by Sean Allen
There was nobody in the galley, but since there wasn’t a cook on board, Otto wasn’t surprised. This didn’t mean the space for feeding the crew wasn’t first class. Despite the lack of someone dedicated to the preparation of meals full-time aboard the ship, it was rumored that Rilek himself was an incomparable connoisseur of fine food and drink. Otto had heard that the admiral possessed an amazing repertoire of recipes from around the universe that he could whip up on a whim; and by the look of the galley, it must have been true. The room was equipped with burners, ovens, and grill-tops that could have served ten times the number of crew aboard. Several gleaming refrigerators stood like sentinels along the back wall along with a large, silver door that Otto assumed was the entrance of a walk-in freezer.
He stepped to the row of refrigerators and pulled the big doors open one by one. He wasn’t going to cook anything—all the cookware was stowed, anyway—and he didn’t want to miss the stars. He rummaged through the refrigerators until he found something that appealed to his appetite and his schedule. His furry fingers followed orders from his keen sense of smell like soldiers eager to please a general and emerged from the confines of one of the tall, metal boxes with two containers. Otto’s mouth was watering as he set the packages down and hastily pried off their lids. He stooped down and took a huge breath, closing his eyes as his soft black nostrils flared wide to take in the tantalizing aroma.
Three breaded fillets of Moruvian red fish with a succulent crustacean meat stuffing were neatly rolled inside the first container, and a sweet, tangy Udo sauce was waiting in the second. He knew the feast would taste better warm, but he didn’t care—the stars were waiting, and even if it was cold, the food would be the best thing he’d had since leaving his home world and joining the Dissension long ago. Otto drizzled the sauce over the fillets, cleaned up any evidence of his early morning raid on the galley, and stole away into the dark passages of the ship.
Kriegel would still be in the conning tower, and Otto didn’t want to risk being seen exiting the ship through the docking bay. It wasn’t that he would get in trouble for being out of his bunk, he just didn’t want to stop and talk to anyone—he wanted to enjoy the time before sunup by himself. Fortunately, Otto knew one way to access the outside where there was unlikely to be anyone around, and he strolled quietly down the main deck to Stateroom A and slipped inside. The large hole, which he was to begin sealing shut in a few hours, hung above him like a window to all creation that glimmered with every star in the universe. Soft starglow washed over him, and he smiled as he thought of worlds untouched by the Durax and of his once peaceful home.
Otto climbed the scaffolding inside the room and out through the hole to the exterior bracing standing high above the desert below. He sat on the top level with his legs dangling over the edge, leaned back on one hand, and savored every delicious bite of stuffed red fish as he gazed at the stars. For the first time in a long while, Otto Von Holt was at peace, but he knew it couldn’t last, not in these troubled days. As he relaxed comfortably on his perch high above the desert, he heard the soft sound of the stateroom door being carefully latched shut. Otto knew he’d be easy to spot if he dared to look inside, so he carefully rested his back against the ship, moved as close to the edge as possible, and listened to the sound of angry whispers slicing through the darkness below.
“I was almost killed!” the voice hissed. Otto strained his ears, and it was hard to tell because of the hushed tone, but he was almost certain he had never heard the voice before. He listened harder, but instead of words, he heard the creak of the scaffolding.
“They’re coming this way!” he screamed inside his head.
He moved as quickly and quietly as he could over to the empty container still rife with fish scent and sent it spinning over the side before nimbly lowering himself to the next level of the scaffold, just as the head of the mysterious figure surfaced into the night. Otto huddled in the shadows and slowed his breathing as the one-sided conversation continued above him.
“That wasn’t the agreement! Yes, it worked, but there’s still another stage—you need me. No, no, please—I’ll do anything—just please, don’t hurt them!” There was a pause in the conversation, and Otto could hear the faint sound of sniffing.
“You’re going to get killed because of goddam stuffed Moruvian red fish!” his cynical little voice chided. “Helluva last supper!” his courageous side countered as he spied through the small slit between the planks at the shadowy outline above him. The scaffolding shook slightly as the figure paced back and forth, and Otto was suddenly struck with an idea.
