by Neal Jones
Chapter 6
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( 1 )
THE FREIGHTER MANUEVERED CAREFULLY into alignment with the docking pylon, and, as soon as it connected with the docking arm, the seal locked into place with a slight thump. Maintenance bots and fuel drones flittered out from their compartments along the pylon, skittering and crawling over the freighter's silver-and-orange hull like bees attending to their hive. The Inimaw was an engineering courier, delivering a shipment of fuel and other supplies to Exxar-One. As the docking crew completed their checklist, the transport operators activated the cardon fields and began ferrying the supplies into cargo bay seventeen on anti-grav sleds.
The freighter's crew was a mixture of humanoid species, most of them Ik'Lok since that was the home base of the Inimaw. Just before arriving at Exxar-One, however, the freighter had stopped a small mining outpost on the border of Federation space, at the Morkred system. They had taken aboard three passengers who had paid the captain handsomely for the lengthy detour. The captain – who had no qualms about making the occasional run into the Nevala sector if the price was right – didn't ask questions of his guests, nor did he say anything when the trio disembarked at Exxar-One alongside his cargo. The Inimaw's operations were finished within two hours, and the signature from the receiving engineering officer in cargo bay seventeen had been properly stamped on all necessary forms and documents. The docking arm retracted, the ship's thrusters were brought on line, and, in a matter of minutes, the Inimaw was out of the neutral zone and headed back to its home base for another pickup and delivery.
The trio of passengers that had hitchhiked from Morkred had posed as ore processing specialists to the freighter captain, and they had also assisted the crew in offloading the engineering supplies. However, at the right moment, when Exxar-One's personnel were busy checking off the items on their lists and talking amongst themselves, the three slipped away to the other side of the bay, behind a tall stack of thermolyte crates. Beneath their uniforms were civilian clothes, and one of them activated a portable cardon field as soon as the uniforms were stuffed underneath a nearby shelf. They dashed across the threshold into a darkened corner somewhere in a back corridor on the promenade. The field had been active for no more than a few seconds, but it had still probably triggered a sensor alarm somewhere in the security office. The three aliens immediately dispersed, each going a separate direction, mingling with the late afternoon crowds of shoppers and station personnel that thronged the second level.
Five minutes later, responding to the sensor alarm, a pair of Chrisarii officers arrived at the back corridor where the unauthorized cardon field had been detected. One of them scanned the hallway with a particle analyzer while the other tapped his commlink.
"Sir, there's no one here. It might have been a false alarm."
His companion shook her head. "Elevated thuron readings. There was definitely a cardon field here just a few minutes ago. They're dissipating fast, though. No way now to localize the source."
"All right, let it go for now. Come back to the office and log it in the record."
"Aye, sir."
( 2 )
"Josh, I'm home!" Mariah knew it was probably useless to yell since her son almost always had his music turned up, his door locked, and the HT on. She hollered the greeting anyway, just in case, and then waited for a response. On her way to his door she picked up a dirty t-shirt, a crumpled pair of socks, and one of Chanticleer's toys. She pressed the door chime and waited. She could feel the vibration of the music in the walls, and she sighed, shaking her head, as she pressed the chime once more.
Still no answer.
Mariah overrode the lock and opened the door.
She gasped, staring at her son intertwined with a girl on his bed, both of them lip-locked and groping one another beneath their clothes. The music was so loud that neither had heard the door open, and Mariah marched across the room to her son's desk to shut off the noise. The two teenagers looked up, startled, and the girl's face reddened as she shot off the bed, running a hand through her hair and smoothing the front of her shirt.
"Hello," Mariah said sweetly. "I don't think we've met. I'm Commander Decev, Joshua's mother."
"Uh...nice to meet you. I'm...I'm Shari."
"Nice to meet you, too, Shari. I apologize for interrupting this session. I was not aware that my son had any guests. I would have come home sooner so I could provide you two with some refreshments for your date. Would you like to stay for dinner?"
