Stormcrow, page 12
“Toss it. No, wait!” Tony changed his mind. “I need to test the blood, I guess. You need to shuck those clothes, too. No telling what you picked up.”
“I was just gonna wash 'em,” Sean objected. These were good clothes.
“Not with all that blood,” Tony was shaking his head. “Sorry, bro.”
“It ain't like I never had blood on me before, man,” the engineer pointed out altogether too casually. “I'll wash 'em somewhere on the station when I get settled.”
“You can't stay here after that!” Meredith objected and shriveled slightly as he turned his gaze on her.
“I'm not gonna stay any longer than it takes to get a job,” he told her flatly. “And I ain't tossin' perfectly good clothes 'cause they got a little blood on 'em, either,” he turned back to the medic.
“You're going to let me test them then,” Giannini's voice brooked no argument. “There's no telling what you've been exposed to with thei-” he stopped as the scanner beeped. Pulling the screen closer he examined the readout. He frowned slightly and Meredith felt her stomach flutter.
“What is it?” she demanded. The shot was starting to kick in already and Meredith was feeling better.
“He's got a concussion for sure,” his finger traced a hairline crack along the image of Linc's scull. “See here? Right behind his right eye.” He frowned again and enlarged the image.
“There's some internal swelling behind his eye,” he mentioned. “I can't tell if it's pushing on the optic nerve or not. That would affect his vision if it is. No way to test it until he's awake and that swelling goes down and lets his eye open. You know how that happened?” he asked, looking at Meredith.
“He took several blows to the head, mostly from gun butts,” she supplied. “Trying to protect me,” she added. Almost against her will she looked at Sean Galen. He ignored her, assuming she would blame him for this as well. It was the way things were going lately.
“What else you need me to do, Doc?” he asked instead.
“I told you to get out of those clothes,” the medic replied. “I need to test them. You need to get cleaned up,” he pointed to the shower. “Use disinfectant. Toss your underclothes. Be sure and clean your gear-”
“Teach your grandmother,” Sean retorted at that.
“-with disinfectant,” Giannini finished, smirking. “To kill any blood borne pathogens. This place is a breeding ground for disease, man. Now do what I said.”
“Like I'm going to stay on this ship, let alone shower, with that murderin' Commie sittin' up there waiting for my back to be turned!” Galen snorted in derision. “You're not as smart as I thought, Tony.”
“She won't bother you,” Meredith said. “Do what he says.”
“I don't work for you anymore, Captain,” Sean made the word sound like a slur. “And there's nothing in the last three years makes me think you can control that gorilla without a shock collar. There's no trusting someone like her, especially not for someone like me.” He dismissed her, turning back to Giannini.
“Now, do you need anything else from me?” he asked again. The medic looked at him, sighing.
“No,” he admitted. “Not right now. If I can't treat him, we'll have to carry him to the station hospital though.”
“You need me to help with that?” Galen asked.
“No,” Giannini shook his head. “I can call for a lifter. Probably be safer than us carrying him.”
“Then this is where we part ways, man,” Sean nodded, his voice kinder now. “You're good, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I'm straight,” his friend nodded. “Dude, don't-”
“Take care, Doc,” Sean cut him off gently. “You'll do to ride with,” he grinned slightly. With that he left the infirmary, headed to collect his gear. He would have to change clothes he decided. He probably wouldn't get far covered in blood. Maybe Tony was right and he should just ditch the clothes altogether. They were pretty crusty.
“Sean, wait,” he heard the Captain say behind him. He turned to see her standing in the infirmary door, leaning against the door frame.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“I didn't do it for you,” he said calmly.
“I know,” she nodded. “You did it for Linc, because he's your friend.”
“He's not my friend,” he surprised her. “But he's always been good to me. I don't forget things like that.” He turned his back to her again, heading to collect his gear.
“You don't have to go,” Meredith said again. “I'm sorry,” she added. “This is my fault. All of it.”
