Darwin

by Amanda Bridgeman

  They were each given a room at the UNF hotel located in the Command building. It was a simple room with a queen-sized bed and en suite. There was a TV, but no phone. She heard the guards close the door behind her, thankful she was finally alone. She moved over to the bed and fell onto it, feeling the muscles down the right side of her back pull and stretch as though they were dry, taut, old ropes. Her eyes were heavy. She couldn’t seem to shake the tiredness she’d felt since they’d left the Darwin, although she knew it was to be expected with her head injury.

  Exhausted, she removed her uniform, getting down to her singlet and underwear and climbed into the bed. She rolled over onto her side and stared at the empty pillow beside her. She couldn’t help, then, but think of Doc, sitting in that room all alone, waiting for his turn to be grilled in the debrief.

  *

  At 0500 she awoke. Her head was sore, and her neck and back stiff like planks of wood. She looked over at the closed curtain of her room and the frame of light that crept in around it. She decided not to go back to sleep. She’d left some nasty dreams behind and did not wish to reconnect with them. Why hadn’t they stopped now she was back on Earth? Maybe they would only go away once she’d made it through the debrief?

  When it was time, her guard escorted her down to breakfast and then to the waiting room, where Brown and Packham were. Doc was gone. There was no sign of McKinley, Hunter and Colt, who, she assumed, were all still in the hospital, and still no sign of Harris. She eyed the door off to the side curiously, and wondered where Doc and Harris could be.

  *

  1300. An older gentleman with gray hair popped his head out of the door to the side.

  “Corporal Welles. Please come through.”

  Brown looked over at Carrie. He seemed a little disappointed that it wasn’t him going next, as he was the most senior of the three waiting. She stepped inside the room and looked around. There was a sleek black table in the middle with e-files strewn across one side, around a monitor, and bright lights shining down from above. Around the edges, along the dark gray walls, the light was dim. A younger man stood in the corner pouring himself a glass of water. She heard the door close behind her, and the younger man looked over at her.

  “Corporal Welles, would you care for a glass of water?”

  Carrie nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  He smiled and poured a second glass, while the older gentleman motioned for her to take a seat on the cleared side of the table. She did. The younger man placed the glass in front of her, while the older one took a seat in the dimly-lit corner.

  “Corporal Welles, my name is Officer Dale,” the younger man said, “and this is Senior Officer Edgely, who is here observing.”

  Carrie glanced over at Edgely then back at Dale.

  “All classification has been put aside for these debriefs, so you may speak freely. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. That’s quite the black eye,” he said motioning to where Logan had hit her. “Fractured, I believe?”

  Carrie nodded.

  “So,” Dale said as he began looking through a file in front of him, “I’ve read your file and you have a good, clean record, Corporal Welles. You did well at school, have a fantastic marksman record and, of course, the commendation for the Santos mission. Six men!”

  He looked up at her, eyebrows raised. She wasn’t quite sure what the question was, but she nodded regardless.

  “You basically, single-handedly wrapped up the Santos Siege. That’s quite a feat,” he continued.

  Carrie shrugged modestly. “I didn’t do it alone. It was a team effort.”

  “But your bullets took out Gardos and five of his rebels. No?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s fair to say you’re a very accurate shot, isn’t it?”

  Carrie shrugged again. “I guess.”

  “You guess? Only one of those rebels died in hospital after the siege ended. The rest you took out there and then.”

  Carrie nodded again. “My orders were to take out Gardos and anyone else who got in the way.”

  “So your orders were to shoot to kill?”

  Carrie looked at Dale curiously, thinking that the question really answered itself. “Yes, sir. Gardos was holding two prominent politicians hostage, along with their staff. It was our job to ensure they were freed, given that negotiations had failed.”

  Dale nodded and looked back at his file. “Would you say that you always shoot to kill? I mean, you’re a sharpshooter. It’s what you’re generally trained to do, isn’t it?”

  Carrie wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but she decided to answer truthfully. “I do whatever I’m ordered to, sir. With the Santos mission I was ordered to shoot to kill. That’s not always the case, though. Unless I have strict orders, I try to wound them first. Unless, of course, it’s a life or death situation, then you do what you have to.”

  Dale jutted out his lower lip, pondering. “So, you believe they were life and death situations when you shot both Fairmont and Oxer.”

  Now she knew what he was getting at.

  “Yes, I do, sir. We were under attack. Fairmont was assaulting First Sergeant Hunter. He had just snapped his arm and was about to finish him off when I shot him in the shoulder to stop him. He then charged me. Corporal Colt was also under attack at the time by Grolsh, so I did what I had to do.”

  “And Oxer?”

  “That was a similar circumstance. Oxer was fighting with Lieutenant McKinley and he’d just broken his leg. If I hadn’t shot him, he would’ve killed him.”

  Dale eyed her doubtfully. “But a bullet to the head, Corporal Welles. You couldn’t shoot him in the kneecap or something. The UNF does believe in taking the enemy down, but not necessarily out.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, you have no idea what these men, if I can call them that, were capable of. We witnessed them killing our fellow soldiers with their bare hands, instantly. We didn’t have time to try and wound them and hope that they’d stop and go away. It was a life and death situation and I did what I had to do, and both Hunter and McKinley are still alive today because of it.”

