Darwin

by Amanda Bridgeman

“Look, Welles, every time we go into the field, that man covers my ass. They all do. I’m 2IC on this ship, but when we go into the field, I’ve got to hang back and let the other guys cover me. That’s not an easy thing to do. I should be out front with the captain, but I’m the medic. I can’t do that. If I die, they all die. So when we hit the heavy shit, those guys, McKinley especially, put their lives on the line, to ensure that I keep mine. I can’t take that away from him. And I have to say that there’s not another team on Earth that I’d feel safer hitting the heavy shit with. Now, he is a hard-ass, and he’s pushing you, trying to make you jump through some hoops to prove yourself, but you’ve got a choice here. You can resist the bite, take it on the chin, and get on with the job at hand. If you do, then eventually he’ll realize he’s not going to get a rise out of you and he’ll give you a break. Or, you keep waving that red flag of yours in his face and we keep moving backward until we hit a wall.”

  Carrie looked into Doc’s calming brown eyes. “So, you think it’s alright for him to call me and the other women liabilities, when he’s never even been in the field with us to know what we’re capable of?”

  “No, I’m not saying that …”

  “Well, tell me this Doc,” Carrie asked, searching his face for an answer. “If we’re going to be on the same team, doesn’t it make sense to try and work together? Shouldn’t he be encouraging me to work with him? Not pushing me away.”

  “Yeah,” Doc nodded.

  “So, what’s his problem, then?”

  Doc tilted his head to the side in contemplation. “Well, I think the clash with McKinley comes down to your personalities. I think you’ll find that you two might be a lot alike.”

  “Alike? Him? He’s nothing like me!” She waved him off.

  “You’re both competitive for one,” he smiled, “and stubborn as hell.”

  Carrie balked at the idea. “He’s way more stubborn than me!”

  Doc laughed. “Welles, this is your second day on the ship and so far you’ve put your health at risk several times already because you refuse to back down.”

  “When have I put my health at risk?”

  Doc gave her an incredulous look. “You refused to admit that you needed the anti-nausea shot even though you made yourself sick. You let Carter’s jibes get to you on the climbing wall and then overdid it and could’ve fallen and broken your neck. And then, you didn’t back down with McKinley in the gym, even though you were clearly playing with fire there. Shall I go on?”

  Carrie eyed Doc closely. “You pay attention, don’t you?”

  He smiled confidently at her. “It’s my job to pay attention, corporal. And that’s why I know that if you just chill out with McKinley, treat him like your lieutenant, then things’ll settle down.”

  She chewed at her lip, watching him as he looked at her, waiting for her to give in. “I still think you should be telling him this!”

  Doc nodded. “I’ll have a word. But you have to promise to put that red flag away.” He raised his eyebrows and put out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  Carrie looked at him for a moment, then relented. She was having a hard time saying no to his cute smile and friendly brown eyes. She looked down at the tanned forearm being held out to her, then reached out and shook his firm, warm hand.

  “Good,” he said standing up. “Now you’d better get back to work before the captain sees you and it’s both our asses.”

  Carrie watched him walk back to the door. “Doc?” she called after him.

  He stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

  “You owe me one.”

  “Yeah, what for?” He looked confused.

  “I didn’t shoot McKinley.” She said it with a straight face at first, but her mouth soon curled into a wicked grin.

  A smile crept across Doc’s face, too. “Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Doc disappeared around the doorway. For some reason her anger at McKinley had dissipated. The medic seemed to have a calming influence about him. She sighed, stood back up from her crate and decided to get back into it.

  8

  Records and Poker

  Harris sat in his office staring at the star map in front of him. An uncomfortable feeling sat deep within. He’d just finished an unscheduled transmission with Command, to check whether they had picked up the comms signal that the Aurora had just received. But they hadn’t.

  Just minutes before, Hunter had called him to the flight deck to advise that Smith’s automated tracking scans had picked up the strange signal for about a minute. By the time Hunter realized what it was and began to home in on its location, the signal had been lost. He had managed, however, to narrow it down to the approximate vicinity of the Darwin, between Mars and The Belt.

