by Ben Wolf
Now they might exchange another handshake to terminate his employment at the next port of call.
[Stay cool, JB,] Keontae told him. [Ignore what I said earlier. There’s no reason to fret. You were in the right, after all.]
I was in the right at ACM-1134, too, and that didn’t exactly go as planned, Justin mused.
Arlie cleared her throat, and Captain Marlowe looked up. Also somewhere in his forties, he had the scarred face of a veteran soldier, with two-day-old stubble on his chin, jaw, and upper lip. Brown hair cut short, but not military short, covered enough of his head that he could pass for a civilian if needed, and he had green eyes like two dull emeralds.
He chewed on a narrow metal stick of some sort, malleable enough that he wasn’t breaking his teeth, but metal all the same. How he tolerated it, Justin didn’t know.
Captain Marlowe shifted the metal stick in his mouth to the opposite side and motioned toward the tortured metal chair across from Rowley. “Have a seat, Justin.”
In an occupation devoid of any sort of comfort and optimized for efficiency on even the most minute levels, Justin couldn’t fault Captain Marlowe for having such a chair—much less a set of four of them—around his equally industrial table.
But that didn’t mean Justin wanted to sit in it after a long day of working the drill, either, especially after how bad it had been the first time.
Still, he complied.
Huh. Not as bad as it looked or as bad as he’d remembered.
“Drink?” Captain Marlowe offered. “Hot or cold?”
“Neither,” Justin said. “If you don’t mind, Captain, I’d like to cut to the chase on this, wherever it may lead.”
Rowley scoffed and stared at Justin with his beady brown eyes. “Suits me just fine. The sooner you’re canned, the sooner I don’t have to look at that camel’s ass you call a face anymore.”
[You’d better come across this table at him, JB, or I’m gonna make your arm do it for you,] Keontae warned.
A half dozen retorts rifled through Justin’s mind, both to Keontae and to Rowley, but he held his tongue… for now. In the absence of Justin’s clapback, Captain Marlowe spoke.
“You don’t have room to talk, Rowley,” he said. “Especially when your face looks like what comes out of a camel’s ass.”
Justin granted himself a grin as Keontae’s laugh filled his mind.
[I like this dude,] Keontae said.
Rowley wasn’t about to retort to the captain’s zinger, so he clamped his mouth shut and forced a grin. His long greasy hair hung to his shoulders, caught somewhere between loose curls and tight waves, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in half a Coalition Standard Week. The tranquil lights overhead gleamed off his bald head.
Definitely a “rapist” vibe, Justin mused. At the end of the day, at least I don’t have to look like that.
“Arlie, join us?”
She took the seat opposite Captain Marlowe, who faced Justin and Rowley again.
“As you know, First Officer Bush and I make these types of decisions together.”
Decisions? Justin’s stomach churned like it had when the asteroid’s instability was shaking the entire rig. I knew it. I’m getting axed.
“But before we make any decisions, I called you both here to honor the promise I made when you signed on: that you’ll get a fair hearing with me personally if there are any major disputes.”
“And when we’re all about to die,” Arlie interjected, “it counts as a major dispute.”
“Exactly.” Captain Marlowe glanced between Justin and Rowley. “As you know, we were in the bridge when everything went down, and there’s only so much I can glean from the screens up there. So I want a detailed accounting of what happened, starting with Rowley.”
“My pleasure, Captain.” Rowley’s beady eyes bored into Justin yet again.
Captain Marlowe held up his hand. “The short version, Rowley.”
“How short? I could just say ‘Barclay is a pussy who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing up here and should be fired immediately.’”
[C’mon, JB,] Keontae prodded. [Knock this bitch’s teeth out.]
Against his inclinations to follow Keontae’s urgings, Justin held his position.
“Gonna need more than that,” Captain Marlowe said.
He launched into a diatribe against Justin, enumerating not only what he thought Justin had done wrong at the end of his last shift but in practically every shift since he’d joined the operation.
Justin weathered it all until Rowley uttered his final condemnation.