  “Corporal Welles, I wouldn’t call Hunter’s broken arm or McKinley’s broken leg a life or death situation.”

  Carrie looked down at her hands resting on the table. She clasped them and took a subtle deep breath. Stay calm, she told herself, keep your cool. “Perhaps you would think otherwise if you had been there, sir,” she said in a smooth, even voice.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps I would’ve tried some restraint, though, Corporal Welles. Perhaps I would’ve tried wounding them first, and if they continued, then perhaps I would’ve tried wounding them again. But I guess restraint isn’t one of your strongest points.” He gave her a smile and there was a twinkle in his eye.

  She wanted to know what that was for, but didn’t ask in case he was baiting her. She was going to make him come to her, not the other way around.

  “Tell me about your relationship with Captain Harris,” he continued, changing tack with his questions.

  Carrie eyed him. “What about it, sir?”

  “Well, would you say your relationship was a good one?”

  Carrie couldn’t help but furrow her brow. “I would say it was the same as any other soldier on the Aurora.”

  “Really!” He sounded surprised. “You never quarreled?”

  She eyed him. “No, sir.”

  “That’s funny. We’ve been through the footage from the security cameras on the Aurora and detected some hostility between the two of you.”

  Carrie’s mind raced. What footage? What footage? She couldn’t help but think of when she kissed Doc’s hand in the hospital.

  “Corporal Welles?” Dale asked again.

  “There was no hostility, Officer Dale. I, er, I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let us off the ship at first, but that became clear in the end.”

  “So, there was ten
sion?”

  Carrie looked him in the eye. “I don’t believe so.”

  Dale swished his fingers down the screen of the e-file in front of him. “Okay, what about your relationships with the other men? Was there any tension there?”

  “Sir, what does this have to do with what happened to the Darwin team?”

  “I’m trying to establish your character, corporal. I’m trying to establish the frame of mind of the Aurora team was in, and therefore whether what occurred on the Darwin was warranted. So, tell me about Second Lieutenant McKinley.”

  “What about him? I saved his life, remember?”

  “According to you, yes, you did. You …” he looked at the monitor in front of him, “and I quote, ‘Did what you had to do’. But did you really?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Tell me about what happened in the gym. The surveillance footage seemed to capture some sort of, er, disagreement between the two of you. And our surveillance in the weapons store seemed to capture some more, er, disagreements.”

  “We had a difference of opinion, but we worked it out.”

  “And what was the difference of opinion about?”

  Carrie glanced over at the older gentleman, then back at Dale.

  “Well?” Dale asked impatiently.

  She decided to go for honesty. “The place of females in the UNF.”

  “Oh, yes.” Dale seemed amused at this.

  “Yes. He didn’t believe women had a place being on a ship like the Aurora. I believe I convinced him otherwise.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes. I saved his life. I saved Hunter’s life.”

  “Mm. But you needed rescuing several times yourself. Right?”

  Carrie shrugged. “I guess you could say we came to an agreement that we needed each other. Teamwork got us through.”

  Dale took his glass of water off the table and sipped it, eyeing her all the while. He placed it back on the table and continued looking directly at her. “Tell me about First Lieutenant Walker?”

  Carrie’s heart thudded in her chest, but she kept a strong mask. “What would you like to know?”

  “What was your relationship like with him?”

  “Fine.”

  Dale stared at her.

  “He’s a good medic and he’s a good soldier,” she elaborated.

  “And how do you feel you … interacted, with him?”

  “Fine. Like all the other soldiers.”

  “You think your relationship with him was the same as with the other soldiers?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You appeared to spend a lot more time with him than the other soldiers, corporal. At least that’s what we picked up on the surveillance.”

  Her mind raced for a second. “What can I say? I was injured and he was the medic.”

  “Yes, but you were seen coming and going from his office quite a lot well before you were injured.”

  “Yes, sir. I wasn’t allowed off the ship, so I tried to find other things to occupy my time, helping out where I could.”

  “Mm. Still, you spent an awful lot of time with him, don’t you think?”

  Carrie stared at Dale, “No, sir. I do not.”

  “Lieutenant Walker seemed to defend you quite a lot, didn’t he? I mean we saw him go to your defense in the gym with Lieutenant McKinley, arguing with Captain Harris when you were in the hospital, and there seemed to be another altercation in the mess hall with Sergeant’s Carter and Louis?”

  Carrie felt a pang of regret when she heard the names of the dead soldiers, despite the grief they’d put her through on the Aurora. She looked at Dale as he waited for an answer. “That was just the guys messing around,” she told him.

  “Messing around? Lieutenant Walker didn’t look like he was messing around.”

  Carrie shrugged and gave him a blank stare.

  Dale stared back.

  She shrugged again. “So, did your surveillance pick up the incident where Grolsh attacked me?”

  A smile crept onto Dale’s face. “Yes. We’ve got that on tape. Although, technically, you did assault him first.”