“You're right, it is,” he nodded, never looking around. “I killed a man today I've known for most of my life because of you. A man driven to be what he is by people just like you. You and Faulks. Wasn't for you, he'd still be alive. Might not ought to be,” he admitted, “but he would be. And if he wasn't at least it wouldn't have been me that killed him.”
He had taken another two steps when the ship lurched slightly. Even as he caught his balance he realized that the ship was leaving dock.
“What the hell!” he and Meredith said in unison.
As Jessica Travers had closed the ramp she had debated on what to do. She was an outsider here, just a passenger on her way home. While she liked Lincoln and thought he was a nice man, there was really no place for her in the infirmary, especially with Tony Giannini trying to treat the pilot's injuries.
She had remained in the cargo bay for a few minutes before deciding to go back upstairs to the lounge. There was nothing else she could do and being out of the way seemed like the best place for her at the moment.
She had drawn up tight when she entered the galley and saw Faulks sitting and fuming as she stared at the pistol on the table before her. Freezing for a moment, Jessica debated what to do. When Faulks ignored her, she resumed her movement. No longer wanting to be in the lounge as that was too near the hateful woman at the table, Jessica instead passed through and made her way to the bridge.
Technically she wasn't supposed to be there, but then again, technically, she'd been informed that when the ship was in dock there was no danger. And other than the cargo bay itself, the bridge was the most distant place she could be from Faulks. Avoiding the former Marine was almost a biological imperative at this point, so the bridge it was.
She took a seat at the navigation console to avoid the ship's controls, just in case Captain Simmons was angry at her presence. Jessica wanted to cry but she fought the urge down. This was all her fault.
Her simple request on Dry Common had left the ship in turmoil, and that turmoil had led the Captain and her husband to be in a position to be trapped as they had been. Lincoln Simmons was badly injured right now, the tension on the ship was thick enough to cut with a knife and all of that could be traced directly back to her asking to go ashore.
Why couldn't I have just sat here and enjoyed a good book? she asked herself, not for the first time.
So engrossed was she in her depression it took her more than a minute to realize that the com unit was lit up with an incoming message. The strident tone finally caught her attention and she turned to look at the screen.
The last time she'd answered a message it had been Lincoln telling them what had happened and that the cargo was being taken. Fear almost prevented her from opening the screen, but she realized that with everyone other than Faulks still in the infirmary there was no one else to answer. She doubted Faulks would even notice she was so intent on her anger. Reluctant, but wanting to be helpful in some way, she timidly reached out and opened the call.
A middle-aged man in a fine suit appeared on the screen.
“Is this the Celia?” he asked. “Transport vessel? Dock B, Slip. . .” he looked down then back up, “. . .Thirty-Four?”
“Yes sir,” Jessica nodded.
“I'm looking for Anthony. . .” the man trailed off as if unsure how to continue.
“I'm terribly sorry sir but he's treating a member of the crew at the moment,” Jessica replied. “I can forward him a message and ask that he return your call as soon as he's free.”
“No, that won't be necessary,” the man shook his head. “But please tell him that Mister Tuttle called. The Station Security Forces are currently investigating a series of rather brutal homicides, young lady. Please inform him that several witnesses have come forward to inform the SSF that a group of people, one of them covered in what appeared to be blood, were seen carrying an unconscious man near the scene of two of those incidents and that the SSF are now searching the station for those people. Officially they are wanting to question them in relation to the homicides they are investigating but I think it's safe to assume they are also suspects. I believe that is information he will want to have access to at once.”
As 'Tuttle' had spoken Jessica had felt apprehension grip her. The situation she had created had led to all this, and now Sean and perhaps Tony were going to get in trouble because of it. In her mind's eye she could see grim-faced Security Police coming to the ship, questioning the two and perhaps attempting to take Sean into custody and maybe Tony as well. Even though they had not done anything that hadn't needed to be done.
