Murder on Moon Trek 1

by Diane Vallere

“I accept that.” Without missing a beat, he continued. “Request a private audience. Do not apologize. It is your only acceptable course of action.” He dropped his arms and took a step backward.

  “Captain Swift, may I request a private audience to discuss my actions here?” I said. I hated doing what Neptune instructed me to do, but I didn’t have any better ideas.

  The Martian’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, which made the request worth it. Captain Swift’s expression remained completely unreadable. I suspected that came in handy when he was forced to deal with unpleasantries like this. He raised his radio to his lips. “Yeoman D’Nar, your charge, Lt. Sylvia Stryker, has just requested a private audience in Council Chambers.”

  Her voice came back pinched and whiny. “Lt. Stryker has done nothing but violate protocol since this ship departed.”

  “Meet us in Council Chambers, Yeoman. We’ll discuss Lt. Stryker’s behavior there.”

  “I will not be held accountable for her actions,” Yeoman D’Nar said.

  “Act professionally, Yeoman D’Nar,” Captain Swift admonished. I wished I could see the expression on her face.

  Neptune did his arm-crossing thing. “For reasons that will become evident when we convene in Council Chamber, I will accompany you.”

  I’d spent most of my time on Moon Unit 5 in the uniform ward, the holding cell, and my quarters. The time I spent in engineering had a hallucinogenic cloud cast over it thanks to the gas leak, and even the brief time spent at The Space Bar had faded to a memory I wasn’t certain I hadn’t dreamed up. But even though I hadn’t been through the main corridors of the ship, I had studied it so thoroughly that I didn’t hesitate. I still had adrenaline to burn, and if Captain and Neptune couldn’t keep up, that was their problem.

  Council Chambers was a soundproof and magnetically sealed meeting space located at the front of the Moon Unit. Every one of the four preceding Moon Units had had them—well, I still didn’t know for sure about the Moon Unit 4, but I assumed it had met the same overall requirements of the previous three. The room was intended for confidential discussions of intergalactic importance. I was humbled to know that my behavior had put me into that category.

  I led the procession in the direction I knew to be correct. The assorted crew members who had appeared after my attack on the Martians had returned to their quarters as was protocol when the flashing lights were active. That’s when it hit me. I was the risk. I didn’t want or need a private audience with Council Chambers, but it was too late.

  Neptune had a master plan. Too bad I had no idea what it entailed.

  21: Council Chambers

  Council Chambers was a sleek room that housed an oblong table and chairs. Each seat around the table had a small black stand in front of it. One by one, senior officers of Moon Unit 5 arrived. Each stopped by a computer library on the left side of the room and withdrew a tablet from its port, and then sat around the table and connected to an alternate power source. Screens glowed one at a time with an orange background and the Moon Unit insignia in the center in black and white. Two moons circled a planet in an off-center arc that mirrored our current trek to Ganymede.

  I didn’t know how long it took for the senior crew to arrive at Council Chambers, but the BOP indicated that when a Code White—or subordinate crew member threat—was identified, the second officers were to take over first officer posts so the problem could be addressed immediately. When the six attendees—five plus Vaan—had arrived, the door swished shut and a barrier slid down from ceiling to floor to isolate the panels that allowed them to open. We were here, and we were going to stay here, until the issue resolved.

  Now that we were all gathered in the room, I wasn’t sure what to expect. There’d been nothing in the BOP about a private audience—probably because the only people who would be requesting private audiences were those who had committed some frowned upon infraction.

  I leaned closer to Neptune. “What happens now?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you knew.”

  I shook my head.

  “Once everyone is seated and signed in, you address the council and tell them what happened.”

  This time I raised an eyebrow. “The truth, Stryker. All anybody wants to hear from you is the truth.”

