by C M Dancha
He hung on to the post in case this was a lull in the storm. There was always the possibility another wave of the slimy creatures would hit the ship. He listened for any unusual sounds as he surveyed the bridge area. The Verasiun was about twenty feet from the support post he hit. The gash in his head was still oozing blood or some type of Verasiun body fluid. The wound left a liquid trail across the floor. From what the kid could see, the Verasiun slid back and forth across the floor like a pinball.
He let go of the post and stood. He was light-headed with shaky legs. He wanted to sit back down but knew if he did, he might stay on the floor for days. The thought of dragging the Verasiun back to lock-up was too draining. It would be easier to get restraining bracelets and lock him to the support post he hit. The kid didn’t care if the Verasiun sat on his ass and bled all the way to Earth.
After ten minutes of wobbling and stumbling down the hallway, he made it to sick-bay. Morg was still strapped on the operating cot and motionless. The Yandan was precisely as he left him. No new injuries and the old ones seemed to be healing properly.
The kid leaned over the cot to make sure Morg was breathing. He was two inches away when Morg’s eyes popped open.
“Holy crap, Morg. You scared the shit out of me.”
Morg blinked a couple times but didn’t say anything. Finally, his eyes shifted to look at the kid.
“Where am I, Earthling?”
“You’re on the transport. Do you remember boarding the transport?”
Morg gave a slight nod. “What happened to me?”
“You took a vap round in the shoulder.”
“When can you get me to a doctor?”
“You won’t need a doctor. I patched you together. We had all the medical supplies needed for your surgery in the cargo bay.”
“Thanks, Joseph Conway.” Morg’s eyes closed and he fell back to sleep.
The kid couldn’t take his eyes off the Yandan. After eight light years of bickering, arguing, and stabbing each other in the back, the Yandan called him by his given name. Was it a slip of the tongue due to his groggy state or a sign of respect? He wanted to think the Yandan was finally beginning to like him.
He stood up and started back to the bridge. There was no use wasting more time trying to figure out what a Yandan was thinking. Especially one that was unconscious. As he passed the security lock-up, he grabbed a pair of anklet and bracelet restrictors. The Verasiun was going to have an uncomfortable ride to Earth. It might teach him a lesson about working for that louse, Prefect Conway.
The walk back to the bridge seemed like it took twice as long as it should. The kid stopped three times to catch his breath. During two of those stops, he thought he heard footsteps or some type of movement coming from the cargo area at the back of the ship. Each time he wrote it off to a creative imagination tainted by the epidemic. Even if there was something moving around in the cargo bay, he wasn’t in any condition to investigate it.
The Verasiun was moaning and groaning and making a valiant attempt to wake-up. The kid didn’t have enough energy to nurse the assassin back to health. He would have to make it on his own. The kid wrapped the Verasiun’s legs around the support post and locked them together with an ankle restrictor. Whether the Verasiun liked it or not, he was going to spend the rest of the voyage on his back.
The kid put a couple deep-wound cleansing packets and surgical putty on the Verasiun’s stomach. These medical supplies were adequate for the Verasiun to nurse himself. That was assuming, of course, he awoke from the semi-coma. The kid didn’t care one way or another.
When he got to the control bridge, he flopped into the captain’s gyro chair. It would have been easy putting the chair in the rest position to take a nap, but he had to get the transport moving again. Plus, falling asleep would be the worst thing he could do if there was another stowaway on the ship.
The Earthling pushed a couple buttons on the control panel and spoke. “Shadow drive, system acknowledge.”
“Yes, co-pilot Conway. What is your command?”
“Re-calibration. Destination Earth. In the quadrant of ……”
It took close to ten minutes for the kid to give the shadow drive system the correct re-calibration codes. It would be another one to two hours for the system to gin up and go into the launch sequence. There wasn’t much for the Earthling to do while the system reset itself.
