“How do you want to play this?”
Maggie thought for a moment before replying. “You draw him to engineering. He’s more likely to find it plausible that you need engineering help. I’ll wait until you have a signal that he’s with you and go to the bay.”
The tall lieutenant shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of you going down there alone. Take Price with you.”
“Price is standing watch. I’ll be fine.” Glancing quickly behind her, the commander paused to prop her foot against a bulkhead and pat her boot. “I won’t be alone.”
He sighed, defeated but not reassured. “Yes, that makes me feel so much better, ma’am. Let’s get this over with before my brain reminds me of all the possible flaws with this plan.” He went to engineering, pondering what he could destroy that would need Dwax’s assistance for repairs. She detoured to the medical bay to wait for the signal.
“Heya Cass.”
Dr. Ruger smiled over her shoulder. “Hello. What brings you around?”
Maggie shrugged her shoulders as she perched on one of the chairs in the doctor’s little office. “Inspection tour.” She watched her roommate’s face register concern. “Kidding, Cass! I just thought it might be nice to see what you’ve been up to. I’m... um...” Maggie paused and played with a torn thumbnail. “Anyway, sorry to have been such a bitch the past few weeks.”
In response to this unusual apology, Dr. Ruger pulled a scope out of her pocket and waved the wand-like device in front of the other woman. “Hmm, no fever. Vital signs seem normal. Who are you and what have you done with the real Commander O’Connell?”
“You’re so funny,” groused Maggie, but she chuckled too.
“Comedic relief is a great prescription—and cheap too.” The smaller lady leaned back in her chair. “Will you eventually get around to telling me what’s been bothering you?”
Maggie hadn’t anticipated the sharp surge of grief that made her eyes water and her throat constrict. She coughed and blinked before scowling. Voice rough with emotion she mumbled, “My aunt’s dying. Actually, she’s probably already died. We were kind of… we were really close.”
Cassie had been expecting something dramatic, but nothing of that scale. She immediately leaned over and clasped her friend’s hands. “Oh, Mags. You must be in such pain. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Maggie sniffed. “Wasn’t ready I guess. Saying it makes it real, you know?” Confusion tinged the pain ridden words. “I wasn’t prepared for how hard it hit me—is hitting me.” Smiling weakly, eyes bright with tears, she asked, “Forgive me?”
Cassie’s petite hands squeezed delicately over Maggie’s larger fingers. “There’s nothing to forgive. Do you want to grab a coffee later?”
Outside the partition Dr. Fortunas heard the commander’s soft sigh and her response. “I can’t, I’ve got something to take care of before my duty rotation.”
The scientist moved away from the door before he could be accused of eaves-dropping. He hadn’t intended to overhear the women; stopping by to ask the doctor to grab lunch with him, he’d stumbled upon the end of their conversation. The news that O’Connell’s aunt was dead shook him. He left the science area without comment to his assistants and made straight for his quarters. He wanted to be alone to vent his anger. There were some emotions that couldn’t be safely bottled away and needed a physical outlet—but he would look incongruous at best if he showed up in the gym to beat the hell out of the hanging bag. The smaller bag in his private quarters would have to do.
***
Maggie slipped from the medical bay to the cargo hold a few minutes after her conversation with Cassie. She stared down in dismay at the contents of the crate. Whatever it was, she couldn’t remove it. That much was blatantly clear. She wasn’t entirely sure a robo-lift could move the crate. Taking the strange looking jumble of wires and what looked like cathode tubes back to engineering for Swede to dissect being out of the question, she snapped pictures as rapidly as she could and tried not to touch anything.
“Crap, crap, crap,” she muttered between each soft click of her tablet. There was no explosive residue signature from the crate or the device so it didn’t seem to be a bomb—but would her scans detect alien explosives? If it was just a signal station, perhaps they could comprise a bug to listen in on whatever messages Dwax transmitted. She made a note to ask Swede about that and hurriedly made sure that the container looked undisturbed. The commander checked her chronometer. She was in and out of the cargo bay in twenty minutes.
