“We need to get going while we have the chance,” said Josh.
“Yes, sir,” responded Keith. He walked over to another barrel, removed the lid, and lifted out his backpack. As he slipped his arms through the straps, he heard a moan and quickly swung around. Captain Stoner was on the verge of collapsing. Keith ran over and caught the Captain before he hit the ground. He managed to get Josh over to a wall and then slid down next to him.
“Are you all right sir?”
“I’ll be fine. I just got dizzy,” said Josh. Actually, he had felt a sharp pain in his abdomen followed by a wave of vertigo. “I just need to sit for a couple of minutes.” He smiled weakly at Keith. “A thermos of icy cold water would sure hit the spot.”
“The bottle of water from my backpack rolled off the table during my scuffle with Wayne. I am sorry, sir, that I did not retrieve it.”
“Don’t sweat it,” said Josh.
“I can go search for some water,” volunteered Keith.
“No, just give me a moment, and we can get on our way.” Josh leaned his head up against the slimy stone wall. Keith sat motionless alongside the Captain. As the dizziness began to subside, Josh turned to gaze at his Lieutenant. Hampton looked crestfallen and lost in thought.
“Keith, I am sorry about Wayne. I know that was a terrible ordeal for you.” Josh paused for a moment before continuing. “I am puzzled, however, by Shasta’s behavior. He had a gun on him, but he did not draw it when you drew yours. He also did not press the button. I was watching him and it looked like he was fighting with himself not to push the button or take out his gun. If it is any solace, in a way, I think Wayne wanted you to shoot him.”
Hampton stared at his Captain in utter disbelief. “Sir, you really think that Wayne wanted me to kill him?”
“Lieutenant Shasta was an extremely good and loyal officer. The things he was doing and saying were totally against his nature. For whatever reason, brainwashing or misplaced loyalty to his new Captain, Wayne knew that his recent actions were a betrayal to the UGC and to his country. I am quite positive that Wayne did not want to blow up the Gladiator. By you shooting him, you relieved him of having to commit that awful deed. Also, he knew that he would eventually have to face charges of treason and most certainly he would be found guilty. Do you think Wayne would have wanted to spend the rest of his life behind bars or face a firing squad?”
“A firing squad?” questioned Keith. Josh noticed the look of horror on Keith’s face.
“That is still one of the options available in military death penalty cases. A jury and judge decide on the means of death when they pronounce sentence.” Josh continued watching his young officer. “Keith, look at me. You are not going to face charges of treason. I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it. You have to trust me.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned away from the Captain. “Perhaps you are right about Wayne. But why didn’t the incapacitate setting work?”
“My guess is that Wayne was very worked up and highly agitated. His adrenaline was flowing rapidly, probably to the point where the Taser in your gun was ineffective. I am sorry for that, but like I said, it may have been for the best. Keith, you did what had to be done. I hope that some day you will see that and forgive yourself.”
Keith blushed as he looked away from Captain Stoner. “Sir, there is something else I am upset with myself about.” He turned back to face Josh who was waiting to hear what he had to say. “I should have retrieved Wayne’s stat phone. His had been working the other day.”
“Keith, you really need to stop being so hard on yourself. I never even gave the phone a thought.” Josh reached over and patted Keith on the back. Then he straightened up and took several deep breaths in an attempt to fight off the lingering queasiness flowing through his body. He ran his fingers through his hair, which was moist with sweat. His hand brushed across his forehead. The bandage that had been covering the cut on his forehead was gone. It must have fallen off in the apple barrel.
“Do you want another bandage for your head?” inquired Lieutenant Hampton.
“No,” responded the Captain. “It’s no longer bleeding. The cut is crusted over with dry blood.” I’m so sweaty, it would never stick anyway, he told himself. Holding out his hands, he added, “Here, help me up. We’ve got to get going.”
“Can you get me a torque wrench?” called out Lieutenant Commander Dennis Pearson from inside the John Glenn space pod.
Jackson Greene rose from behind the Conveyor Port console. “Where would I find one?” he shouted.
“Oh, there’s a metal tool cabinet against the wall about twenty yards to the right of the console.”
