The Blunt End of the Service

by L. J. Simpson

  Blam!

  “You dirty…”

  Blam!

  “Rotten…”

  Blam!

  “Cheating…”

  Blam!

  “Bastard!"

  The first shot stopped Jacks in his tracks. The second sent him reeling backwards and final two sent him tumbling over a work-station and onto the floor where he lay still.

  “Oh God, what have I done?” said Primrose, sinking to her knees. Chuck walked over and looked down at Jacks’ inert form.

  “I’d say you stunned him pretty good.”

  “Stunned…? He’s not dead?”

  “No, Dolores. I set the pistol to stun when you first gave it to me, before I ever left O1.”

  “Four stun shots to the chest? Wonder it didn’t stop his heart,” said Penny, rubbing the side of her head as she appeared beside them. “He must be as tough as an ox. Sure he’s still breathing?”

  “Yeah,” said Chuck.

  “Want me to finish him off?” said Penny. “We could say it was self defense, no-one would know.”

  “Unfortunately, I would know,” said Burns entering Ops, closely followed by Mullins and Commander Jacobs who was still toting Marine Burke’s rifle. “And while I appreciate the sentiments I think you should leave the rest to us. Read him his rights, Mullins.”

  “He’s unconscious, sir,” said Mullins.

  “Read them anyway; he might talk in his sleep. You can always remind him again when he wakes up. Are you two all right?” he said, turning to Chuck and Penny.

  “Few cuts and bruises, but yes,” said Chuck. “Thanks to Lt. Primrose here.” He went over to where Primrose was still sat on the floor and knelt beside her.

  “Thanks, Dolores. I don’t think either Penny or I would still be here if it wasn’t for you. You’re a real trooper.”

  Primrose looked into Chuck’s eyes and suddenly smiled – and her once severe expression gave way to sunshine. It made Chuck feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It also set off alarm bells, for experience told him that warm fuzzy feelings generally led you astray: they made you do things that you wouldn’t normally consider, things that no reasonably sensible man would ever consider, breathtakingly, stupidly romantic things that would overcome all rationality and you’d find yourself charging helter-skelter along a path which, after a few twists and turns, would inevitably lead to a broken heart. It was ever so, so best ignore the smile. Good advice, he told himself, and then like any normal person he smiled back.

  “How did you know we were in trouble?” Penny asked Burns.

  “Simple. After we picked up Benedict we happened to look out of the window next to Auxiliary Reactor 4. Saw Jacks’ scout moored to the Valiant’s air lock at the bottom of the hub. He must have nipped in when we were busy elsewhere.”

  “Where’s Benedict now?”

  “Still in the reactor room. We let him out but once he saw Jacks’ ship he was only too happy to go back in there.”

  “How you doing, Arch?” said Jacobs as Archie began to stir.

  “Christ, my head hurts.”

  “How many fingers?”

  “Twenty three,” said Archie.

  “Nearly. You’d better lie still until we rustle up another stretcher.”

  “How about Jacks?” said Chuck.

  “Snoring like a freight train,” said Mullins.

  “Leave him be. Don’t think we have any more stretchers anyway,” said Jacobs.

  “Fair enough,” said Mullins. “I’ve handcuffed him to the desk; he’s not going anywhere.”

  “Put a jacket under his head?” suggested Penny. “Just a thought…”

  “If I’m not mistaken,” said Jacobs, looking at the main console, “Admiral Giles has arrived with the cavalry. The cruiser Lancelot and the frigates Bull Run and Crecy.”

  “Cavalry?” said Chuck. “That’s not the cavalry. The cavalry arrives in nick of time – everyone knows that. This lot are way too late.”

  “The relief force then.”

  “They’re still late.”

  “Only happens in comic books, I’m afraid.”

