Chapter 9
“You’re going to feel really really sick afterwards, Mom. I mean like you’ll want to barf all the time and your head will feel like it’s going to explode. But I’ll take care of you. Like I did Dad.” Mollie watched as the skinny med-tech named Allen helped her mother into the clamshell MediPod chamber. Once situated, her mother reached a hand out for Mollie to take.
“Absolutely no going near the Zoo while I’m in this thing. Do you understand?” Nan commanded, scowling at Mollie, then bringing her attention up to the med-tech. “Allen, you’ll keep an eye on her?”
Allen was entering information onto the keypad and had already initiated the clamshell to start closing. “She’ll be fine, Nan. I have some work she can help me with around here for the next few hours.”
The MediPod closed and Mollie could see her mother’s face looking back at her through the little rectangular window. Her mother mouthed the words you be good!
Mollie smiled and turned to Allen. “So what do you want me to do? I don’t know anything about medical-type stuff.” Then she noticed someone else had entered Medical. Both Allen and Mollie looked to see who, but they only caught a glimpse of someone turning the corner to leave the room.
“Alright, off with you Mollie. I have things to do,” Allen said, not looking up from what he was working on.
“I thought you said you had stuff for me do around here,” Mollie said, looking confused.
Allen finally looked up, annoyed. “I have way too much work to do to be playing babysitter to an eight-year-old. Your mother will be fine, so check in later. Why don’t you go get a bite to eat? Out. Scoot.”
Mollie had to take several quick steps back as Allen rushed by, disappearing into the lab section of Medical. She continued to watch her mother sleep for a few more moments. “Why don’t you get a bite to eat?” she mimicked the med-tech’s high-pitched voice instruction. “Dork,” she said a little louder. She slowly turned and headed out of Medical. In the corridor, Mollie headed for the DeckPort that would take her down to the second deck of the ship. She knew the layout of this ship as well as anyone. She’d spent hours exploring hidden areas that even her own father didn’t know existed. And her parents fussed and worried about her—not having kids her own age to play with. But she did have the best friend anyone could ask for.
“Lilly, want to play a game?” Mollie asked out loud, opting not to use her now-activated NanoCom.
“Good morning, Mollie. Yes, that would be wonderful. What would you like to play?”
“Hot and Cold, of course, silly.” Mollie began skipping down Deck 2 corridor. “Give me something harder to find this time, Lilly. Don’t go so easy on me.”
“Okay, Mollie, I have a real stumper for you. Are you ready?” The Lilly AI asked.
“Give it to me.”
* * *
Lieutenant Commander Perkins sat in the command chair and surveyed the bridge. With Jason and the others gone, he’d be pulling double and even triple shifts for a while. Not that there would be much going on. He knew that FTL travel was about as exciting as watching your toenails grow. He leaned back into the seat’s wide padded cushion. He could get used to this. He liked the sound of the word Captain. Sure, being the XO was nothing to sneeze at, but come on, it wasn’t Captain, was it?
“Excuse me, XO, we’re receiving incoming markers for an FTL transmission,” McBride said from the helm. “They’re requesting a private channel with the captain.”
“Who is it?”
“Um, I’m not sure. It’s a deep space communication. It’s marked high-priority and confidential.”
Perkins thought for a moment, unsure what to do. McBride was still looking back over his shoulder at him and waiting for his answer.
“Send a reply that Captain Reynolds is currently indisposed and is not on the bridge. Let them know that I’m the XO and available.”
“Aye, sir.”
Perkins knew that McBride’s response, depending on the recipient’s distance, could take up to several hours. Perhaps he should contact the captain, but then again, Jason had been fairly explicit: handle the everyday minutia, XO, unless it’s an emergency. No, he’d find out what the FDL communication was all about before contacting Captain Reynolds. Why was he over-thinking this?
“We’ve got a response, sir,” McBride reported.
“That was quick. Have you picked up anything on long-range sensors?”
“No, sir. Not within the last few hours.”
“What’s the message?”
“They need to speak with Captain Reynolds.”
“Aye, sir.”
Perkins noticed there was a commotion going on in hushed voices between two seaman first class guys to his right at the tactical station. Both young men were recent recruits from the Earth Alliance outpost. What made the two men unique, and a constant irritation, was they were identical twins. Jeffery and Michael Gordon not only looked the same, stocky and with their heads shaved, they also had identical-looking moles on their right cheek. Inevitably Perkins, and everyone else for that matter, got them mixed up. An order, issued to Seaman Gordon, was given to the wrong twin to fulfill. Under normal conditions the two were never assigned to the same shift.
“What’s the problem over there, Seaman Gordon?” Perkins asked.
The two Gordon brothers turned to face the XO. Perkins eyed the name tags on their spacer’s jumpsuits. “Seaman Michael, what’s the matter?”
“Sir, I picked something up on long-range scans. At least I thought I had. Definitely a vessel’s signature. I saw it plain as day, but the AI won’t confirm the identification. She would have seen it long before me, too. Jeffery thinks I’m imagining things, but I saw it, sir, plain as can be.”
“Alright, just stay on your posts. Lilly, what do you see as showing up on long-range scans?”
“There are no vessels within long-range scans at this time, sir.”
Perkins looked at the two identical twins. “Just continue on. Keep an eye out, Jeffery. I mean Michael.”
* * *
His mind reeled. Days and weeks had become long drawn-out months. Always told to be patient—that his time would be coming soon. It had been difficult to maintain the charade and hide his hatred, but now, at last, the orders had come through. The nondescript seaman sat alone in his small dark quarters. A red scar on his arm peeked out below the sleeve of his jumpsuit. He pulled down on his left sleeve, obscuring it from view. The fold-down desktop was strewn with a myriad of intricate tools and small complex-looking devices. He furrowed his brow at the small desk light connected to the bulkhead via an adjustable swing arm. It was obscuring his view, making it difficult to complete his task. He angrily bumped the light aside with the back of his hand and glared at it for being such an irritation. He took a breath, tried to relax, and readjusted the light to where it was supposed to be. He added the final high-capacity optical array unit to the sub-straight and held the six inch square module up, admiring its elegant circuitry. He smiled, something he rarely had an occasion to do, and placed the now-completed module next to the other two off to the side.
Feeling hungry, the seaman pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, his eyes never leaving the three devices. Moving backwards he felt for the doorframe, found it, and stepped out into the corridor. Three minutes later he arrived at the mess. A short line had formed. He glared at the chubby man serving food behind the counter. What’s his name? Oh yeah, Plimpton. The seaman imagined what one of his little devices would do to the slow-moving server behind the counter—hell, to everyone in the mess. He allowed himself another brief smile.