Prisoner Six

Part 6

Ten minutes later, Sam sat at the table facing Dave, trying not to squirm as he read the data on the tablet she'd left in his drop-box. Everything about this situation was a colossal breach of protocol. And yet, "protocol" said Sam's life should be forfeit at this point. That doing her duty required letting Dave die and either sacrificing herself to a solo repair attempt, or the self-destruct failsafe. So, why was she here? Despite all of her lonely years, did she still have a lingering desire to live? Or was it just a stubborn determination to see her mission through to the end?

It didn't matter, Sam told herself. This circumstance was only temporary. Dave was still her prisoner. She was still in control.

Sam straightened in her chair as Dave finished reading and looked up at her.

"Now do you understand why I saved you?" she asked.

"Perhaps. You need someone to monitor the pressure inside this 'PC2' compartment while you make repairs to the hull outside. It must be done carefully and simultaneously, or it could risk further rupture."

"And?"

He looked at the readouts again.

"Do you have a motorized suit?"

"No. That crapped out in the first year."

"Then you'll need someone to pay out tether—gradually—since there doesn't appear to be any anchoring hooks outside that compartment. Why is that?" he asked curiously.

"Nevermind," said Sam, brushing off the question. "Tell me, how can you read this data?" Whether his story was true or not, reading ship schematics and evaluating an EVA procedure should not be that simple, even for a soldier or pilot.

"I trained in spaceflight for awhile, before the Army called me back."

That could be true, thought Sam, depending on where he trained. For now, she let it go and continued.

"Well, I might trust Vox—the computer—to do one or both of these tasks, but not together, and not to use quick judgment should something go wrong. The equipment inside that compartment powers most of the ship and is extremely delicate," she said, careful to leave out specifics about the reactor damage. "So there can be no mistakes."

"I understand."

"Do you?" asked Sam, trying to use her best poker face. "Because after we fix the hull and restore power, you may think it's a great time to get rid of me and take the ship for yourself." She paused, reading his face for any reaction, but it was annoyingly blank. "Well, it's not," she went on firmly. "Because if I don't return every twelve hours and enter specific data into the main computer, this ship self-destructs. And you cannot override the system. Not without me."

"Oh, I trust you," said Dave. "It's your trust in me that I worry about."

This sparked a fuse in Sam. "Do you think this is a game? In less than twelve hours we're either going to live or we're going to die."

"Now that I'll hold you to," said Dave with sudden intensity. "If you give me your word that my crew and I will live, then we can work together."

Sam leaned forward, unflinching. "No."

Dave seemed surprised, but Sam wouldn't budge. She had prepared this speech in her mind and was finally ready to give it.

"You don't get to negotiate here. You were the one who said you wanted at least one of us to get home. Did you mean it? Or can you look me in the eye and let me die? Because that's what I've been asked to do. And I took that mission. Which means I'm perfectly happy to sit here and run out the clock, if that's what I have to do."

It was Dave's turn to study Sam now. He watched her face with fascination, then sadness. "You are, aren't you? You'd really give up that easily?"

"I never give up," said Sam.

"Yes, you have. On life. On home. Your niece—"

"That was the mission," she cut him off. "I gave my word."

"To who?" asked Dave. "Your superiors? They don't give a damn about you. They don't need you."

"That's right, and I don't need them," Sam spat out before she could stop herself. She leaned back in her chair now, rattled. This had gotten off track. She needed to steer things back. "I made a promise to myself," she said at last. "That's all that matters."

"That may be true," said Dave. "But right now, you need me. To save your life. And, whether you like it or not, I need you for the same reason." Sam opened her mouth to protest, but he went on. "So I'm going to help you. On the off-chance that you can't look me in the eye and let my friends die... in the end."

Sam stood, grateful for the conversation to be over. She didn't want to think about that next step. She didn't want him to see the doubt beneath the surface.

"Fine then," she said. "I'll walk you through the suit assembly and procedures. But remember—"

"No promises to live; self-destruct if I kill you. Yeah, I got it."

For the first time, Sam actually smiled. "Good."