“Doc, should I get a shot of her back, too?” the corporal asked him.
He walked over and leaned behind Carrie, pulling her singlet out, and pressing along her shoulders and upper back. “Yeah. He’s a strong bastard …”
Colt took a couple of photos, then showed Carrie the image on the screen. She had a purple bruise from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, from where she was slammed into the wall.
“Your neck and eye are worse,” Colt told her.
Carrie lay back down for a minute, placing her oxygen mask on again. She looked over at Packham and asked as clearly as her bruised throat would allow, “What’s going on out there?”
“McKinley took off with Hunter, Carter and Louis to find him. Smith’s locked the ship down, and Brown and Bulk are guarding the other three survivors in the mess hall. Harris and I armed Bulk and Smith, but Brown already had one, like Doc.”
Carrie nodded to herself. That must have been what McKinley had a word to Brown about … She remembered glancing up from the floor and seeing McKinley looking around with a gun in his hand. She hadn’t clicked at the time that he shouldn’t have had one on him. So, McKinley, Brown and Doc were all armed. She bet Harris had been, too.
Her mind began to churn over as rapidly as it could in her recovering state. This was not how she’d planned her Space Duty debut to be. This simple mission had just taken a serious turn, and she suddenly felt very uncomfortable with being smack, bang in the middle of it.
*
Harris waited outside the mess for McKinley to return, trying to remove the images of Sibbie and Etta that had suddenly appeared, like splintered little fragments of mirror shot deep within the flesh of his brain.
He refused to wait inside with the three remaining survivors. What Logan had said had struck a chord with him. He did feel responsible. He should’ve been watching Grolsh. If he had been, he would have seen him leave after Welles. He would have followed him and stopped anything from happening, and they would still be playing cards right now.
Yeah, but for how long, Saul? Until the next time he was alone with her or one of the others?
He sighed, disappointed. He’d dropped his guard and Welles had paid the price for it. He knew it and it unnerved him that Logan knew it, too. The last place he wanted to be was in that room with Chet and Logan trying to get inside his head, like he was some prisoner in Hell Town. He pictured Welles lying in the ship’s hospital again, her bloodshot eye, bruised neck, bloodied hand.
He dreaded his next conversation with Command, having to explain to them that he’d fucked up the one thing that Isaack had been drilling into him: keep the female recruits from harm. There goes their fuckin’ PR exercise. He stood there wishing that this was just a bad dream. He wanted to wake from his sleep, go release the survivors and start the evening over again and do things differently.
He’d let Smith go to change his clothes and left Brown and Bulk, now both armed, watching the men. Thirty-two minutes had passed since McKinley left and still there was no sign of him.
Harris started pacing along the corridor, his mind ticking over. Something that Welles said had stuck in his mind. She’d stated that Grolsh said he knew why they were here, as though the survivors had been expecting them. But what did that mean? Expecting the Aurora or expecting the new recruits? Expecting to be saved? Or expecting something else?
He heard footsteps and spun around. It was Doc.
“Are they secure?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Doc said, reaching him.
“Welles make it without falling over?” he arched an eyebrow.
Doc nodded. “She just needs a few hours to get herself back together. You saw that big handprint across her throat, Saul. He nearly killed her. I think she’s in shock to be honest.”
“Yeah, well, I think we all are. We were expecting something, but not this and not this quick.” Harris put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Four armed men and we all missed it, because of some spilt juice and wisecracks.”
“Yeah, we did,” Doc sighed. “But Saul, I don’t think any of us thought they’d be so bold as to attack one of our soldiers less than two hours out of that cell. Why do you think he did it?”
“Well, from what he allegedly said to her,” Harris answered, shrugging, “the motive appears to be pretty clear.”
“I don’t know, Saul. I don’t think the motive was sexual assault. Her clothes weren’t torn in any way and from what she said he didn’t try anything else. It seems like he was just literally trying to strangle her or subdue her and that’s it.”
