Harris headed to check on the flight deck, to make his final checks there. As he entered, he saw Bolkov sitting in the pilot’s chair looking out the window, sipping a cup of steaming hot coffee.
“Staff Sergeant Bolkov,” he greeted him.
Bolkov glanced over his shoulder. “Captain,” he acknowledged in his slow, deep voice.
“How are we doing up here? We on track?” He asked, taking a seat in the chair next to him.
Bolkov nodded, closing his eyes briefly as he did. “Yes, sir.”
“No more traces of that signal?”
“No, sir.”
“What time are Hunter and Packham back on deck?”
“2100, captain.”
“So you’ll be running the weapons exercise with the engine room team this afternoon?”
Bolkov nodded his head slowly again. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. I want a full report, sergeant. Make sure you note down whether Corporal Colt takes part in this exercise too.”
Bolkov gave him an inquisitive glance. Harris ignored it, instead paying attention to the steam rising from the mug Bolkov was nursing close to his chest.
“That coffee hot enough for you, Bulk?”
Bolkov looked down at his coffee and back at Harris. “Coffee can never be too hot, captain.”
Harris smiled. “Bet it got pretty cold in Russia, huh.”
Bolkov gave his slow nod again. “You wouldn’t believe.”
Harris eyed his soldier, amused. Bulk was quite a character. He wasn’t necessarily a laid-back guy; just a big, slow guy. He talked slow, he moved slow, he even seemed to think slow, as if considering everything carefully before speaking. But the Russian knew what he was doing on the flight deck and, when it was needed, he could emerge from that slow shell and he could run, he could fight and he was strong. Harris liked that about him. He had the element of surprise.
Harris sat back in the chair for a moment and looked out the window. Mars had faded off to their right side, and now all that sat in front of them was an enormous black expanse of nothing. Nothing but a handful of scattered stars. He searched far into the distance with his eyes, wondering when the Darwin would appear. Would it be banged up from a pirate attack? Or would it be floating there, shiny and new, just needing a little technical know-how?
He looked over at Bolkov, who was also staring out into the nothingness. Harris wondered what he saw out there, staring at it all day like he did. Bulk looked as though he were watching a football match or something; eyes fixed in the distance, waiting for someone to kick a goal. The truth of it was, though, that he was more like an old sea captain, standing on the ship’s deck watching the horizon and waiting for land to appear.
Harris chuckled to himself. Bolkov turned his head slowly, glancing curiously, then turned back to the window again sipping his coffee.
“I’ll see you later, Bulk,” Harris said, patting him on the shoulder.
Bolkov gave another slow nod and Harris chuckled again.
After leaving the flight deck, he decided to head for the weapons store and see how his two competitive sharpshooters were getting on. The door was left ajar and as he walked in he saw McKinley on one side of the room, Welles on the other, backs to each other, working in silence. At least they’re tolerating each other. They’d clearly been hard at work, having lined up each type of weapon in sets of fifteen: one for each team member, if need be, with spares as well. There were the laser-fire rifles, the simple UNF-issue handguns and a few of the smaller ankle-strap pistols. They’d also set out clips of ammo for the handguns and battery packs for the laser-fire rifles for quick and easy access.
McKinley noticed him standing at the door. “Captain,” he nodded.
Welles turned around and nodded too. “Sir.”
“Looks like you’ve made good progress here,” Harris noted, looking around the store.
“Yes, sir,” McKinley responded.
“You’re familiar with these weapons, Corporal Welles?” Harris asked her.
“Yes, sir,” she answered confidently.
“And Lieutenant McKinley has run you through our logging process?”
She glanced over at McKinley, and stuttered a response. “Er, yeah, I think so. Do you mean when we scanned the weapons when we first came on the ship?”
McKinley looked down at the crate he was clearing away, like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Part of it,” Harris said firmly. “You also need to check the count in the system, log what weapons you’ve readied here and, when we go onto the station, you’ll need to log who’s taken what and log what comes back in. You, and the system, must account for every weapon on this ship and know where it is at any given moment. I’m sure Lieutenant McKinley has explained that to you.”
Welles shot McKinley another glance. He ignored her and looked directly at Harris.
“I was just getting to that part, captain,” he said. “We were just clearing these crates away.”
Harris stared at him for a moment. “I’m sure you were, lieutenant. I know you realize the importance of Corporal Welles learning everything about the weapons store, should you not be here to run it for us. Who knows, McKinley. You may decide to trade in your armory for a science lab and jump ship at the Darwin.”
McKinley gave him a mischievous smile. “Unlikely, sir.”
Harris looked around the room again. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. You’ve clearly got a lot to talk about.”
As he left the room he saw Welles flash McKinley a challenging look and McKinley standing there waiting, ready to take the barrage he was about to receive, and then give it back in equal doses. Harris smiled to himself. He didn’t sense that there was any real issue between them. They were just both competitive and stubborn. He knew how McKinley liked to push people’s buttons and clearly Welles was feisty and prepared to stand her ground. He liked that.
He made his way to Doc’s office for one final check, and found the medic sitting at his desk typing into his console.
