Darwin

by Amanda Bridgeman

  Doc turned around and looked at Welles. “You alright? You okay?”

  Baker stepped in, grabbed Doc and pushed him around to face the front. “Shut the fuck up! No talking!” He then looked over at Welles. “She’s fine. She just stinks, don’t you, sweetheart?” Then he leaned in a little closer to her, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “You should’ve let me shower you when I offered.”

  Doc turned around again quickly and looked at Welles. “You’re okay?”

  Welles nodded, just as Baker stepped forward and landed a punch to Doc’s jaw. “I SAID, NO TALKING,” he yelled.

  “HEY,” Welles yelled back at him.

  Doc stumbled sideways, but he didn’t lose his footing.

  Baker turned to Welles. “That goes for you too,” he said, standing close in her face, pointing.

  Harris looked over at Doc. He was angry, but trying to control it. He stepped forward to Baker, as Brown stood watching closely.

  “You want to take these cuffs off me, corporal?” Doc challenged him.

  “Or how about you take mine off?” Brown glared at the soldier.

  Baker smiled at them both. “But jewelry suits you girls so much.”

  Brown strode up to Baker and stood towering over him. “Take these cuffs off me and say that again!” Brown’s guard followed him, but clearly wanted to stay out of it. He was, after all, half Brown’s size, and quite young, with thin wire-framed glasses. Harris read his name too; Colberge.

  “Fall in, soldier,” Lee ordered, reappearing from the hospital. He looked over at Harris. “This how you control your troops, captain?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Captain Lee,” he replied. “I was under the impression that you were in command here.”

  Lee gave him a stony look, then turned to his soldiers. “Get them off this ship!”

  *

  As soon as they were off the Fort Centralis Space Dock, the Aurora team were transported to Command and separated again. One by one they were taken to quarantine. They were stripped to their underwear, scanned and x-rayed in their departure physical, and “processed” in administration, all under armed guard. Afterwards, Harris was taken to the Command hospital to have his ribs looked at and taped up again. By the time he was done, it was late afternoon.

  He was discharged from the hospital and escorted to where he would await the debrief. Doc, Brown and Packham were already there when he arrived, and he felt a slight relief to see some of his team again. He locked eyes with Doc, then let his sight fall to his jaw.

  “I see a bruise coming up,” he told him.

  “Yeah, the jaw is a little sore,” Doc said rubbing it. “Now, if I hadn’t been cuffed …”

  “It was a cheap shot, Doc. Don’t sweat it.”

  “Quiet,” a guard called, walking into the room and taking a seat at a table by the door.

  Harris sat next to Doc and looked around. They hadn’t been in this area before. It wasn’t the normal debrief center, which was several floors above where they were now. They were in a small room with several chairs, and two doorways: the one they came in through, and one leading off to the side. He wondered where it led to and eventually figured that it was where they would be debriefing them.

  He was feeling nervous by this new location, hidden and out of the way like it was. Then again this hadn’t been a normal mission. He hoped it wasn’t an ominous sign. Something didn’t feel right to him, and the swirling in the pit of his stomach only seemed to confirm it.

  *

  Carrie sat on the edge of her bed, feeling so much better. She had finally had a shower and felt refreshed. Her neck bruises had faded to a brownish-yellow. They’d removed Doc’s bandage over her stitches and replaced it with a couple of bits of tape. Her face wasn’t as swollen anymore, but the bruises were still purple, and the stitched wound still looked a little nasty. She felt a constant headache, but it was much better than before. If anything, her neck and back actually felt worse.

  She sat there waiting to be discharged. She’d seen them wheel Hunter, Colt and McKinley past her earlier and wondered how they were all doing. The medics here at Command seemed to have a much better bedside manner than Jackson from the Vortex, and McKinley, in particular, was in need of some “real” care. Toward the end of the journey home, he hadn’t looked too good. Jackson had kept his pain relief to a minimum and, although it was showing on the lieutenant’s face, he’d never once complained about it, suffering in silence. She had to admit, he was a lot stronger than she’d given him credit for. He’d spent hours stuck in that bed, handcuffed and in pain, forced to use a bedpan.

