He didn’t know what to make of that last remark. Somehow he had become a cult figure? He didn’t think so. Gorn was the only one on the shuttle that even knew he was alive.
After the shuttle touched down, he had to rethink that assessment.
Chapter 12
The sign read GROUND TRANSPORTATION and the winking arrow got Maxine Hansen’s attention. They had made landfall twenty minutes ago and had wandered around the vast arrival platform looking for the way out.
“Hey, Mom, what’re all those people doing over there? The ones with all the lights and cameras?”
Max first looked at Har and then at where he pointed. Sure enough, there was a knot of people surrounding a couple of officers and it seemed as if they were —
It was Captain Haad and few officers from the Christi in the media crosshairs. Shit, she had to get away from this circus as soon as possible. She turned and hustled Har in front of her and they headed away from the bright lights and embarrassing questions. She needed neither.
Har continued to look at the scene over his shoulder and almost ran into a glass partition on his way out of the terminal building. “Har, pay attention. And pick up your bags, don’t scuff them along the deck. Those bags were a gift from Commander Yorn and at least you could show some semblance of care toward them,” She scolded.
Har snapped his head around and down. He heaved on one of the sea bags and grunted. “Okay, okay! These things are heavy. We shoulda got one of those floating carts over there.”
They made their way through the double alcoves and finally into the wan orange light of Elber. It would be dark in an hour and having been away from Elber for more than three years Max didn’t want to stumble around in the dark looking for her quarters. She was booked into the BOQ — Bachelor Officer’s Quarters — on base, one with a provision for dependent children, and she desperately wanted to be in her bed before 2000 hours local. While Har looked back into the building at the media gathering, Max hailed a for-hire ground-car. The driver pulled up to her and got out and put their things into the rear stowage bin and secured them with straps. Har noticed he was wearing thick black gloves.
“Where to, missy?” the driver said as he entered the control compartment.
“Are you familiar with the base? The Navy Base?”
He laughed a thin chuckle. “That I am, missy. Where do you want to go?”
She was propelled back into her seat when the driver lurched away from the platform. She reached around and buckled her seat belt and instructed Har to do likewise. No need to come back from three years out in the Belt Loop and get crushed in some accident back on the ground. “The BOQ, Building Seven. The card says —”
He shifted into a higher gear. “I know just where it is, missy. You coming from the PA dock or you just shuttling around the planet on leave or something?”
“On leave,” she lied. Har started to say something to the contrary but she silenced him with The Look. Soon he would learn that no matter how innocent it seemed, one always had to protect information about ship movements. “How much is the fare going to be, sir?”
The driver looked away from the mirror and looked down at his meter. “No more’n twenty-five, thirty credits. I’ll give you the special military discount.”
Max grunted an inaudible reply. “See, Mom? We are heroes. Getting a discount and all!” Har said.
She closed her eyes and motioned for him to button his lips. “You have a swipe pad, driver?”
He laughed and held up the fare reader, shaking it back and forth. “Sure do. If it’s all the same, you know, keep me from having to wait for my pay and all, can you pay me in credits? You got any script on you?”
The cab lurched from one lane to the next as the driver seemed more interested in his fare than his driving. The crystal dome of the city of Nova Haven loomed in the distance some kilometers away. The last rays of the sun were bouncing and dancing off the faceted dome. The image was one of a gigantic diamond growing right out of the ground.
“No, I don’t. I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for the fare swipe. Plus tip, of course. Provided we get there in one piece. I have a child back here, sir, and I would really appreciate it if you would slow down and concentrate on your driving.”
The driver squinted into the rearview mirror and frowned. He slowed and moved over into the far right lane. To Max, it seemed like for the next ten minutes he never took his eyes off the mirror. Har was content to look out of the windows and say nothing. He was only eight when they had last seen Elber Prime.
Occasionally he would glance at the driver and wondered why the man drove with both of his pinkies sticking straight out. Must be some kind of Elber custom, he figured.
Once inside the city proper the cab followed the main boulevard into the heart of Colonial Navy territory. Fully a third of the town of Nova Haven was occupied by some form of military influence. Command buildings dotted both sides of the thoroughfare and their flags and pennants identified them by division or department. The driver slowly skirted the heart of the city with all of its commercial businesses and entertainment spots for the sailors and marines to waste their precious few credits in. Going north toward the industrial side of town the cab swung onto a tree-lined lane with a grassy median strip decorated with an odd assortment of ship anchors and relic cannon. One minute later he screeched to a halt in front of a low two-story brick building. A sign hung on an old-fashioned yardarm festooned with various flags and signal pennants identified it as BUILDING SEVEN.
The driver hung the fare reader over the back of his seat and turned slightly. “See,” he said, “only twenty-one credits with your discount.”
Max produced her card and swiped it through the reader. She begrudgingly added a fifteen percent tip. The ride had not been as pleasant as she had wanted.
The driver hopped out and dumped their gear on the sidewalk and twirled Max a two finger salute as he retreated to the front of the vehicle. “You all have a nice evening,” he said as he bent to do something in the front seat. Max and Har gathered up their bags and trundled into the BOQ. From the lack of smart-assed remarks coming from her son she knew he must have been totally exhausted by the ordeals of the day. They both would benefit from a good night’s sleep she thought.