  Whether I wanted to acknowledge the circumstances that had led to me holding court in Council Chambers or not, I knew telling the truth was the only way. The first course at space academy security training had included over fifty ways to identify if someone was lying. The course culminated in a timed test and those who couldn’t recognize all fifty-seven body language and verbal tells in under a minute were expelled from the academy. My class had started with ninety-six members. That single course had whittled us down to fewer than twenty.

  I’d set a new record for how quickly anyone had recognized all of the signs: seventeen seconds. Vaan and I had celebrated with a bottle of Saturnian wine I’d swiped from my dad’s secret stash.

  I stood stoically while the officers carried their computer to their seats, connected them, and then held their palm against the orange screen to scan in their identities. When the last of the officers had completed the task, Captain Swift turned to me.

  “Lt. Stryker, you requested this assembly, so let’s get right to it. State your name and rank for the record.”

  I moved to the end of the table and looked at the officers seated around the room. “Lt. Sylvia Stryker, security section aboard Moon Unit 5.”

  Yeoman D’Nar cleared her throat loudly. A few heads turned her direction. “Unless I’m mistaken, the uniform ward is not part of security section,” she said.

  Neptune stood. “Lt. Stryker’s educational background is in security. We have an active threat on board this ship. As the ship’s senior security officer and private counsel to Captain Swift, I reassigned Lt. Stryker to my team.”

  “You can’t do that!” D’Nar said. “Not without consulting with me. She is my responsibility. People expect her to be in the uniform ward where she belongs, not running around the ship attacking other officers.”

  I fought to control my temper. The ensuing tension broke when Vaan responded. “Lt. Stryker was in the top of her class at the space academy. She is more qualified to work security on this ship than the next ten candidates on the waitlist. Neptune is correct. There is a threat on board this ship, and the number one priority is for that threat to be contained. To do that, he needs the best staff he can get.”

  It surprised me to hear Vaan speak up on my behalf, but I knew any friction between the yeoman and Neptune would have escalated if not for the interference of the stranger from Federation Council. Vaan knew of my accomplishments, not because he’d had a hand in getting me where I was, but because of our past. Yeoman D’Nar didn’t need to know that too.

  I stepped a half step forward and reclaimed the floor. “As you can see, Yeoman, I am dressed in the approved uniform for Moon Unit 5 security. I made no secret of my reassignment. My actions in the hallway were mine alone and were a manifestation of my grief over the destruction of my home planet, Plunia, and the death of my mother at the hands of space pirates, two facts that I learned of less than twenty-four hours ago. I will accept whatever punishment the council deems appropriate.”

  I bowed my head. The words coming out of my mouth felt clunky and mechanical. They weren’t mine. But just like the rules of the ship that I’d memorized from the BOP I’d bought on the black market, I’d learned those lines from my dog-eared copy of The Rules and Regulations for Working Aboard a Moon Unit vol. 3.

  I’d rewritten the words in the margins of the manual, crossing off what didn’t apply to me and making substitutions that fit my circumstances. I’d memorized it just in case. And now, the speech tumbled out as if on autopilot.

  I peeked up and looked around the room at the various expressions to gauge their reactions. What I saw were six faces staring at screens in front of them: Captain Swift, Yeoman D’Nar, Vaan Marshall, Purser Frank, D
oc Edison, and Neptune. The bright reflection of blue, and then white flashed across each of them, casting their skin in unnatural shades. I shifted my weight slightly so I could see on a nearby screen what had their attention. It took me a moment before I realized they were watching footage of the cataclysmic destruction Plunia.

  Neptune had tried to keep me from seeing that footage last night. But he must have known they’d show it here behind closed doors.

  And then it hit me. Neptune hadn’t been looking out for me when he suggested I take this course of action. He was after something else and was using me and my situation to get it. I shifted my attention from the screens to him. He was watching me. When our eyes connected, his lips pressed together into a narrow line. He cut his eyes to the group and back to me, and then did it again. He was trying to tell me something. What? What could he possibly want me to see in the faces of the officers assembled in the room?

