Gabriel stared at the widest crisis pocket he’d engineered yet, a round bubble currently held stable at four points with extra technological rigging. The most elegant piece of tech he’d ever handled, standing only by the grace of rudimentary biotech scaffolding.
The Admiral had requested a larger model for Frontier missions as protection for Alliance citizens and ships. Gabriel and Maisha were developing tech for commercial use but he was happy to contribute to the social good. The extra credits were nice but the real purpose behind his work was science. More work meant more science.
“First support group retracting in five seconds,” Maisha announced through the com in his ear. The bubble strained at the edges, pushed to its limit.
Gabriel’s research had taught him that the secret to Elder tech was in containing the chaos around the previously unimaginable sources of power they could now harness. The negative was as important as the positive when it came to creating a sustainable equation.
“Second support group retracting in five, four, three…”
But dark matter followed rules unlike anything he’d encountered before. Humanity had only recently begun to measure dark particles in the two centuries before the Elders sent them a few shortcuts. The elusive material seemed more temperamental rather than logical.
“Third support group retracting,” Maisha continued.
What was more likely – Gabriel simply wasn’t privy to the logic behind the behavior of dark matter. Not yet, at least.
“Final support group retraction complete.”
And the bubble stood. For one second, two seconds, three.
The dampening numbers stood, too. Until they didn’t.
Gabriel tried to calibrate to the escalating readings but they spun out of his grasp like unraveling threads. The pocket trembled, wobbled, then collapsed in on itself.
“Fuck,” he muttered and dropped his head.
“It stood longer than last time, at least,” Maisha said through his com. She was stationed on the control panel on the opposite side of the testing area.
“We should’ve made more progress in six weeks.”
“You know this is part of the process. We’re in the slog right now.”
“Right.” He didn’t have the energy to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“Chin up.” Hadad patted Gabriel on the back. “Progress comes to the patient.”
Admiral Nguyen stood on the central observation deck with a handful of lieutenants and her science team. They huddled and conferred amongst themselves from their vantage point.
“Time to face the firing squad,” Gabriel muttered.
“Fortunately the world has moved on from such barbaric measures,” Hadad quipped. “But I wouldn’t put it past the Admiral if she were in charge in those times.”
“It’s showing promise,” the Admiral said when Gabriel and Hadad joined them.
Gabriel nodded. “Thank you.”
She paused as if waiting for him to say more. But Gabriel’s thoughts were too clouded for social pleasantries. He just felt… tired. She and Hadad exchanged glances.
“Okay, then.” The Admiral turned to Maisha as she joined them from the other console. “When can we expect another update?”
Maisha threw Gabriel the slightest of exasperated looks. He doubted anyone else noticed it – he wouldn’t have if he didn’t know her so well. But she swooped in and swept away the conversation. He would apologize to her later. For now, he was grateful for her efforts.
Gabriel turned back to the lab but Hadad put a hand on his arm. “Let’s grab a drink.”
He let out a breath. What was he going to do at the lab now anyway? Probably stare at a wall of numbers until they numbed his brain. “Sure.”
They passed through the lab’s security checks into the wide main corridor of the research station. The Admiral had offered them use of the Alliance facilities on the science barge halfway between Earth and Mars. And while the lab was bigger than Gabriel and Maisha were used to – the barge was a good four times the size of Maisha’s ship – Frontier One eclipsed the station in size as it docked nearby.
The station looked like it was built piecemeal over time with a variety of structures attached to the circular corridor in the center like barnacles. A low-profile maintenance crew populated the station along with a few other research teams.
Importantly, it had a local bar. About the size of a shoebox and usually only half full.
“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” Hadad asked as they sat down.
Gabriel ordered a drink from the menu and shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
Hadad raised his brow. “What?” Gabriel asked.
“Nothing.” Hadad ordered as well. “You’re just usually more verbose than this.”
Gabriel smiled because it was something he could imagine Ilana saying. And there she was again. In his head.