"I...uh...I..." Shari fumbled, glancing back and forth between Josh and the door. She'd hopped off the wrong side of the bed, and Mariah was conveniently blocking the only route to the door.
"Oh, let's not worry about it this time," Mariah said casually. "How about tomorrow night, though? I would love to meet your parents. What's their comm code?"
Shari's cheeks turned an even darker shade of crimson, and Josh gave a disgusted snort as he stood. "Come on Shari, I'll walk you out."
"Yes, that's a probably a good idea," his mother said, stepping aside. "You're in Josh's class, right?" The girl managed a slight nod. "Good. Maybe I'll see your parents at the next PTA meeting." She followed them out into the living room.
As soon as Shari was gone, Josh whirled on his mother. "What the hell?? How could you embarrass her like that?"
"What would you like for dinner?" Mariah asked, keeping her tone as casual and as sweet as ever.
"Nothing!" Josh darted back into his room, the door closing behind him.
Mariah walked over to the com panel and re-opened the door. She then tapped an additional code into the panel.
"What??" Josh demanded.
"This door will now remain open at all times. And yes, feel free to curse at me again. Just know that doing so will add more time to your incarceration here. You're already grounded this weekend for that little make-out session. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Don't be late."
Josh shook his head, rolled his eyes, and plopped into his desk chair.
Mariah smiled to herself as she walked into the kitchen.
( 3 )
Jennifer sighed. "Emalie, will you please stop banging that, whatever it is!" she hollered from the kitchen into the living room. Jeremy, crawling around his mother's feet, whimpered imploringly, and she bent to pick him up. "I know, bud. Dinner will be ready in a minute. Emalie, will you come set the table?"
The six year old bounded into the kitchen, babbling about something her best friend Kayla had done that day at school, but Jennifer wasn't listening. She balanced Jeremy on one arm while removing a pot roast from the food dispenser with the other. Next up was a bottle for Jeremy, and then she finished helping her daughter set the table.
"Mommy, are you even listening to me?"
"Yes, sweetheart," Jennifer sighed. "What do you want to drink?"
"Juice."
"What kind?"
Emalie pondered the question with great concentration. "Cranberry," she said finally. "Daddy!"
"Hey, Emmybug!" Doctor Rosenberg bent to kiss his daughter, and then turned to his wife and son. "Hi, honey. You want me to take him?"
"Sure." She passed Jeremy off, and then filled her daughter's glass. "You're late."
"I know! But wait until you hear what Sam found this afternoon in one of his tests!"
"Em, you have to take some veggies. Either carrots or onions – your choice!"
"But I don't like carrots or onions!" She made a face.
"Choose now, or I'll choose for you."
"He called me down after lunch and said he had some big breakthrough. I thought he was just exaggerating, but get this: I think we may have found a way to stimulate production of green blood cells in certain species of Fiack monkeys. I know, that doesn't sound like a big achievement, but it's a step closer in our research for stimulating production of red blood cells in certain patients of specific alien species. It means that for almost everyone who comes into the ER with severe blood loss we won't have to i
nfuse them with blood the old fashioned way. We just inject them with a special compound and it stimulates the body's production of red blood cells as well as plasma! Well, that's the theory anyway."
"Fine," Emalie pouted. "Carrots."
Jen ignored her daughter's tone as she put a spoonful on her plate.
"Not that many!"
"Yes, that's great, Ben. But you're still late. You told me you were going to be home early this afternoon so that I could get some errands done."
"I know, I'm sorry." Jeremy started fussing again, and Ben lifted up the bottle to see how much he'd drank. He put the nipple back into his son's mouth, but Jeremy wanted no more of it and shoved the bottle away with chubby fingers.
Ben set the bottle aside. "He didn't drink very much."
Jennifer stood and held out her arms. "Cassie said he's been fussy all day." She felt her son's forehead. "Maybe he's running a temp. He feels kind of warm."
"Do I have to eat all this?" Emalie whined, stabbing a finger at her plate.
