crash of the mirror behind the bar as it shattered.

As his comrades scuffled on the floor with Samantha, Roddy began to crawl for the end of the bar. He took frustratingly few glances at the melee unfolding all around him.

The sound, however, told Neil enough. This was no simple fistfight, and no simple denial would satisfy Alex. Investigations and endless council meetings would result, and Neil couldn’t afford that kind of nonsense right now.

Roddy stopped at the end of the bar. Only a few seconds had passed since the combat erupted. The last immune, the engineer Takai, could be seen at the door now. The little engineer threw a punch at the guard closest to him, a weak blow that glanced off. Neil watched, helpless, as the guard jabbed the butt of his gun into Takai’s face, sending him sprawling.

Angus must have sensed the opening. Neil could hear gunfire, much closer. Roddy jerked in reaction to the loud noise, his gaze still on the action at the door. Bullets tore through the guard who had hit Takai. Red splotches appeared under the torn fabric across his chest.

Angus released another burst toward the other side of the opening, but the guard there had already ducked away, the special bullets shattering as they hit the wall.

“Sam, get back here!” the pilot shouted.

Roddy glanced at her. In the footage, Neil could see the tall woman on all fours, her face contorted in pain, blood on her shirt. A combat knife lay on the ground in front of her.

Beyond her, Neil saw Takai try to stand, one hand covering his bloodied face. Angus shouted a warning.

A burst of gunfire from the hall outside ripped through Takai’s shoulder and chest. He fell, life gone from his body.

From behind the bar, Angus shouted with primal rage. He let loose a hail of bullets toward the door. The guards there disappeared behind the wall again.

The guard Roddy finally overcame his cowardice, or shock—both, Neil guessed—and started to round the bar. He came out of his crouch and tried to wrestle the gun from Angus. The pilot, in the grip of bloodlust, kicked Roddy back and turned his weapon on the guard.

Neil almost looked away as the salvo flew. Roddy staggered back, the camera swinging up to the ceiling and then over to the side as the poor guard fell. He landed on the floor, one limp arm covering half the camera’s view. The picture, now tilted ninety degrees, showed the center of the tavern.

Samantha picked up the knife in front of her. Screaming through clenched teeth, she buried the blade in the already dead body of the guard under her.

Angus came into view. He grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to pull her toward the bar. She brushed him off, picking up a gun from the floor.

“Get back here, dammit!”

She ignored him and limped toward the door, her rifle coughing bullets.

The barrel of a gun appeared around the wall of the entrance: a guard, firing blind.

“Get down!” Angus yelled. Then he stopped, almost frozen in place. He looked around, confused, then down at himself. He had his back to the camera, but Neil knew.

Angus dropped to his knees, then toppled to one side.

Samantha hadn’t even noticed; her sights were on the door. She tried to fire again, but the rifle only clicked. Visibly defeated, she tossed it aside as guards stormed in from the door and tackled her.



The image on the screen vanished, replaced by an exclamation point and the words “stream not found.”

“The f*ck is this?” Alex said.

Neil hoped his brief smile went unnoticed. He knew immediately what had happened.

Alex Warthen fiddled with the device, frustration growing by the second. The guard who provided the gadget tried to help, but Alex waved him off. “Go find another one,” he barked.

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me,” Neil said. He struggled to hide the shock in his voice.

“We’ve reason to believe a murderer is being harbored here,” Alex said. He gave the device a smack with the flat of his hand. “Dammit,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Nonsense,” Neil said. “Who?”

“Kelly Adelaide.”

“Haven’t seen her in months, since I fired her.”

“Lie all you want,” Alex said. “We’ll see what the footage has to say, once we’ve gathered it all.”

“Sir,” the guard said, “this one has the same problem.”

“Try another feed,” Alex said.

“I can’t access any of them,” the man replied.

Neil watched as comprehension washed over Alex’s face. “Son of a bitch. She’s erasing the archive.”

“Sounds like a tight operation you’re running here,” Neil said.

Alex ignored the jibe. He turned away and began to blurt orders into his handheld. Something about wanting a team at the data center right away. Neil smirked, despite himself. Kelly would be long gone by the time they arrived. She knew the maze of maintenance tunnels and ventilation ducts aboard Gateway better than anyone.

The security chief whirled on him. “This is a serious offense, Platz. If I find out you gave the order—”

Neil dismissed the tirade with a casual wave of his hand. “Looks like an unfortunate barroom brawl to me, combined with inept data management. You can leave now.”

Alex Warthen seethed. A response came to his lips, only to be interrupted by the return of the men he’d sent inside to search the office.