“So like I said at the beginning, Barclay is a pussy who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing up here and should be fired immediately.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his meaty arms across his chest.
Justin jumped to his feet and reached across the table before the final word escaped Rowley’s pudgy lips. His metal right hand latched onto the thick material of Rowley’s shirt collar, but instead of hauling him back over the table, Justin scrambled on top of it, chasing him.
Rowley’s mug toppled over and spilled off the edge of the table, but Justin didn’t stop. He kept going over the table until a wide-eyed Rowley toppled backward onto the metal floor, chair and all.
Justin ended up on top of him with his left fist raised, while Rowley cowered beneath him and tried to cover his face with his hands and arms. But instead of raining down punishment on Rowley’s camel-shit face, Justin left his fist elevated just long enough that Captain Marlowe and Arlie had time to pull him off.
[Why didn’t you hit ’im, JB? C’mon, man! You had that bum right where you wanted ’im!]
Justin had indeed put Rowley where he’d wanted him, but he’d planned the action to go down that way.
He’d gone over the table because it gave him more time to get a stronger position. He’d gotten on top of Rowley to show he wasn’t going to take any shit from him. But he’d shown just enough restraint to demonstrate that he actually did have control over his actions.
And most importantly of all, he’d shown he wasn’t a pussy.
“Alright, alright,” Captain Marlowe said as he and Arlie separated Justin from Rowley. “Good show, but if I wanted to see a fight, I’d visit my in-laws.”
Justin stood his ground on the opposite side of the table from Rowley. Arlie’s hand braced against his chest as if to hold him in place. He probably could’ve gotten past her, but something about her posture made him think he’d pay for it if he tried, so he stayed put.
“See? He’s unhinged.” Rowley pointed at Justin as Captain Marlowe pulled him up to his feet. “He’s a danger to himself and to all of us. Fire his ass and drop him at the next station.”
“Easy, Rowley,” Captain Marlowe said. “Pick up your chair and have a seat. You had your say. Now Justin gets his.”
Arlie lowered her hand from Justin’s chest and motioned him toward the table again. Once everyone got seated, Captain Marlowe nodded at Justin.
As Rowley had done, Justin laid out everything he’d seen and experienced at the end of the last shift. He explained everything except for Keontae’s involvement. If Justin could keep him a secret, he would. No one needed to know about that.
In many ways, Keontae was his secret weapon. He’d served as locksmith, a pathway to hacking pretty much any computer system in the galaxy. If Justin made it known he had such an ally embedded within his arm, who knew how someone might try to exploit it?
For Justin’s part, ever since Keontae had made his presence known back on Jevilos-6, Justin hadn’t used him as a secret weapon, a locksmith, or to hack any systems other than those of the rig. And even then, he’d only hacked the rig as a failsafe. Keontae could make the system dance to his whims faster than human operators could issue commands to it.
That access had just played a major role in saving the rig and everyone on it.
But Justin couldn’t share any of that because doing so would expose Keontae—and him—to scrutiny th
ey didn’t need. They’d had enough of that in their dealings with ACM.
So Justin explained what he could as truthfully as he could and let it linger in the captain’s quarters. All the while, Captain Marlowe listened to him with an attentive, insightful expression on his face. It made Justin wonder if he somehow knew about Keontae anyway… but how could he?
Rowley eagerly filled the silence following Justin’s explanation. “Bullshit.”
Justin clenched his fists at his sides to keep from launching across the table again. “Or not. We’re alive, and the rig is damaged.”
“And we scored a huge haul of copalion in the process,” Rowley said. “More than enough to cover the damages. And the drill’s still intact and functional.”
“As far as we know,” Justin countered. “We haven’t run full diagnostics on it yet.”
[Uh, actually, JB,] Keontae said, [I did run some diagnostics before I jumped out, and it seemed like everythin’ was good.]
Justin clenched his teeth. He couldn’t exactly say that aloud. Instead, he added, “And even if the drill is good to go, we can’t land on any more asteroids until the landing gear is repaired. Without half the legs functioning, we can’t latch onto anything, so we can’t safely drill or extract.”