“Hey, captain,” the medic greeted him, as he entered.
“You got everything in order here? You all stocked?” Harris glanced into the rooms off to the side.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you’re set for the pre-board physicals?”
“Yes, sir. Just getting set to load the e-clips now.” Doc motioned to his console. “I’ll probably start calling them up around 1530 and have them done before dinner. I can do yours now, if you like?”
Harris briefly thought about it, scratching his head. “Alright, let’s go.”
Doc took a blank e-clip, ejected Harris’s e-file from its slot in the racks and they walked toward his examination room. Harris headed straight for the trolley with the BP equipment on it as Doc scribbled details at the top of the e-clip, then moved over to put the armband on Harris.
“So,” Doc began, “any thoughts on the Darwin? What do you think we’re in for?”
Harris shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, Doc. The information I was given is very limited, which concerns me. I’m not too sure about the guy in charge up there, either. He’s into some pretty weird shit.”
Doc looked up from the BP monitor to Harris. “Define weird?”
“He seems to have a keen interest in the darker side of human behavior. I think he spent too much time with the prisoners when he was warden of Hell Town.” The BP machine beeped and began to deflate. Harris looked down at his arm. “I managed to find some scientific papers that he released. I think you should read them, give me your take on them,” he said.
Doc nodded. “Sure thing.”
Harris gave a short, sharp laugh. “Hell, you’re bound to actually understand the mumbo jumbo in it. It’ll be some nice light reading for you.”
Doc flashed him a grin as he unraveled the band from around Harris’s arm and scribbled something on his e-clip. He then turned to wheel over the hea
rt-lung machine.
“The team exercise this morning was interesting, wasn’t it?” Harris started unbuttoning his shirt.
Doc nodded in agreement as he put the three discs on Harris’s chest. “Yes, it was.” He began to ready the machine. “It would appear that Welles is as good a shot as her file suggests, moving or still.”
“Yeah. It was a shame that Colt didn’t get a chance to do too much, but I guess that was the circumstances of the game. Even Packham, too. I have no idea what her real capabilities are, other than what’s in her file, of course. If I’d had the time I’d like to run the exercise again, get Packham involved, and maybe put you guys on the prisoners this time, see how that would play out. Better still, put Welles and McKinley on the same team. That would be interesting, to see who got past them.”
“Mm-hmm. They’d be pretty hard to beat,” Doc nodded, then handed the tube to Harris for him to blow into. Harris had done this so many times he could probably run the tests himself. He took the tube, waited for Doc’s okay and then blew into it. When he was done, he handed the tube back, and waited for him to do his thing. The e-clip lit up.
“So, anything interesting to report in terms of how the troops are getting along?” Harris asked, eyeing Doc carefully.
“No,” he answered, not looking up from his e-clip. “McKinley’s been behaving himself.”
Harris gave a laugh. “I stopped by the weapons store and saw them standing there on opposite sides of the room, working in complete silence. At least they’re not at each other’s throats, I suppose.”
Doc gave Harris another grin.
“You had a word with him?” He arched an eyebrow at his lieutenant.
Doc shrugged modestly. “I might’ve had just a little one. I told him to ease off. I told him that the other guys watch him for their lead and he was setting a bad example.”
“So, what about the others then? Most of them seem to be tolerating the women, but Louis and Carter aren’t really branching out, are they?”
“They will soon enough. When they see everyone else accepting them, it’ll happen. Besides, you know what Carter’s like. He’s even worse than McKinley when it comes to stirring people. He’s just having a bit of fun with them at the moment. He’ll get bored with it soon enough.”
“After I left the mess hall last night, did they continue their conversation?” Harris narrowed his eyes, studying Doc closely.
A mischievous smiled crawled onto the medic’s face. “You want to know which one they thought you preferred?”
“Hell no!” Harris said loudly. “And if you try and tell me, I’ll break your goddamned neck!”
“Yes, sir,” Doc laughed, getting up and moving over to the cranium scanner. Harris followed, buttoning his shirt and watching Doc, still unimpressed.
Doc noticed. “What?” he asked, the mischievous smile still on his face.
“I catch any of you pairing my name with one of theirs,” he pointed firmly at Doc, “you’ll be in pain, I promise you that.”
“I didn’t say shit, captain. I’m not that stupid.” Doc was trying to swallow his laughter. “Now, will you please stand in line and face the wall.”
Harris glared at him, then stood in position. When the scanning was done Doc checked the results with those from his pre-flight physical.
“You’re cleared, captain!” he announced.
“Good! Now I got shit to do. I’ll bring you those papers to read on Sharley.”
11
Docking
Carrie was too wired to sleep. She just couldn’t get her brain to switch off. It was 1930 and she knew they’d be up again soon to prepare for the station boarding. She kept thinking back over the day: the team exercise that morning, what she did right and what she did wrong; the afternoon prepping the weapons with McKinley. All things considered, it had gone relatively smoothly. He spoke to her only when it was work related, but at least he wasn’t arguing with her anymore. Although she’d been tempted to take a verbal swipe at him after Harris’s visit, she chose to bite her tongue instead. It seemed to work, as he didn’t take a swipe at her either.