Har was too tired to ask her about the driver’s hands. Why they didn’t look right to him.
When the doors to the building swallowed them the cabbie looked around him and put his ground-car in gear. He slowly started talking into a recorder.
“I can’t tell about these two. She didn’t carry cash, perhaps signifying she was just in from a long space voyage. But I have her name on my fare meter. Strangest thing about her though, the pictures notwithstanding, is she looks older and wiser than what you sent me. And to further complicate things, she had a fucking kid with her. You said nothing about a kid. Maybe this is not the woman you are looking for but I will send the entire recording to you just in case she was one of the passengers on that ship you’re so obsessed about. I need further instructions. Galuud.”
* * *
Three hours after Max and Har Hansen extinguished their lights and settled into bed Captain Uri Haad finally found refuge in his temporary quarters not more than a kilometer from Building Seven. He dropped his rucksack on the floor and hung up his garment bag in the small closet. Making eye contact with every corner of the main room he saw nothing to impede his progress toward the inviting bunk. Resisting the impulse to just flop down and sleep without even taking his uniform off, he decided to refresh himself with a nice cold shower.
With the icy needles of water stinging his back and shoulders, Haad thought about the media attention his arrival had provoked. The endless questions, the endless “no comment” replies and the agonizing wait for his ground transportation had almost caused him to lose his self control.
The whole episode was reminiscent of some of the hype that had been generated after the first shots were exchanged with the Varsons. Hours and h
ours of coverage of the blossoming conflict, hours and hours of mindless speculation by the network commentators and ignorant pundits. They knew nothing about space travel, nothing about the Colonial Navy. Up until that point they had managed to exist by reporting on new construction in the Colonies, old ideas coming from Earth, local crimes and misdemeanors, kittens trapped in tree tops. Most of the military men and women on Elber Prime, Bayliss and Canno ignored the media, considered it suitable entertainment for the culturally challenged youth. Eventually the Varson War dominated the airwaves.
He dried himself and cleaned his teeth. A quick shave later he was ready for bed.
Before dousing the lights he checked his room again and made sure his door was secured, things he had not worried about on the Christi. The ship was the last thing on his mind when he drifted off to sleep.
Gone unnoticed was the tiny video lens in the corner of his room, hidden in the ventilation register.
* * *
Lieutenant Commander Gena Haslip pushed her way into the tavern and found an empty seat at a table near the end of the bar. The place was called The Haven’s Heaven and was routinely patronized by military and civilian guests of all stripes. Officers, enlisted ratings, defense contractors, rummies, grifters, wannabes and the like all sought out the friendly confines of the city’s most popular watering hole.
Haslip had a little house up on Highland Ridge and wanted to unwind before returning to her empty place. Maintained by a weekly maintenance crew that harvested her mail, dusted her furniture, fed her fish, trimed her bushes, she would at least be coming home to a clean place. But now was the time to wash off some space dust, time to ease on down that comfortable and well-traveled road of distilled-spirit smoothness. She ordered two bourbon and branch waters. For a start.
Idle talk and gossip found its way to her ears. By the time she was ready for her third drink her tongue was loosening as well. Seemingly by magic, an eager listener arrived at her table in the form of a tall middle-aged man in a wrinkled suit.
“Hey, commander, mind if I grab one of these chairs and join you?” the man said.
She nodded her approval and he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. “Suit yourself,” she said casually not really giving a flying fuck one way or the other. It would be nice to have someone to chat with for a few more minutes but it wasn’t high on her priority list.
“Great. Al Jane,” the man said by way of introduction. “You just get in?”
She looked him over. About fifty, thinning short hair, wire-rimmed glasses covering animated blue eyes, thin gray stubble dulling an attractive face and highlighting a knowing smile. “Yeah, Al, just back from the Loop. Haslip, Gena Haslip,” she offered but kept her hand on her glass.
“Wow. The Belt Loop. I heard there was a lot of action out there a couple of months ago. That’s all these old sots in here want to talk about. Were you on the Christi?”
“You got it,” she said. “We got banged up pretty good but made it back to port.”
Al Jane snapped his fingers and a server came over to the table. “Bring me a vodka tonic and refill the commander’s glass. Glasses. Put it on my tab.”
“Sure Al,” she said. The waitress was twenty-something and displayed an ample bosom in a low-cut blouse. Heads turned when she walked away.
“So, tell me, Al Jane, you come here often? I mean, you have a tab and all.”
He turned his attention back to Haslip. “Often enough. I sorta hang out here. To be honest, I report for the Nova Haven Herald. Print journalist. You know, that dying breed of reporter?”
Haslip stiffened slightly and knocked back the rest of her second drink. “You pumping me for information, Al?”
He laughed. “Me? Pumping you? No, commander, I was just wanting to have a friendly little conversation with an attractive lady, that’s all.”
She touched her hair and pushed her breasts out a millimeter or two in spite of her caution. “Right. That’s the lamest pick-up line I’ve ever heard. You write that stuff or do you have a copy boy go over it for you?”