We’ll place the bug before reporting back to the captain. At least then I can report that we’ve done something.
After the monitoring device was carefully hidden in the suspicious box, Guttmann and O’Connell returned to report to the captain. Their report was brief. Captain Hill nodded to the both of them and thanked them for their work. He dismissed Swede, but asked O’Connell to stay behind. Exhausted, Swede didn’t care what it was the two needed to discuss that couldn’t be said in front of him. He walked out of the captain’s office and made straight for his bunk.
“Sit, Commander.”
Maggie wondered if the captain realized that every time he did something meant to put people at ease it only made them more nervous. She’d known this conversation was coming, but she still didn’t look forward to it.
Captain Hill leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his flat stomach and stared directly at his executive officer. “I want the full story on what Admiral O’Connell had Ryan tell you.”
“Please, sir, you really do not want to know anything about that. You don’t understand what you are asking.”
“I think I can handle it, Commander. It wasn’t a request. Anything that so drastically affects your moods, and work performance, is most certainly my business.”
“Don’t you understand?” She whispered in a fear riddled tone, “The people who get mixed up in my father’s plots end up getting hurt. If I thought either the Admiral or your brother was behind the engine sabotage, I would tell you. I don’t think they are, though. I think that’s why they are trying to twist my arm, trying to make me an informer among the crew.” She stood up. Posture rigid, she said, “Sir, I owe you an apology for my behavior. I thought...” Maggie shook her head. “No excuse, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”
“You thought I asked the Admiral to apply pressure on you?”
She winced even as she nodded.
“Commander let’s get this straight right now. I expect my orders to be obeyed promptly and without question. I do not feel the need to play the “daddy-card” in order to gain your obedience. Furthermore, the next time my brother, or anyone else, tries such tactics, I expect to be informed immediately. No one intimidates my crew.” He watched her face, hoping to interpret the emotions he saw there. He suspected there was something more to this situation, but felt like pushing her would only exacerbate the tension. “Apology accepted, Commander. Dismissed.”
He waited until she left before standing and walking to his, adjoining, private quarters. Yanking at the buttons, he stripped out of his uniform while contemplating what the commander had said.
I knew from the moment I saw her name on the crew roster that having Maggie O’Connell on board would mean dealing with her father’s shadow. I thought that would mean watching what I said about Admiralty decisions and keeping her from using his influence to get out of trouble. But she’s not doing that, is she? Damn it, what are the Admiral and Ryan up to?
He finally had a lead on who might have sabotaged the engines. Instead of answering his questions, though, the discovery of Dwax’s possible duplicity only raised more avenues of inquiry. What had Dwax been trying to do—slow them down or destroy the vessel? Who was he working for? Why would a Dremikian want to slow the progress of the Hudson?
The captain grimaced. He needed time to work out what exactly was going on—and the Hudson was speeding ahead to Dremiks. They were quickly running out of time.
Chapter
14
“Bridge, this is engineering. Sir, jump is complete.”
Ensign Robertson said, “Sir, I have confirmed navigational data. Jump 10 is complete.”
“Commander maintain course and prepare for sequential engine shutdown and inspection. I’ll be in quarters.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Having completed their seventh jump since the engine malfunction, the crew of the Hudson adopted an easy routine. Lieutenant Price finished his bridge medical checks while Commander O’Connell prepared for the rest of her duty rotation. She checked reports, confirmed navigational data, and wondered if Swede would have anything to report from their bug in Dwax’s mysterious crate.
“All crew vitals within parameters, ma’am,” Price reported.
“Thank you, Lieutenant, you are relieved. I’ll see you at shift change.” She watched him leave the bridge, but her thoughts were elsewhere. They had confirmed, after previous jumps, that Dwax was sending some sort of coded transmissions from the aft cargo bay. The three of them, Captain Hill, Lieutenant Guttmann, and she, had been unable to crack the code. Sending secretive transmissions outside of normal channels was certainly suspicious, but O’Connell wasn’t sure it was an indication of Dwax’s guilt as the saboteur. She was also worried that she had, as yet, been unable to determine a motive for the act of sabotage.
