by Corey Ostman
“Some think so.”
Grace wondered about Quint’s ptenda with its multiple personalities. Was he wearing his father’s ptenda when they found him?
“Give me your ptenda, Quint.”
“B—but why?”
Grace stretched out her hand. “Because I think it has the real story. And I think you’re going to try to leave here without telling me.”
“You have no right to—”
“Look around. Mars is under martial law and I’m a licensed protector. I can issue my own warrants.”
Quint looked from his ptenda to Grace. He opened its clasp and handed it to her.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
She touched Quint’s ptenda to her own, bonding them.
“Thanks, Grace,” Tim said in her dermal. “Maybe I can find something more.”
“Is Mr. Hobbs ok? He wake up?” Quint shifted forward and lifted his head, watching her.
“You brained him pretty good. I don’t think he’ll be recommending you for any more work, but he’ll be fine.”
Grace frowned. The more she thought about Quint’s actions, the worse it looked. He didn’t just run. He didn’t just cause a ruckus in the engine room and disobey orders. He found a weapon. He hurt someone. Mars was a tough place, but she didn’t think Wragg was going to leave all this to a warning. Quint had to go. Quint was troubled. A bad man for a father was one problem, but Quint had acted poorly himself. He certainly wasn’t good for the crew.
As if he sensed the shift in her thoughts, Quint began to speak again. “Grace—I—just let me go. If you really want to help me, and I think you do, don’t hand me over to Gusev.”
“Grace,” Tim said. “You asked me to listen. My analysis of Quint’s voice shows increasing anxiety.”
“So now you’re worried about the Gusev authorities. Before it was the conscription at Elysium. What gives?”
Quint hesitated. “Gusev and Elysium have a strong trade alliance. They share security details and—”
“Both are lost without their twofers,” Grace countered. “They are not searching for a mixed up kid.”
She leaned closer.
“There’s nothing more you can tell me?”
“That’s all I can say,” Quint said.
His amber eyes were wide and, in the light, he looked even younger than he was.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
Too little, kid.
“I’m going to have breakfast,” Grace said. She slipped Quint’s ptenda into her pocket, backed away from the storage unit, and locked the door.
“Tim? Talk to me.”
“Wragg and Richard have finished sifting through the information now,” Tim said. “For myself, I am at an impasse about the facts. I have established a profile of the killer and a timeline regarding the Red Ridge’s journey from when it left port until now. I can’t place Quint at the scene, nor can I confirm his movements.”
Grace turned to Mazz, who stood silently beside the door.
“Mazz, I feel a little twitchy about Quint. Can you stand guard?”
“Yes. I will stay.”
Grace turned down the hall, continuing her conversation with the disembodied PodPooch. “Tim. Not enough evidence that the kid did anything except overreact,” she said. “Stay connected, stay low, and listen in on Quint. I’m headed to you.”
Grace climbed the ladder and walked onto the bridge. Wragg and Richard were huddled over a display, oblivious to Reuyl Crater slightly to starboard, its beautiful inner cone looking like a sandy water droplet frozen in time.
“Richard, we can’t keep him on the ship. We can pick up another hand at Gusev.” Wragg’s tone was respectful, but firm.
“Time is running short, Harmon,” Richard said. “Quint has been a handful since I met him. I’d like him off my ship, but I’m worried about Gusev. The ship is in danger from unmanaged craft every time we approach a dome. There’s no guarantee Gusev isn’t in chaos, too. We might not be able to find a new hand. Not to mention we might be sending the kid to a summary execution.”
“Whether he spends the journey in storage or not, we still need another tech. There are a lot of repairs left before we get to the pole,” Wragg said.
Grace looked from one man to the other. Their words were strained, as though they’d been saying the same things for some time. She decided to interrupt.
“Hadn’t we already planned to stop at Gusev to refuel, stretch our legs, and supply up?” she asked.
“Well,” Wragg said, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his seat, “not necessarily Gusev. But it’s the biggest and best choice now that we’ve crossed the equator.” He looked at Richard. “And our safest bet with Hobbs down.”