Another image flashed into her mind as well. That of a gloating Faulks watching in complete satisfaction as Sean was arrested or perhaps killed in the attempt. The horrid woman would take pleasure in something like that. Jessica's eyes narrowed at the thought without her even realizing it. That simply would not do. She could not, would not, allow Sean Galen and Tony Giannini to come to harm or be placed in danger. Both had been far too kind to her on her voyage home after all these years.
Jessica felt a shift in her thinking, almost a series of movements within her brain as her mind processed all of this and suddenly she knew exactly what she must do and how to accomplish it. A flood of calm washed over the normally nervous young woman as she returned her attention to the screen.
“…approval to depart at your convenience...young woman are you listening to me?” 'Tuttle' suddenly broke off, looking at her rather intently.
“Indeed I am,” Jessica smiled calmly. “Thank you, Mister Tuttle.” With that she shut off the com unit and stood, striding purposely toward the pilot's seat, pausing only long enough to close and secure the bridge door.
Settling into Lincoln's chair, Jessica scanned the panel before her, at once completely aware of what she was looking at and what to do. She had never flown a ship before but suddenly is seemed absurdly simple to do and she found herself wondering how a man as intelligent as Lincoln Simmons obviously was had so much difficulty flying the Celia. She slipped the headset onto her head and keyed the mike.
“Hartley Station Control, this is the Celia, Slip B-34, ready for departure,” she said easily, as if she'd done it a thousand times.
“Celia this is Control, you are cleared to depart, traffic is open at this time. Thank you for visiting Hartley and please come again.” The controller's voice was that of someone who said the same words over and over, day in and out. What a boring existence that must be.
“Thank you Hartley and I'm sure we'll be back,” she replied. Her hands flew over switches as if she'd been doing it for years, aligning, adjusting, setting, correcting. She felt the ship vibrate beneath her as the engines wound up. She keyed the PA system on the Celia's hull.
“De-coupling,” she said simply and slammed the plunger that would retract the ship's coupling connections, releasing the station's feeds and retracting the ship's intakes behind their sealed hatches. She watched as light after light winked from amber to green. Satisfied that all was in order, she increased power to the ship's thrusters and Celia began to move.
It was time to leave Hartley Station behind.
“Who in the hell is flying my ship!?” Meredith demanded.
“You can't leave yet; I need to get off!” Sean shouted at the same time. The two of them raced up the stairs, Sean propelled by anger and Meredith sustained by a pain shot that kept her back from stopping her. The two of them slid to a halt as the sight of Faulks still seated in the galley.
“Who's flying the ship?” Meredith demanded. Faulks looked up at her, her gaze instantly shifting to Sean Galen and filling with hatred. Her hand twitched toward the pistol laying on the table before her but stopped as she saw his hand grasp the hilt of the huge knife at his side.
I wonder if it's the same knife? she wondered idly.
“Dammit Faulks I don't have time for that shit!” Meredith bellowed. “Who in the hell is flying my ship?!” Faulks tore her gaze away from Galen and looked back to her Captain. As she did she realized they were moving.
“I don't know,” she admitted, finally broken from her funk. “The girl,” she almost breathed. “The girl come through here not long after I got up here. She. . .it has to be her, Cap'n, there's no one else on board.”
“Jessica?” Sean looked puzzled. “She knows how to fly?”
“We'd damn sure better hope so!” Meredith snapped, moving toward the bridge. “Because she at least knows how to get us moving.” The three of them ran down the passageway to the bridge door only to find it locked. Galen drew his knife and pounded on the door while Meredith keyed the I/C.
“Jessica are you up there?” she demanded. “Open this damn door and do it right now!”
“Dammit Jess, what the hell are you doin' girl?!” Sean demanded through the door itself, careful to keep his back away from Faulks.
“Jessica!” Meredith shouted again into the I/C.
“Patience, Captain,” Jessica's voice came back finally though it sounded. . .off, somehow. “Please make yourself comfortable. I'll be done in a moment. Well, perhaps two.” With that the I/C clicked off again. Meredith looked at Faulks, then at Galen.
