My target scanned three crates before skipping a few until he was at the Z marked crate. There he studied the etching before running the end of a crowbar roughly across the code panel. He punctuated the action by stabbing the end of the tool into the plate. To follow up, he removed an object from his pocket and rubbed it over the Z. I assumed he’d just erased the marking.
Obviously finished with his nefarious activities, he calmly walked back up the line and began to scan the skipped crates. While he did his usual work, the forklifts were moving crates to the center of the dock. Another crew appeared and began to open the newly placed crates. Items from the crates were carried out by hand-lefts. Soon piles of gear, boxes and equipment began to fill specifically designated areas.
The work went on until the crate with the damaged panel was moved to a dark corner of the dock. Of the fifty-five crates, it was the only one with a damaged panel. Like the Dock Superintendent on the chemical Station had said, a damage panel was unusual. He might as well have said it was intentional.
From my observation post, I watched the hustle of the cargo deck. Besides the man who’d wrecked the code panel, no one else was doing anything other than their lawful job. I’d been sitting on the hard metal walk for over six hours and wasn’t getting anything except a sore butt.
I must have dozed because I woke when the noise of the forklifts and hand lifts stopped. The crew gathered together and, as one herd, they moved under my walkway. I heard the elevator doors close. Then it was silent on the cargo dock, except for my heavy sigh.
I planned to wait a few more minutes than quit my post when another elevator opened. Two men and a woman appeared below me. Without hesitation they made straight for the crate in the dark corner. The woman and one of the men worked a release and I heard the air hiss as the crate equalized pressure with the Station. After the venting, they used crowbars to pry open the door.
The second man guided a hand lift inside the crate and they began to remove items. Each was scanned and the items were moved away from the crate and placed end to end. Soon rows of boxes and equipment formed as they emptied the crate. It was amazing how much cargo one of those space crates could hold. It was also amazing neither the man or woman said a word when the third man disappeared into the crate. They kept scanning and unloading.
He was inside the crate for several minutes. Long enough for the last box to be rolled out, scanned and placed in the long row. Long enough for the man and woman to finish and leave the cargo deck.
Finally, he emerged with a burgundy colored alloy case that hung off his shoulder by a black strap. He unslung it and placed the case on the edge of the crate. He then grabbed the hand lift and guided it back inside. Almost immediately he reappeared with a box about the size of a footlocker. This he hauled across the cargo deck to where all the empty crates were stored.
After selecting one in the center of a row, he set the box down. Using his crowbar, he opened the door, placed the box inside and closed the door. I couldn’t see clearly but it looked like he ran a length of tape from the door and affixed it to the side of the crate. He walked back quickly and retrieved the burgundy case. I watched as he placed the hand lift back with the other hand lifts and forklifts.
The man past under me directly towards the freight elevators. I stood at the back of the catwalk and rubbed my stiff legs. Once I had some blood flow to the extremities, I hoofed it to the exit door of the catwalk.
The walk ended at a door and beyond was a work space with a few people at terminals. They didn’t say anything so I rushed through and pushed open the door on the far side of the room. A broad hallway stretched deeper into the Station. A bank of elevators was about ten steps ahead of me. I ran to the lifts and managed to press the call button for a rising car. The freight elevator doors opened and there stood the man with the burgundy case.
“Good evening,” I said as I stepped into the lift.
“Aye hi,” was his unfriendly reply. His name tag read Ludger.
Ludger wasn’t the social type. That’s alright, we’d get to know each other later, if I wanted a conversation.
I turned to the column of buttons. Without looking at him, I quickly pushed the one he’d already depressed. I hoped he’d just assume I was going to the same deck. We rode in silence until the doors opened on a hallway lined with office doors. I stepped out first and turned to the right walking slowly as if I was looking for a specific office. He turned left when he departed the elevator.
I was on my slow inspection of a second door plate while watching from the corner of my eye. He entered an office. I ran to that office and read the door plate.
The plate read Office of Personnel, Director Noriko Danno. I opened the door into a small suite of offices. Through a half closed door, I saw the burgundy case laying on a desk.
“Good evening Sir,” a redheaded receptionist said in greeting, “How may I help you?”
“I’d like to apply for employment on the Station,” I replied while dividing my attention between the room with the case and the receptionist.
“Very well, sir,” she said handing me a tablet, “You can begin the process by filling out our electronic application. You can sit over there while you work.”
It must have been the slowest application she’d had ever seen as I keyed in nonsense, backspaced and filled in some more. All the while, I watched the door until the dock crewman exited. His breast pocked was bulging with what I guessed was a wad of Pesetas. It was a cash business or, so I’ve been told.
It was decision time. Do I go in heavy and rough up the man with the case or, do I hang out in the hallway until someone calls security? In either case, I would spend the next day explaining my actions to Navy Command. Neither would get me answers or any further up the chain of the crime group. While I tried to think of a solution, I looked up and the burgundy case walked right by me.
Chapter 25
I tossed the tablet to the startled receptionist mumbling something about the application being confusing and made for the door. In the hallway, the man with the case was carrying the case by the handle, not the black strap. It wasn’t a big difference except a dock crewman would strap it on in order to keep his hands free to work. A manager would grip the case because it was his work.