  “Pushing someone out of my face is assault? And worthy of him almost killing me?”

  “Well, that’s for us to decide, Corporal Welles. And nice try, turning the questions around onto me.”

  Carrie eyed him, then glanced back over at Edgely. He was watching her carefully, eyes slightly narrowed in thought, as Dale continued.

  “Now, unfortunately, there seems to be some interference with the headcam footage from when you ventured onto the ‘secret floor’ of the Darwin. It’s completely inadmissible. Even on the ground floor there seems to have been some sort of scrambling in place, so it’s not altogether clear. All we really know is that Captain Harris and Mattieus Logan disappeared up there, then you followed, and then you and Captain Harris came back, looking somewhat worse for wear. Would you like to tell me what happened up there?”

  29

  Waiting to Exhale

  Harris sat in a small mess hall down the corridor from where they were debriefing the team. He’d just finished lunch and was staring off into space thinking about his eight hour grilling. Dale had asked a lot of questions of his leadership and his methods of handling the team. Harris did well to control his emotion, remembering his own advice given to Doc. He was respectful, following UNF protocol like a good soldier, but he’d also made it clear to Dale that he stood by his actions, and that of his team.

  He felt confident with all the answers he’d given, despite Dale trying to twist them around. He knew he’d done what was right at the time, but he was still unsure as to how the UNF would respond to all this. After all, seven UNF “scientists” were dead, and most had been unarmed at the time of their death. Thankfully they allowed “classified” information to be discussed, because it was the only way he could explain what had happened.

  Still, in the back of his mind, he worried that the Aurora team could be used as scapegoats to cover up the mess. They could be used as the fall guys, blamed as a renegade unit out of control and incarcerated, while those in charge denied any knowledge and looked the other way. Or worse still, the Aurora team could have this held over their heads as a threat to buy their silence and make the truth go away, in exchange for any charges being dropped. But that could mean a potential life sentence of being a puppet on UNF strings.

  What stuck in Harris’s mind now, was the footage from the Aurora’s surveillance tapes that Dale had shown him. He’d watched the footage of Fairmont’s attack on Hunter, and the footage of the standoff between Bolkov and the other Jumbos outside the flight deck. And as awful as it was to watch Bulk die, Harris was glad to have seen it. It was good for him to witness what had happened to his soldiers when he’d not been there to see it for himself. It gave him a sense of closure. Both Bulk and Hunter had put up a good fight, all things considered. Especially Bulk. Welles’s shot at Fairmont was quick, clean and deadly accurate, and Doc’s reflexes were second to none when the Jumbo, Ravearez, tripped and grabbed Welles on approach to the flight deck.

  As there was surprisingly little footage available from the Darwin, due to some kind of interference, the Aurora tapes were what Dale focused on and what he chose to pick to pieces. So he’d shown Harris other footage, that mainly centered around Doc and Welles, and asked him a lot of questions about their relationship. Some of it Harris was aware of, like Doc standing up for her in the gym with McKinley, and their joking and laughing in Doc’s office when he’d interrupted them the night they boarded. But there was also footage that he had not been aware of.

  He saw footage of an awkward meeting in the door to the mess hall, another clip of an awkward moment in the hospital after they processed Smith’s body, and another where Doc had blocked her exit from his office after a tense discussion, which Harris could only assume was when he’d “had a word” to her.

  Dale had also shown footage of a
few disagreements Harris had had with Welles, and others of Welles and McKinley at it. Harris knew what Dale was up to. He was trying to show the Aurora team as unstable and on edge, and therefore not in their right minds to handle the Darwin scenario. Harris found a way to explain most of it, although he had to stretch a little with some of the footage of Doc and Welles and the time they’d spent together, relating it to Welles being ordered to stay off the Darwin. It made him wonder now, exactly what questions Dale would be asking of them both and in particular how Welles would handle it. He knew Doc would be fine with his good poker face, but wondered whether Welles’s fiery temper would betray her. If Dale could lock in on anything to discredit or use against the team, he’d do so.

  Harris sighed and began to pack up his lunch tray when he saw Doc come walking into the mess hall. Their eyes met. Doc looked a little worn out, as he headed over to Harris.

  “Doc,” Harris greeted him.

  “Captain.”

  “You just get out?” Harris asked, looking at his watch. 13:19.

  Doc nodded. “They were going to take Welles in next.”

  “Welles? How do you know that?”

  “They said it in front of me. They wanted me to hear it, I guess.” He shrugged.

  Harris eyed him a moment and nodded back. “Get some lunch,” he motioned toward the counter.

  Doc headed for the counter, while Harris pushed aside his tray and waited for him to return. He eyed their assigned UNF guards standing by the entrance, glad he was finally allowed to speak to a member of his team.

  “Jeez, I’m hungry,” Doc said, sitting down with his tray and shoving a stacked fork into his mouth.

  Harris watched him chewing, focusing on the bruise that ran along his jawline. “How’s the jaw?”

  Doc looked up at him and shrugged. “Fine. What about you? How’re the ribs? Your face looks better.”

  “They’re getting there. It’s easier to breathe now.”