by Corey Ostman
“No response?” Raj asked as he opened the hatch.
Grace shook her head, helping him drag the man out of the lock and onto the floor of the crew quarters.
“I hope his suit isn’t in lockdown,” Raj said. He released the clamps and carefully rotated the helmet. Grace heard the click that meant Raj could remove the suit.
The young man’s face was drenched in sweat, his short black hair matted to his skull, but he was breathing. Raj brought a hand to his neck.
“Skin is cold. Rapid pulse,” Raj said. “Gotta get him some oxygen.” Raj looked at Grace. “He’s about your size. Let’s use your suit.”
“Right,” Grace said, squirming out of her pressure suit as Raj stripped off the boy’s. She wondered where the heck Quint was. He’d helped her into the suit, and she could have used his help getting out of it.
The boy was wearing baggy green fatigues, stained with sweat. Together, they wriggled him into Grace’s suit. Raj changed the air setting to pure oxygen and clamped the helmet onto the boy’s head.
“Raj, could he have some sort of virus?” Grace asked. “All that sweat, and cold skin.”
Raj shook his head. “No. That’s carbon dioxide poisoning.”
They watched as the chaotic breathing slowed.
“How can I help?” Richard entered.
“Do you have a medical pod?” Raj asked.
“No, but—”
Raj made a displeased noise. “We need a place to put the patient.”
“Put him in the rack there,” Richard said, pointing to a lower bunk.
Grace lifted the boy and settled him in the bunk. Then she and Richard watched as Raj worked for several minutes. At last, his ptenda reported carbon dioxide levels dropping below one percent and oxygen levels near normal.
“He needs some rest,” Raj said. “I’ll sit here with him until he comes around.”
“When will that be?” Richard asked.
“Hopefully not soon,” Raj answered, tapping his ptenda. “He needs to breathe standard atmosphere for a while. I’d rather not deal with any mental side effects.”
Yvette ran into the room.
“Is he ok, Poppy?” she asked.
Richard nodded, but raised a finger to his lips.
“You can come look at him, Yvette,” Raj said quietly. “He was very cold, but he is warming up now.”
The little girl walked toward the boy on the bunk. She looked a long time at the sleeping face.
“You’re silly,” she said at last.
“What is it, Yvette?” Raj asked.
“He’s not a boy,” said Yvette. “She’s a girl. Didn’t you see her organs on your ptenda?”
Raj looked down at his ptenda.
“You’re right,” he said, mortified.
Grace snickered.
“Save it,” Raj said, glowering at Grace.
“Your poor professional pride,” Grace murmured.
“I’m going back up to the bridge,” Richard said, awkwardly trying to end the sniping. “Yvette? Grace?”
“Can’t I stay?” Yvette asked.
Richard exchanged a look with Raj, then nodded. “For now. But follow Dr. Chanho’s instructions, all right?”
“Right!”
“Boy or girl, she’ll have an interesting story,” Grace said to Richard as they headed up to the bridge. “She couldn’t have been alone on that ship, could she?”
“She’s lucky we spotted her,” Richard said. “I put a squawker down on the sand above the ship, but it would take a high-capacity digger to get anyone else out of there.”
They walked onto the bridge. Wragg was in his seat at the helm, lifting the ship to a higher altitude.
“What’s the status of the storm?” Richard asked.
“The storm has nearly blown itself out,” Wragg said. “I also sent word to Elysium about the ship, with the frequency of the squawker.”
Richard nodded and sighed. “With things as they are, I’m not sure they’ll get a digger out here anytime soon.”
“What about our rescue? Are we going back to Elysium? Or stopping at the next dome?”
“We’re going ahead. If we need to, we can stop at a dome, but our rescue may be safer here than what passes for hospitals in this crisis,” Richard noted.
Wragg nodded. “How’s the rescue doing?”
“She’s resting comfortably,” Grace said.
“She—?” Wragg began, when a loud scream echoed up from below.