Mentally shrugging off the problem, for the moment, she flipped the bridge HUD to the panoramic setting. Just at the edge of visual range from the slowly drifting Hudson, a nebula swirled with bright greens and magenta. With a soft smile of appreciation, the commander programmed the ship’s telescopes to take video and still images of the beautiful sight.
***
Dr. Marissa Hill made a beautiful pregnant woman. Considering her lovely skin-tone and svelte pre-pregnancy figure, Brett Hill should have anticipated that she would carry her child well. He hadn’t, though, and he certainly wasn’t prepared for the stabbing sensation in his chest when he saw his brother reach down and lightly pat the bulge at Marissa’s waist.
Why do I torture myself with these dinners? More to the point, why do I allow them to torture me? She’s his. She made her choice, and I’m over her.
Brett leaned over to kiss his sister-in-law on her cheek before taking his seat. Her eyes twinkled with malicious delight at something. He refused to indulge in her game by worrying what caused such sick glee.
Oh, yes, so totally over her.
Chancellor Trell raised his glass in salute to the captain once they were all seated at the small table in his quarters. “Felicitations on another successful jump, Captain. I do believe your crew has the hang of it, now.”
“Thank you, Chancellor. We are ahead of schedule again. At our current rate of travel, we should reach Rhyse station a week ahead of our planned arrival time, perhaps more.” Brett sipped his water; he carefully watched the other three people at the table.
What is it about our speed that worries you so, brother? And why do you think you can hide your unease from me, of all people?
“I will be so happy to reach Dremiks and get our agriculture station started. I’m growing tired of frozen meats and dehydrated vegetables.” Marissa took a delicate bite of flaky, parmesan crusted, cod and made a face. “I suppose there are some things we just won’t be able to reproduce.”
Chancellor Trell’s laugh shook his frame. “I will ask Dr. Fortunas to start a row of cocoa plants for you, then, at least, you ladies can have your chocolate.”
While Marissa sneered and made a condescending comment about common folk and their sweet tooth, Brett’s thoughts drifted.
She’ll be off bridge watch in a few hours, and it’s been at least a month since Chi reported food stores missing again. She’ll curl into a chair with one foot under her, shake that ridiculous hair of hers and giggle like a ten year old. I don’t know why she thinks she can hide her pilfering from me.
The captain didn’t realize that a smile softened his features. His sister-in-law looked at him sharply, wondering what it was that mellowed his thoughts. She was working so hard to irritate him, but he seemed oblivious. He was becoming too complacent, too happy with his ship and crew. She needed him off balance. She wanted him disoriented and constantly fighting to hold back the savage protective instincts she knew he possessed. A focused Brett Hill was far too dangerous.
With calculated cruelty, Marissa stood and stretched, emphasizing the roundness of her belly. “I’m sorry gentlemen; you’ll have to excuse me. Being a mother is so tiring.”
Brett’s reverie had left him with images of the laughing, sweet, Cassie Ruger. Comparing the gentle doctor with the snide harridan in front of him only made him feel pity for his sister- in- law.
“Dr. Ruger says you are past the half-way mark now, Marissa, and doing remarkably well.”
“Does she tell you everything?”
Brett’s lips quirked, but there was no softness to his expression this time. “This is my ship. I know everything that goes on.”
Sadly, neither Marissa or her husband rose to his bait. After she left the room, the conversation droned on with mundane discussion of the colonial plans. Brett finished his dinner only half listening to the other men. His mind was working through why Ryan would worry about the Hudson arriving at Dremiks ahead of schedule.
***
Dr. Ruger checked the computer screen in front of her and shook her head. The colonist in her office had no obvious signs of vitamin deficiency or hormonal imbalance. Her blood sugar was with-in the normal range, and her weight was fine. Technically, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Colonist Delorna. Cassie knew, however, that telling Sissy Delorna that her current state of malaise was only psychological would not help either of them get through the next few hours.