  Harris viewed the star map now, eyes fixated on the location of the comms signal origin. What intrigued him most was that not only did Command not pick up the comms signal, but several other UNF ships closer to the vicinity of the station didn’t pick it up either. For some reason, the Aurora was the only one to do so.

  So, what did that mean? Were they the only ones to pick it up because the Aurora was locked onto the station’s specific coordinates that were otherwise unknown to others? Were Smith’s tracking scans that good that they picked up something no-one else could? Or did someone on the Darwin know they were coming and was trying to send them a message?

  He let out a sigh and sat back in his chair. Staring hard at the star map in front of him, he tried desperately to ignore that tight feeling in his gut.

  What the hell is going on up there?

  *

  Carrie entered the mess hall for dinner and noticed the seating was similar to that at lunch; McKinley, Carter, Smith, Louis and Hunter, on one table, Brown on the other with Colt and Doc. It appeared that Brown was tolerating Colt. Carrie almost felt a pang of jealousy, wishing she’d been put on the engine room team. Somehow, putting up with Carter’s smart-ass remarks seemed so much better than dealing with McKinley’s confronting attitude.

  She wondered where Packham was, but figured if Hunter was here, then she’d be manning the flight deck. Carrie took the seat beside Brown, opposite Doc. Brown glanced over as she sat, but didn’t appear bothered. Doc nodded a hello and Colt eyed her curiously.

  “So, how was your afternoon?” Colt asked quietly, with a cheeky smile.

  “How was your afternoon?” Doc reiterated.

  She looked at them both, “Fabulous …” She smiled. “Solitude is a wonderful thing.” She’d been glad that McKinley had stayed away until right at the end, but a look of disappointment shot across Doc’s face. She figured he must’ve been hoping that McKinley had come back.

  Harris came over to their table with his plate, and sat down beside Carrie.

  “Captain,” Doc immediately asked, “I heard we picked up a comms signal earlier?”

  Harris nodded. “We lost it, but we think it came from the Darwin. I’ve got the flight deck poised to record and lock on it, if they pick it up again.”

  Doc nodded, as his mind seemed to tick over.

  “So, anyway,” Harris moved the conversation on, “you were discussing solitude?”

  “Solitude?” Brown questioned. “No such thing as solitude on this ship. Solitary confinement, now, that’s something else.”

  “Yeah,” Smith chuckled from the other table. “It makes the solitary confinement I had at the institution seem like a dance party!”

  “Institution?” Carter asked. “I didn’t know you’d been institutionalized, Smith. What’d you do?”

  Everyone looked at the young private.

  “Nothing,” he shrugged. “The institution is just what we called the ‘home’ I grew up in, you know, for kids without parents. When kids were bad they were sent to this empty room. We called it solitary confinement.”

  “So you’ve never been to juvey? You don’t have a record?” Carter inquire
d.

  “Nope, but you could say the kinds of kids we got there made it seem a hell of a lot like a juvey.”

  “Shit, even I did a stint at juvey, Smith. And we all know that McKinley pretty much grew up there.” Carter laughed.

  McKinley looked up from his plate at Carter and smiled. “I might’ve spent a few years in and out, but at least I haven’t done hard time like Brown.”

  Brown looked down his nose at McKinley and Carter.

  “You’ve done hard time?” Colt exclaimed.

  Brown turned his head to Colt, his almost black eyes studying her. “I’ve been to prison. I wouldn’t say I’ve done hard time.”

  “He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Carter said, stirring. Brown shot him an unimpressed look and went back to his food.

  “What did you do, Carter,” Smith asked, “to get thrown into juvey?”

  “He got done for stealing a porno mag,” Hunter scoffed. “I don’t think that counts!”

  “It wasn’t one porno mag,” Carter rebuked. “It started with one porno mag. It ended up with just about anything they didn’t nail down.” He started laughing.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty hard-core, Carter,” McKinley sniffed sarcastically.