"Yes," Ben said sternly. "Dig in. Jen, why don't you let me take him, and you go lay down. You look exhausted."
"No, it's fine. Will you hand me the thermometer? It's in that top drawer." She pointed to the counter beside the sink.
Ben handed it to her, and then reached for the vegetables. He looked at Emalie to see if she was eating, and she was looking worriedly at her little brother.
"Is he sick?"
"No, sweetheart," Ben said. "He's fine. How's your meat?"
"It tastes weird."
Ben sampled his own serving and nodded. "It's dry. I'll conjure up some gravy for us."
"What's 'conjure' mean, daddy?"
"It means to create, like magic." He retrieved a dish of beef gravy from the dispenser tray and poured some on his daughter's meat and then his own. "Jen?"
She was examining the readout on the thermometer screen. "A hundred-point-three." She looked up at Ben, worried.
"Let me have him. I'll get some Boxtrin. Emalie, keep eating. I want that plate empty in fifteen."
Jennifer handed her son back to Ben, and he left the kitchen. She stared at her plate, absently pushing her food around with her fork.
"Mommy," Emalie said. "How come you don't have to eat anything?"
"I'm just tired, sweetie."
"Well, so am I."
"Yeah, nice try. Eat."
Emalie pushed away her plate. "I'm full."
Jennifer pushed the plate back. She leaned down so her daughter could get a good look at her stern expression. "I'm not in the mood, young lady! If you don't start eating in the next three seconds, I will make your ass so sore you'll be crying until bedtime! Do I make myself clear?"
Emalie stared at her mother, shocked, and then nodded. She reached for her fork and started shoveling lukewarm carrots into her mouth.
Jennifer reached for the gravy and then forced herself to eat some onions and meat. She was thoroughly exhausted, and what she really wanted was to soak in a bubble bath and sleep for at least three days.
Ben returned to the kitchen, Jeremy still fussing and squirming in his arms. "I gave him a full dose, and did a bioscan. Nothing abnormal shows up. I started a bath for you. Go. I'll clean up here."
Jennifer gave a him a tired smile and didn't object. Ben sat down and cradled his son in one arm while finishing his meat and onions with the other. He glanced at Emalie. "Slow down, Em. You'll choke."
"Why is mommy so grouchy?"
"She's just tired. It's a full time job being a mommy."
"Kayla's mommy is never grouchy. She says she likes staying home all day."
"Oh she does, huh? Well, some mommies do."
"How come our mommy doesn't stay home then?"
"Em, just eat," Ben sighed. "Do you have any homework to finish?"
"Just my spelling words."
"Then you need to finish so we can get started on those."
Later, after the dishes were cleared away, the spelling words written, and pajamas changed into in preparation for bed, Ben sent Emalie to her room to play quietly while he tried to rock Jeremy to sleep. Jennifer emerged from the bedroom in a bathrobe, drying her hair, and she plopped onto the couch next to the rocker.
"Thanks for that. How is he?"
"I think he's asleep." Ben shifted carefully so Jen could see Jeremy's face.
She nodded, smiling wanly. "Yep. The Boxtrin must have finally kicked in. Do you want me to take him?"
"No, I'm fine. Emalie's waiting for her bedtime story."
Twenty minutes and two stories later, Jennifer emerged from her daughter's bedroom to find Ben stretched out on the couch, dozing, with Jeremy curled up on his stomach. She sat in the rocker and watched them for a minute or two, and then carefully lifted their son into her arms. He squirmed and fussed a little, but didn't wake up, and she laid him in his crib in the nursery. She found Ben in their bedroom, changing out of his uniform.
"Hey," he said, reaching for her arm as she passed him on the way to the bathroom. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Are you sure?"
"Ben, don't give me that look. I'm fine." She continued into the bathroom, dumping the dirty towel in the reclamator on the way. "It would help me a lot, though, if you would be home when you say you're going to be home."
"Oh, come on, Jen, it's not like I'm late every single night. This is only the second time this week." Ben angrily tossed his undershirt into the reclamator as he followed his wife into the bathroom.