“No one here by her description, sir,” said one of the enforcers.

Alex held Neil’s intense stare. “Keep the station on full lockdown,” he said to the guard, “until we’ve sorted this out. Perhaps the scavenger in my infirmary will shed some light, if she lives.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Platz. I still have witnesses to interview, and backup data to restore.”

Neil stood firm, and offered Alex nothing else to go on. He knew he’d won.



Neil sat with his staff in the office lobby, eating a simple meal of hummus spread between slices of a stiff potato bread, when one of Alex Warthen’s underlings came by to tell them the lockdown had been removed.

“They caught her?” Neil asked, too quickly.

“Can’t find her.”

“What of the pilot? The scavenger pilot.”

“He escaped on his ship,” the guard replied. “I’d better not say anything else.”

Neil nodded, dismissing the man. He’d heard nothing from Kelly since she ran from the office to follow Skyler. And while he doubted now that she’d escaped aboard the scavenger’s ship, he felt he could not stay around to wait for her. Gateway Station had become unfriendly territory. Best, he thought, to vacate in favor of Platz Station, farther up the cord. He didn’t want to be around when Alex Warthen finally produced evidence linking the scavengers, or Kelly, back to him. Evidence he should have, by all rights. The endeavor had come off in sloppy fashion. Loss of life, and the scavenger captain forced to flee without his crew of immunes.

No, let Alex try to yank me from my own home. I can dig in with the best of them.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said to his employees. During the lockdown, Neil had instructed them to pack anything important and be prepared to leave, and so they had.

To the receptionist he said, “Shut everything off; lock the doors behind us.”

“When should I reopen?”

“I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you have a new job: wanderer. I expect you to spend a lot of time roaming around the station. Send me daily reports on what you hear, and who you hear it from.”

“Of course.”

“Things will get tense around here. Anything out of the ordinary, you let me know immediately,” Neil added.

The man nodded, a serious expression on his face.

“The rest of you, with me.”

Neil carried a stuffed briefcase in one hand and a portable comm in the other. He led the group at a brisk pace through the hallways. The corridors were empty save for Warthen’s guards, who made themselves far more visible than normal. Two were stationed at almost every junction.

To Neil’s surprise and relief, the guards simply watched them go. He couldn’t blame the anger on their faces. Some of their own had died today. Murdered, Alex said. By Kelly. Violence, even bloodshed, in orbit was almost unheard of. Anyone guilty of such a crime would be pushed out the nearest airlock, or sent back to Darwin. There was no room for extended jailing in orbit, and no tolerance for people who couldn’t contribute.

He came to the docking bay on the “top side” of the station. Inside, he ushered everyone into his personal climber, instructing them to pack tightly. He had no desire to make two trips. Within minutes, the vehicle jutted out from Gateway Station, using the thread of the Elevator as a guide wire.

As the modest craft drifted away from Gateway, Neil considered the situation. He knew he needed to stay a move ahead of Alex if his plans were to succeed. Action must be taken or he’d be at the mercy of Warthen’s guards.

He excused himself from the main cabin and entered a small room, alone. He activated the comm and dialed Platz Station.

“Put Karl Stromm on,” Neil said to the woman who answered.

It took five minutes to find him.

“This is Karl.”

“Neil Platz here. Kelly tells me you’re someone I can trust, someone who can get things done.”

“I do my best,” he said.

“No time for modesty.”

“Kelly’s a smart woman,” he offered.

“Good enough,” Neil said. “Consider yourself promoted. Self-defense training time is over.”

“All right,” he said. “What happened?”

Neil quickly recounted the events aboard Gateway. “Keep quiet about this. Kelly is incommunicado, so I’m calling you directly. First, contact every station where we have representatives. Tell them to be vigilant. Take care who they talk to, or where they talk. Warthen all but admitted he has spies all over. Not to mention his damned guards.”

“No problem. I’ll get the word out.”

“Everywhere but Anchor,” Neil said. “I want you to handle that personally.”

“How so?”

“Pick a few of your best pupils and prepare to travel there. You’ll need a cover … a replacement janitorial crew, maybe. Talk to Mr. Brill in personnel; he can be trusted to an extent. I’ll send him a note authorizing it.”

“What do we do when we get there?”

“I’m still working on that,” Neil said. “Just be ready to act. If you don’t hear from me directly, you’re to do whatever Tania Sharma asks. Until then, no matter what happens, lie low. Clean floors, listen, and keep me informed. Most of all, keep tabs on Warthen’s men. Their shifts, patrol routes, whatever.”

“I think I get the picture,” Karl said.

“Good man. Safe travels.”