Chapter 12
Grace followed Captain Wragg as he sprinted down the hall toward the ladder. They grabbed the handrails and slid to the lower deck, their feet never touching the rungs. At the entry to the crews’ quarters, they stopped.
Quint stood near Raj and Yvette, his eyes transfixed on the new arrival. The young woman was in a fetal position, pointing a shaking finger at Quint.
“What’s going on, here?” Wragg said. He turned to Quint. “What did you do?”
“She just woke up,” Raj said, his hand hovering over the woman protectively. I was about to ask her name when Quint walked in. She saw him and began screaming.”
“Well, Brown? I’m waiting,” Wragg said.
Quint looked at the captain. His expression radiated confusion.
“Sir, I don’t know. Maybe she’s in shock from—”
“He killed them!” The woman shrunk further back into the headboard of the bunk. Her eyes didn’t leave Quint’s face.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about, Captain,” Quint said. He looked at Grace imploringly. “Help me, here?”
Grace looked at the woman. “Quint hasn’t left our sight for nearly a week.”
The woman shook her head. “It was a month ago. I’m telling the truth!”
Grace watched as Quint’s eyes darted from the woman, to the captain, to the door. He sprang. Grace reached for his arm, but missed. Quint disappeared down the hallway.
She started to run after him, but Wragg stopped her.
“Stand guard here. I’ll run him down. He can’t hide from me on my own ship.” He squeezed Grace’s shoulder and sped off, shouting over the comm to put the bridge on lockdown.
Grace unholstered Marty and walked over to the bunk. The young woman looked at Grace’s phasewave with a measure of relief. She moved away from the wall and sat up.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice tinged with hope.
“We’ll find him,” Grace said.
“No—I mean, yes, but I wanted to thank you for saving me. My doctor said you were the one,” the woman said, reaching out a wan hand. “My name is Anna. Anna Quon.”
“Welcome aboard, Anna,” Grace said, shaking the offered hand.
“Ok, Anna, can you tell me what this is about?” Raj asked. Yvette was sitting on his lap, her wide eyes on the doorway. “Whom do you think the young man killed?”
Anna nestled back into her blankets, as though retreating.
“Young? He’s young. The killer was—older. He’s older. I mean that’s him, but—” Anna began to cry. “He murdered Louie and Branford. People I knew.”
Yvette started to cry, too, and Raj hugged her. Grace frowned, then reached out to touch Anna.
“Anna, this is important. What do you mean by older? Did the man who attacked your crew look like Quint? I don’t understand.” She turned to Raj. “She’s delirious, perhaps?”
“It’s possible—”
Anna swallowed a few times, her tears drying. “He looked like him. He is him.” She looked at everyone in the room, her eyes pleading.
“I’ll go see if—” Grace approached the door and nearly collided with Mazz.
“Crewman Brown has become unstable.” Mazz said.
“Where is he?” Grace asked.
Mazz swiveled and pointed down the hallway.
“He is with Chief Engineer Hobbs and Mister Nutter. He appears upset. He may have injured himself when he ran into me.” Mazz motioned toward a dent in its face-cage. “The Scout receiv
ed an infodoc from Elysium Dome Authority. Please refer to your ptenda. Can I be of any further assistance?”
Grace raised her ptenda and scrolled through the infodoc. “Cruiser, Red Ridge, down three weeks ago…rescue scheduled…twofer shortage…”
“The Red Ridge was our ship! The ship you saw,” said Anna.
Grace looked up from her ptenda. “Looks like Quint Brown is wanted for questioning in connection with the Red Ridge. She thought about the personas on Quint’s ptenda. “It’s probably Quint Brown Senior. No doubt they look alike. Still,” Grace raised Marty and looked back at Raj. “We need to secure that kid. Raj?”
Raj nodded. “I’ll lock the door.”
Grace turned to Mazz. “Mazz, let’s find Wragg. We’ll need your help to locate Quint and restrain him, if need be, while we sort this out.”
“Yes, Protector Donner.”
Grace turned and headed down the hall, Mazz following. She kept her eyes open and Marty ready: Quint might not stay in engineering.