His gaze shifted to the viewing port window. He couldn’t get over what a mess it was. It was an opaque slate of Locomite body parts. If he didn’t know better, he could swear there were a couple smiling Locomite faces squished on the window. Those had to be optical illusions. As far as he knew, Locomites didn’t have faces.
Gazing at the viewing port weighed heavy on his eyes. They closed a couple times. They snapped open again when he caught his head falling forward. He was about ready to lay back for a much-needed nap when the ship’s eavesdropping system alerted him to an intruder.
He switched the bug system over to a viewing screen. On an outline of the transport’s interior, there were four beings highlighted in green. One was Morg in the operating bay. The Verasiun was near the entrance to the bridge and the Earthling was sitting at the bridge control panel. The fourth being was moving out of the cargo bay toward the mess hall. Apparently, the unknown intruder was hungry.
The kid checked the Verasiun’s vap pistol to make sure it was loaded and ready for use. He put it in his lap and sat back to watch the intruder move through the transport. This was the lazy man’s way to track an intruder. It was a hundred times easier than stalking an assailant who didn't want to be found or was dangerous.
The kid congratulated himself again for thinking ahead and outside the box. Having the Ziptowtheon technicians put in the eavesdropping system was a damn smart move on his part.
34
“Mentat, get your ass in here.”
“Yes, Prefect Conway.”
Conway watched the Mentat walk into his office. The truth-sayer, which he paid handsomely for each month, walked like a robot. His six-and-half-foot, slender frame was stiff as his Johnson before he did Beth. Nothing, other than his legs, moved when he walked. His arms were locked in place at his sides and his head stayed rigid. He looked like a new automaton spit from a mold. His ash-colored skin was flawless. Every hair on his head and face laid perfectly in place. He was the only being Prefect Conway ever met with a hundred percent uniformity from one side of his face to the other. There were times when Conway wanted to slice him open to see what was inside. The only thing which stopped him was the huge deposit he would lose by not returning the Mentat to the planet Mentattis in perfect condition.
“Mentat, have you ever arranged a party?”
The Mentat stood before Conway’s desk and stared. “I don’t know what a party is, Prefect.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. A party is a social gathering for select beings to celebrate a specific event. Do you understand?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
Prefect Conway rubbed his face in frustration. “Okay, let me explain it this way. When your service is over here on Earth and you go back to planet Mentattis, your friends will have a party for you. They’ll be happy you are home. Everyone will get together and celebrate your homecoming. Do you understand now?”
The Mentat knew exactly what the Prefect was describing but wasn’t about to give in so quick. He was having too much fun watching his jerk boss get irritated.
“We don’t do that, sir. When a Mentat's contract expires, he immediately goes back to school for more training in preparation for the next assignment. Besides, Mentats don’t have friends.”
Prefect Conway rolled his eyes. “Forget it. You are going to manage a homecoming party for my son. Besides the homecoming celebration, you will supervise a demonstration at Mount Mikilopii for the Florid ambassador. We will be showing the ambassador and guests how our new toxic gas condensator works.”
“When is this to take place, Prefect?”
“Here’s all the information you’ll need. The date, who is invited, where they are staying, blah, blah, blah. Beth will help you. Now hit the road, I’ve got a ton of work to do.”
The Mentat scanned the celebration-demonstration documents as he walked to the door. Halfway there he stopped and turned back to the Prefect. “Sir, this says you are inviting the Lead Trifect from Yanda. Is that correct or a mistake?”
“Of course, it’s correct. I’m not a sore loser and I don’t think the Lead Trifect is either.” Prefect Conway started laughing. Even outside of the office, the Prefect’s laughter could be heard echoing throughout the complex. The Mentat wasn’t an expert in Earth comedy, but he knew this laughter wasn’t humor-based. It was diabolical.