The warrant officer ran his fingers along the back wall until he felt a pair of cold steel double doors. Upon wrenching the doors open, his hands rapidly examined the dozens of tools lying on shelves and in baskets. I’m pretty sure I know what a torque wrench looks like. Too bad there isn’t Braille labels. Even print ones would help as I’d be able to scan the letters.
“I believe the torque wrench is on the second shelf from the bottom and over to the left,” Jackson heard Pearson yelling.
“Got it!” yelled back Jackson. He closed the cabinet doors and quickly made his way over to the pod.
“Thanks,” said Pearson retrieving the wrench from Jackson’s hand. “Remind me to sometime give you a hands-on tour of the tool cabinet.”
“That would be much appreciated, sir.”
Dennis began inspecting each and every nut and bolt contained in the space pod. He wanted to make sure everything was in perfect working order. We certainly don’t need any unnecessary delays or problems. The Gladiator’s Number 1 pod, the James T. Kirk, was still on the planet below. The Number 2, the John Glenn, was not used that often. If truth be told, Dennis could not remember for sure the last time it was employed. The Glenn was an older model and some of the control devices were out dated but still perfectly functional. However, like any machine, mechanisms can become corroded or rusty when sitting idle. Even someone who’s not a perfectionist like me would be a fool not to go over everything with a fine-tooth comb.
After an hour and a half of fine-tuning the John Glenn, Dennis jumped out onto the launchpad. He grabbed a can of highly concentrated Goop and scrubbed his hands clean of grease and oil. Then he joined Jackson Greene at the console.
“I’ve checked out all the circuits and reviewed all the commands. Everything appears to be in working order,” reported Jackson proudly.
“Good let’s move the Glenn onto the main launch and then test the whole system.” Dennis looked over at Jackson and added, “I better drive.”
Jackson laughed. He never minded good-natured teasing about his blindness. In fact in most instances, when someone was comfortable enough to kid around with him about his vision, then he felt he was truly accepted and respected for who he was.
The two officers spent the next forty-five minutes monitoring how well the Glenn responded to the various operating commands. Once Pearson was satisfied, he slapped Greene across the back and complimented him. “Great job! Now let’s put together six backpacks with all the survival articles that the Captain ordered for the original landing party. There’s a list in the log entry for that launch.”
Jackson Greene brought the document up onto the computer screen. Using his small reading cylinder, he played the list out loud. “Ropes, flashlights, lighters, knives, water, bandages, sunglasses, tape, matches, bolt cutters, lock picks, high-energy snack bars.”
“I sure hope we won’t have to use most of that stuff,” commented Pearson. “And let’s hope the Captain and the others aren’t using it either in order to survive. Come, I’ll give you a fast tour of the supply room.”
They headed out the main doors of the Conveyor Port and down a narrow passageway with a low ceiling. The thick steel door was usually locked, but now it stood wide open. The officers entered.
“How are you coming along?” Pearson asked Bonnie Shea who was seated on the f
loor with an electric air compressor by her side. In front of her a small lifeboat was slowly inflating.
“Fine, sir,” responded the young woman. “I am just about done testing the tents, life preservers, and dinghies that we are taking with us.”
Dennis Pearson indicated his approval with a nod and led Jackson over to the opposite end of the room. He began pointing out where various supplies were stored, and together he and Greene filled six backpacks with the necessary survival gear. They loaded the backpacks, tents, boats, and life jackets onto a rolling cart and wheeled it back to the Conveyor Port. It was nearly 0400 and the landing crew would shortly be reporting for duty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
June 26, 0400 Hours
Penelope opened her eyes and peered around the small room. She reached a paw up and lightly stroked Marlana Berg’s nose. The doctor jerked to a sitting position, knocking the cat off her bosom. Penelope scampered over to the thin plywood door. It was then that Marlana heard the soft steady tapping. She quickly got up and opened the door just enough to eye Colonel Flax. He was no longer dressed in his usual well-starched multicolored uniform and matching hat. Instead he was wearing denim jeans; a flannel shirt of blue and green plaid; and a baseball-type cap with the slogan “BRISULA ROCKS” printed upon it.
“Good morning,” he whispered. “May I come in?”