Rowley shrugged. “So next time we dock, we’ll get it fixed. Then we’ll throw your lame ass off the rig and rid ourselves of the Barclay curse for good.”
“Alright, enough.” Captain Marlowe leaned forward and put his hand between them. They both went silent.
[Reckonin’ time,] Keontae said. [Hope we at least get outta here with enough to finally get back to Bortundi.]
Justin ignored his comment and waited for Captain Marlowe to continue.
“As you know, your rig chief, Gerald, took ill right after we left Jevilos-6,” he said. “He’s really supposed to be the one mediating these discussions instead of me, but in his condition, that’s not gonna happen… ever again.”
Justin and Rowley’s staring match shattered, and they both shifted their full attention to Captain Marlowe.
“Gerald is dead.”
Justin wondered if the violent shakes when the asteroid was breaking apart had played a role in doing Gerald in, but Captain Marlowe put that idea to rest right away.
“Died right after your shift started this morning.” He switched the metal stick to the other side of his mouth and crunched down on it anew. “Passed in his sleep, Doc Carrington said. May we all be so fortunate.”
Even as Captain Marlowe said it, Justin detected a hint of sarcasm, or perhaps even disdain in his voice.
“Anyway, now we’re short a rig chief.” Captain Marlowe stared at Rowley. “And I need someone to fill the role.”
[Great. They’re gonna fire your ass and promote this needle-dick?] Keontae’s voice framed Justin’s thoughts perfectly. [Talk about injustice.]
“And in light of the day’s events, I’ve decided that’s gonna be Justin.”
3
“What?” Rowley stood up so fast that his chair toppled back again. “You’re demoting me?”
“No, moron,” Arlie said. “Do you even know what ‘demotion’ means? You’re staying on as shift supervisor. No change.”
Justin would’ve grinned, but he was still too shocked at Captain Marlowe’s decree.
[Finally, a good twist for you,] Keontae said. [Really happy for you, bro. Proud of you, too.]
“Thanks, bud,” Justin said aloud.
“You’re welcome…” Captain Marlowe squinted at him and added, “Bud.”
Justin blinked away his surprise and stood up to shake his hand. “Oh. Sorry, Captain. Thank you, sir, I mean.”
Captain Marlowe stood as well and returned the handshake. “We can be buds as well, if you want. Eventually. Prove yourself, and we may just be friends for life.”
“This is an outrage!” Rowley snapped.
“No, you are outraged,” Arlie said, still sitting. “There’s a difference.”
Rowley jammed his thumb into his chest. “I’ve been workin’ this rig for two years. Two. Years. I started as a grunt and worked my way up to shift supervisor, fourth fastest in the rig’s history, by your own admission.”
“Not exactly a high bar, Rowley.” Arlie folded her arms.
Unfazed, Rowley continued, “Yet you promote this greenhorn before me?”
“He deserves it. He was right about the asteroid,” Captain Marlowe said.
“But he was wrong about the payload!” Rowley barked. “Don’t you wanna make money?”
“He had the rig’s long-term interests in mind. You were only thinking in the short term. Only thinking of yourself,” Captain Marlowe said. “You’re like a navigator who can’t see past his own nose. Not much good when charting a course through the galaxy.”
Rowley’s mouth hung open wide. “This ain’t fair!”
“You don’t like it, you’re free to get off at the next stop, which’ll be soon since we need to get that landing gear fixed.” Captain Marlowe nodded toward Justin. “Otherwise, say hello to your new boss.”
Rowley’s face had been red before, but now he resembled a tomato—an ugly one, at that. He pointed a pasty finger at Justin, seething. “You… I’ll get even. I promise you that. You won’t last three full shifts in this job. It should be mine, and I’m gonna get it.”
Justin glanced at Arlie, who mouthed the words, “He’s never gonna get it.”
