Orbital

Thirty-Nine Undercover

Samantha fixes me with an intense gaze that’s a mixture of when a woman looks at you with suspicion and the way a scientist scrutinizes something under a microscope.

She has me at a particular disadvantage, not only has she lured me into bit of a trap using a dirty trick, I’m very aware of the fact the she’s much more intelligent than I am.

It’s like I just walked into chess club to play checkers.

Where Tamara and Attwell were rather direct, if not blunt, with their suspicions, Samantha Turco has me cornered.

Her right hand is still gently massaging my foot as her thumb caresses the inside of my arch.

I’m clearly not cut out for this spy business. If she had me in a slightly more compromising position I’d be ready to give her nuclear secrets.

She’s waiting for an answer as her fingers tease my skin.

Jessup didn’t prepare me for this situation. I can handle flat out denial and insist that I’m up here to test equipment. But Samantha just dropped something I need on the table and wants an explanation.

I realize now that she didn’t volunteer to help me out because she was bored. She wanted to find something out about me and this gave her the perfect opportunity.

Was it curiosity? Or is something else at play here? If she’s the saboteur, then this could be a brilliant gambit — she’s put me on the spot to explain myself, while she’s the one with something to hide.

Okay, David. The longer you procrastinate, the more suspicious you look. Say something…

What did Bennet always tell us in training when we found ourselves in a situation we couldn’t see our way out of? Imagine someone you know who is smarter than you and do what you think they would do.

The smartest person I know is Markov. Maybe Laney in years will have his wisdom, but right now he’s probably one of the most intelligent people on the planet.

What would that old Russian spymaster do in this situation?

He’d turn a disadvantage into an advantage. Turco has me cornered and wants answers. I want answers. If she’s got something to hide, then she’ll try to avoid telling me. If she doesn’t, then she won’t try to conceal that.

I could try to tell her that the box was already coming loose, but if she saw me pry it off, then I’d be caught in a lie. Also, I have no business doing impromptu repairs on the station.

“What is this to you?” I finally reply.

She stop massaging my foot. “I’m the one asking you.”

“Look at it, tell me what it is…” I say this casually, as if the answer should be obvious.

She turns it over and inspects the inside of the box. “There’s an antenna here. A transmitter of some kind.”

“I accidentally kicked it with my foot. When I knelt down to look at the box I could see that it was little off-angle. I should have left it where it was, but when I tried to push it back it came loose. Right before my boot sprung a leak I saw what was underneath.”

“The actual temperature sensor.”

“Yes.” I shrug. “Weird. Is it some kind of repair job on the old one?”

She stands up and slips the box into her pocket. “Can you walk?”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“My lab.”

“And why would we do that?”

She leans in and whispers into my ear. “So I’ll know if you’re bullshitting me because we can be overheard here, or because you’re just committed to lying to me.”

I’d drop the matter and tell her that she was acting a little psycho, but I need the box. Short of physically taking it from her, I don’t see any other alternative than to go to her lab.

“I don’t understand. What’s this all about?” I try to sound like a guy that can’t see what the fuss is for.

“My lab. Five minutes.”

“Let me stop by my room first and get out of this spacesuit.”

In the event that she’s planning on murdering me, I want her to think that I could be telling someone that I’m going off with my killer to her secret lair.

It’s not the most clever ploy, but I can’t think of anything better to say that doesn’t sound too suspicious.

She turns around and heads towards the ladder with the box, leaving me in the lounge.

I go to my room and contemplate an emergency call to Earth to ask Admiral Jessup for advice on how to proceed. That would just make me look incompetent. Already I have to explain how my space shoe mishap was technically my fault. Telling him that a third person suspects I have a secret agenda will really take the cake.

Better to just handle this situation and then report to Jessup. Or get murdered by Samantha from some kind of space poison she brewed up in zero-g.

I could ask Laney, but for some reason I feel a twinge of guilt over the foot massage — which is completely ridiculous. It was just my foot and there’s nothing between Laney and me. We’re just really good friends.

Focus, David.

When I enter Samantha’s lab I’m surprised to find out that it looks nothing like mine or the DARPA labs. Instead of sterile white and chrome surfaces, her module has wooden counters and ferns growing all over the place.

It feels like an old country kitchen in a treehouse.

“Nice,” I reply.

“I’ll give you the tour later,” she says as she closes the hatch. “But first I want answers.”

“What happened to the other foot massage?” I say, trying to sound playful and casual.

“Is that really all you’re after?”

She knows that I know that could mean two different things. Beneath her serious demeanor is a woman that really likes to torture me.

I decide to change the topic and put her on the defensive and see what happens. “So what’s this fuss about this box of yours?”

“Do you really think I’m that stupid or are you in a position where you can’t say anything?” she asks.

“Let’s go with the former.”

“I’m interested in it for the same reason I think you are; it has something to do with the fact that someone almost murdered me.”