  She was glad to finally be off the ship and away from them. Not just Jackson but Baker, too. As he’d announced to the Aurora crew, he had tried to offer his assistance to Carrie to shower, and he was right, she wouldn’t have any of it. They’d argued, while McKinley watched on silently. Baker tried to get her out of the bed, laughing smugly as he did, but she kicked him away with all her might. She’d told him that she’d much prefer to stink, and he’d eventually stormed off when another more senior French guard, Jethro, ordered him to back off. When it came time to cuff her for the disembarkation, Baker did his best to do so as roughly as possible. He’d forced her off the bed, uncuffed her right hand, then spun her around and planted her face in the sheets while he pulled her arms around behind her back to cuff them, all the while resting his weight against her in a humiliating fashion. McKinley hadn’t said a word. He knew it would’ve been futile and probably even fan the flames, so instead he just gave Baker his cold, hard stare.

  So she sat there now, clean and refreshed, away from the Vortex crew and safely back on Earth. Her mind couldn’t help but wander back to the Darwin, though, and picture Logan and Sharley in that bio cell. She heard Sharley’s words again, “I’ll see you soon, Carrie Ann Welles,” and felt a shiver run down her spine, as she tried to block out the dreams she’d been having of them since. Although “dreams” didn’t seem like the right word to use. These “dreams” had been nasty. These “dreams” were more like nightmares …

  Finally, a soldier came to discharge her and led her down into what seemed to be the bowels of the Command Center. It gave her an uneasy feeling. They eventually came to a room where a guard sat just inside the door at a desk. Doc, Brown and Packham were there, seated along an L-shaped row of chairs. She felt relieved to see them. Finally, some friendly faces!

  “Where’s Harris?” she asked, noticing he was missing.

  “Sit down, soldier. Refrain from speaking,” the guard at the desk ordered her.

  She eyed the soldier as she took a seat, then looked back at Doc, who motioned over to a door leading off to the side. He was already being debriefed.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lieutenant examining her facial wounds. She glanced back at him again. They locked eyes, and she noticed his held a mixture of relief and concern, as though he wanted to say something again. She felt as though she could’ve stared at those eyes for hours, but a wary glance from Packham made her look away.

  Carrie sighed and wondered how long they would have to stay in that room. More importantly, she wondered just how long they’d keep Harris in there?

  *

  Harris stared back at Officer Dale, the man leading the questioning. He looked to be a few years younger than himself, pale-skinned, brown hair shaved close in a crew cut, and dark pondering eyes. He did not have a typical soldier’s body, he was quite thin. Definitely a paper-pushing JAGernaut …

  His colleague was much older, with a lined face and gray hair parted on the side. He sat in the corner, quietly observing, giving only a single nod when introduced as Senior Officer Edgely. He looked experienced, and his silence and watchful eyes made Harris a little nervous.

  He’d been in the debrief for just over an hour and a half. He’d inquired as to Colonel Isaack’s whereabouts, but had been told he would not be joining them, which was of concern. He wondered wheth
er maybe Isaack was being debriefed, too. But if he was, then who the hell was left to watch out for them?

  So far he’d merely given his account of what happened from the day he got the call to come into Command, until now. At first he hadn’t been sure just how much information to give, but he’d been told that for this debrief there was no classification. Dale and Edgely had been given clearance, so he was allowed to speak freely, and tell them everything. The younger officer had been poking and prodding at him, but had not yet begun to grill him. Harris figured it wouldn’t be much longer.

  Dale leaned over the table taking an intimidating stance as he eyed Harris. It had little impact, though. Harris wasn’t scared of him in the slightest. Not after the Jumbo soldiers he’d just faced.

  “Well, Captain Harris?” he asked him impatiently.

  “What would you like me to say, Officer Dale?”

  “The truth would be a good start.”