“Certainly,” responded the doctor opening the door wider. “What time is it?”
“A little before four AM. If we leave now that will give me enough time to get you to Platt’s apartment and allow me to get back here before Gina awakes.” He looked down at the cot where Dave Andrews was asleep. “How is he?”
“About the same. The rest and water has helped.”
“Do you know what is ailing him?”
“Colonel, sir, Commander Andrews has been poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” questioned Flax. “But how?”
“I do not know how or who poisoned him, but I am certain it occurred after we arrived in Brisula.” She hesitated before continuing. “I am noticing others here who also appear to have been infected. Some of the slaves in the Cages were quite ill with the equivalent symptoms. And sir—” She paused again. “I am afraid that your children have also been poisoned.”
“Tommy and Tossie poisoned?” Flax looked horrified. “Who would do such a thing? And how? All of their food and drink is prepared by Salton. He would never harm the children. He loves them dearly.”
“I am quite certain that the toxins are not from the food or drink that Salton provides. The symptoms seem to be more indicative of food poisoning rather than polluted or tainted water. The only food that Commander Andrews has eaten here in Brisula is bananas, fish, and apples. I have not eaten anything other than the banana you gave me at the Zoo and the bread Salton gave me a few hours ago. In that I feel perfectly fine, we can rule out any toxins in the bananas. Since your family does not eat fish, it has to be the apples.”
Flax sat silently trying to take in what he had just heard. As Marlana waited for his reply, she contemplated what she had just told Flax. She had not actually put it all together until she said it out loud. But it had to be the apples. Nothing else made sense. Were they a form of poisonous apples or was someone deliberately contaminating the fruit? It could be done by injection or by soaking. The only poisonous apples that she was aware of were those found on manchineel trees growing along the coastal beaches of South America. They were commonly known as the Little Apple of Death. But those pseudo apples were green and the apples here in Brisula were bright red. Of course they could have come from another planet and therefore be a variety of apple she was unfamiliar with. Apple seeds if chewed and eaten in large quantities were known to be toxic, but she had not seen anyone actually eating the seeds. No, she was convinced the apples were somehow being maliciously tampered with.
“Are you implying that the apples that Captain Torgenson’s men have been forcing us to eat have somehow become spoiled?” asked Colonel Flax, interrupting the doctor’s thoughts.
“Either that or purposely altered,” responded Marlana. On Captain Torgenson’s orders most likely, she thought to herself, choosing not to voice that opinion out loud.
“If it is the apples, then why is it mostly the children and the slaves who are sick?”
“Not everyone reacts in the same manner or at the same time to toxins. Since children are smaller and weigh less their bodies will absorb the noxious material much quicker. The slaves, in addition to being in poor physical condition, are malnourished, and so they also weigh substantially less. A portion of the population will have a natural immunity to the poison while others may not immediately become symptomatic. Still others may be able to fight off the effects. In addition the symptoms will not be identical for everyone. One person may be feverish with stomachaches, while another person may have abdominal pain but without the fever. A number of people may experience only some minor discomfort, while others will develop severe reactions including even death.”
“Death,” echoed the Colonel. He looked straight into the doctor’s eyes. “Are my children going to die?”
“If we can get to our ship. we can analyze the toxin and determine what type of poison it is. Then we can locate or formulate an antidote.”
“Well, then let us hurry. Time is of the essence.”
Marlana reached down and gently shook Dave Andrews until he opened his eyes. “Come sleepyhead,” she quietly said. “We need to leave.” The Commander swung his legs over the side of the cot and reached out for Marlana’s assistance in getting up.
After the two officers consumed the remainder of the water from the ceramic water jug that Salton had brought for them earlier, they all exited the tiny sleeping room and started down the hallway with Penelope tagging along behind. As they passed the children’s bedroom, Marlana touched Colonel Flax on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “I’d like to look in on the children before we go.” The Colonel nodded in agreement. The doctor entered the room while Dave Andrews and Flax waited in the hallway. Marlana checked the vitals of both children, being careful not to wake them. They were holding their own. She told the Colonel that the children were stable and instructed him to keep them on a liquid diet. And they were not to eat any apples or drink apple juice.