  As the relief force approached O1, the Magellan and Grey’s yacht withdrew, powering away from the station. Crecy and Bull Run turned in pursuit while the Lancelot manoeuvred alongside O1, a small flotilla of shuttles exiting the cruiser and docking along the length of Alpha Section. With O1 finally secured by friendly forces the Ops crew retired to the crew room – all except Archie, who was in the sick bay suffering from a suspected concussion and Baz, who was sent to look after Ops. Baz had complained bitterly but was informed that it was only fair seeing that he was the youngest and also amongst the least injured. There was some truth in that; Chuck had a cut lip and large grazes along his cheek and forehead, Penny had a welt across her temple and Duke’s left eye was swollen half shut. Bill also had a cut lip and was gingerly fingering his front teeth which had been loose since his encounter with Marine Burke. Meanwhile, Shorty’s knee had swollen to twice its size and Ollie was hobbling along with a severe limp, though the limp conveniently disappeared just as soon as Baz left the room. That just left Guns, who, as shift leader, claimed the right to delegate.

  Later that evening Admiral Giles arrived to address the crew. He was a dapper little man with smiling eyes set in a round, friendly face. Chuck had never met an admiral before, dapper or otherwise. Not wishing to judge this particular book by its cover, Chuck stood to attention. How did it go… shoulders back, stomach in, chest out? Yes, that was it. Maybe not perfect, but he was certainly making a better fist of it than Ollie Oliver, whose stomach was only vaguely held in check by means of a very stout belt.

  “Stand easy,” said Admiral Giles. “Commander Jacobs and DCI Burns have brought me up to speed with the situation and it just remains for me to say very well done everybody. Good job.

  “For your information, we have apprehended a vessel which was attempting to leave the system, a private yacht owned by one Edwin Grey. He claims to be unconnected with the crimes, which seems unlikely, but I think that’s something we can leave to the law enforcement agencies. Regrettably, another vessel, known to you as the Magellan, was able to make the transit to super-space before we could intervene.

  “I must apologise for the actions of two of our marines. For the time being they are both confined to sick bay pending a full enquiry but it would appear that they are guilty of nothing more than following orders… illegal though those orders may have been. From the fine collection of cuts, abrasions and other battle scars that I see before me, it’s clear that you all fought in the finest traditions of the service. ‘At the sharp end’ was, I believe, one of Commodore Jacks’ favourite expressions. Quite appropriate under the circumstances.

  “Talking of whom, Commodore Jacks is presently recovering in the brig and once fit to travel he will be transported back to Earth to be tried by a military tribunal.

  “Finally, the prisoner Spencer Benedict is co-operating with a tech-team and according to the latest information Phoenix is once more fully operational. And on that note it would seem the ideal opportunity to grant you all a well earned spell of shore leave.” Smiles all round. Then, much to Chuck’s surprise the admiral walked over and shook him firmly by the hand. “Congratulations, Sub-Captain. A fine effort. You too, Cadet.”

  “Err, thank you,” murmured Chuck.

  “Thank you, sir!” boomed Penny.

  “Cadet Parker, might I have a word?” said Giles.

  “Of course, sir.”

  “I confess an interest in how you came to be posted to Orbital One.”

  “You’d probably need to ask my course tutor,” said Penny.

  “Ah… Commander Dickens, I gather.”

  “You know of him, sir?”

  “By… reputation,” said Giles noncommittally. “Cadet, I’m sure you are aware that one aim of the deployment is to give students an insight into the workings of an off-world tour.”

  “Yes, sir.”

 
“Of more import, it also allows us to assess the student’s aptitude and suitability for such duties. I find it strange that you should have ended up here, in an environment which, with the greatest respect to the staff of O1, would add little of value to your C.V.”

  “But I’ve learned a lot since I arrived,” said Penny.

  “I’m sure you have. However, Commander Jacobs and I are in agreement that the extraordinary circumstances of the past few days have shown that any further service aboard O1 would be a criminal waste of material. Consequently, we feel that a new posting would be in order – somewhere more suited to your talents. Captain McAllister?”

  “Sir?”

  “I assume there will be no difficulty in finding a berth for the cadet aboard the Lancelot?”

  “None at all, admiral.”

  “Begging the admiral’s pardon, but… I would very much like to continue with my present assignment.”

