by Jim Proctor
“All right,” he said as he pushed himself upright, stretched, and crossed his legs. “Tell me all about it.”
She began telling him about the flight and stopping for fuel. Before long, she was sitting on the bed cross-legged, recounting the entire trip as he listened to every detail. He cringed when she told him that Uncle Ethan had been expecting a wedding announcement. She told of their many trips on horseback, including riding to his house and spending the night, supposedly without Ethan. When she told him that Ethan had given her Ginger, Nolan looked shocked.
“He gave you Ginger?” he asked.
“Yes, he did. Is something wrong?” she asked.
Nolan smiled. “No, nothing is wrong. He’s expecting us to get married, or at the very least, live together.”
Now it was Megan’s turn to look shocked. “Why do you say that?”
“You live in Dawson. He gave you a horse. He’s expecting you to move to Zebulon,” Nolan said.
“No, he isn’t,” she insisted. “It isn’t any big deal. The horse is there, same as before, and he’ll continue to care for her and ride her. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“You don’t know how my uncle feels about his horses, especially Ginger,” he said.
“What’s special about her?” she asked.
“Aunt Karra loved horses. She had a horse named Brandy that she loved more than all the others. Brandy was gentle, affectionate, and loved the trails. Uncle Ethan said that Ginger is like Brandy all over again. She’s his favorite horse.”
“Then why would he give her to me?” she asked.
“Because he’s expecting you to move there and ride her all the time,” Nolan said.
Megan smiled. “To tell you the truth, your uncle was playing matchmaker with us the whole time I was there. He seems to think we’re perfect for each other.”
Nolan laughed. “That sounds like him. I guess he loves me too much to see how ridiculous it is to think that you would settle for me.”
“Oh, stop that. It’s not ridiculous,” she said. Then, feeling the heat in her face again, she added, “You’re a wonderful man. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”
“That sounds like the kind of thing a beautiful woman would say to a dorky man to boost his ego.”
“We should be going,” she said, desperate for this conversation to end.
Chapter 13
From the spaceport, Megan and Nolan went straight to his apartment. She had already told him everything that had happened on her trip, but he wanted to go through it all again to make sure he had it memorized. They stepped out of the elevator and walked toward his apartment.
The door to apartment eighty-seven opened, and Mrs. Phillips emerged. She smiled when she saw them coming down the corridor together. “I hope you two love birds had a glorious holiday,” she said.
“Oh, we did,” Megan said as she put her arm around Nolan and pulled him close. “It was amazing!”
Mrs. Phillips smiled at Nolan and said, “Good man. Always keep your woman happy, and she’ll be sure to keep you happy. The late Mister Phillips used to jump my bones any chance he got, and I always made sure he left the house with a smile on his face.”
Megan struggled to hold her laughter as she saw the expression on Nolan’s face.
Mrs. Phillips turned to Megan and said softly, “Mister Phillips had quite a large libido.”
Megan smiled at the old lady and then looked at Nolan, who looked like he was going to be sick. “Thank you for watching our place while we were gone,” she said. “I’ll stop by and tell you all about it when I get a chance.”
“You will?” Nolan squeaked.
“I’d like that, dear,” the old lady said as she turned and continued her slow stroll to the elevator.
Nolan rushed to his apartment, threw open the door, and ducked inside. Megan followed, still holding back her laughter. She didn’t want to hurt the woman’s feelings. She stepped inside, and Nolan quickly closed the door. He pointed a finger at her and said firmly, “Don’t even think about telling her about my libido.”
“Would I do that to you?” she asked with feigned innocence.
“Yes, you would!” he said. “And you’d exaggerate, too!”
Megan laughed as she dropped onto the couch. “Okay, you win. I won’t say anything to embarrass you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” she said with a giggle.
* * * *
“What have you learned?” Megan asked. She was in Derick’s office, sitting across the desk from him.