“We still have Nutter,” Richard said.
“Mazz seems to do most of the heavy lifting around here,” Grace said. She saw Wragg bristle slightly at this and decided to alter course. “Quint, troubled as he seems, might be able to do tech work, but I doubt Hobbs could work with him now. Leaving him with the Authority at Gusev is better for the team.”
Richard considered this, then turned to Wragg. “You sure about Gusev, Captain?”
“Yes. I agree it’s a gamble, but we can’t have a kid willing to steal and use a weapon aboard ship.”
“How close are we to Gusev?”
“We just passed Reuyl and are heading toward Apollinaris.” Wragg frowned. “We’ll need to drop our speed.”
“Why?” Grace asked. “Difficult terrain?”
“Gusev imposes speed restrictions,” Wragg said. “Two years ago, they had a bad dance with a pair of cruisers. Both zoomed in, one from the south, one from the west. The ships jostled for the same berth, and one ship fired its thrusters, rotating directly into the Gusev superstructure. Nearly a hundred died. So now, Gusev requires ships on approach and departure to be at reduced speeds.”
“Elysium could use that,” Grace noted.
Wragg smirked. “My opinion? Every dome could use it.”
Richard looked up from the map, where he had been double-checking coordinates. “If we can hire anybody else, we must find them at Gusev. I’ve been to bases further south. They’re small and mostly communal. Everyone will already have jobs.” He looked at the captain. “Wragg, the coordinates are indicated. Please alter course for Gusev Base.”
The captain nodded. Grace looked at the map. They’d been on a southeastern track, keeping to the mildest terrain along Elysium Planitia. A couple of degrees’ change was all that was necessary to send them to Gusev.
Grace handed Quint’s ptenda to Richard. “This is Quint’s. Keep it safe. I don’t think he’ll try to bolt without it, and we’ll need it for evidence with Gusev Authority.”
Richard nodded, putting the ptenda in his pocket. “And in the meantime, I’ve the work of an engineer and a tech to make up. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to the engine room.” He paused. “I don’t suppose you know much about cruiser technology?”
“Not me, but you might want to ask Raj.”
“Will do.”
Chapter 14
Grace followed Wragg into a small dining hall, just aft of the bridge. She looked behind to see if Tim would follow, but the PodPooch apparently wanted to mull over Quint’s data.
The dining hall was a narrow room at the top of the Scout with panoramic windows. Grace turned, bathing in the glow of the morning sun as she circled the room. The long, white dining table gleamed in the warm light, but it was devoid of food. She realized then that she wanted food. Badly. She’d ridden a sandstorm all night; rescued a girl and chased down a possible criminal this morning. When had she last eaten? Grace’s stomach punctuated her thoughts with convulsive rumbles.
Feed me, Grace thought, frowning at the complete lack of nourishment in the room.
The captain, oblivious, sat down at the table and called up a display inset.
“After Gusev,” he said, pointing to a map on the screen, �
�we’ll head down the Ma’adim Vallis. We’ll skirt just to the east of Ariadnes and then due south to Bjerknes. I’ll change to a southwest course past Rossby and on to Campbell. Once we pass Campbell…well, the navigation will get interesting.”
“It’s already been an interesting trip, at least for me,” said Grace. She reached over and tapped the inset. A menu replaced the map. “You don’t mind, do you? I’m famished.”
Wragg laughed. “We are in a dining room. Order me some of whatever you’re having.”
“Even if it’s Earth food?”
“Especially if it’s Earth food.”
Grace smiled. “Comfort food is perfect after the morning we’ve had.”
Wragg grunted. “It could have been much worse. We’re still on schedule and moving forward.”
Grace tapped out her order, then Wragg reached forward and turned off the inset.
“Back when I was an ensign in the corps,” Wragg said, “my captain hatched a plan to attack a settlement, claiming she was arresting the Governor of Albor Dome.”
“What had the governor done?” Grace asked.