Not that it took much to summon her. She was always a short reach away in his mind.
“Work just doesn’t have the same luster,” Gabriel finally said. Hadad had been Gabriel’s mentor for two decades but they mostly spoke professionally. Mostly because the professional had always been the focus for Gabriel. “The scientific process has always given me a thrill. And I should be excited, especially now with the Alliance contract. But…”
“You’re distracted.” It was not a question. “And I don’t blame you for it.”
It was Gabriel’s turn to raise his brow. Hadad raised one back.
“Are you really going to make me spell it out, man?” his mentor said.
“Fine, fine,” Gabriel capitulated. In all their years together, Hadad had never met any of Gabriel’s potential interests. His engagements never got that far or deep. Ilana was an obvious anomaly, one that Hadad’s keen mind wouldn’t miss. “It doesn’t matter, in any case. She hasn’t reached out to me in six weeks. I imagine she’s moved on by now.”
As usual, Hadad didn’t miss a beat. “Have you reached out to her?”
“That didn’t seem appropriate, considering her last request for space.”
“There’s giving someone space and then there’s letting them go completely.”
Gabriel ruminated on this. “What would you suggest I do?”
“There’s no harm in testing the waters. Just reach out with a short hello. See how she responds. Then cater your response appropriately.”
But she might never respond. Or her response may be lukewarm – she may not have been thinking of him nearly as much as he’d been thinking of her. And then Gabriel would have to reckon with her confirmed rejection instead of merely musing on the possibility.
Hadad reached out with a reassuring grip on Gabriel’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, she positively glowed at you that night. You know how much of a devilishly handsome charmer I am, and she had no eyes for me as soon as you showed up. I’d be shocked if you were rebuffed.”
That actually helped Gabriel to hear. “You are good at reading people.” Hadad was a master at the politics of human interaction, something Gabriel never particularly understood nor cared to try. So he supposed he had no one to blame for missing any hint of what came next.
His mentor reached out and put a heavy hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabe, the Admiral has a new project and she wants to give the contract to Petra Industries.”
“Oh?” Gabriel straightened. “What project?”
“She wants to build the Gate. Using your technology.”
Gabriel laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
Elation, validation, and relief surged through him. What an incredible opportunity to ride the cutting edge of scientific discovery. To construct a bridge between humanity and the first extra-Solar civilization to ever make Contact. To continue that conversation.
No one had tried to build the Gate before. It was a half-transmitted blueprint stuck forever in political limbo between those who wanted to develop it immediately and those who believed a connection with the Elders would mean the end of humanity as we knew it.
So like most other political discourse, Gabriel ignored it as best he could, kept his head down, and innovated with the information they had on hand, incomplete as it was.
But if someone had actually cleared the roadblocks and opened the doors to making the Gate a reality – then by all means, Gabriel was on board.
He shook Hadad’s hand. “That’s incredible.”
Hadad gave his shoulder an encouraging shake. “You’re doing great work here. Which is why you’re going to continue that work. Here.”
Gabriel couldn’t keep the grin from on his face. “What do you mean? Is this lab even equipped for such an operation?” This was at an entirely different scale than their startup.
“You will continue your vital work with the crisis pocket here,” Hadad said. “Until the projects converge, Matthew Lewis will head up the Gate contract.”
The mental whiplash ground Gabriel’s brain to a halt. “Lewis?” he sputtered. “That… hack? What does he… how has his research even…? This has got to be a joke.”
Hadad leaned in and spoke in low, urgent tones. “Your research here is focused. That’s what we need – that fine-point focus. The Gate runs on the fundamentals that you’ve built up with the crisis pocket. The rest is just window dressing. It’s Alliance bureaucracy from start to finish. Lewis and I will shield you from that so that you can continue the work.”
“Fuck that.” Had Gabriel the capacity to self-filter, he may have toned down his vitriol. But he was rattled, raw. “Lewis would never shield me from shit. He just wants the glory.”
Hadad raised a brow. “And you don’t?”