Derick shook his head. “Not much. I had some people digging into the tracking data. Right after you left, the servers went crazy and scrambled all the data. After that, they crashed. We didn’t learn anything. Ronnie made some inquiries and found the guy who said he obtained the registration for the Phoenix. The man who bought the papers didn’t give any name and paid in chips. He gave Ronnie a description, though it won’t be much help. The guy was average height, average build, with brown hair, probably in his late thirties or early forties.”
“Wonderful,” Megan said. “That narrows it down to a few million men.”
“I’m sorry,” Derick said. “These people don’t take pictures of their clients for their scrapbooks.”
“So we have nothing,” she said. “We think Carl stole something from SACOM, but we don’t know what. We have a vague description of the guy he was working with, except it may not be a description of the guy he was working with. The ship he was flying had forged registration papers, so that will be a dead end. Have I left anything out?”
Derick sighed. “No, I think that sums it up pretty well.”
“Great. So what do we do now?” she asked.
“I’m still making inquiries. I need to get access to the stored tracking data so I can find out more about this Lansing guy, and see who else Carl interacted with.”
“How will you do that?” she asked.
“I’ll talk to some people at the data center. I’ll find out if they have backups and try to get access,” he said.
Megan shook her head. “A quarter million credits aren’t going to be enough to find Carl.”
“Don’t worry. Some people owe me favors. I’m calling them in. If the data center has a backup, I’ll get a copy for free. We’ll find him,” Derick said.
“I better go and tell Nolan the news. He’ll be discouraged, I know.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” Derick said.
“Do you disapprove?” she asked.
“No. He seems like a nice guy. But it hasn’t been very long since John passed. I just want to be sure you aren’t jumping into something you aren’t ready for,” he said.
She smiled. “Relax, we’re just friends. Besides, I spent the past two weeks at his uncle’s farm while he was off planet hopping. I’ve spent less than a day with him since we both returned to Dawson.”
“All right. Just be careful. You know I love you, and I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“I know. You’re a wonderful brother-in-law. Thank you,” she said. She looked at the clock. “I’m supposed to meet Nolan in thirty minutes at The Cove.”
* * * *
“So, we have nothing,” Nolan said.
“Pretty much,” Megan replied.
Mick approached them and asked, “What can I get for you?”
“Two beers,” Megan said. “Surprise us.”
“Amber or dark?” Mick asked.
“Amber,” Nolan said.
“Amber for me, too,” Megan said.
A minute later, Mick set two frosty mugs in front of them. “This is from a new brewery here in town. It’s their first batch. Let me know what you think.”
“You get a lot of SACOM people in here, don’t you?” Megan asked.
“Sure. The city is crawling with them. They come in here all the time,” he replied.
“And they drink,” she said with a smile.
“Oh, no. Don’t
even think about it,” he said.
“Mick, we need to find Carl. We’ve been digging around, but we’ve come up empty-handed. We need some solid leads,” Nolan said.
Mick looked up at the ceiling for a while. Finally, he moved closer and leaned across the bar. In a whisper, he said, “Rumor is that Carl stole a component for some big weapon. A couple of guys said it was powerful enough to destroy a planet. Another said it could destroy an entire star system.”
“But how would they ever find a buyer for a weapon like that?” Nolan asked.
“I don’t know. I guess you have to ask yourself who wants to blow up a planet.” Mick said.
“And who could afford it?” Megan asked.
“Not many people fit that description,” Nolan said.
Mick nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find suspects.”
“Thanks, Mick,” Nolan said. He picked up the mug and took a sip. “This is good.”
“Maybe I’ll keep it on tap all the time,” Mick said before turning and walking away.
“Do you know what doesn’t make sense?” Nolan asked.
“No, what?”
“Carl wouldn’t sell a weapon that powerful to anyone,” he said.
“I doubt he was selling it. He just acquired it for someone else who was selling it, I’ll bet. He’s a space salvage expert, not a black market arms dealer,” she said.
Nolan shook his head. “He wouldn’t have let anyone have it.”
“Nolan, he lost everything he had. He needed credits. Who knows what he might have done in desperation?”
“I know. Carl would not have given a weapon that powerful to anyone. Not if he knew what it was,” Nolan said. “Not for any price.”