“Nothing.” Wragg tapped his temple. “But our captain had gone erratic. Suffered a LEMP blast to the head the month before. Most of the bridge crew were in such awe of her—they’d altered course and primed weapons before their logical minds caught up.
“I had my phasewave, finger on the trigger, ready to put her down before anything could happen. I had to play along just enough. If I had started throwing out rules and regs they would have brig’d me, or worse. The captain was a hero from the Vesta uprising.”
“So you had to circle around the issue slowly?” Grace said.
Wragg nodded. “Slowly and tenaciously, just like you did with Brown. When you spot faulty crew, you’ve got to be willing to do whatever it takes to stop ‘em. It can mean patience, yes, but it can mean digging in your heels.”
“Outnumbered, but never outwitted, Captain Wragg?”
“Donner, a captain is always outnumbered, and yes, never outwitted—for long anyway.” He smiled.
Grace nodded. “I wonder if the phasewave blast is what made Quint erratic. He took a longer time than usual to recover.”
“I’ll feel better once we get him off the ship,” Wragg said. “I can’t stand the thought of somebody that reckless aboard. Blast to the head or not.”
“I think he’s just scared,” Grace said. “Anna accused him of murder.”
Wragg’s laugh was mixed with a grunt of derision.
“Huh. Scared. When I first started serving, that behavior would get you a quick trip to the nearest airlock. I don’t know if the old ways were better, but things were a little more clearly cut.”
Grace surveyed the captain. “You sure you’re not cloisterfolk?”
“Born right here on Mars,” he said. “But we understand each other. From what I’ve heard, justice is swift in cloister.”
Grace acknowledged the comment with a nod. Her plans had always included leaving cloister, but cloister would never leave her, and she was beginning to realize she treasured that about herself.
“I like how you handled the situation in engineering. Wasn’t looking forward to you using that slug thrower,” Wragg said with a wry smile.
Grace dipped her head in thanks, patting Marty in its holster.
“Just got to Mars, Captain. I can’t go blowing holes in things I can’t afford to fix.”
“I keep forgetting you’re a newcomer. You handle reduced grav like a native.” He smiled. “Richard told me you’re slowly adapting to our food, too. Grub is traditional aboard the Scout.”
“On that note, you mentioned this was the dining hall,” she said. “Where’s that food we ordered?”
As if in response, the door to the bridge opened and Raj and Richard stepped in.
“If you don’t mind,” Raj grinned, “I was hoping for something to eat.”
“Take a seat,” Wragg said. “There’ll be plenty.”
Grace turned to Richard. “Where’s Yvette?”
“The doctor can tell you,” Richard said. “She’s entranced by his patient. Hasn’t left Anna’s side.”
“What about Anna? Is she ready for some food?” Grace said.
Raj shook his head. “Too soon.”
“How’s she doing?” Richard asked.
“She’s recovering well,” Raj said. “After quick immersion in Grace’s pressure suit, we got her breathing under control. And the profuse sweating ceased. Her hearing became normal an hour later. She’s still a little drowsy, but that won’t last more than a day. Still, acute carbon dioxide poisoning is serious. I’d like to monitor her a bit longer.”
“I think it would be best to drop her off at Gusev,” Wragg said.
“If you feel the medical facilities are functioning.”
“You’ve still got time to monitor her,” said Richard.
Mazz interrupted the argument by arriving through the door on the other end of the hall, bearing gifts for the stomach.
“Finally,” said Grace, reaching for a tray.
Wragg and Richard helped themselves to fruit and coffee. Raj heaped a plate with soy sausages.
Grace was just about to start on a heaping pile of bacon pucks and gravy when she had a thought. She looked up, sharply, at Mazz.
“Who’s guarding Quint?” she asked.
“Assistant Nutter is in my place,” said Mazz.
“But—”
“What’s wrong, Grace?” Raj asked, mouth full.
“Alan is a good lad,” Richard said, looking pointedly at Grace. “We can trust him.”
Grace stood, lifting her plate. She grabbed an apple.
“Let’s go check on Anna and Yvette, Raj,” she said, turning to her friend. “We can ask Anna what she’d like to do before making any final plans. And I’m sure fruit can’t harm her.”