  “Just ’cause you lived your entire fucking life in detention, McKinley!”

  “Not my entire life, Carter, just a few years in the middle.”

  “Anyway, Hunter,” Carter chided, “we couldn’t all afford to go to a preppy boys’ school like you did, you fucking faggot!”

  Hunter gave him a condescending once-over. “Well, that’s pretty obvious!”

  “Now, guys,” Doc intervened, “it’s not a competition.”

  “Yeah,” Carter snorted, “says Doc the fucking snowflake!”

  “Snowflake?” Colt looked over at Doc. “This got something to do with your skiing?”

  Carter snorted another laugh. “No, it’s because Doc, here, is as pure as a fucking snowflake. No records, no institutions. I don’t think he’s even had a parking ticket. Little Mr Pure-as-snow!”

  The guys laughed. Doc looked over at Harris and shrugged his shoulders. “They say it like it’s a bad thing?”

  Harris smiled and shrugged back.

  “I bet you even the captain’s got a fucking record, eh?” Carter goaded.

  Harris looked over at him. “I’ll have you know I do not have a record, Carter.”

  “Ah, I don’t believe you, captain. Surely you must?”

  “Nope … I wasn’t stupid enough to get caught like you did!” he said, going back to his meal. Everyone broke out in laughter, McKinley being the loudest, clapping his hands in appreciation, as Carter sat there without a comeback.

  “So what’d you go to prison for, Brown?” Colt asked, breaking their laughter, clearly itching to know.

  Brown’s big, round face looked at her, knitting his eyebrows together in curiosity.

  “I told you, he doesn’t talk about it,” Carter told her.

  Brown hardened his face and turned it toward Carter. “You’ve never asked me about it!”

  “Carter’s too scared to ask you about it,” McKinley quipped.

  Carter shot McKinley a seething look and flipped him the bird.

  “Well, I’m asking you,” Colt said matter-of-factly. “What’d you do?”

  Brown glanced at Colt then looked around at everyone staring at him. He laughed quietly to himself like everyone was crazy. His eyes came back to Colt, whose expression told him she was still waiting for an answer.

  He relented and shrugged. “Grievous bodily harm. They tried to get me for attempted murder, but I got a lesser charge.”

  The room fell silent.

  “You tried to kill someone?” Colt was the only one game enough to ask. “What’d he do?”

  Brown gave her the knitted-brow look again, the mess hall lights shining off his dark mocha skin. “What makes you so sure it was a man?”

  Although the room was silent, Carrie could almost hear the curiosity ticking over inside everyone’s head. Everyone’s except maybe Harris and Doc, that is. They didn’t look surprised like the others. She figured that Harris probably already knew because it would’ve been in Brown’s file. And Doc probably knew because he was, well, Doc. He was also Brown’s roommate, and they appeared to be pretty close.

  “Well, now, I know you ain’t fool enough to raise your hand to a woman!” Colt said matter-of-factly again, eyeing him up and down.

  Brown looked over at Doc and they exchanged an amused smile, while a couple of the other men sniggered.

  “So who was it? What’d he do?” Colt prodded again.

  Brown gave up and shook his head. Clearly he was not going to get to eat in peace. He sighed, eyes focused on his plate, and began speaking slowly between mouthfuls of food.

  “My sister’s ex-boyfriend. She was dating this junkie fuck. They had a kid, but he couldn’t keep it together, so she broke it off. One night, he came back and broke into her house, all junkied up, trying to rob her … she tried to stop him, but he beat the shit out of her in front of their kid. Left her lying in a pool of blood with the kid standing there in his cot, screaming his lungs out for hours until someone found her …” He looked back up at Colt. “So, I found the junkie fuck … and I fucked him up back.”

  The mess had fallen so silent, the only sound was Brown’s fork hitting his plate. Harris and McKinley were still eating, but they’d been careful not to disturb the silence around them.

  “Did you mean to kill him?” Colt asked, a little softer now.