“All right, then. We’re on to something. If we assume he stole the weapon, but wouldn’t give it to anyone, what would he do with it?” she asked.
“He might try to hide it somewhere,” Nolan said.
Megan shook her head. “I don’t think so. That’s a temporary solution, at best. Risky, too. Sooner or later, someone would find it. Could he destroy it somehow?”
“This is ridiculous,” Nolan said. “This is just a rumor from some drunks, and we’re trying to figure out what Carl would have done.”
“What else have we got?” she asked.
He looked into his beer, but he said nothing.
“Think about it. Whatever Carl stole, SACOM desperately wants it back. It can only be a serious weapon or some critical component to make one,” she said.
“But it doesn’t make sense. Even if we’re only talking about planetary destruction, and not star system destruction, a weapon that powerful just isn’t plausible.”
“All right, forget about plausibility for a moment. Carl stole something, and SACOM apparently will do anything to get it back. Whatever it is, you’re sure Carl wouldn’t let anyone have it. Where does that leave us?” she asked.
“He either hid it or destroyed it,” Nolan said.
Megan nodded. “And I’m pretty confident he wouldn’t try to hide it. That’s too risky.”
“So he destroyed it,” he said.
“How would he do that?” Megan asked.
“That would depend on what it was,” he replied. “And that brings us back to where we started this conversation.”
“No, it doesn’t. We’ve progressed from there. You’re the genius here. Get inside Carl’s head and figure out what he would do.”
“But I don’t know what he stole, so I can’t even guess how he might destroy it,” he said.
“You’re missing the point. It doesn’t matter how he destroyed it. We’re not looking for the weapon—we’re looking for Carl. After he destroyed it, what would he do next?”
Nolan looked at her for a moment. Finally, he said, “You’re right. Let’s assume he survived the destruction of… whatever it was. If I were him, I’d look for a place to live the rest of my life in obscurity.”
“In other words, you’d hide somewhere,” she said.
“Well, yes, but I don’t mean hide in the usual sense. I mean, I’d want to enjoy the rest of my life, not spend it flitting from shadow to shadow, always watching over my shoulder for someone. I’d look for a place where I could live a peaceful, happy life while staying out of Galactic databases.”
“Well, now we’ve come a very long way from where we started,” she said.
Nolan smiled. “Yes, we have. But we have to be careful. All of this supposition is based on rumors from drunks and guesses by us. We could be way off the mark.”
“My gut tells me we’re pretty close to the truth,” she said. “I think we should look at the inhabited worlds and figure out where Carl might have gone to live in obscurity.”
“There can’t be too many worlds like that,” Nolan admitted.
Megan smiled, “I think we’ll find him.”
“To finding Carl,” he said, raising his mug.
Megan raised hers and tapped it against Nolan’s. “To finding Carl,” she said.
They finished their beers and left the bar.
* * * *
Megan and Nolan were in high spirits when the cab stopped in front of his apartment building.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in for a while?” he asked.
“I need to go home,” she said. “I’ve been gone for two weeks, and I have a lot to do if I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon,” he said. He watched as the cab pulled away and glided up the street, floating on its retrograv field. Nolan turned and walked toward the building’s entrance. A man moved away from the wall and stepped in front of him.
“Nolan Peters, you need to come with me,” the man said. Nolan turned to run, only to find two large men standing behind him. Each man grabbed him by an arm while the first man patted him down and then removed his data unit from his pocket. A black van pulled to the curb and the back door opened. Nolan was dragged over and pushed inside. The men climbed in after him, and shut the door, and the van drove away.
* * * *
Captain Jiorgenson approached Ensign Baker’s workstation. “Well, James, were you able to download the tracking data from Nolan Peters’ data unit?”
“Yes, sir. Nolan Peters and the Carson woman spent two weeks at his uncle’s farm in Zebulon. They traveled around the farm almost daily.”
“You’re assuming the woman was with him the whole time,” Jiorgenson said.