“But he was interrupted, Doc.”
They looked at each other for a moment.
Harris shook his head again. “I don’t know, but did you hear Welles say that he said he knew why they were here? Or why we were here? Like it’s not just a rescue.”
Doc nodded. “But what does that mean?”
Harris shrugged. “Means something.”
Just then McKinley and the three other men came walking down the corridor toward them. Grolsh was not with them. Harris stared hard at McKinley waiting for an answer.
“He must’ve got off the ship before Smith locked it down. We’ve searched this place top to bottom and he’s not here, captain,” McKinley told him as he approached.
“Fuck!” Harris hissed.
“Is Welles okay, Doc?” Hunter asked.
“She’s a little bruised, but she’ll be alright.”
“Where is she?” McKinley asked. “And where’re the other two?”
“Secure,” Harris said, his voice tight.
Just then Smith’s voice came over the ship’s PA. “Captain! That footage is ready when you are, sir.”
“Right, I want to see this shit,” Harris said, turning and heading for the flight deck, as the others followed.
When they reached the flight deck, Smith looked around at him.
“He definitely got off the ship. I saw it on the footage,” Smith told him, “He hid somewhere for a bit, then just slunk out when no-one was looking.”
Harris nodded. “Show me, Welles. I want to see exactly what happened.” He moved to stand behind Smith’s chair while Doc, McKinley, Hunter, Carter and Louis gathered around them. They looked at the large screen across the window in front of them.
Harris watched the footage carefully. It was as she had described it to him. They were walking along, Welles slightly in front, and Grolsh close behind, staring at her. She got the napkins, came back to the door and turned to close it. As she turned back around, Grolsh was blocking her path, standing right in her face. She eyed him for a moment, then went to step around him, but he moved in her way, blocking her. She tried the other side and he blocked her again. He said something to her and she eyed him strangely. She then went to push past him, but his reflexes were lightning fast and he had her by the throat and slammed hard against the wall in an instant. Her feet briefly left the ground.
He held both hands on her throat, as Welles struggled to free herself. Quickly realizing that she wasn’t going to be able to remove his hands, she began punching him hard in the face. In response, he used his right arm to pin one of her wrists against the wall, and used his left elbow to pin her other arm back. As he squeezed his left hand around her throat, he moved his face in very close to hers, his nose touching her cheek, saying something to her that Harris couldn’t make out. To her credit, she continued to attempt to fight him off with everything she had. Harris watched as the corporal managed to free the arm pinned by the elbow and punched at the arm holding her throat. She kicked at his legs and brought her knees up for his groin, but he pressed his weight against her limiting her movement. Finally, she clawed his face, viciously grabbing hold of his cheek and digging her nails in hard. He reeled his face away, tearing the flesh as he did, and the blood spilt down his cheek.
“Oof, jeez,” Hunter muttered, wincing.
“Go, Welles,” Smith smiled.
&
nbsp; “She’s feisty, I’ll give her that!” Carter added, crossing his arms.
They continued to watch as Grolsh’s torn face only seemed to make him angrier. His eyes turned wild and he lifted her off the ground by her throat, as high as his arm could hold her. Welles looked alarmed now, her legs flailing about in midair.
“And he’s stronger than he fucking looks,” Carter noted, dropping his folded arms and placing his hands on his hips.
Grolsh only had her in the air for a matter of seconds, but they watched as Welles began to black out, her eyes rolling back in her head, fighting to stay open. Then Grolsh suddenly turned and looked over his shoulder. He snapped his head back around to Welles, somewhat panicked, then dropped her and ran off. She fell like a rag doll to her knees and then onto her torso and face. Within seconds Smith was there leaning over her shaking her shoulder trying to wake her, before he turned and yelled for help, then bolted off screen yelling some more.
Harris stared at the screen, mind ticking over, while the men shuffled restlessly, throwing each other looks.
Louis shook his head. “She turned her back on him. Stupid!”