  “I see…”

  “Ah… Penny – err, Cadet Parker,” said Chuck. “We’ve all enjoyed having you here, and we’ll be sorry to see you go… but this is an offer that you really need to accept.”

  “Chuck’s right,” said Jacobs.

  “And not being a professional soldier I’m not an expert on such matters, but it’s probably unwise to second guess an admiral… however noble your intentions.”

  “Right again,” said Giles.

  “Well that’s settled then,” said Chuck.

  Spencer Benedict cut a forlorn figure as he was escorted off the station by a uniformed police officer. Chuck couldn’t help but feel sorry for the unhappy scientist who, head bowed low and shoulders drooping, headed off to his fate.

  Jacks followed a little way behind, securely handcuffed and sandwiched between two stone faced military policemen. The Ops crew were gathered near the air-lock, in part to witness Jacks’ downfall but mainly to make sure that they were finally rid of him. Ignoring the sideways glances and accusing stares, Jacks strode past with head held high, as though he had not a care in the world. “Don’t forget to write,” said Duke. “And tell Vinny we all said hello.”

  Standing a little apart from the others, Chuck looked on impassively. As Jacks drew level he paused and looked Chuck square in the eye. “Until the next time, Poulson.”

  “There won’t be a next time.” snorted Mullins. “Not unless he plans on visiting you on the inside – and I wouldn’t put any money on that.” Jacks shot Mullins a glance and before the MPs had a chance to intervene he leaned across and whispered something into Chuck’s ear. Then he straightened up and continued on his way.

  “What did he say?” asked Burns after Jacks had disappeared into the waiting military police shuttle.

  “Something about him paying me a visit,” said Chuck, a brief shiver running down his spine.

  “Did he really? Well, I wouldn’t worry unduly over that. First thing he’ll be facing is a lengthy court case followed by a minimum of 50 years in jail, and that’s if he qualifies for parole – which he won’t. By the time he gets out – always assuming he lives that long – I doubt if he’ll be in fit shape to do anyone any harm.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right about that. What’s going to happen to Benedict?”

  “Good question,” said Burns. “In his defence, he was probably an unwitting accomplice and he was also instrumental in restoring normal function to Phoenix. On the other hand, he still stands accused of some pretty serious crimes: sabotage, theft, and accessory to murder to name but a few. If it were anyone else they’d probably lock them up and throw away the key, but I somehow doubt if Benedict will even be charged. Incarcerating a mind like that won’t serve any useful purpose. In all likelihood he’ll cut a deal with the prosecutor and be packed off to some research project, probably off world where they can keep tabs on him and he can’t get himself into any more trouble.”

  Phoenix Station

  Tenth wonder of the universe? Thanks, but no thanks. Mike Pederson finished off his letter of resignation, addressed it to the station administrator and attached his electronic signature. Sitting back in his chair he read through the short missive once more and with a shrug he hit the ‘send’ button. That was that.

  His next communiqué was a job application. He’d heard through the grapevine that there was a job going on O1. He’d also heard that more than a few people had applied for it. Strange how the grass on O1 had suddenly become a more appealing shade of green. Still, his credentials as an Ops supervisor should stand him in good stead. He read through his letter of application, attached his C.V. and sent that off as well.

  His third and final communication of the day was a message to Ops. He would be taking a sick day; he could feel a migraine coming on and was off to lie down in a darkened room. Then he switched off his terminal, did indeed turn down the lights, lay down on the sofa and drifted peacefully off to sleep.

  Before Pascal Delacroix even had the chance to read Pederson’s letter of resignation the matter had ceased to be his concern. As the administrator he was ultimately responsible for everything that happened on Phoenix and while the board of directors had been sympathetic to his cause, they felt that the station would benefit from a change of direction… a fresh pair of hands at the helm, a clean sweep with a new broom. However you cared to dress it up, it still meant ‘You’re fired’. It wasn’t exactly unexpected; the buck had to stop somewhere. The only thing that really stuck in his craw was the news that Jack Taggart was in line to replace him. How had that scheming, Comtec weasel managed to engineer that? Friends in high places, he supposed.