“What the hell?”
On the bridge Jessica smiled calmly at the consternation she was causing. It wasn't intentional, of course, but it was highly amusing and entertaining to say the least. She watched as their distance from the station climbed until they were outside the 'envelope' where a ship's engines could be ignited.
Killing the thrusters Jessica aligned the ship for their next destination, a Frontier planet called Weytan, and allowed the navcomp to figure their course. Once it was prepared, Jessica punched it in, locked them on course and powered the Celia's engines. Already warmed and ready, the massive power plants in the rear of the ship blossomed to power, propelling the Celia forward. The ship's inertial compensator increased its influence on the artificial gravity so that the crew barely noticed the ship's acceleration.
Satisfied that all was correct, Jessica activated the auto-pilot and checked to make sure the computer was responding. Seeing that it was, she stood up and crossed to the door, unlocking and sliding it open to face three very surprised people, including the ship owner.
“I don't know what all the fuss is over,” she told them easily. “The police were after all of you and I had to get us off the station.”
And then she passed out.
“What the-” Sean exclaimed as he stooped to catch the falling girl before she could hit the deck.
“Did she say the police were after us?” Meredith asked, stopping herself before she too tried to catch the falling girl.
“Something like that anyway,” Galen agreed as he stood, cradling the limp girl in his arms. “After you, Commie,” he nodded Faulks down the passageway. “You don't stand behind me. Ever.”
“That's enough,” Meredith bit back a snarl, realizing that it would not be the best way to deal with this problem. “Take her to the infirmary,” she ordered.
“Not with her behind me,” he shook his head slightly. “That's not open for debate, Captain,” he added as Meredith looked as if she was going to object. His tone was flat and final. Pushing him would not end well.
“Faulks, head down to the cargo bay and wait there,” she ordered, still looking at Galen.
“Cap'n,” Faulks began.
“Now,” Meredith stressed, her voice still calm. “I need your cooperation while I sort this out. I think I've earned that and more from you, Gunny.”
“Cap'n,” Faulks nodded and started down the passageway. Meredith let her get out of earshot before speaking again.
“I'm not going to keep being dictated to on my own ship, Mister Galen,” she said flatly.
“You want to carry her?” was the easy reply, offering his burden to the Captain. “No? Well, consider this. I wouldn't still be on your ship if your charity case hadn't hijacked me. I'm now an unwilling passenger on your vessel. Running from a mess I wouldn't be in if not for you. So before you unship too much of that attitude on me Captain, you better remember those facts. Add to them the fact that when I freed you, your pet gorilla attacked me without provocation despite the fact that I'd just freed her as well and saved your lives. So allowing her behind me is not going to happen. And if she so much as sneezes on me I will gut her like a fish. We clear on that? Captain?”
The air of calm that fell over Galen as he spoke wasn't lost on Meredith. He had never shown this side of himself and a part of her realized that he likely never would have had she not pushed him. Again it was clear that her own attitude was to blame for this difficulty.
“Understandable,” she admitted finally. “Let's get her to the infirmary.” He nodded and walked by her. She followed carefully, wondering how long the shot Tony had given her would last. She was sure that once it was gone she'd be laid up for a while after today's adventures.
Carolyn Faulks paced the cargo bay in a rage. It was bad enough that she had failed the Captain when she had needed her most, but now she had learned that Sean Galen, a man she had dismissed so derisively for nearly three years was probably the most notorious assassin of the Border War. A Freeborn criminal responsible for no telling how many Commonwealth deaths, including some of her friends and comrades.
His presence on this ship was completely unacceptable to her and should be to her Captain.
If it had been a shock to discover that Galen might be The Stormcrow, learning that her Captain didn't even know who he was had come as an even ruder awakening. How could the commander of a warship engaged against the Freeborn not know about The Stormcrow? Where the hell had she been hiding during the war?
