Penance (RN: Book 2)

by David Gunner

  “The captain’s bitch comes with me.” The deep voice said, with the summoning pistol indicating she should follow.

  Cummings made to duck and run only for the heavy metal to find her temple and that was all.

  ***

  Denz couldn’t bring himself to look at it; certainly not directly, with an impassionate peripheral glance at what could no longer be called a human female being the best he could manage.

  A lazy mist curled from the ambiguous composite of meat and bone that sat on a curtain shrouded examination table in the ships surgery. The skinless, eyeless head sitting in odd recognisable contrast beside the mound of once human, with the skull having been chiselled open to become a vessel for consuming other body parts in some cannibalistic rite.

  “Where?”

  “She was found in the dormant storage areas by one of the search team. A door problem meant he was trapped with her for some time before being released, and he’s in quite a stated. I had to sedate him.” The physician nodded in the direction of one of the surgery beds, but with his attention on the contents of the stainless steel table, Denz missed the gesture.

  On entering the surgery he’d refused to accept what lay before him were the remains of a promising first hand and couldn’t look at it, but now he couldn’t look away. In the course of his service he had seen dead bodies, mutilated bodies, bodies turned to red jam by cannons and explosives, cooked where they stood by lasers, had seen people tortured and torn apart to be fed to monsters, but never quite anything like this. If anything it was the deliberateness of the action. The personal debasement as if the miscreant had done everything possible to remove any human identity, tried to dehumanise in the most personal, the basest way.

  Denz stared myopically and found himself biting the inside of his lower lip to stop it from trembling as he tried to consider what lay before him, but his mind couldn’t find traction. The central gear of his mind continued to turn but he found it impossible to engage his reasoning, to find a why or what for and the lack of immediate logic left him feeling less than worthless.

  He raised a hand as if to scratch his top lip, but it was really to repress an outward revulsion when sap from the warming remains began to seep across the table, with the coppery-rusty smell triggering some inner nausea. He covered his nostrils with a crooked finger to breathe through his mouth and now he could taste it. Taste something that had once been a capable young woman who went about her duties attentively, who had family waiting for her, who would have ascended the ladder and perhaps done great things.

  Denz noticed himself repeatedly separating his lips with his tongue and stopped it, only to realise it was the thing preventing him from vomiting at the grizzly sight. He hoped he didn’t look as squeamish as he felt and decided to leave before he became a spectacle before the infirmary staff.

  Separating the curtains, Denz left the cubicle with the surgeon pulling them closed as he followed.

  “What now, doctor? Will you perform an autopsy?”

  “I’ll do what I can, sir, but apart from taking samples and toxicology the remains are beyond pathological autopsy. Besides, we don’t have the equipment aboard to perform any complex forensic analysis. All we can do is check everything’s here, but apart from what was consumed they’re still finding fragments amongst the stores and shelving. I’d like to say the explosion in engineering tossed them there except that they’ve found matter inside the refrigeration units and resealed inside storage containers.”

  Denz considered this information. Whilst even from the first instant he never considered this some form of accident or unintentional foul play, the news of human remains deliberately hidden about the ship added such a psychopathic twist to the situation, that surely someone capable of such actions should have been spotted beforehand. He found himself imagining a grinning Hyde like monstrosity skulking the hallways for easy prey, only to transform to the most diligent Jekyll the moment an officer neared.

  “I don’t understand how anyone capable of such actions slipped by the screens. I know we’re pressed for crew, doctor, but surely we’re not pressing them directly from Bedlam to fill quotas?”

  “Oh please, Commander. Despite what you may think in regards to our need to fill quotas, you’re well aware that we screen every crew member for susceptibility to TIP before being assigned to a ship. Anyone capable of actions such as these by direct motive would ordinarily never make it into the service. However, transit stress is still greatly misunderstood and can affect even the psychologically stable in ways that we can’t predict. Besides, what makes you think it was only one person?”

  Denz stared at the young doctor in an analytical stupor. It had never occurred to him that more than one person may be involved. The ramifications of there being two or more felons changed odds and complicated investigations beyond immediate consideration. One thing was for certain though, whoever they were they were still on the ship. The overloading of the LAW and the discovery of the body were too coincidental in both time and location, so they may have triggered the explosion hoping to destroy evidence and or cover their tracks. But as the chief engineer had said multiple times, the ship had been saved by the blow off panels venting the overpressure before critical structural damage had occurred. If the commander of the ship never knew about the blow off panels then there was every chance the murderers never knew either. So their plans had been foiled by a design oversight with the evidence remaining, which meant that they’d either try something else or try to find a way off the ship.

  This was all becoming a little too much for Denz. He was the commander of a war ship, not someone who challenged Holmsian theories in speculative reasoning. He had no time, place or, and if he only admitted it to himself, the intellectual prowess to solve this on a local basis and would have to defer to fleet legal on Trent station for further investigation.

  “What makes you think there was more than one person?”