Gabriel glowered at him. “You know I don’t.”
“Hm,” was all he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisis pocket, a honey-colored marble displayed plainly on his palm. “The scientific glory is here. This is what matters the most, and I need you at the helm. The Gate will be ready when you are.”
Gabriel still felt unsure when Hadad got up to leave, patting him on the back with an encouraging platitude. “We’ll touch base again soon. This is an exciting time.”
Gabriel’s feelings roiled with confused furor as he threw back the remainder of his drink. His elation had turned so sour so suddenly, he felt dazed. His heart was racing in his chest, tight and constrained as if he were wearing heavy compression clothes. What had just happened?
He slammed down his glass and stood to stalk back to his lab when he heard an unexpected voice from behind him. “Funny running into you here, stranger.”
Gabriel wasn’t sure his brain could survive another whiplash of this magnitude. He swirled to find Ilana standing behind him at the bar.
He hoped he recovered quickly enough as he dipped his head in greeting. His heart was beating at a sprint now, but his mood had lightened considerably. “And you.”
Ilana sat in the seat Hadad had vacated. Gabriel tried not to look at her like a strange fae creature he’d managed to summon with his earlier conversation. As his logical brain raced to catch up, he realized she must still be stationed on Frontier One, which must not have left yet.
Ilana quietly ordered a drink. As Gabriel gathered his bearings, he realized she seemed more subdued than usual. Her eyes were downcast, missing their spark.
The Gate could wait. “What brings you here?” he asked.
“Just a change of scenery. I like to see how space stations work and I haven’t seen that many yet.” She shrugged. “Plus, who knows. This might be the last one I get to see for a while.”
“What do you mean?”
“Training is… not going well.” She took a long sip of her drink and looked away with a mirthless laugh. “I guess I just wasn’t made for space. My mom will be happy, at least.”
Gabriel found it hard to believe that the capable person he met six weeks ago would be giving up on her lifelong dream. “What’s the problem?”
“You saw what happened to me on the Lunar shuttle and it’s more of the same. I can’t complete a single spacewalk. Not even ten steps out and back.”
He considered this. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Anyway.” She sniffled and shook her head. “I doubt the Admiral’s gonna keep me around much longer. I might just save her the effort of firing me.”
“Is that the only problem?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” She waved this off. “I finished the other training modules already. But I haven’t gotten better at the open space portion at all. Which is pretty pathetic for a field agent.”
Gabriel looked straight ahead and chose his next words carefully. “Want to work on it?”
She blinked. “Work on what?”
“Your spacewalk.”
“What, right now?”
He shrugged, echoing her earlier words with a smile. “I don’t see why not.” Focusing on her issues was a welcome distraction from Hadad’s revelation.
Her lip twitched with a hint of humor. She straightened and stared at her glass in thought. “What makes you think you can help? Beckett would be offended by your hubris.”
“Who’s Beckett?”
“My trainer. Not the type you’d want to offend.”
“Quick-tempered?”
“Skull-crushing.” She winced. “Ah, fuck. Sorry.”
“Hm? Oh.” He remembered the sickening crunch of the attendant’s head and flinched, which was a better reaction than the nightmares he had the first week after the Lunar shuttle attack. “It’s okay. I’ve been through a decent amount of therapy for that.”
Her hand neared his on the counter. “Is it helping?”
He moved his hand, bringing his fingers closer to hers until they met in the middle to intertwine. She sighed, her body softening. He nodded. “It is.”
“Let’s do it,” she whispered and for a second he marveled at her boldness. Then he remembered he’d offered to help with her spacewalk.
He never did think with his big head when she was around.
“After you,” he said as she downed the last of her drink.
She hopped out of her seat but waited. “If you say so, but I don’t know where I’m going.”
Her cheekiness stirred a wicked impulse in Gabriel to smack her backside, make her jump again and maybe squeal a little. His hand twitched but he quickly shut down that voice. She’d wanted professional so he would be professional.
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