The Darwin Elevator

Chapter Thirty-two

Anchor Station

9.FEB.2283

Tania rubbed the sleep from her eyes and read the message again:


Speak to no one.

Go immediately to Room 32, Gray Level. Password: Antelope.

—N.P.


Neil, here? A chill ran down her spine; a million little bumps rose on her arms.

She pulled on a jumpsuit, her mind racing.

A thick air of tension gripped Anchor Station. After word came of the battle on Platz Station, security began to block access to the docking bays.

Orders, they said.

Rumors spread of the turmoil in the council. Some said Neil had resigned; others said Alex had. She’d even heard that Alex had thrown Neil in the brig for “treachery.”

And now, her first word from Neil. The cryptic nature did little to help her anxiety.

Stepping out of her room into the dark hallway, she considered waking Natalie. Whatever happened now, they were in this together, and Tania found she craved the comfort of a confidante.

Speak to no one.

She heard the words, in Neil’s authoritative voice. Memories came with it, of sitting under an avocado tree, of watching ants devour a lone straggler fallen from the maze of branches. He’d spoken to her in that voice then, urged her to take on the project alone. She’d betrayed him then, but wouldn’t now.

Moving at a natural pace, Tania made her way to Gray Level. She rarely visited the section, but the layout mirrored the others. As she walked, she wondered if a guard might stop her. In the past few days, some of her staff had complained of being questioned when moving between levels.

Again, orders.

She considered contacting Alex Warthen directly, demanding an explanation, and the thought made her miss Neil even more. She always took such concerns to him and knew he would champion her causes in front of the council.

She reached room thirty-two unscathed. From the faded sign on the wall, it was a typical station conference room.

Trying the door, she found it locked. A swipe of her access card did nothing. On the manual keypad below the card slot, she tapped the numbers that spelled Antelope.

The lock disengaged with a subtle click, and she opened the door to a room full of people. Neil Platz was not among them.

“Come in and close the door,” a man at the table said. Tall and thin, gray hair in two tufts over each ear, and wearing square-rimmed glasses. He looked vaguely familiar.

She took one step inside and let the door click closed behind her. An oval-shaped table dominated the room. Chairs had surrounded it, but they had been pushed to the far wall.

Roughly twenty men and women stood at the table, studying maps of the station splayed out across the surface. As Tania entered, they all stopped and stared at her.

She thought she had seen a few of them around the station, but she couldn’t name a single one.

“What’s going on here?” she asked. “Who are you?”

“Karl Stromm,” the balding man answered.

“Do I know you?”

He shot her a friendly smile. “I served you breakfast this morning.”

The memory jumped to the front of her mind, clear as day. This man, in an apron, dishing out her imitation eggs. She looked over the rest of them, and the pieces fell into place. Low-level maintenance workers, cooks, cleaning crew.

People who went unnoticed.

“I take it that Neil did not brief you,” Karl said.

Tania shook her head.

He nodded, once. “Join us at the table. We need your help.”

“Help with what?” she asked, cautiously approaching the map-laden surface.

“Neil wants to stay a step ahead of the enemy.”

She felt her pulse quicken. “What do you mean?”

“Mutiny, Miss Sharma. Mutiny.”