* * *
Three hours later Miller, Beth, and the Mentat reviewed Conway’s homecoming party and demonstration folder. They were dumbfounded by the itemized specifics in the documents. Every event was planned to the minute. The menus for each day and special dietary meals were set. Great care was given to the accommodations for each guest. The attendee list for each event included those invited as well as those not invited. From what Miller could see, every member of Earth’s Global Union Assembly was invited. The Floridians would bring an entourage of fifteen beings to the ceremonies. The Yandan Trifect had an open invitation even though the distance to Earth prevented them from attending. They could watch the proceedings on a special broadcast arranged and transmitted by Prefect Conway’s staff.
“Beth, who the hell prepared this? There’s no way Conway did this by himself.”
Beth shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know. You’re right, Conway didn’t do this. He’s a generalist. Whoever did this is a person who loves detail. I can’t think of anyone on his staff capable of this.”
“Sir, do you know who put this together?”
The Mentat loved the title, sir. It was so respectful compared to the way Prefect Conway addressed him. “I do not, Secretary-General Miller. I agree with both of you. Prefect Conway is very clever but not capable of something like this.”
Beth and Miller continued discussing the ceremony information packet. Most of their discussions centered on the motives Conway had for each event. Nothing Conway ever did could be taken at face value. There was always a hidden, surprise agenda for everything he did. And, the real motive usually meant death or destruction for someone or something.
“Why does he want to take everyone to the Mikilopii volcano? I know it says for a demonstration of the toxic gas condensator, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. It would be a lot easier if everyone sat in the comfort of the assembly hall and watched the demonstration on a halovision telecast. Dragging everyone out to the volcano is expensive and a pain in the ass.”
“Did you see this comment under his son’s homecoming celebration. He plans to make a surprise announcement about his son, Joseph.”
“God only knows what he has up his sleeve. Beth, maybe he’s going to announce your engagement to his son.”
Miller couldn’t help himself. He started laughing as soon as the last word left his mouth.
“Millard, that’s not funny. I’d rather die than marry that jerk.”
The Mentat sat and watched Beth and Miller spar back and forth. It was in fun with a slight hint of seriousness. He was jealous of their close relationship which could withstand such sarcastic quips. He wondered if one day he would be close enough to some beings to joke around with them. The thought of going through life without this experience was depressing.
He learned another thing from their good-natured jousting. Neither of them had any idea who was the mastermind behind the ceremony agenda. He didn’t detect one bit of deception from them.
Beth dropped her copy of the packet. Her mood changed from light-hearted to grave importance. “I think I know who put this together.” The smile on Miller’s face vanished.
“It was Conway’s son. I don’t know how or when he did it, but he’s a strategic genius. This would be child’s play for him.”
35
The kid was getting tired watching the unknown intruder make his way through the transport. He spent forty-five minutes alone in the mess hall. He must have prepared and eaten a complete dinner. His next stop was sickbay. He went over to Morg’s cot and stood there for a minute or two. Morg’s blimp continued to flash green so the intruder didn’t kill the Yandan. Most likely, he wanted to make sure the Yandan couldn’t hinder his plans, whatever they were.
The intruder moved through the main hallway leading to the bridge. The kid estimated he would see the Verasiun locked to the support pole within two minutes. He would then become very cautious and creep at a snail’s pace to the bridge.
The Earthling was ready for him. It was irritating that the intruder wasted so much time. Time that could be put to better use, like sleeping. The kid thought about going after the intruder to end the cat-and-mouse game. He knew the transport better than the intruder. It would be easy setting an ambush and either take him alive or put a vap round in his back. But he reminded himself several times that a basic rule of victory was letting the enemy travel to the battle. That principle along with possessing the element of surprise ensured triumph in war. At least that’s what Sun Tzu, an ancient Chinese military theorist, claimed in his work, “The Art of War”.
The kid could hear the intruder bend over the Verasiun and examine him. He was exactly fifteen yards from the kid’s gyro chair. As the kid predicted, the intruder crept toward the bridge, staying low and hugging a wall.