He reached onto his belt and unfastened a small pouch with several coins inside, then slowly made his way to one end of the scaffolding, making sure to move only when the bracing bounced and swayed from the intruder’s sporadic steps. After what seemed like forever, Otto reached the far end and tied his money pouch to one of the joists, so the bag overlapped the vertical brace to the plank he was standing on. He held onto the pouch until his uninvited guest moved again and then he let go and slunk along the hull to the opposite end of his level and waited.
“It doesn’t appear so at the moment, but that”
Jingle.
“That doesn’t matter, it may”
Jingle-jingle.
Otto climbed over the end railing and pulled his head above the planks. The mystery guest was three-quarters of the way to the opposite end when he turned suddenly. Otto let go of the plank and ducked. For an instant he was balanced on a narrow bar several stories above the ground, before he reached out and gripped the vertical brace on his right. He was lucky. The trembling of the scaffold caused by his sudden movement was masked by the abrupt about-face of the stranger, and his little game was still afoot.
“You know that doesn’t matter, it might still progress.”
Jingle-jingle-jingle.
The character walked steadily toward the edge, and Otto knew he had fallen into the trap. As the newcomer leaned over the end rail to uncover the source of the odd sound and sate his curiosity, Otto climbed from his hiding place and touched down on the top plank with his revolver stretched out in front of him.
“Freeze!” Otto said, and then something odd happened. He was wide awake, but the outline of the stranger blurred for a split second. He quickly blinked a couple of times before readdressing the dark figure. “Hands in the air and turn around!” Otto commanded. The other did as he was told and as he turned, something flashed in his upheld hand. Otto’s arms tensed forward and his finger tightened around his trigger. “Drop it!”
The object fell to the plank with a loud thwap! It was a holodex tablet, and it was playing the same rasping, whispery voice Otto had heard just moments before.
“Don’t shoot, Major, it’s me,” Dr. Weiloonyu said as she stepped forward. Otto could clearly see her now in the starlight, and he lowered his gun.
“What in the hell are you doin’ out here?” Otto said. “I could’ve killed you!”
“For what,” Mia laughed, “being a workaholic?”
“What do you mean?” Otto asked with the look of a man about to lose his marbles if he didn’t get some answers.
“Old case files,” said Mia as she pointed at the holodex tablet still softly playing on the ground. “I’m a doctor of psychology—among other things—and I like to work on hard cases when the ship is quiet. As for what I’m doing out here, I could ask you the same thing, but I’m sure your reasons are much like mine. I needed a change of scenery, and I thought the desert air and the stars might give me some inspiration.”
“And him?” Otto nodded at the tablet.
“Without getting too technical, you could say he was a bit paranoid. Had a voice in his head commanding him to fulfill some clandestine mission. As you can see, he didn’t realize the voice was just in his head—thought everybody could hear it—and he answered out loud.” Otto paused and listened carefully. The tablet was streaming audio in the same voice, saying the same phrases he had bur
ned into his memory, but Otto was unconvinced and Mia knew it by his hard stare. “There’s video to go along with that,” she said and smiled politely.
Otto knelt down without taking his eyes off the doctor and scooped up the holodex tablet. He held it low in front of him so he could still see Weiloonyu out of the top of his vision as he engaged the video. The screen flickered to life and illuminated Otto’s haggard face in the reproduced tones of the Lodestar’s infirmary. There, in a side view, was Dr. Weiloonyu herself and a creature that Otto didn’t recognize. The subject was answering some of the doctor’s questions and then switching gears to answer those in his head. The tension in Otto’s shoulders faded as he watched the words rattle from the patient’s mouth.
“Doctor,” Otto said awkwardly, “I…I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry.” He handed the tablet back to Weiloonyu as he holstered his revolver.
“No need for apologies, Major. You didn’t expect anyone else to be out here, and given what’s on this holodex, I can see why you might have been suspicious.”
“Still, I have to apologize—I mean, I pointed my gun at you.”