"Yes. This week," she echoed. "Last week it was three nights that you were late, and the week before that –"
"I didn't realize we were keeping score! You know didn't have to go back to work, Jen! You could have waited another couple months."
"We've already had this conversation!" She ran the comb through her hair in furious sweeps, ripping through the tangles with a vengeance. "I can't be a stay-at-home mom. It doesn't work for me."
"Well, both of us having a full time job obviously isn't working either. I thought you said you were only going to sub three days a week."
Jennifer threw down her comb. "I don't want to fight about this," she sighed. "It's late, and I'm tired."
Ben snagged her wrist before she could turn away from him. "That's my whole point, Jen. You've been tired a lot lately. It's not that I don't want you to work at all, but with Jeremy not sleeping through the night maybe it's not the best time for you to go back to work."
"Yeah, funny you should mention that. How come you don't get up with him anymore? I thought we were going to take turns."
Ben had no answer.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Your job is the more important one, and you're eager to help out around here as long as it doesn't inconvenience you." She jerked her wrist out of his grasp and marched back into the bedroom.
Ben shook his head, frustrated, as he closed the door and started the shower.
( 4 )
"Joshua! Dinner!"
"Cool off, mom, I'm right here." Josh slouched into a chair, scowling at the strange looking casserole dish that occupied the center of the table. "What's that?"
Mariah turned from the food dispenser and set a side dish of creamed corn beside the casserole. "It's baked mac and cheese. That's still your favorite, isn't it? And your seat is over here. That one is mine for tonight."
"Fine. Whatever."
"Are you going to have soda or juice?"
"Pepsi."
She handed him a glass and then poured a tumbler of milk for herself. Unseen by her son, she dropped a white pill into her drink. She sat and held out her hand, waiting for him to offer his plate.
"So how long does my door have to remain open?" he grumbled.
"At least through the weekend. I might be inclined to shorten that punishment if you're willing to explain yourself in a civil tone."
"Explain what?? We didn't do anything. We were just hanging out."
"Oh is that what you call it? What if I hadn't com
e home when I did? How far would your 'hanging out' session have gone?"
Josh's face reddened, and he mumbled something into his forkful of mac and cheese.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?"
He swallowed and said quietly, "It wasn't like that."
"Josh, are you having sex?"
"What??" Her son's face turned an even darker shade of crimson, and Mariah took a perverse pleasure in catching him off guard.
"It's a simple question. I know there's a lot of kids your age that are already experimenting with sex, and you've probably heard a lot of your friends talking about a lot of things. We were going to have to have this conversation sooner or later, so we might as well get it over with now."
"Mom, I really don't want to talk about this!"
"Sorry, too late. You should have thought about that before you brought a girl home alone without my permission. So, the sooner you answer my question, the sooner we can get through this, and the sooner you can get back to your homework."
"No!" he replied, exasperated. "We're not having sex. I'm only fourteen."
"Oh. Good." Mariah sipped her milk and then ate some creamed corn, watching her son wolf down his mac and cheese as if he was in an eating contest. "Slow down," she ordered. "You'll get heartburn."
"I don't care. I just want to be done."
"Oh, didn't I tell you? There's a new rule for dinner. Since this is the only time that you and I get to really talk face to face, you'll be dismissed when I say so. That's why my seat is over here now. So...how was school today?"
"Oh, mom," Josh whined. "Why do you have to be like this?"
"Like what?"
"Oh, come on, you're just doing this to get back at me. Okay, I'm sorry I had a girl over, I won't do it again. Now can I please go?"
"No," she replied calmly and deliberately, "You may not. You haven't told me about your day at school."
"Oh, gods, fine! It was fine, okay?? Nothing happened, I went to class, I did work, blah, blah, blah."
"Well, that's not what your homeroom teacher told me this afternoon." Mariah paused, taking a long drink of her milk. "She showed me the two stories and the poem you wrote for English class. They're very good. I was quite proud of you."