“I know about him,” Smith told her. “He was working for Karl Bauer.”
“Bauer?”
“He was the man you saw with Reed the night before the launch. Bauer's onboard right now. He came to take the smallpox mutation Reed had created in microgravity. But he's not going to just walk out of here, Megan. He has to destroy all evidence of what happened on this flight.”
Then he told her exactly where the shuttle was parked and why, about the holding chamber that was really a giant crematorium.
Megan shook her head. “No, Jon,” she said. 'He's doing it another way.
“What do you mean?”
Megan pointed to an overhead readout she had noticed a moment ago. “That's the autodestruct sequence, armed and counting down. Once it's been set, it can't be turned off or extended. We have less than four minutes before the shuttle explodes.”
Seventy seconds later, Smith and Megan Olson were climbing out of the craft the way Smith had gone in.
Megan shuddered when she looked around the cavernous death chamber. She turned to Smith, who was locking the hatch they had passed through.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure that no one follows us.” He stepped on a tire, then to the ground. “Let's go.”
Moving as quickly as their bulky suits permitted, they came around the wing. Megan gasped when she saw the cocoon mated to the shuttle's lower escape hatch and to the cavity in the far wall.
“Is that how we're supposed to get out?”
“It's the only way.”
As they approached the cocoon, Smith could see that the hatch to the shuttle was closed. There was no sign of Bauer inside the plastic tunnel or in the pass-through decontamination area. From his RAID suit he brought out a knife with a retractable blade, and with a few bold strokes, cut an opening in the cocoon.
“Go through,” he told Megan, then followed her into the cocoon.
Once inside, Megan turned when she no longer felt Smith's hand on her shoulder. She found him staring at the hatch.
“Jon, we're running out of time!”
Then she saw the cold, pitiless expression behind his faceplate, the grief in his eyes. His anger spilled into her as she pictured the bodies of her crewmates, the terrible way they had died. She understood exactly what he intended to do.
“Go down the tunnel,” Smith said. “Don't stop. Don't look back. There's a decontamination chamber right behind the blast door.”
“Jon ??”
“Go, Megan.”
Smith didn't think of the time that he had left, of the odds of making it out of the chamber alive. He knew that men like Bauer, rich and powerful, seldom if ever paid for their crimes ? especially since those who could have condemned them were already dead. Worse, Bauer would try again. Somewhere, sometime, there would be another Cassandra Compact.
Smith hurried through the small decontamination pass-through ? the size of a shower stall ? and came up to the hatch. Through the rectangular porthole he saw the mutilated body of Dylan Reed and Bauer, holding a ceramic capsule in the palm of his hand.
He wasn't going to bring out the entire sample. He didn't need to. A drop would be more than enough. A drop he could hide in his suit; that would be enough to re-create the monstrosity.
Crouching, Smith opened a panel at the bottom of the hatch and engaged the manual override. He rose just as Bauer turned, his expression one of total disbelief.
It can't be…!
Smith saw Bauer's lips move but didn't hear his words until he had changed the frequency on his helmet radio.
“…are you doing here?”
Silently he watched as Bauer punched the keypad, watched as his incredulity dissolved to horror when the hatch didn't open.
“What are you doing here?” Bauer screamed. “Open this hatch!”
“No, Doctor,” Smith replied. “I think I'll leave you with your creation.”
Bauer's face was contorted with fear. “Listen to me ?!”
Smith changed the frequency and began walking away. He thought he heard fists falling on the hatch, but knew that that was just his imagination.
“Control, this is Smith. Where's Olson?”
Static crackled in his ear, then a familiar voice came through. “Jon, this is Klein. Megan is safe. She's in the decontamination area. She told me that the autodestruct was armed.”
“Bauer did that.”
“Where is he?”
“Still inside.”
After a moment's hesitation, Klein replied, “Understood. We're opening the blast door, Jon. But you only have a few seconds. Hurry!”
At the end of the cocoon Smith saw the huge door start to swing open. With sweat pouring off him, he forced himself to move even faster. There it was, the cavity cut into the wall at the end of the cocoon.
Then the door stopped and began closing. He was still at least fifteen steps away.
“What's happening?” he demanded.
“The door closes automatically,” Klein shouted back. “It will seal five seconds before the blast. Jon, get out of there.”
Smith forced his screaming muscles to move even faster. One step, one second, one step, one second…
The blast door moved relentlessly, reducing the size of the opening. With a final desperate effort Smith hurled himself forward, hitting the leading edge of the door, squeezing himself through as it brushed by him and locked.
Seconds later, he was thrown to the ground as the earth seemed to rear up and something like a giant's fist slammed into the blast door.
He opened his eyes to white: ceiling, walls, sheets. With a soldier's instincts he lay perfectly still, then slowly, carefully moved his neck, hands, feet, arms, and legs. His body felt as though it had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel.
The door opened and Klein walked in.
“Where am I?” Smith asked, his voice weak.
“In the land of the living, I'm happy to say,” Klein replied. “The doctor tells me that you'll be just fine.”
“How-?”
“After the shuttle exploded, Jack Riley and his team went into the decontamination chamber, put you through the process, then got you out.”
“Megan?”
“She's fine. You both are.”
Smith felt his limbs turn to jelly. “It's over,” he whispered.
Somewhere far away he heard Klein reply, “Yes. The compact has been broken.”
EPILOGUE
According to the media reports, General Frank Richardson and NSA Deputy-Director Anthony Price were killed