  At least Taggart wouldn’t be having everything his own way. That renegade commodore had been right about one thing – the fleet fully intended to protect its investment and was about to beef up its presence on Phoenix with an enlarged company of marines and a frigate on permanent attachment. A certain Captain Norris was on his way to take command. By all accounts a hard-nosed, no-nonsense professional soldier, he went by the name of ‘Cut-throat’, apparently some kind of family tradition, part call-sign and part genetic predisposition. It wouldn’t be long before Taggart and Norris went head to head; Delacroix almost wished he could stick around and watch the fireworks.

  Orbital One

  The next morning Burns and Mullins bid their farewells. “Try and stay out of trouble, Sub-Captain.” said Burns.

  “Do my best,” said Chuck. “But with the local emergency now officially at an end I’m back to plain old ‘Mr. Poulson’. Or plain old ‘Chuck’.”

  “Chuck it is. We’ll come back and lock you up some other time,” said Mullins.

  “Not too soon, I hope. Off back to Atlas?”

  “Not at all,” said Burns. “As of today we have full jurisdiction of the case. First up is a trip to Brannon’s Wharf to investigate a double homicide… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  “Nothing to do with me.”

  “Thought not... And after that we’re off to Phoenix to look into the secrets of Server 6. According to Benedict someone over there installed a hidden receiver in the server room so there must be yet another accomplice to prise out of the woodwork.”

  “The plot thickens,” said Chuck.

  “Indeed it does – still plenty of legs left in this investigation. And while we’re doing all that we’ll have a full forensics team look over the holding room and Airlock 28 here on O1. I’ll tell them to ask for you – be a good fellow and show them around.”

  “That I will, and best of luck on Brannon’s Wharf,” said Chuck as Burns and Mullins departed with a wave.

  The last person to leave was Penny. Chuck walked with her to the airlock.

  “All set?”

  “Yes, thank you, sir… and thanks for everything.”

  “You too. Come back and visit sometime.”

  “It’s a promise. You know, I heard that Admiral Giles offered you a transfer to the fleet. Weren’t you just a little tempted? Lieutenant Poulson… sounds a lot better than Sub-Capt
ain, don’t you think?”

  “Has a bit of a ring to it, I guess, but no… I’m just not made of the right stuff. Psychopathic commodores, gung-ho marines and inter-galactic crime syndicates I can cope with, but I’m afraid the art of the salute is still a bridge too far. I shall remain here, gallantly holding the fort on O1.”

  “Sure you won’t be lonely? Might seem a bit quiet after the last few days.”

  “It might at that. Perhaps I’ll try talking to Hector now he’s back up and running. I’m not sure if I fancy using that keyboard anymore – not since Archie had his toes all over it.”

  “Hmm… I also heard that Admiral Giles gave Dolores a choice of postings. Would the fact that she’s opted for Phoenix have anything to do with your decision to stay?”

  “Do you know, I really can’t decide. A few days ago I would have said no, but now… I freely confess that it might.”

  “Good! Best thing for both of you.”

  “Well, maybe… but she still has to work on her smile.”

  “Just stay away from Madame Fifi’s and you’ll be fine.”

  “Roger that.”

  Chuck watched as Penny’s shuttle sped off towards the Lancelot. How long had it been since she arrived on the station? Just a few weeks, though it seemed much longer. Amazing how much could happen in such a short space of time. And now here he was with things pretty much as they were before she came. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Poor old Bernie wasn’t coming back, that was for certain; the thought saddened Chuck immensely.

  On the brighter side, there were several things to look forward to. Penny had promised to keep in touch, as had DCI Burns, and of course there was Lt. Primrose… Dolores. Not sure if I could get used to calling her Dolly though… I’d always be reminded of the look on Jacks’ face just before she pulled the trigger…

  On top of that there was talk of a medal, something he wasn’t really interested in, and also the rumour of a pay rise, which was a different matter altogether. And finally, there was even talk of some kind of reward from the Comtec Corporation. Well, he’d believe that when he saw it.