“It’s quite all right, Major. I’m glad you’re a soldier that’s always on his toes; the other kind always ends up getting killed, and he usually takes a few people with him.”
Otto was surprised by the doctor’s blunt talk, but he wanted to end the encounter on a positive note. “Again I apologize,” he said, looking Weiloonyu in the eyes. Then he turned to climb down into the hole.
“Major?” Weiloonyu called after him, and Otto stopped in mid crouch and looked back at her. “May I make a suggestion?” Otto lifted his head slightly as a gesture of acceptance. “Get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.” He considered her for a moment, then nodded his head and ducked back inside the ship.
Something didn’t sit right with Otto when it came to Weiloonyu. She had a damn good explanation for the mysterious voice, sure, but there was something about that woman Otto just didn’t trust. He didn’t know it, but at that very moment, she was thinking the exact same thing about him.
***
It was past midday when Otto woke from a dreamless sleep. “Shit!” he shouted as he slipped quickly back into his uniform and dashed to Stateroom A like a tardy schoolboy. He arrived to find the room empty and the hole in the hull the same size it had been last night. Otto burst through the portal to the conning tower to find everyone except Weiloonyu crowded around a patchwork of open access panels on the deck that stretched back from the helm and revealed a sea of wires and circuits beneath. Everyone turned at Otto’s abrupt entrance and stared for a moment as he bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, and panted heavily.
“Ah, good afternoon, Major,” Rilek said as he turned back to the panel in front of him.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m late, Admiral,” Otto stammered, “I overslept.”
“Nonsense,” Rilek said. “Mia said you were having some trouble sleeping through the night and recommended you be allowed to rest.” Otto raised his brow inquisitively at the mention of the doctor.
“I apologize for putting us behind schedule.”
“I like you, Otto,” Rilek said as if he were just another grunt in the motor pool, “but you really have to stop apologizing for everything.
“As you can see, we’re having a helluva time with the flight controls. The Lodestar is…unique when it comes to its functionability, which also means that she’s complicated as hell. We won’t have controls back until…” Rilek looked down the access panel he was crouched over.
“Sometime tomorrow morning!” Kriegel’s voice croaked from below the deck.
“Sometime tomorrow morning,” Rilek echoed. “So there’s plenty of time for you and your team to get the patch done.” He smiled affably and then turned back to the bundle of wires in his hand.
“Aye, Admiral,” Otto said, regaining his composure. He nodded to one of the Noris, and they took their leave, followed closely by two more ensigns. The team headed for the scaffolds surrounding the breached hull and the only remaining evidence of their bitter defeat at the hands of the Triton.
Otto was grateful for the extra sleep. His reserves of energy were brimming, and he worked tirelessly, with more precision than the day before. It took him and his team of three Noris and four load-bots just short of seven hours to complete the job, and once they were done, not even Kriegel could hide his admiration: there was no sign that the hull had been damaged at all.
“Impressive,” Kriegel said as he hung from the scaffold and inspected the hull. “I’ll close the docking bay door and pressurize the ship to make sure it holds, but I’m sure it will.” Otto was at a loss for words at what he was sure was a high compliment from the gruff engineer.
“Thank you, Chief. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Have you seen the admiral?”
Kriegel pointed a finger at the wall Otto had just patched. “He’s in the sand on the other side of the containers.”
***
The once green sand looked black as the sun vanished over the horizon, and it whispered countless undecipherable secrets with each step Otto took toward the flames he saw ahead of him. The warmth of the fire covered him like a comfortable blanket as he sat down on one of several carved, wooden benches Rilek had transported from the ship. He looked across the blaze at the admiral. Rilek’s long sailor’s jacket was draped over his shoulders. One feathery hand rested comfortably in his lap as the other caressed a pipe that hung below his hooked nose. The deep bowl smoldered red with each inhale, followed by the gentle puff of gray smoke that wandered up from his lips and sweetened the crisp, night air. Smolder-puff. Smolder-puff. Smolder-puff. It was a mesmerizing ritual—a rhythm Otto recognized as deep contemplation.