They met Wragg dropping down the ladder.
“Did he come back to you? I thought Brown might head to the bridge and double back,” Wragg said.
“Mazz just told us: engineering.” Grace said. “Once we get him, do you have a holding cell?”
Wragg shook his head. “Not as such.” He turned to Mazz. “That’s your new task.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Grace and Wragg headed toward engineering. Ahead were several doors on either side of the hallway—storage lockers, their lights indicating vacancy.
“Did you secure the crew quarters?” Wragg asked.
“Raj locked the door.”
The door to the engine room was closed. Without speaking, Wragg took the right side and Grace, the left. She cocked Marty.
Wragg glanced at her weapon.
“A slug thrower, protector?” Wragg’s voice had a tint of anxiety. “Firing that in the engine room could—”
“Don’t worry. It’s just for persuasion,” said Grace.
Wragg nodded, then touched the access panel and the door opened.
It was dark.
“Get out of there, Brown, or I’ll come in there and drag you out!” Wragg shouted.
Grace could see about two meters into the room. There was a line of yellow storage units blocking her view, stacked neatly and nearly to the ceiling. She slipped inside the room and peered through a gap between the stacks.
There it was. Movement, deep within the room.
A cold rush of excitement sliced through her. At the academy, she and her classmates had drilled on Mini Grinder Alpha during their close quarters training. It was modeled after an engine room similar to that of the Scout. The darkness against the bright readouts. The rumble of a ship in motion. The pipes shooting out of walls, floor, and ceiling, then curving back into the folds of the hull. No wonder Wragg was nervous: a missed target could rupture a coolant conduit or set a control panel hissing and sparking. There were dozens of dark corners in which to hide. This was the place a desperate person could mess with a protector’s head and cause a rash decision.
Wragg crouched behind Grace, a phasewave in his right hand. She leaned back to speak to the captain without taking her eyes off of a promising hiding spot between two storage pods.
“There’s a good chance he has a phasewave,” Grace said softly. “I think he’s hunkered down there near the engines. To the right.”
“So you think he might be armed?”
“He had a weapon attached to his mechflesh hand when we found him,” she said.
Wragg nodded, then shouted again, moving into the room. “Brown! Look lad, come out of there. We can’t have you running around a dark ship, innocent or not. Make this easy on yourself.”
No answer.
“Cutting the lights was smart, Quint,” Grace said loudly. “But in five minutes, I’m going to have you down.”
“Grace—I didn’t do anything!” Quint’s voice.
“Come out then,” she replied.
“No. And I’m standing near engines, so it wouldn’t be a good idea to fire a weapon at me.”
“Quint, all we want to do is talk.”
It was noticeably warmer in the engine room now. Grace felt sweat along her brow. Had he done something to the engines, or just the environmental controls?
“That’s it. I’m going back there. No one threatens my ship,” Wragg growled.
“Captain!” Another voice. Nutter. “Hobbs and I are back here, too. Firing weapons down here is not a good idea.”
“Hobbs! You there?” Wragg shouted.
“Aye. I’m here with this lot,” Hobbs called out. Grace noted the exasperation in his voice.
“Maybe you should just let Quint go,” Nutter said. Grace felt the hair on her neck rise. Were there two adversaries?
“I will not give you another chance,” Wragg said. He began to move toward the engines.
“Boy, just stop this nonsense and go talk to the captain,” Hobbs hissed. “Put that thing away. You’re going to get us killed over a misunderstanding.”
“Shut up!” Quint said.
Grace nodded. So he was armed.
There was a whispered conversation in the distance. She pinpointed locations of the three men. Hobbs was furthest away, his squat frame illuminated by two stacked engine control panels. The others were harder to see in detail.
Grace put a hand on Wragg’s shoulder as they rounded the crates, indicating she’d take the left side. They spread out.
But Quint had expected them. As soon as they came around the crates, he stepped out from the shadows, pressure suit on, phasewave in his mechflesh hand.