Raj looked at her incredulously. She reached down and hauled him up by the collar.
“Wait, one more—” He grabbed a sausage and stuffed it into his mouth as she tugged him into the hallway.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” Raj hissed as she pulled him through the bridge. Tim blinked at them.
“Protector’s instincts,” Grace said. “Now shhh.”
Sure enough, as they approached the ladder, she heard whispers. She put a finger to her lips, set down her tray of food, and silently descended the ladder toward the lower deck. Her landing was soft. Raj followed, less quietly.
Alan Nutter stood outside the storage locker, speaking into the comm panel. He released a button on the panel and Quint’s whispered voice came through. Nutter was so engrossed in the conversation that he didn’t notice Grace until she spoke.
“How is our prisoner, Nutter?” she asked, tapping him on the shoulder.
Nutter jerked, releasing the panel as he stepped back. She noticed his cheeks flush.
“Locked in tight as a drum, Protector Donner,” he said. Grace noted a none-of-your-business tone. She didn’t like it. It most definitely is my business.
Grace motioned for Raj to continue forward and check on Anna and Yvette.
“Nutter, go tell Captain Wragg that I will watch Quint. You are relieved. Ask him to join me when it’s convenient.”
Nutter looked back at the panel, glared at her, then stalked away.
Grace checked the internal sensors. One human. At least he’s still in there. She leaned against the locker, considering. She knew she’d sensed something strange about Nutter’s relationship with Quint in the engine room. Before the sandstorm, the two techs weren’t getting along very well. What had happened?
Captain Wragg arrived half an hour later. He carried her tray of forgotten food. Grace took it gratefully.
“Thanks. I hope you didn’t trip on it.”
“Not at all,” said Wragg. “Nutter said you wanted to see me?”
“Did he tell you why?”
Wragg shook his head.
“That’s unfortun
ate. When I came down here, he was very chummy with former Crewman Brown. Nutter gave me some attitude and I dismissed him.”
Wragg frowned. “I’ll talk to Richard. He won’t want to hear it—Nutter’s been apprenticed with the ship quite a long time. Something of a protégé for Richard, really.” He considered the makeshift prison. “Until we reach Gusev, Mazz should stay close to this locker. And you.”
“Do you trust Mazz?”
“I shouldn’t even trust you. From what Richard told me, Brown got you all to shelter him like a lost dog back at Elysium Dome,” Wragg said.
“Don’t worry, Captain.” Grace stood at attention. “Except for Tim, I’m not that fond of dogs.”
Chapter 15
Quint Brown scanned the cramped storage locker. His eyes darted from the walls to the makeshift seat. He paced. He had been locked up once before, at Albor Dome. But there had been a window overlooking the central plaza. Activities. Other inmates. This makeshift prison was worse. And it felt like it was getting smaller by the minute.
Had he been confined two days? Three? I’ve had seven meals, but were they on a schedule? The engines had stopped a couple of hours ago, he was certain of that. They were probably at Gusev.
Quint looked at his bare wrist. He needed to get his ptenda and its recordings back. With luck, the ptenda had retained everything about this trip, including the navigation details streaming from Archdale’s ptenda to the ship. Those maps and this ship would get him to the Essex.
His only regret was that he hadn’t gotten a close scan of the PodPooch. There was something strange about the robotic dog—it was too prescient, treated too well by its owners to be a mere toy. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that an unusual robot was on a journey to discover what happened to the twofers. What if it was immune to the disease infecting them? He needed to find out. He needed to get out.
Quint paced. Every few oscillations, he drummed his fingers on the sealed door. No one answered: it wasn’t time yet. That meant Mazz, the metal wretch, was just on the other side. Nothing could happen until flesh and blood guarded the locker.
Flesh and blood would yield to his command.
Quint’s muscles ached. His jaw throbbed like he’d been chewing for a week. The spasms bent his legs backward painfully. It had been a constant irritation since the trip began. The pain was supposed to go away. The therapy was making his muscles younger, not older.