“Would’ve made no difference, Louis,” McKinley said, staring at the screen.
Carter agreed. “He lifted her up with one fucking hand, man,” he told Louis.
“You do not turn your back on the enemy,” Louis continued defiantly.
“She didn’t know he was the enemy!” Doc said bluntly, shutting down the discussion.
The footage continued to roll. Smith ran back onto the screen and knelt by her side, trying to lift her up, as she slowly began to respond. McKinley came onto the screen then, gun in hand, glancing down at Welles, and then scanning the perimeter. Doc came running in next and took her off Smith’s hands, pulling her up to her knees.
“Stop it,” Harris ordered Smith. “Fire up the visual comms. We’re going in. Doc you stay here and be my eyes and ears. Let’s move out!”
*
Harris and McKinley made their way onto the Darwin, using their two-by-two cross-cover, with the other three men following close behind. They began to go over the path they’d taken when they first boarded the station. Moving from room to room, checking carefully any spots that Grolsh could hide. Everything seemed somehow quieter and cleaner than when they’d first come aboard. They took their time and checked everything thoroughly, but they cleared the three sections and found no sign of him. The station was empty. Quiet. Completely deserted.
“Fuck!” Harris hissed, dropping his weapon to his side. He took hold of his mouthpiece. “Doc. Did you pick up anything? Over?”
“Negative, captain. Over,” came his reply.
He looked at McKinley. “You sure you checked every spot on the Aurora?”
“Captain, I assure you we did,” he replied firmly.
Carter backed him up. “Captain, we checked everything. There was no way that little fucker could’ve been hiding on our ship.”
“How the fuck can he just disappear like that?” Hunter asked, brow scrunched. “We’ve missed something.”
Harris looked at him, thinking. “Head back to the ship,” he ordered, then turned and led the way.
He strode ahead, thinking hard as to where Grolsh could be. His gun was by his side, but he gripped it tight, ready for anything. As he made his way through Section One, back toward the dock, he heard Louis whisper loudly behind him.
“What the fuck is it?”
Harris turned and saw that McKinley had paused and was aiming his gun at something. Louis was close by his side, and Carter not far behind them.
“What?” Harris asked, sidling up beside him, gun at the ready.
McKinley’s eyes were focused as he inched slowly toward one of the offices. “I don’t know, sir,” he said quietly. “I saw something move. I think it was a …”
A cat leaped out at them, narrowly missing Louis’s face. McKinley went to fire, but dropped his gun when he saw what it was.
“You fuck!” Louis spat, firing his gun at it as it ran away. He missed.
“Louis! Louis, HOLD YOUR FIRE,” Harris yelled.
Louis dropped his gun, as Carter gave a throaty laugh.
“Fuck you!” Louis spat at Carter.
“Where was that fucker hiding before when we came in?” McKinley asked, not sharing the amusement of the others. “We didn’t pick it up on our heat sensors.”
“They’re cats, McKinley,” Louis said. “They fucking sneak up on people. That’s what they do.”
“Move out,” Harris said, as he strode ahead again, making his way back to the Aurora. He didn’t speak, but his mind was racing furiously. McKinley had just raised a very good point indeed.
*
As they entered the Aurora, Harris spoke to Smith over his mouthpiece, ordering him to lock the ship down behind them. He made his way to the mess hall with McKinley, Louis and Carter in tow. Hunter broke off and headed for the flight deck, telling Harris he wanted to check something out.
They entered the mess hall and saw the three survivors playing cards, while Brown and Bolkov stood and watched.
“Where is he?” Harris glared down at the three survivors.
They looked up from their card game, innocently.
“Where is he?” he continued. “He’s disappeared. He has to be somewhere? Is there some sort of panic room or something on the Darwin that’s not on the plans?” Harris stared at them.
“Captain, your men have just missed him,” Chet said calmly. “He’s scared and he’s hiding. Maybe if you back off with your guns, he’ll come out.”