  “I’ve told you the truth.”

  Dale smiled to himself and leaned away from the table. “You mean to tell me that you honestly believe that all seven deaths of the Darwin crew were warranted?”

  Harris nodded. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “All seven? Warranted?”

  Harris gave a firm nod. “Like I said, Fairmont was attempting to kill First Sergeant Hunter, when he was shot and killed. May I remind you that Corporal Welles wounded him first, but he charged her, so she had no option. Grolsh had led two of my men into an ambush, to their deaths, and was running toward Second Lieutenant McKinley when he was shot and killed. The three men on the Aurora were either killed in self-defense or in defense of another crew member. Oxer was killed by Corporal Welles in defense of Lieutenant McKinley, and I killed Chet in defense of Welles.”

  “But in all cases, was a warning shot given? Did your soldiers attempt to wound the alleged attackers? Or did they shoot to kill?” he asked, walking up and down on the opposite side of the table.

  “You mean, like Logan did with Smith and Louis? He went straight for their neck and they bled to death in minutes. Or do you mean like Chet did with Carter? Beating him viciously, then breaking his neck? Or perhaps you mean like the other guy did with Bolkov, hmm? Slicing him from armpit to hip.”

  “Right now, I’m talking about your soldiers, Captain Harris. From what you’ve told me, Lieutenant McKinley shot and killed Grolsh without any provocation. The man was unarmed, for god’s sake!”

  “These men did not need weapons to kil—”

  “And Corporal Welles shoots Oxer in the head for simply breaking McKinley’s leg. Same with Fairmont. Hunter suffered only a broken arm at that stage.”

  “Yes, and then Fairmont charged Welles, and then Grolsh shot Hunter twice.”

  “Yes, captain, in the arm and in the leg! Not the head or the chest, like your soldiers prefer,” he said looking down at some notes he’d written. “And the list goes on. What about Lieutenant Walker? He shoots Ravearez three times in the head and neck region for merely tripping Welles. Unarmed, I might add. And what about yourself, Captain Harris? You shoot Chet for what? Hitting Corporal Welles.”

  “They had beaten her unconscious and had taken her hostage. When I entered the room he was on top of her, attacking her and I had two other unfriendlies in the roo—”

  “And Sergeant Packham shoots Carlisle through the chest for merely fighting with Bolkov,” he said, ignoring Harris and looking back at his notes.

  “Who had been stabbed by Carlisle’s buddy and was slowly dying,” Harris shot back.

  Dale leaned over the table again. “Tell me, captain, did you order your soldiers to shoot to kill these scientists?”

  Harris stared at Dale for a moment. He was doing his best to keep his anger under control, although he really wanted to step up and smack this guy in the mouth. What made it worse, was that he knew it would be very easy to do. This guy probably wouldn’t even see it coming.

  “My soldiers are trained to shoot to kill if their life or a fellow soldier’s life is in danger. Standard UNF practice.”

  “And do you encourage them to shoot unarmed men?”

  “Officer Dale, you have no idea what these men were capable of. They were not ordinary men.”

  “No,” Dale answered, looking between his notes and the transcript spewing forth across the monitor in front of him. “According to your statement they had extrasensory powers, and were incredibly strong. Do you mean kind of like ‘the Hulk’? Or did you mean more like one of those old X-Men characters?”

  Harris smiled, steely. “The UNF was undertaking a classified experiment to create advanced soldiers. We were sent there to test them, except we were not told that. The UNF advised me that we were going to check out a routine comms failure. The UNF also failed to advise the three female soldiers on board that they were being put forth as subjects for the next part of their experiment.”

  “Yes, Captain Harris, so you say. But did you really believe that you were going there just to check out a comms issue? I mean, I’ve read through the Aurora’s mission files. The Aurora is not sent to handle comms issues. The Aurora is sent to resolve issues with dangerous people: space pirates, thieves, smugglers, escaped cons. You don’t do the technical things, captain. Your team is not built for that. You’re built for handling human problems.”