The manager with the case entered an elevator and I stepped in with him. He pushed a button so I didn’t bother.
“Good evening,” I said with a smile.
“Good evening,” he replied,” We don’t see many Merchantmen on this deck.”
He expected some sort of explanation. It was an assumed question and probably a manager’s way to get information without asking a direct question. When in doubt of a proper reply always kick the responsibility to a higher authority. It’s the military way.
“Aye, sir, my Captain asked me to find the employment office and review the application,” I lied.
“And how did you find it?” he asked.
“Not too difficult,” I replied, “His nephew shouldn’t have any trouble filling it out.”
“Good and be sure the Captain sends a recommendation. It’ll help with the application,” he said.
The elevator stopped and the doors parted to reveal a tube leading across to the House of Sölvi. I bowed and waved for him to go first.
“Please sir,” I said sweeping one arm out as if clearing the way for him.
“Why thank you,” he said strutting off the elevator.
I limped slowly behind him. Not really as a disguise or a way to make space between us, my right foot was hurting. He was ahead of me when he turned a corner. I rushed forward and also turned the corner. For a second I was blinded.
From the stark metal walls of the tube and access way, I’d entered an ice palace. The walls glimmered with blue tinged crystals. The aroma of fresh lemon and lime forced me to inhale deeply but, involuntarily. It was a bright environment and the strikingly tall blond staff moved dramatically through the wide hallway. The whole scene was an assault on
my senses.
I took a second to clear my head and search. The burgundy case was weaving between the blond giants. The wait staff was good and they danced around me as I hurried to catch up with the case. Each intersecting hallway opened into a larger space that had some theme of ice and light colored wood for contrast. I’d passed three when the burgundy case turned another corner. This time, I was on it quickly.
The man and the case entered a side door. I followed him through the door. Inside the room was stacked with tables, rods, chairs and table cloths. Obviously, it was a storage area. My target entered a door on the far side. By now I was done with subterfuge, sick of following and I was hungry. For good measure, my foot hurt like hell.
I stepped with authority to the door and opened it. The burgundy case was on a small desk with Noriko Danno on one side and a lovely vision of long blond hair and alabaster skin standing on the other. I ignored Noriko and just stared at the woman. She was a goddess, a vision with a radiant smile that brightened the entire room.
“Good day to you sir,” she said, “I am Elizabeth Brynja Sölvi of the House of Sölvi. Are you lost?”
The man hadn’t turned to look at me as he appeared to be counting a fist full of cash. I smiled at the goddess and backed out of the room.
I’d gotten what I came for; a strange box set aside for someone else, a name higher up the smuggling chain, and a deckhand to question if necessary. I also planned to have a chat with the goddess. Unfortunately, while I could pressure Noriko or Ludger, there was no way I could force Miss Elizabeth Brynja Sölvi to speak to me. Anything she wanted to discuss would be on her terms. She might be involved in a petty crime but, as head of one of the Clans forming the Spirit Houses, no authority would ever prosecute her. How to approach her or, question her, was another issue?
I needed time to think and plan. I always think better with ale and meat and, I knew just where to get both.
Chapter 26
The House of Nevan deck was wall papered in yellow plant stalks. The sweet aroma of hops, barley and grains reminded me of the ale houses on planet Uno. I found a pub with a mahogany bar and a corner where twisted stalks created a private grotto. From behind the delicate reeds, I watched the small crowd of patrons.
“Ale, dark and rich,” I ordered from the maiden who appeared, “beef, potatoes and carrots with warm bread.”
“So you’d be eating like the Clan. Would you, now?” she asked with a tight smile, “And how would you like your beef cooked?”
Ah, there was the trap. Anyone who’d heard of highland cooking and wanted to try it would assume they could have it rare, medium or well done. What they would miss was the cursing of the chef in the kitchen and, while the beef would be good, it wouldn’t be real Clan cooking.
“Do I look like a Cocaire?” I asked using a Clan word for chef, “My Ma would be proud and my Papa ashamed, but alas, I haven’t the talent. So please, as the chef prefers.”
That seemed to lighten her mood and bring out the sprinkle in her green eyes.
“Well now, let me get that ale for you,” she said with a heartwarming smile, “Wouldn’t take, but a minute.”
The ale was dark and heady. The bread hot from the oven and the large platter of beef and vegetables was seasoned just right. I was digging into the food and sipping on my second ale when in walked four Druids.
They took seats far out where the glass curved and the view of space was unobstructed. Their hoods were pulled low and they were served without ordering. Could the Station have a family of Druids even without a Heart plant? Or were they just passing through? In any case, they’d been here long enough the staff knew what to serve without asking.
I really didn’t feel like moving. I wanted to stay in the grotto and get mildly drunk on the House of Nevan’s fine brew. I was comfortable and full and wanted to stay right where I was sitting. Instead, I mopped up the last of the thick broth with the final handful of bread and pushed out of the chair.
“Asthore’ Druids,” I said as I approached the table.