Her mind rehashed the pre-board physical with Doc. The visit had been fairly brief and there hadn’t been much time for chatter; a quick rehash of the morning’s exercise, an inquiry about McKinley’s behavior, more tips for keeping healthy on the ship and that was it. Although she recalled feeling a little strange during her visit. She’d worn the boring bra which she should’ve been pleased about, but found herself wishing she’d opted for the push-up instead. She felt like she had a reputation to uphold now. She recalled the close proximity between them when he ran the tests. She knew it would’ve been the same for everyone, but couldn’t help thinking about it nonetheless. She recalled how warm his hands were as they brushed her skin; placing and removing the armband and discs. She thought about his brown eyes, the way they smiled at hers, along with his pearly white teeth.
Then she recalled the crew’s mealtime during which she noticed the edginess had increased among them again. Colt had made a good effort to keep conversation going, questioning the guys about some of the other missions the Aurora had been on. Brown told of their last mission to disband a group of rebels who’d staged a mutiny onboard a cargo ship just off Earth. There’d been five men involved and three were taken alive. McKinley had killed one of them, wounding another two, and Carter had taken out the other. They were young guys looking to make a quick buck by hijacking a cargo ship, and actually thought they would get away with it.
Smith had talked of some of their other missions. One where they went to the rescue of a small tourist ship that had been attacked by pirates, lost all power, and was floating toward The Belt. Another where an ex-UNF pilot was caught smuggling people from Earth to colonies on both the Moon and Mars. Louis told of an encounter where an exporter was using slave labor to work his cargo dock on Station Magellan. The guy had strong underworld connections and was also running illegal UNF weapons to the various colonies. The Aurora had shut him down.
All in all, it appeared that controlling mutinies and space pirates were their main source of employment. Carrie wondered whether pirates had taken over the Darwin?
She rolled over in her bed and watched Colt. The corporal seemed to be fast asleep and Packham’s even breathing indicated that she was too. Carrie decided to go for a walk, thinking it might help her relax knowing that everyone else was asleep. She pulled herself out of bed quietly, not wanting to disturb the other women, then dressed but left her hair hanging loose, and exited the room.
She figured she’d head toward the mess hall or flight deck. If anyone was awake, they’d surely be there. As she turned the corner into the main corridor, she noticed Doc’s office door was open. She meandered off in that direction and stuck her head around the doorway. Doc was sitting back in his chair with his feet crossed over up on the desk, nibbling at the e-pen in his mouth, completely engrossed in something he was reading on an e-file pane. She decided not to disturb him, but as she turned to leave, he saw her.
“Corporal Welles … can’t sleep?”
She shook her head, leaning against the doorway. “Looks like you can’t either, sir.”
He removed the pen from his mouth and looked at his watch “Yeah, but I’d better try and get some soon. Time’s run away from me.” He rested the pane in his lap and looked up at her again. “You know I can’t give you anything for it now or you’ll still be asleep when we’re trying to board.”
“That’s okay. I was hoping a little walk might help.”
He nodded.
“Sorry to disturb your reading.” She motioned to the e-file in his lap. “You seemed pretty enthralled.”
He ran his fingers down the screen of the pane, closing it. “Just some science papers.”
“You reading them to put you to sleep?” she smiled.
“Give me nightmares more like,” he muttered.
Carrie shot him a confus
ed look. “So, how’d your transmission go?” she asked curiously.
“Good. My folks are all good. Yours?”
“Alright. My father was trying to squeeze me for information.” She laughed to herself. “How do your folks feel about your line of work? I suppose they must be used to the ‘final’ transmission by now.”
“Yeah, they’re used to it. I’ve been doing this for a while and so far I’ve always made it home,” he said.
“Are you the first one in your family to do this kind of stuff?”
He nodded. “Technically. My dad did some training when he was younger, but he never went on any missions.”
Carrie allowed her curiosity to get the better of her, and continued to probe. “Any brothers or sisters?”
Doc nodded again. “Two brothers. One older, one younger.”
“Oh, middle child, Doc?” Carrie teased.
Doc gave a sharp laugh. “This coming from an only child!”
Carrie felt herself blush. “You got me there.” She quickly tried to take the spotlight off herself. “So, what do your brothers do for a living?”
He tapped the pen on the file in his lap, eyeing her curiously, “The older one, John, is a lawyer and the younger one, Ben is a pro ice hockey player.”
“Are you serious? A lawyer, a doctor and a pro ice hockey player in the one family? Your parents did something right.”
Doc smiled to himself. “Yeah. We were pretty lucky. We had a good home, and good genes.”
Carrie smiled and wondered whether Doc’s brothers had his good looks as well. “So, does medicine run in the family at all?” she continued, trying to shake off the feeling that she was turning into Colt with all the questions.
“My mum was a GP, then she stopped and had us kids, and my parents opened up a bed and breakfast lodge in Colorado. They’ve been doing that ever since.”
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