“No, sir. They both had a common social application loaded that sends out pings requesting a reply from friends’ data units. It tells you when someone you know is nearby. Peters’ data unit received pings from her data unit almost the entire time they were there. They were rarely apart,” Baker said.
“I see. And he never left Zebulon?” Jiorgenson asked.
“No, sir.”
“If Peters never left Zebulon, then who stole the Independence?” the captain asked.
“I couldn’t say, sir, but it wasn’t Nolan Peters,” Baker said.
“Did you uncover anything else from his data?”
“Well, sir, I did find one interesting bit of information. Early in their second week, they went to another location on the eastern edge of the uncle’s farm and spent the night. They returned to the farm the following day.”
“What can you tell me about the place?” the captain asked.
“It’s a parcel of property that Ethan Peters transferred to Nolan Peters years ago. I pulled up satellite images. It’s a large hill covered with trees. Pattern recognition software indicates there may be two structures under the trees,” Baker said.
Jiorgenson smiled. “I’ll bet Carl Wilkins is hiding there.”
“I couldn’t say, sir.”
“Okay, tell me about the rest of their trip,” the captain said.
“They were there for two weeks, and then flew back, stopping at Oberck, probably for fuel. From there, they flew straight to Dawson spaceport. They spent the night in her aircar on the pad, and th
en went to Peters’ apartment the next morning.”
“What time did they arrive in Dawson?” Jiorgenson asked.
Baker looked at his notes and said, “Seven thirty-five PM.”
“Does that strike you as a bit odd, James?”
“What, sir?”
Jiorgenson paced back and forth as he said, “They arrived at Dawson spaceport at seven thirty-five—that would have given them plenty of time to shut down the aircar, pack their stuff, and catch a cab to Peters’ apartment. Why, then, did they spend the night in her aircar?” He stopped and faced Baker.
“That is a bit odd, now that you mention it. Maybe they were tired from their trip and didn’t want to deal with catching a cab and driving across town,” the ensign said.
“Maybe,” the captain said.
“Sir, how did we get Peters’ data unit?” Baker asked.
“Vice Admiral Tompkins sent it to me by courier,” Jiorgenson said.
“Yes, sir, but I mean… how did SACOM get it?” Baker asked.
“I don’t know, James. Frankly, that part worries me.”
* * * *
Captain Jiorgenson initiated a comm link to General Lance Nelson, head of SACOM Security Forces. A moment later, he heard, “This is General Nelson.”
“General, this is Captain Jiorgenson. There is a site in Zebulon that I need to have checked out by your security team.”
“I’ve been briefed by the first admiral on your investigation. I’m glad to help. Fill me in on the details,” Nelson said.
“I’ll send you a message with the coordinates. It is a tree-covered hill with two possible structures. I have reasons to suspect Carl Wilkins may be hiding there,” Jiorgenson said.
“If Wilkins is there, we can’t afford to let him slip through our fingers. I’ll send three squads with orders to bring back anyone they find on the site. They’ll leave this afternoon and arrive there after dark.”
“Thank you, General.”
* * * *
Dominick ‘The Weasel’ Waterberry stepped out from behind a tree and moved cautiously to the road leading up the hill. He’d been on the run for three days after being interrupted while breaking into a house in… whatever that town was called. He’d barely escaped, and he had kept running since, afraid the town constable might be tracking him. The Weasel didn’t like what the world was coming to. These days, it was hard for a man to make an honest living doing dishonest things. Picking pockets in crowded markets was good work, when you could get it. Shoplifting was another good job, but technology was making it more and more risky. Breaking and entering was his new specialty. He would watch for a house where a family looked to be going on a trip, leaving together and carrying lots of luggage. After dark, he’d let himself in and enjoy the hospitality of his unsuspecting hosts in the form of any valuables he could find, whatever food was still in the kitchen, and the contents of their wine or liquor cabinet. If he were feeling particularly bold, he’d even spend the night sleeping in a real bed, a luxury he didn’t often enjoy. Under the cover of darkness the next night, he’d pack up his newly acquired goods and leave. He’d sell the things that could easily be sold before the family returned and reported them missing.