  “I don’t know. Probably. I’m glad I didn’t though. ’Cause every time that junkie fuck looks in the mirror, he’s gonna see what I did to his face, and remember not to go anywhere near my sister or nephew again.”

  Colt stared at Brown for a moment, then slowly held out her hand in front of him. He looked down at it and she motioned for him to give her five. He looked at her, then dropped his fork, reached out and hit it.

  “So, your sister’s alright, then?” Carrie broke the silence.

  Brown looked at her, eyes still dark, brows still knotted.

  “You said he left her in a pool of blood,” Carrie elaborated. “She made it out alright?”

  Brown nodded. “Just. She walks with a limp now. He busted her back from kicking it so hard … and her face will never be the same again neither.” Brown pushed his plate out in front of him and threw the fork onto it. “That’s enough of my bullshit.”

  It was clear that Brown was done talking now. As Carrie’s eyes left his face, they fell onto McKinley’s. He gave her his blank stare, not quite as cold as it had been before, but a blank stare nonetheless. She wondered whether he was trying to make another point.

  “So, what about you ladies then?” Carter picked up the slack in conversation, a sarcastic tone to his Afrikaans voice. “Done any time? Got any records?” he laughed like he already knew the answer.

  “None here,” Colt offered. “I tended to date them, not earn them myself.”

  Harris chuckled.

  Carter looked over at Carrie. “What about you, Carrie the Kid?”

  She gave him an unimpressed look and shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, Carter. Good student, good grades, no records and I never dated them either.”

  “Hmph! Carrie the Princess,” Carter laughed. “Fuck, you and Doc should get together. Mr and Mrs fucking Snowflake!”

  The men laughed. Doc gave Carrie a quick glance to intimate that Carter was an idiot. The captain appeared to be the only one not finding it amusing. Instead, he was looking down at his plate focusing on scooping another mouthful of food.

  The rest of the dinner conversation was sporadic, as the tables seemed to revert back into their little groups of chatter. Carrie’s table was fairly quiet. Brown remained silent. Harris, too, was being introverted. Colt had started telling Doc about a skiing trip she’d done to Colorado, going into great detail about
her every fall down the slopes and Doc seemed amused.

  Carrie looked over at Harris. “Why so quiet, captain?” she asked.

  He looked up from his finished plate. “Just thinking, corporal.”

  “About the Darwin?”

  He nodded. “Among other things.”

  “Twenty-four hours, huh? And we’ll be there.”

  “Yes, we will.”

  She noticed his answers were short and sharp, making it difficult to get a conversation flowing. “Do you think everything’s alright up there, sir? Do you think it’s just a technical difficulty, or something else?”

  “I have no idea, Welles. I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

  She gave a short, sharp, nod. “I’m looking forward to it, captain,” she said firmly. “I can’t wait to board her.”

  Harris gave her a strange look, then stood with his plate. “Good to know,” he said, then walked over, put his plate on the counter, and left.

  Carrie eyed the empty mess doorway, wondering if it was something she’d said.

  “Hey, Welles?” Colt grabbed her attention.

  “Yeah?” she looked up.

  “You play cards?” Colt motioned over to the other table. “They’re playing poker.”

  Carrie looked over and saw Carter was dealing out cards to the guys sitting around him. Doc moved to stand over by McKinley and watch. Brown got up, too, but headed for the door.

  “Brownie, you not playing?” Smith called after him, hands out in question.

  “Nah,” he replied. “I’m going to read.”

  “You can read?!” Carter exclaimed, flashing Brown a shocked expression.

  Brown didn’t bother turning around as he walked for the door. He simply stuck his hand in the air and flipped Carter the bird, to the amusement of the rest of the troops.

  “Hell, I’ll have a go!” Colt said, taking the seat next to Louis, opposite Smith, as Carrie moved over to stand beside Doc.

  “C’mon, deal me in,” Colt insisted.

  “We’ve already dealt this round. You have to wait until we’re done,” Carter waved her off, as they all studied the cards in their hands.