Grace glanced at the captain. Wragg was visibly furious. He’d soon start barking demands, and with Quint holding a weapon, what would happen? He would fire, and then she would have to fire, and ka-boom.
Grace decided to make a play.
“Quint, listen to me. Your phasewave is not a threat: it’s an insult.”
Quint didn’t move. His eyes were wide, the whites contrasting against dilated pupils. Grace stood up from her combat crouch and began to walk toward him, partially blocking his line of sight to Wragg.
“I have the ability to take you down now, understand?” she said, “but that’s not what I want to do. I want to take you into custody—which means you’re going to accompany me to someplace secure. You are safe as long as you trust me.”
Quint took a step backward, then gripped the phasewave tighter and aimed it at Grace.
Grace kept walking. “If you surrender, you’ll be in my protective custody. It is in your best interest to come with me. You’ve got to understand that your continued reluctance is marching you closer to injury or death by my hand.”
Grace stood there, facing a silent Quint. I’m not bluffing, she willed her expression to say. I’m confident, I’m a protector, and I’ll take you out if you harm anyone here. Quint stood quivering, his jaw set and his eyes like glowing coals in the low light of the room. He opened his mouth to speak.
Then Hobbs lunged.
From his crouched position, Hobbs tried to ram his head into Quint’s gut. Quint reacted immediately, bringing his gun down hard upon the back of the engineer’s head. Hobbs went down with a groan. Then, with a blur and bellow, Wragg leaped forward, tackling Quint and knocking the phasewave to the deck.
“Quint, what have you done!” Nutter crouched beside the captain, helping Wragg pin down Quint, but his eyes were on Hobbs.
Grace took three steps and picked up Quint’s phasewave. She turned it over. It was one of the Scout’s reserve weapons.
“Tim?” she signaled through her dermal.
“Here, Grace.”
“We’ve subdued Quint. Let Raj know.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. I think Mazz created a brig. Heading there. What I want from you, now, is more on Quint. Going to put this to bed.”
“I gotta talk to Archdale,” Quint gasped.
&nbs
p; Grace grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into a standing position.
“Strange that you’re still demanding things, Quint.”
Chapter 13
Grace stood outside the storage locker, amazed at how quickly Mazz had modified the unit. In less than an hour, the two by three meter space had acquired a welded metarm plate for sitting, a biowaste port, and a restricted comm panel. The metal door had been inset with a one-way viewscreen, and heavy locks had been fitted outside. Quint sat on the plate, his head in his hands.
“Listen closely to Quint,” Grace told Tim through her dermal. “I want to know if he’s lying or telling the truth.”
“I’m not good at that,” said Tim.
“Try, ok? And record it, too.”
“That I can do.”
Grace turned off the locking mechanisms, entered the storage locker, and leaned against the wall opposite Quint. He didn’t look up.
“It looks bad when you run, Quint,” she said, crossing her arms.
“I didn’t kill anybody,” he mumbled at his feet.
“You said that before. We need more than that, Quint. Authority’s sending intel on you, and it’s our rescue’s story against yours,” Grace said. “Now is the time to tell me what you know. You need a friend right now. Make me a friend.”
“It’s too late for friends,” Quint said.
“Captain Wragg told me we’re coming up on Gusev. As it stands, you’re off this ship and in the hands of the authority there. If your father had something to do with this and you know something, say it, Quint.”
Quint bit his lip. “I haven’t seen him in months. We—disagree.”
Tim pinged through the dermal. “Wragg and Archdale updated the doc on the elder Quint Brown, Grace. In and out of trouble. Nothing huge. Unarmed assault, property damage, petty theft, and smuggling charges here and there. One conviction.”
“Your father’s been convicted,” Grace said aloud. “What charge?”
“He got into a fight over a lousy twofer. I told him not to bother, but—”
“So you and he don’t get along. Do you think he’s mixed up with what happened with the Red Ridge?”
He raised his head and returned her gaze. “Yeah, mixed up.”
“Do you resemble your father much?”