  “Well,” the doctor scratched his lip as he considered. He was a young man, much younger than Denz and remarkably mature for his not even thirty years. Like many officers with influence, he had gained his assignment to the Bristol through favour to obtain the required second milk run to check for any susceptibility to gate weariness. In addition, it didn’t hurt that it also bumped up his flight hours so he could qualify for a more prestigious post on the return leg. It was probable that he had considered this voyage as something of a soft trip, maybe a few bumps and scratches, but certainly no battle wounds or murders to deal with. Boy, would he have some stories to tell.

  “There’s more than one set of bite marks, that much is obvious from a visual inspection of what skin remains unexcoriated. Also, preliminary toxicology indicates more than one type of semen is present.”

  “Semen!” Denz fixed on the doctor as if he had announced he held the perpetrators passports. “You mean you have DNA evidence of who did this?”

  “Not exactly, sir, no.”

  Denz tried to hide his disappointment, yet it was evident to anyone nearby on hearing his barley covered curse. “You have semen, but no DNA?”

  The doctor’s own frustrations began to show, “Commander, you have to understand that as a combat vessel, the Bristol simply does not have the equipment necessary to perform complex tasks such as DNA verification. I have at least three separate samples of DNA from which I can determine one of the suspects is a non secretor, but the other two samples are corrupt. Why? I don’t know. But I suspect there’s another agent at work here. Possibly some drug or adulterant that preliminary toxicology cannot identify. We’ll need the resources of the forensics lab aboard Trent to be more specific. The same goes for any DNA found in and around the area.”

  “So you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?”

  “I’m telling you exactly that, sir.”

  Denz felt as if he would explode from frustration, but arguing was pointless as the doctor was correct. They needed the forensic facilities of a quarter station to process
any evidence found, a facility even the enormous Formidable never possessed.

  So what now? Denz quizzed inwardly. He had a killer, possibly killers, loose on his ship and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. For a short moment he found himself mentally thumbing through the detective novels he half read in his youth, hoping to reference a possible strategy to corner the miscreant. He quit the absurd action the moment he realised he was doing it, but it did highlight his desperations in finding a solution.

  Locking down the ship was the immediate answer, but how do you restrict people to their quarters and immediate places of work, when you needed every able body repairing the damn ship! Maybe check for video evidence? This would be a good idea if the lower three decks possessed their correct complement of surveillance cameras, with most of thos installed not being connected. The cameras were another victim of the Bristol’s hurried launch, and now relegated to just one of the many systems that were supposed to keep the engineering teams occupied.

  Denz gave passing thought to speaking to Callows, the ships on demand security officer, or recalling Canthouse. However, Callows had no magisterial powers with his position being little more than a judicial requirement that made apprehensions legal, and he had been relying on his first officer a little too much for command decisions lately. Calling Canthouse back would be a sure sign of weakness on his part. Besides, Malcolm had his hands full with the retrieval of the mineral oil and unity device, so best leave him be.

  The absurdity of so many things going wrong in so short a period made his head spin. Maybe Avery was right? Maybe the ship was cursed! Maybe they had gated beyond the veil, slipped through some fault in the space fabric to a place where their sufferings were some form of infernal theatrical presentation to amuse those that hovered in the shadows outside the light of life.

  No. He was being preposterous. Such imaginings were the desultory conclusions of a mad man given crayon and paper. He’d never been the same since his imprisonment by The Koll, as God knows what they did to him during the blank spaces in his memory. Now more than ever he was determined to purge his mind of such absurd notions as demons beyond the veil, the maker of which hovered on the edge of his consciousness like some stealth computer virus only to morph into the benign when detected. He concentrated hard, scouring his mind as if tossing junk from an abandoned attic, sweeping the room of all fears and madness until he found himself before that one dark corner even grandpa avoided.

  The atramentous dwelt within the elbow between chimney breast and brick wall, and hung from the roof truces like a vast alien cocoon. Its obsidian form swelling at his attention with the floorboards creaking and truces complaining as it unfolded across the wall like a Raven expanding its wings, so it towered over him.

  It was dark beyond description. Anti-light. A step beyond an event horizon that threatened to suck eyes from sockets, and something sinister dwelt here.

  This was it.

  This was where the nightmare maker lived. The part of his mind he knew existed but had always skirted, had always avoided like that one dark alleyway in an otherwise pleasant neighbourhood. A place your eyes naturally shied away from, for to look directly would mean a terrible irresistible invite. The attic floor became a stage where he stood spot lit as the theatre curtains drew open to reveal a dread so potent he withered before it, and then he realised. What if it was him? What if he were the maker! What if all these incredible events were the fantastic imaginings of a delusional mind? What if he lay shackled to the wall of some god forsaken Koll cave and this scenario was the fevered creation of an intellect slowly dissolving?

  So complete was this conviction that he refused to open his eyes for fear of seeing what new and ghoulish imagining might await him.

  “Are you alright, commander?”