  “Colonel Isaack advised me that we were being sent in case there was a human problem behind the comms failure.”

  “So, you were expecting it, then? This was not a surprise?”

  “No to your first question, Officer Dale. And it most certainly was. A surprise is coming across a team of men who can hear you and smell you way before you’re anywhere near them. Surprise is trying to fight off an attacker who is at least, at least, twice your strength. Thieves, pirates, smugglers? I can handle them. We deal with them regularly. They’re human like us, except they don’t have the training we do. We have the upper hand. But these Jumbos, they were like nothing I’d ever come across.”

  “I see—”

  “No, I don’t think you see at all, Officer Dale. Have you ever been in the field? Have you ever had a gun in your face or been attacked by a big soldier? Have you ever been separated from your team? Been on your own against an unknown number of unfriendlies?”

  Officer Dale smiled. “I’m not the one on trial here, captain.”

  “No, you’re not. Nor have you, I believe, ever been in a life or death situation. You’ve never been in a position where you’ve had to make every decision count in order to save you and your men.”

  “And do you think you made the right decisions, captain?”

  “For the most part, yes.”

  “For the most part?” Dale raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, if I’d followed my gut feeling, instead of UNF protocol, then I would never have released them from that bio cell in the first place. Grolsh never would have attacked Welles and we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

  “Yes, Welles,” Dale said as though he were thinking aloud. “How do you feel the female recruits went on the Aurora?”

  “What, besides the whole Darwin incident?” Harris arched his eyebrow and shot Dale a derisive look.

  “Yes, captain.” Dale ignored the look and the sarcastic tone of his voice. “What’s your honest opinion of their integration? How did your men react to the women? Did they accept them willingly? Or was there a little hostility?”

  “They were treated like any new soldiers on a team.”

  “Like any other soldiers, huh? So there were no issues within your team?”

  Harris stared blankly at him.

  “I just mean it’s interesting that you say, and I quote,” Dale pushed a button on the console in front of the monitor and played back a phrase Harris had said.

  “You’ve never been in that situation where you had to make every decision count in order to save you and your men.”

  “It’s interesting,” Dale continued, “that
you say ‘you and your men’. You don’t mention the women at all.”

  “It’s a figure of speech, Officer Dale. It’s not meant to be taken literally.”

  “Perhaps, captain, but you haven’t answered my question. Were there any issues with the women?”

  “No. My men did not attempt to strangle them, like Grolsh did Welles, nor did they attempt to kidnap them like the Darwin team did all three of the women at various times. Nor, Officer Dale, did they blatantly sexually assault them like Baker from the Vortex crew did with Sergeant Packham. Something he did right before my very eyes and those of First Lieutenant Walker and Staff Sergeant Brown.” Harris gave him a satisfied look. Dale, for the first time, darted his eyes over at the older officer, then looked back to Harris.

  “Well, we’re not discussing the Vortex crew right now, captain.”

  “No? Well, I do hope I will be given the opportunity to air my grievance with the relevant CO.”

  “I’m sure you will, captain.”

  Harris saw the older officer look down at his watch. “Perhaps it’s time we take a break,” he said to Dale, although it came across more as an order, not a suggestion.

  Dale nodded. “Very well. Care for some water, Captain Harris?”

  Harris shook his head at Dale, fixing him with a flat, cold stare. “May I ask when I will get the chance to speak to my CO, Colonel Isaack? He was supposed to be taking part in these debriefs.”

  “The colonel is currently unavailable, captain.” He smiled back.

  Dale and Edgely left the room through a different door to the one he’d entered. Despite his concern for Isaack’s absence, Harris kept his composure. He knew they’d be watching him from the other side of the wall.

  *

  Carrie was relieved when a soldier came into the room and dismissed her, Brown and Packham, advising them that they would be escorted to their rooms for the night and return at 0600 the next morning. Carrie gave Doc a sympathetic look as he leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He was in for a long night. It only made her think of her father, then. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he alright?