“What’s on your mind, Admiral?” Rilek didn’t answer straight away. He took several more long draws on his pipe before coming out of his trance and fixing Otto in his strange, piercing gaze.
“After you, Major,” Rilek said. Otto gave a bashful smile at being so transparent.
“It’s about Malo, sir.”
“Yes, I’d assumed it was something like that,” Rilek said.
“Before we were attacked by Berzerkers, Malo told us that the Mewlatai had injected him with something. Blink was going to run some tests when the explosions started. I honestly didn’t remember until Malo went crazy and…”
“Injected, eh? That might explain a lot. Did you inform Doctor Weiloonyu?”
“Yes,” Otto said, suspicion flaring in his mind as he thought of his encounter with the insomniac doctor last night.
“Very well. I have no doubt Mia will get to the bottom of things.” Otto looked at Rilek in silence for a while, wondering how or if he should tell the man that he had doubts about someone the Admiral obviously trusted with his life. His experience with Weiloonyu high on the scaffolding in the early hours of the morning was certainly interesting, but she had a strong alibi and evidence to support it. In the end, Otto decided to keep his suspicions to himself, stay alert, and see where things were headed. He smoothly changed the subject.
“And you, Admiral?”
“Containers, Major,” he said.
“Containers?” Otto replied, not quite following where this was going.
“Yes. I set up the run and those contain” Rilek stopped short. His hand moved down over the gun tucked into his belt and Otto followed suit.
“What is it, Admiral?” Otto said in a strained whisper, his hackles raised on end and his eyes darting through the night around them.
“Thought I heard something,” Rilek said as he slowly moved his hand away from the handle of his gun and put his pipe back in one side of his mouth. “As I was saying, containers.” Rilek leaned toward the fire and opened his small mouth to continue, but the words never got a chance to come out. They were stifled by a violent swishing sound from behind. The admiral spun around and caught sight of the long, curved edge of a blade, its razor line glinting in the starlight and t
hen vanishing, only to reappear again as it fluttered, end over end, from the blackness to cleave his skull in two.
Chapter 40: Masquerades
Night had come in the desert, and Dezmara’s revenge was at hand. She crept from her hiding place and crawled on her belly up the last dune overlooking the Lodestar. She wouldn’t have taken Rilek for a pirate, but his unprovoked attack on the Ghost and her cargo containers lying alongside his ship were all the proof she needed. Her priority was to slip inside and find Simon and Diodojo, but she would gladly kill anyone that crossed her path—especially Rilek.
“Dammit!” she cursed as she zoomed the kranos in on the craft. The cargo bay door that had been open earlier was now sealed. This side was completely secure—no way in or out. Dezmara slid back a few feet, stood up, and skirted around to the other side of her target. She could easily see the conning tower from behind the hills of sand. As Dezmara passed the line of the bow, she scampered up the closest incline for a better view of the starboard side. “Shit!” she cried into her helmet. No signs of life on this side either. If the skids were down, she could’ve crawled inside the hollowed-out compartments they retracted into and accessed the substructure and then the decks above. She spent the better part of fifteen minutes tapping the kranos and exploring possible access points, but everything she examined was a dead end. Time was slipping past, and she couldn’t think of any other way to gain entry. Visions of ripping off her helmet and screaming at the top of her lungs flashed through her tortured mind; and then she had an idea. She would hide on top of a cargo container and let their load-bots hand deliver her into the ship.
She hoped the metal boxes were still there as she sprinted back through the valleys between the dunes. Dezmara lay in almost exactly the same spot she had been in when she first spied the Lodestar, and this time as she looked over the ridge, she was unable to control her bloodlust. Her animal instinct devoured her reasoning mind as she looked down at two figures: one small with a whiskered face and little ears, and the other with dark, gold-ringed eyes, a hooked nose, and a commander’s hat. “Rilek!” She spat the name out, and her hatred-laced breath burned into the back of the kranos like an acidic fume. “How do you know that’s him? Could be someone else!” her rational side offered. “If it’s not Rilek, it’s one of his goddam bastard pirate crew, and he’ll die—they’ll both die!” the animal side roared.