  With those words the curtains silently closed, the encroaching shadows receded and normalcy returned. He wasn’t sure why, but he had the distinct feeling that his spirit guide had placed a hand on his shoulder, halting his slow slide into darker places.

  Denz smiled wearily, “I’m fine, doctor. Thank you. It’s been an eventful few days. So much has happened this trip that I haven’t had much sleep.”

  “Would you like to sit? I can give you something to help you relax if you’d like?” The doctor gestured toward a nearby desk with the attendant roller chair.

  The commander stiffened, the officer glint returning to his eye.“That won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly fine.” However, as much as Denz’s smile and posture may have translated some return to form, somewhere deep within the curtains simpered and teased apart and he had to command his mind with unusual force to remain focused. It was only on scanning the six occupied cots to distract himself that he realised something was missing. With a directionless finger crooked at the cots, he said, “Where are Lieutenant Avery and the chief engineer?”

  The doctor took a deep resigned breath, something he did when about to state the perfectly self evident.

  “The accident caused a lot of injuries. Too many for me to monitor with the amenities I have, so I have confined Mr Avery to his quarters as there is little I can do for him here. He is sedated. But only mildly as he has calmed considerably since being admitted. I believe he is suffering a temporary episode and may recover fully with no further issues. However, before any chance of his returning to duty he will have to undergo a psychiatric evaluation on Trent as a formality. As for the Chief …well!”

  The doctor smiled as he considered the engineer. “The Chief will need to return to the core system as soon as possible, as he took a step too far and there’ll be no coming back for him. The only test I can do shows he’s a solid five on the BPRS, and there’s simply nothing we can do for him here. I haven’t experienced many cases like his, but his is the worst I’ve seen. I reviewed his case files and there appears to be some pre-existing history for this condition, so what the hell he is doing out here I have no idea.” He gave the commander an inquiring look.

  “Don’t look at me, doctor, I have less idea than you,” Denz said defensively, “He was assigned to the ship long before I was, and I’d never met him before resuming command. Where is he now?”

  “He came in here demanding to check every system and device for a surprise inspection. But his fettling started bothering the patients as he even tried turning them out of their beds so he could check beneath. He quickly became a pain in the arse, so I gave him a computer tablet and asked him to design me a new medical scanner. He’s been in the mess since designing something that looks like a time machine.”

  A brief shame flashed over Denz for sending the chief to an obviously overworked infirmary to bother the sick and injured. “Is he any danger?”

  “Not even to himself. He’s not even sedated and is perfectly happy chatting with the crew and doing what he’s at, so I’ll leave him the way he is for the time being.”

  Denz nodded in understanding, “And the other patients?”

  “Well …”

  The doctor spent twenty minutes moving from patient to patient explaining their injuries, which ranged from a broken hip to a severe concussion that resulted in a low coma.

  They were discussing recovery of the coma patient when a sweating red faced crewman arrived at the door clutching a tablet. Panting he said, “Commander! I was sent to find you. There’s been an incident.”

  Chapter 16

  The data chip arced through the air to land with a plastic schnik on a growing pile, which threatened to over flow the desk and spill to the floor. Stavener up ended the metal box he was searching through to ensure it contained nothing more of value, and cast it aside to join others in an ungainly heap.

  Retrieving a previously sourced shoulder bag, he placed it on the console next to the data chips, and greedily shoveling them in with both hands like a fraudulent gambler making off with his illicit winnings. He topped them off with several binders of information and other electronic items he had found during his searching, only to curse in frustrati
on when the bag refused to accept anymore without spilling open, and with an equivalent amount still remaining on the console top.

  It was obvious from the state of their command area that the bandits had left in some urgency; grabbing what they could in no sort of order as they left, and leaving behind a gold mine of information.

  From what his cursory examination of the recovered data chips had revealed, many of the suppositions in regards to their plans had been proved mostly right. The bandits had sourced the FTL drive from LN0R, but left no idea as to how. They had had no idea what the unity devices were and had bought the information from an as of yet undisclosed source in the WIA. Since then they had been using it to capture and loot ships from all over the EDP spectrum.

  What he still personally hoped to resolve was how they had recovered the FTL drive, who had sold them the information and what their future intentions were as those chips were either encrypted or missing.

  Stavener scavenged a large thin walled plastic carton that would serve, and was loading the other items when the comms engineer entered the room with a number of coiled LAN cables looped over his left arm.

  “Did you confirm it?” Stavener asked.

  The man dropped the coils onto a growing pile near the door. “Yes. The top blue cable definitely goes to the comm amplifier, but I’ve no idea how or what they used to control it. The lower one went to the electrical junction box, but it wasn’t connected. From the stripped and burnt wires it looked as if they had some trouble figuring out what powered it.”

  “It doesn’t need –“ Stavener bit his tongue to prevent himself from again rattling off information.

  “It doesn’t what?” Yoshcenti said, with a wide cheeked smile and inclination of the head.