“When was the last time you had any chocolate?”
“Chocolate?”
Cassie smiled warmly, relaxing into what she liked to think of as “friend mode”. Her patient needed a sympathetic ear right now, not an un-caring medical professional. “Yes, chocolate, in any form.”
“Well, I don’t know. I burned through my personal stash rather quickly. I have a horrible sweet tooth.”
“I had a feeling you did.” The doctor glanced over her shoulder to the empty medical bay behind her. Sissy was her last patient of the evening. “Do you have anywhere you need to be for the next two hours?”
Thoroughly confused by the doctor’s change in demeanor and questioning, Sissy shook her head in the negative. She watched in bemusement as Dr. Ruger spun in her chair, shut down her files, undocked her tablet—which she slid into her coat pocket—and motioned to the door.
“Come with me. I think I have the perfect treatment for you.” Cassie bustled down the hallway, confident that the other woman would follow. Sissy’s confidence in that assumption, and in the doctor’s mental well being, began to wane the further they traveled through the ship. Instead of heading toward the exercise facilities—Sissy was long acquainted with doctors telling her that exercise produced mood boosting endorphins—or even the colonists’ mess room, Cassie moved into what the military crew termed “officer country”. Sissy had been there once on her initial tour of the ship. She had no reason to return and couldn’t understand how Dr. Ruger intended to help her by touring military officers’ quarters and mess areas.
Cassie sailed into the officers’ mess and grinned broadly at her roommate. “I brought a friend.”
Maggie turned around from looking down at something on the counter top. She returned Cassie’s smile and shrugged her shoulders. Cassie nodded in greeting to Petty Officer Kinsey and Dr. Fortunas’ assistant, Clara. “This is Sissy Delorna. She needs a bit of a pick-me-up and has unfortunately consumed all of her own contraband.”
At the term “contraband” Sissy’s head snapped sideways, and she began to sputter a protest. Clara laughingly interrupted her.
“I’d be bloody disappointed if she hadn’t. Isn’t human, leaving chocolate uneaten for months on en
d.”
Maggie added a theatrical shudder. “Welcome to our once monthly meeting of the Ladies Chocolate Auxiliary. Brownies on the counter over there.” She waved a hand in an arc that did not quite point in the right direction. Her other hand was busy tearing off a chunk of dark chocolate brownie and moving it toward her mouth.
Sissy’s mouth watered. “How did you get authorization to make brownies… for yourself?”
O’Connell shook her head and swallowed a large bite. “Not myself. Obviously sharing my bounty, as benefits a benevolent leader.” Her grin expanded to new lengths. “Command privilege. Have to keep the senior pilot happy and on an even—”
“Semi-even,” Cassie interrupted, her own mouth already full.
“—emotional keel.” Maggie narrowed her eyes at the civilian. “Stop looking gift officers in the mouth and dig in, woman. I don’t intend to wait for you!”
For the first time in what felt like weeks, Sissy laughed. She edged around the table and chairs and cut herself a brownie from the pan. Still slightly aghast at her good fortune, she only took a conservatively sized helping. O’Connell noted this as she sat down and rolled her eyes. Cassie laughed. Clara leaned back in her chair and began to give a very animated account of Dr. Fortunas’ latest outrage.
Within fifteen minutes, Sissy’s unease was gone. She threw back her head and laughed at Cassie’s snide retort to Maggie. The women around the table, three other enlisted women joined them, had shed all military and social rank. They were bonded by their shared separation from friends and family and their basic need for feminine understanding.
The door slid open. Sissy choked on a bite. Captain Hill, accompanied by Dr. Fortunas, strolled in. The captain was dressed, as he always was, in an impeccable uniform without a button or crease out of place. His posture and expression, however, more closely matched the rumpled, carefree, appearance of the older man with him. Ben’s shirt collar was unbuttoned, his vest completely undone. He shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched slightly.
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