Marlana picked up Penelope and hugged her lovingly. “Please continue to take care of Penelope. I will be back for her.”
“Of course. Now let’s make haste but be as quiet as you can.”
They followed Flax down the rest of the hallway and to the apartment’s front door where Salton was waiting for them. Marlana reluctantly handed Penelope to Salton. Using his foot to hold the door open, the tall slave held the cat securely against his chest while the other three sneaked out,
Josh Stoner could not recall the last time he had been this sick to his stomach. I think it was way back at Ohio State. Yeah, Paul and I, along with a few fraternity brothers, had gone to the Smashed Buckeye to celebrate the end of finals. And true to the bar’s name, we got smashed on Buckeye Shots, a mean mixture of Kahlua and Bailey’s Irish Cream topped off with a hardy amount of SKYY Vodka. Yes, it was a night of booze, pretty women, and non-stop celebrating. Around four in the morning, Paul and I staggered back to the dorm, vomiting several times along the way. For a few bucks the RA let Paul and I sneak up to our room without writing us up.
The thought of Paul Loring and their close friendship filled Josh with an overwhelming sense of loss. He shook his head and reminded himself that Paul was a spy and was really never his friend. He’s a traitor who only pretended to be my friend for the sole purpose of infiltrating the United Galaxy Command. How could I have been so dumb? Now, here I am fourteen years later, again at about four o’clock in the morning, again feeling nauseous, and again needing to sneak home. And yes, still wondering how I could be so dumb.
Josh sighed loudly as he once more shook his head trying to rid himself of all memories of Loring.
“Sir?” que
stioned Keith Hampton upon hearing the Captain’s groan. For the past several minutes they had been walking cautiously in the dark, back to the elevator. Using a flashlight seemed dangerous as it could alert someone to their whereabouts.
“Keep going,” replied Josh. Then suddenly he added, “No, stop.” Both officers ceased walking. “I don’t think we should use the elevator. There are bound to be guards standing watch. We need to find another way out.”
“You are probably right about the elevator, sir, but is there another way out?” Keith waited for the Captain to respond. When he didn’t Hampton continued. “We could follow the sewer and see where it leads to. Perhaps it empties out somewhere.”
“No,” said Josh. “Shasta and I came to a complete dead end when we landed here after dropping through the— That’s it!” said Josh excitedly. “The manhole!”
“Of course,” agreed Keith. “I’ve seen them on the floors of the tunnels.”
“Yes, hurry we must find one before the citizens of Brisula awaken and head off to work. Let’s go back toward the apple barrels. I want to avoid the elevator.”
They turned around and headed down the path they had just traveled on, keeping their heads pointed up and their eyes glued to the ceiling. Occasionally Keith shined the flashlight upwards briefly illuminating the brick-lined tunnel roof.
“I think I’ve found one,” exclaimed Keith aiming the flashlight at a circular indentation above his head. “Sir, if I can stand on your shoulders again I will push it open.”
“They are quite heavy,” said Josh. “It’s going to take two of us to jar it open.”
They stood quietly for a moment trying to think of a solution to their newest problem.
“Sir,” spoke up Hampton. “What about the apple barrels?”
“Fantastic. Let’s go.”
Hampton reached into his backpack and pulled out the first item he touched. It was the coil of rope. He laid it on the ground directly under the manhole. Then he and the Captain trotted quickly back to the apple barrels. They lowered two of the wooden barrels onto their sides and began rolling them down the tunnel until they reached the rope still lying in the path. Standing the barrels upright, they climbed atop. The barrels were just the right height. They were able to easily reach up and push on the heavy steel manhole cover. It was hard going as both men were physically weak, feverish, and nauseous. After a while the cover shifted slightly. With some more effort, the cover began moving to the left. Josh gave it one final push, and the cover slid completely off the manhole. Keith threw his backpack up into the hole. No one approached the hole or looked down at them. Assuming that the coast was clear, Keith hoisted himself off the barrel, and with Josh applying force to his rear end, he emerged through the hole in the roof. The tunnel was vacant as far as Keith could tell. He positioned himself flat on the ground and lowered his arms down the hole to assist the Captain.
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