“Enough of this bullshit. I’m leaving.” Rowley stormed out of the chamber and into the adjacent one. Justin heard the groan of the heavy metal door opening, then it banged shut, rattling and creaking the captain’s quarters.
“Sorry ’bout the ruckus,” Captain Marlowe said. “I don’t expect he’ll stick around, and I don’t think he has any cards he can really play against you. Just let ’im brood ’til we dock somewhere, and then he’ll probably leave.”
“Any chance you can make him leave?” Justin offered.
Captain Marlowe shrugged. “It gets bad enough between you two, sure. I’d pick you under any set of stars. If not, he’s generally a capable rig-runner, albeit a greedy one. I’d rather not have to replace him if I can avoid it. I hate dealing with this personnel shit.”
“I know the feeling,” Justin said.
“Too bad for you, since it’s your job now.” Captain Marlowe nudged Justin’s shoulder and headed over to a small refrigeration unit mounted to the wall. He popped it open and pulled out an unmarked bottle of clear brown liquid. “But hey, you got the promotion, so we’re gonna celebrate with a drink of the good stuff.”
He produced three shot glasses, none of them actually glass but made of metal instead, and passed them to Justin and Arlie, who still hadn’t bothered to stand up. Captain Marlowe poured each of them a shot, and they shared a clink and downed the drink.
It tasted bitter and sweet and smoky all at once. Justin hated the taste, but he appreciated the camaraderie and the intention behind it. He tried not to show his disdain for the flavor, but he doubted he was succeeding.
“Good, huh?” Captain Marlowe clapped him on his shoulder and then headed to the fridge to put the bottle back inside.
“Yeah,” Justin rasped. “Definitely, Captain.”
Upon his return, Captain Marlowe motioned for Justin to sit again. “Look, when we’re alone, in private, call me Enix. Out there, ‘captain’ is fine because we need some semblance of rule and authority, but in here, Enix is okay.”
“Alright… Enix,” Justin said.
“Gotta be honest with you, kid…” Captain Marlowe pointed down at the table, still staring at Justin. “…if you hadn’t come over this table at him, I wouldn’t have given you the job. I had to know you wouldn’t give in when things got too tough.”
Justin had to physically restrain every fiber of his being to keep from laughing in Captain Marlowe’s face.
[Man, if he only knew,] Keontae said with a chuckle. [He’s got no idea the shit we’ve been through.]
“Well, Enix,” Justin said with a smile, “when it comes to fighting, you can trust that it’s the one area where I’ll never let you down.”
[Understatement of the millennium, bro.]
Captain Marlowe nodded. “Noted and appreciated. You’ll do well as the new rig chief.”
“Speaking of which, where are we docking to get the legs fixed?” Justin asked.
“We’ve got some options. None are close. We’re a few weeks away from any civilization advanced enough to be able to repair it at a reasonable price. I’m not looking to get scalped on the parts and repairs, so we’ll probably just make this a short run and head straight back to Jevilos-6.
“Rowley was right about the copalion being worth a fortune. Might as well sell it, spend it, resupply, get repairs, and then get back out here right away,” Captain Marlowe said. “Better than losing a bigger chunk and having to rely on junkyard parts and hack repairmen. So we’re already on autopilot, heading back.”
Justin nodded. It made sense.
“Until then, just get used to your new gig. You get your own quarters now, so collect your stuff and move into Gerald’s old room. You’ll get a nice raise, too. I’m cutting you in for his percentage for the whole trip. He’s dead, so he doesn’t need it, and he had no family to speak of.”
Justin blinked at him. “Wow. Thanks.”
[Good shit. That’s a big bump,] Keontae agreed.
“Is… is Gerald’s body still…?”
“Airlock,” Arlie said. “Room’s clear.”
Justin’s stunned expression shifted to her.
“Like I said, no family to speak of. It’s a dignified way to put someone at rest. Military does it all the time,” Captain Marlowe said.
Justin wasn’t sure he’d want his body jettisoned like so much space junk and waste, but if it was good enough for the military, he supposed it was good enough for Gerald.