“Turn your chair and identify yourself. Do it, or I’ll put a round through the gyro chair.”
The kid could tell from the intruder’s accent he was an Earthling. Most likely from the eastern part of the European continent. He was cautious and deliberate with every move he made. He was skirting the wall over the kid’s left shoulder which meant he held the vap pistol in his right hand.
The kid pretended he was taken by surprise. “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m turning around. Don’t shoot.”
The kid turned to face a forty-something Earthling with a bold scar running down his left cheek. He looked to be around six-feet-tall with a barrel-chest and long, greasy black hair. His vap pistol pointed in the general direction of the kid. He was either very confident in his ability to target or stupid for not using the laser sights.
“Ah, if it isn’t Master Joseph Conway. You look exactly like the halovision your old man showed me.”
“And, you might be who?”
“You can call me Omar. I’m here to escort you safely to Earth.”
His name was of little consequence to the kid. It was an obvious alias. He was more concerned about the vap pistol aimed in his direction and who this being worked for. The intruder definitely fit the mold of the type of being his old man hired. Addressing him as Master Joseph Conway was typical for a Prefect Conway hired-gun. Overconfident to the point of being a smart-ass. But, if he was telling the truth, then who did the Verasiun work for?
“Do you usually hold a vap pistol on beings you are hired to escort?”
A cocky smile crossed the intruder’s face as he looked away from the kid and scanned the bridge.
That’s all the time the kid needed. In a millisecond he pulled his vap pistol from under his thigh and shot. The pistol flew from the intruder’s hand. It landed fifteen feet behind the intruder and skidded along the floor for another ten feet.
“Dammit, what the hell did you do that for?”
The kid watched the intruder dance around in pain, examining his right hand to make sure it was still attached to his arm. The kid knew he had third-degree burns which needed medical attention.
“I’m not crazy about looking down the barrel of a vap pistol. Now, who do you work for, bucko?”
“Your father hired me.” Omar kept blowing on his hand trying to cool the burning. “Shit, man. Put something on this to kill the pain.”
“That’s interesting. The Verasiun lyi
ng over there claims he works for my father too.”
“Well, maybe he does. Who the hell knows? I don’t. All I know is your old man paid me very well to get your ass and bring it to Earth.”
The kid considered interrogating the intruder to verify his claim but decided to wait. The intruder couldn’t concentrate because of his injury. And, the kid needed some sleep or risk slipping back into an epidemic-induced coma. He could ask all the questions he wanted later.
“Okay, I’m going to take care of your hand. You try anything, and I’ll kill you. Understand?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just hurry up.”
The kid led Omar to the same support pole the Verasiun was locked to. When his arms were wrapped around the post, the kid put a restrictor bracelet on him. He grabbed a deep wound cleansing packet from the Verasiun’s stockpile and gave it to Omar.
“Do you know how to use this?”
The intruder didn’t bother answering. He was too busy ripping the packet open and applying the pad to his injured hand. The opiate derived drug in the pad entered the intruder’s bloodstream through skin pores and rushed to his brain. Within thirty seconds, Omar was glassy-eyed and in La-La Land. The burning pain in his hand was gone. He fell to one side and started to dream about happy times from his past.
The kid looked at the two stowaways. “I’ll talk to you two clowns later.” He stumbled back to the gyro chair and put it in full rest position. He closed his eyes and started to nod off.
“Co-pilot Conway. The shadow drive system is re-calibrated. Awaiting your approval to start launch sequence.”
“Son-of-a-bitch. Am I ever going to get some sleep?”
* * *
Seven hours later the kid awoke to an alarm going off on the bridge control panel. It was coming from the eavesdropping viewing screen. The green light in sickbay turned to red and moved from the operating cot to the personal waste collection closet. It was a good sign. Morg was getting better if he could make his way through the sickbay to relieve himself in the waste closet. The kid flipped on the audio and video to take a look.