“Are you even allowed to use those weapons in our facility?” Logan challenged.
“Yes, I am,” Harris said firmly, “and if this is just a misunderstanding as you say, then why is he hiding?”
“I just told you why, captain. The guns,” Chet’s tone, although civil, had an acidic edge to it. “Put them away, face him man to man, and he’ll come out. Now, are you going to insist on keeping us prisoner? I thought we had an arrangement?”
“The arrangement didn’t include you attacking one of my soldiers,” he said, placing his hands on his hips.
“I didn’t attack one of your soldiers, captain, neither did these two men.”
“So, help me find Grolsh, then?”
“So you can do what, exactly?” Logan’s eyes narrowed in accusation.
“Eye for an eye …” Brown’s voice was low and threatening as he gave Logan a cold empty stare.
Harris flashed Brown a glare, then turned back to the survivors. “So I can lock him up and have him charged with assault on a UNF soldier.”
Logan continued eyeing Harris as though he was trying to get inside his head. Harris did his best to ignore it.
“Will you assist us, gentlemen? Or will I have to throw you back in the bio cell for withholding information and obstruction?”
Fairmont looked over at Logan and Chet, who continued to stare, unblinking at Harris. The silence sat thickly around them for a few moments.
“How can we assist you, captain?” Chet said slowly, in a deep voice. “If you can’t find him, how are we supposed to?”
“You can start by telling me whether you have some sort of hidden room on the station that he could be hiding in?”
“If we have a hidden room on the Darwin, then I don’t know about it.” Logan’s gravelly voice offered, sounding quite uninterested.
Chet shrugged, and Fairmont mirrored him.
They’re lying. All of them.
Just then, Doc’s voice came over his earpiece.
“Captain, I think you should come up to the flight deck for a moment. There’s something you should see.”
“Copy that. Over,” he said into his mouthpiece, then turned to the others. “McKinley, with me. The rest, stay here.”
*
Carrie had fallen asleep on her bed. She’d wanted desperately to stay awake, but the attack had
taken its toll. She’d told the other two women what had happened, and they were concerned. It was fairly obvious that it could have been any one of them. It was just Carrie who’d drawn the short straw and walked off by herself.
After she’d told them, Colt urged her to roll over and rest, so she did. She faced the wall and closed her eyes. She thought about Grolsh, but didn’t want to. She was angry. She should’ve seen it coming, but she hadn’t. She went through the incident in her head and wondered whether she could’ve done anything to avoid Grolsh’s attack, but she thought of nothing. He was too quick. She kept seeing his face as he strangled her. She thought of the words he’d spoken to her; his face had been so close. His eyes were dead, yet somehow alive with the excitement of it all. When she dug her nails into his face, the excitement had turned to sheer fury as he reeled back, then lifted her off the ground. The strength he possessed had scared her.
She knew she had to get her mind off Grolsh or she would never sleep. Without even thinking about it, her thoughts traveled to Doc. She remembered seeing those brown eyes staring into hers and his voice telling her to breathe. She remembered grabbing onto him, as she choked and coughed, struggling for air. She remembered him carrying her to the hospital, although she hadn’t wanted him to. She knew Harris and the others were watching, so she’d wanted to walk herself, but she remembered how groggy she’d been, and how nice it felt to rest her head against Doc’s shoulder and neck.
She recalled the last time she’d spoken to him that day, when he’d walked into the mess hall to get some coffee. She felt a little bad that she had been cold to him, but what did he expect? She ran their earlier conversation through in her mind. She remembered him saying that they needed to watch the time spent alone. She remembered the look on his face and his hand on the door, blocking her exit. Just like in the mess hall when he stood in front of her. It was as though he didn’t want to have to do it, she thought. He was doing it because he had to. Did he want her to understand it wasn’t coming from him, but he couldn’t tell her? And what was the cause of that heated discussion he had with Harris in the hospital?
The captain was behind it. Of course. He was the one who wanted to control their time spent alone.
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