  I looked back at the group. The screens had powered off, and they were watching me as if expecting me to address them again. Only this time, the expressions were different. This time, I saw pity.

  I hated pity.

  “Captain Swift, I take full responsibility for my actions in the hallway today. The crew members I attacked were merely an outlet for my anger. I recognize that punishment can include my immediate expulsion from Moon Unit 5. If that is your decision, I won’t challenge it.”

  I felt, rather than saw two physical reactions: Vaan and Neptune. Yeoman D’Nar narrowed her eyes at me, and I knew if it had been up to her, I would have been dematerialized and then rematerialized elsewhere before the group left the confines of the room. What she hadn’t anticipated was that I wasn’t yet done making my statement.

  “However, before making that decision, I would like you to review my actions on the ship prior to learning news of my home planet.”

  Neptune stepped forward. “May I recommend Lt. Stryker be placed on probation and in my custody for the duration of the trip? I believe she will be of value to me in my investigation. I will take responsibility for her.”

  He was like a broken record!

  I was already in custody. Or I had been. My magnetic bracelet had only just come off, and Neptune was getting permission to put it back on. Never mind the integrated recording device in my uniform that allowed him to hear everything I said. If someone had given me the option, I very well might have chosen dematerialization myself.

  Captain Swift stood and addressed me directly. “Lt. Stryker, allow me to express my deepest condolences on the death of your mother and the destruction of your planet. Your actions today were not in adherence with the accepted conducts of a Moon Unit officer, so while I think we can all understand your behavior, we cannot condone it with the reward of special assignment. You will finish out the duration of the moon trek as the uniform supervisor, lieutenant, second rank, reporting to Yeoman D’Nar. When we return to the space station, you will be turned over to Federation Council for an insubordination hearing.”

  I pulled myself up to my tallest height and stared straight ahead so I would not have to see the smirk I assumed was on Yeoman D’Nar’s face. The captain addressed the others in the room. “So as not to raise any concern amongst our paying passengers, this sentence is to remain confidential. Doc, carry out the security procedure.”

  “You can’t mean that,” Doc Edison said. His face showed open disbelief. “This girl saved two engineers. If she hadn’t identified that gas leak in engineering, this whole ship would have turned into a fireball. She’s a hero. We can’t chip her.”

  Chip me? What did he mean? My brain spun like a super computer trying to make a match between star charts in two separate galaxies. Before I came up with an answer, Vaan stood.

  “I agree with the doctor. You can’t chip her. She’s part Plunian. She has no planet to return to after this. If she tries to live anywhere on the M-13, she’ll be held to the 90% compliance.”

  That’s when the horrifying reality of what Captain Swift suggested fully dawned on me and I realized, no matter how bleak my future had seemed last night, if I were chipped, it would be worse.

  The M-13 was a stretch of the galaxy that adhered to a strict ninety percent compliance on resident profiles. It was where outcasts and criminals went when they reformed and wanted to start a new life, for one reason. Ninety percent of the people on the planets within the M-13 jurisdiction of space had been profiled and chipped, so their whereabouts were always known. They sacrificed privacy for technology. Everything about them was public: their ID, bank info, criminal pasts, marital and medical status...all were housed in open computer files available for anyone to access. The crime rate in M-13 was low but not nonexistent. The ten percent that weren’t cataloged were blamed for most of the crimes, but it was more likely that somebody had found a way to buck the system.

  The M-13 was under the military enforcement of Federation Council. The same Federation Council that had convicted my father. And now, the captain had issued an order for me to be chipped. Everything about me would be made public in the system. Like father, like daughter. That’s what everyone would say.

  Only then did I realize that nobody in the room could stop what was about to happen. Captain Swift had issued a direct order for Doc Edison to shoot a microscopic tracking chip into the back of my neck. I’d be branded a criminal for the rest of my life.

  I looked around the room, only just now fully realizing the risk I’d taken by hacking into the computer to be here. How I’d been driven by dreams and goals and a desire to cut all ties with my criminal dad to the point that I’d committed my own crime and was about to lose my freedom.