Two of them gave me curt nods while the other two continued to eat. None of them looked up at me. Druids are, shall we say, put offish or unfriendly, or just plain rude. I was accustomed to it.
My fists came out of my pockets with the fighting sticks. Although they were still collapsed, the handles were recognizable as custom Druid fighting sticks. They got the required effect. All four locked eyes with me.
“Let’s try this again,” I said looking from one to another, “I am Phelan Oscar Piran and I am not a Druid. I am a Navy Officer and, I need your council.”
They were not impressed. Three of them went back to slurping ladles full of soup into their sneering faces. The fourth just stared. I didn’t think my opening would get results. So, I dropped the hammer.
“I need your council concerning,” I said drawing out the rest until three had soup near or at their mouths, “an attack on the White Heart on chemical Station.”
Results guaranteed, as advertised, as well as can be predicted. Soup went flying across the table as two of the Druids shouted over their full spoons. The third was coughing up spit and soup while trying to catch his breath.
“Like I said, I need your council,” I said pulling up a fifth chair and sitting down, “I will not leave without it.”
“Explain those,” the one who’d been staring a hole in my chest demanded. He was pointing at the fighting sticks.
“A gift from Kagen the Fiery,” I said with authority because it was a challenge, “He and I worked to find the attacker of the Heart Plant.”
“What council can we offer?” another asked wiping soup off the front of his robe, “If the evil one has been punished.”
I explained my theory that the attack on the White Heart had been part of a larger plan. What the plan was I didn’t know. But, the mystery person from the Yacht and the ship’s rapid departure left too many questions. I further explained how I’d tracked smuggled goods to the hydroxyl Station. Now I had two men to question. While they hadn’t attacked the Heart directly, their entire illegal organization had aided in the attack. Thus they were suspects or, links to the actual perpetrators. In any case, they were guilty in my eyes.
I added my wish to speak privately with Noriko Danno and, my need for help in watching for whoever came to remove the box.
“I can’t go through official channels,” I concluded, “You are my only source of help.”
There was no huddle or, talk about if they would help me. With Druids, you get a mindset, and when it concerns an attack on a Heart Planet, you get them all in with no questions.
“The box and crate will be watched,” Druid one stated.
“The man shell be dealt with,” Druid two said.
Druid three simply stated, “You will be contacted.”
The fourth Druid stood and led the others out of the pub. With the Druids on the case, I went back to my grotto and ordered another ale. It was good to have Druids on your side, I thought. Sometimes, it’s not.
I was sound asleep snugged down in my bed comfortably dreaming of mountains and trees and domes that touched the low laying clouds. Thunder rolled and the steady rains beat a rhythm on the white stone path. The Bing-bong, Bing-bong noise didn’t fit in my dream. It didn’t fit with the mountains or trees. It did fit with the doorbell to my suite in the Merchant Fleet Hotel.
I jumped out of the warm soft bed and slid into a pair of trousers. I opened the door to find Druid two.
“You have words for me?” I asked trying to rub the sleep from my eyes.
“Follow,” he ordered. He turned and walk away.
I dressed quickly. Shoved my feet into a pair of boots, slid into a shirt and grabbed my fighting sticks. I had to run to catch up with the tall figure in the brown robe. He bypassed the guest lifts, turned a corner and stopped at a freight elevator. I glanced at my PID. It was the middle of fourth watch and the hallways were empty.
Peppering a Druid with questions was usele
ss and trying to pry information out of them was just as futile. So I stood in silence until the elevator arrived. We entered and he pushed a button for a deck I didn’t recognize. We rode up in silence.
The elevator doors opened to reveal an ornately carved wood door. It was almost a ceremonial gateway, however, there was no defensive tunnel. It was just two meters from the elevator and set in a curved wall that ended on either side of the elevator. My Druid escort rapped hard on the door.
I reflexively chanted, “Echoes of the past, yet, of future possibilities.”
My Druid locked eyes with me until the door opened. Another of the Druids from the pub, number three, stepped aside and we walked through the door. The interior was structured like any Druid deck on any Station with a residential Heart plant. Curved walls leading off on either side into darkness. I wondered what would occupy the center, where the root wheel would be, if there was a plant.
The Druids indicated I should follow the wall. The direction I was walking would take me to the baths and while I needed to clean up, I thought this couldn’t be the reason the Druids summoned me here, or could it? My destination was the baths, but it wasn’t for me.
It was for Noriko Danno. He was wrapped in a thin robe and packed in ice. His usually pale complexation was tinged in blue from the cold. A cloth blindfold tightly bound his wet dark hair, and cut off any vision. Nice touch, I thought as I approached the man.
“Noriko can you hear me?” I asked in a voice that was octaves higher than my usual voice, “I am sorry we had to meet like this.”
The pride and aloofness hadn’t been tempered by the ice bath.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked between shivers. “I am Noriko Danno. The Houses of Spirits will hunt you down. And, kill you for this.”
“That’s funny because if you don’t answer my questions, I plan to work my way through all of the Houses,” I threatened, “and kill everyone until I get answers to my questions.”
“Ask your questions dead man,” he ordered, but the clattering of his teeth ruined the macho effect.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 14