He had to smile again. She wasn’t the best looking woman in the joint but she would do in a pinch. “Now, don’t go getting yourself all worked up, Gena. I’m not fishing for a story. The news about the Christi has been out since the first courier boat returned with those recordings of that alien ship. The media is pretty well placed in the Navy hierarchy and we get our information from well-informed but anonymous sources. Your story is already ‘old news’ if you get my drift.”
The waitress brought over the next round of drinks and bent at the knees when she deposited the glasses on the table, denying Al Jane a better look at her decolletage. “Looks like she’s more your speed, Al,” Haslip remarked as the young woman moved away.
“Who? Kari? Heck, I’ve known her since she was a pup. Her uncle owns this place and would not tolerate her getting too familiar with the patrons. He’s ex-Navy, you know.”
Haslip took a long pull from the fresh drink and appraised Al Jane from the rim of her upturned glass. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. A little old for her but maybe he could still satisfy her. She still had her needs. And after all of that shit on the ship involving those two young officers, Mols and Hansen, maybe a toss in the sack with this guy would help restore some of her womanly superiority.
“Well, I’ve had a long day, Al. I think I’m going to call it a night,” she mumbled seductively, half hoping he would catch the implied invitation.
He not only caught it but he threw it right back. “Hey, commander, my car is just around the corner. Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
She finished her drink and stood. The sudden change in altitude made her take a reflexive step back. She steadied herself against the back of the chair. “Why, Al, that would be nice. Lead the way,” Haslip said, her words beginning to run together.
He pushed away from the table and extended his hand.
The fish was on the hook.
Chapter 13
About the same time Al Jane was entering Gena Haslip for the third time in the last three hours, Commander Davi Yorn was stepping down from the ramp of the shuttle. The trip from Canton was uneventful and perhaps boring and he had slept for half of it. The rest of his makeshift bridge crew had elected to stay on Canton overnight and he caught the next flyer back to Elber with a rotating crew of machinist mates and enginemen. While their light conversations had been interesting enough, he’d quickly drifted into a fitful sleep, visions of the exploding Mobile Bay dominating his flashcard-like dreams.
During the Varson War Davi Yorn had been taken prisoner by the Varson and was headed to a detention center on one of their moons. Before he left the Mobile Bay he had managed to stash a remote transmitter on his uniform and before the Varson kidnappers reached jump speed he transmitted the self-destruct codes to the Colonial Navy ship that was set to infiltrate and destroy the Second Fleet of Elber Prime.
The memories of those 350 men would haunt him forever even though his actions had saved the lives of perhaps 25,000 men and women and spared the destruction of over fifty assembled ships.
His eyes had snapped open just as the flower of red and orange and yellow petals of destruction opened.
Now he said goodbye to his traveling companions and wished them well and the ratings marched off to destinations unknown. He had to get to the rapid-rail terminal and check the schedules. His plan was to catch one of the high-speed trains leaving the spaceport toward the south and home. Yorn had a modest home about fifty kilometers from Nova Haven and he looked forward to at least a week or two of quiet reflection away from the hustle and bustle of the military environs around the Nova Haven Navy Base. He followed the flashing arrows on the overhead signs and wound up at the ticket counter for the train hub. A train for Matterese was scheduled for departure in two hours. he swiped a ticket on his card and headed for the small restaurant nearby. Maybe a good breakfast would help him ease back into a life of unfiltered air and fresh water
and food that didn’t taste like cardboard.
The small eatery was almost empty when he walked in. He was directed to a small two-top table and he put his seabag and garment bag in the unoccupied chair. A friendly young man came over and took his order: three eggs, two slices of honey-baked ham, hashed potatoes and coffee. He rubbed his face and hands with the moist towelette he found on his table. While waiting for his meal he just stared out the glass partition and watched the moving mass of people wandering through the terminal. He was tired; he wanted to just eat and go home.
Had he been fully alert and at the top of his game, he would have noticed the tall thin man with the gloves that came in right after him and was seated only a few meters away. When the man sat down Yorn only gave him a cursory glance.
The gloves should have told him something, should have at least made him pause.
But he didn’t really pay much attention to the man.
He should have.
* * *
The first thing on her agenda today after breakfast was the bank. Max and Har rose early and had dined at the Officer’s Mess around the corner from their building. Har feasted on fresh fruit, real eggs and a host of different meats. He made three trips back to the drink dispenser and each time came back to the table with a different liquid: milk, orange juice, then a fruit-punch drink. Max had buttered toast and a fruit salad for breakfast along with the best cup of coffee she had tasted in years.
After breakfast they went straight to the cab stand that fronted the BOQ section and hired another ground-car. This time the driver was an elderly gentleman with good manners and practiced driving skills. They sat in the back of the cab and Har kept a running commentary at each and every notable landmark they passed. He tried in vain to remember some of the things about Nova Haven when his mother pointed them out to him. He was too young and too distraught to remember much of anything leading up to his sudden departure from Elber Prime.
The Belt Loop (Book Two) - Revenge of the Varson Page 7