  For the first time in my life, I felt real fear. But no matter what I felt, no matter how much I’d learned about the inner workings of this ship and the backgrounds of the staff, no matter how off the charts I was regarding outcome assessment and strategic positioning, I never could have predicted what happened next.

  22: Chipped

  Doc Edison made it clear that he didn’t agree with the decision to chip me. Apparently, that didn’t matter. In a move faster than I expected someone with Neptune’s build to be able to make, the senior security officer snatched the chipping gun from Doc, pivoted, and jabbed the barrel into the base of my skull. I felt the cold metal pressed into my hot skin, and then heard kachung. A prick of heat shot into the back of my neck. A split second later, I felt the chill I’d heard described as ice flooding through my veins. Having been raised on an ice farm, I had often questioned the possible accuracy of that description.

  It was spot-on.

  Neptune slammed the chip gun onto the table. “Lt. Stryker will report to uniform ward management at Zulu Five.”

  No one had acknowledged it, but Vaan had lost his home planet too. Relationship baggage notwithstanding, right now, we were the closest thing each other had to an ally on this ship.

  As the sensation of ice flooded my system, my limbs felt sluggish and hard to maneuver. Whatever Vaan might have been thinking, it didn’t involve snatching me from Neptune’s grasp, running out of the chamber meeting, and submerging me in hot, hot water. He seemed paralyzed by torn loyalties. I knew there wasn’t much he could have done, if anything, but still. He chose his side, and it was political. The very last thing I saw was the horror on Vaan’s face.

  Neptune picked me up, one arm under the back of my neck and one under my bent knees. I felt dizzy and went limp against him. I wanted to fight but couldn’t. My limbs shook. I pulled my arms up against my chest for warmth. The room filled with judgment. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see it.

  Sounds from the room came at me as if through a tunnel, and I had a hard time making out who said what. Someone called Neptune an idiot—was that Doc?—, laughter, and whispers. And then silence.

  The doors opened, and I felt myself jostle against Neptune’s chest. I fought against the cloud in my brain. Now was not the time to let injected chemicals interfere with my deductive reasoning. I had to focus on
one detail, one tiny detail, and once I could make sense of that, the rest of the world could come into focus too.

  I opened my eyes. The side of my head rested against the logo on Neptune’s uniform. The logo was where the integrated recording device was in my uniform. It must have been the same for him. I took a deep breath and whispered into his chest, “I can’t believe you chipped me. I thought we were on the same side.” The effort of speaking took more energy than I’d expected.

  “Don’t talk,” Neptune said. “Relax.”

  I forced my eyes open and looked up at his face. From my angle, all I got was the bottom of his chin. “No,” I said. “I’m not doing what you say anymore.”

  “Okay, then talk. Tell me who you think killed Dakkar.”

  “Don’t say his name. He’s not a person, remember? His identity is his rank, just like me. I’m not the daughter of Jack Stryker, I’m the uniform lieutenant aboard Moon Unit 5.”

  “Tell me about your father. Tell me what happened.”

  “Don’t try to trick me,” I said. And then images filtered into my brain. Faces appeared and disappeared like partially materialized aliens who changed their minds about where they wanted to land. “Vaan,” I said.

  “Don’t talk to me about Vaan,” Neptune said.

  “But I want to talk about Vaan. I have to talk about Vaan. He’s just like me.”

  “He’s nothing like you.”

  “He’s just like me only he’s not at all.” I felt like what I was trying to say and what I was saying weren’t matching up.

  Neptune carried me through the halls of ship until we reached the staff quarters. “Hold out your hand,” Neptune said.

  “No.” I balled my fist. Sure, he was strong, but he was going to have to wrestle my palm open before I’d help him.

  “Name the fifty-seven verity tells.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Number one: eye contact. Number two: shallow breathing. Number three: perspiration.”