by Lance Berry
“You don’t have to,” she said sadly. “You have a stronger will than that.”
David blinked, and even in his mild haze, was touched by the pain in Mara’s voice…the disappointment. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, and looked at the bottle. He grabbed it, got to his feet and headed straight for the recycle dump-chute on his wall. He set it for inorganic matter and tossed the bottle in. He walked back to the desk and sat down, eyeing his girlfriend with appreciation as he said, “That is the last time I touch alcohol…at least until champagne on our wedding day.”
Mara smiled, secretly pleased that his mind had wandered down the same path as hers to pondering weddings. “Thank you.”
David nodded and picked up the dsp. He saved his file, shut the instrument off and set it down. “What can I do for you, love?”
Mara made a small grimace before answering. “I’m actually calling because I’m sort of upset with you.”
David cocked his head quizzically. “Come again?”
Mara took a breath, then explained: “During the encounter with the Calvorians, you focused entirely on getting the Necrosis to back away from the Hawking, rather than letting Captain Stubbs handle it. That was a tactical error that could’ve sent your entire plan spiraling into hell, and I know that the main reason you did it is because I’m aboard Stubbs’ ship.”
David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Is there some type of overall insanity running in your gene pool that you haven’t informed me of yet? Let James handle it—? Mara, the Necrosis is a behemoth! You and everyone else on board your ship might’ve been killed if the Horizon hadn’t interceded!”
“Maybe so, maybe no. You didn’t give Captain Stubbs a chance to pull us out of the fire, you had to reach in personally and get us out. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it, but as close as your ship was, the Necrosis could just as easily have turned on you and blown it to pieces! And what good would that have done our fleet, which needed its leader? You can’t always be protecting me, David! I’m a grown woman, I know what I’m doing.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t, and please stop fitting me into obtuse ideas that I had nothing better to do than look after you.”
“Look me in the eye and tell me that wasn’t first and foremost on your mind. Come on, David. Look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”
Christenson stared into Mara’s eyes, but no words would come out. Try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to attempt falsities with her. He looked away from her a moment, rubbing his hand across his brow. He yawned slightly, unaware until just then how tired he really was. Finally he looked at her. “It’s just that…I love you in a way I don’t fully understand, and which terrifies me to some extent. I’ve never cared for any woman as I do for you, and it’s like…like you’re etched into my heart. I want you to protect you, Mara…”
“You can’t.”
He nodded slowly, his throat suddenly constricted. “I know,” he said tightly. “And knowing you, you’re just not going to give me any other choice but to accept it. Am I right?”
Mara smiled. “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page on this.”
David chuckled. “You’re a wonder. You chastise me for imbibing, then explain how I’m in the wrong on another matter.
Yet you’re right in both instances, and I can’t argue the point because I know it. You missed your calling. You should have been a lawyer.”
Mara shook her head. “They keep shitty hours.”
David chuckled again. “Anything else you have to say before
I head off to the refuge of my bed?”
“Yes. Was that earlier talk about weddings an actual proposal, or just some mild positing on possible futures?”
David sat up in his chair, looking at her more seriously.
“What if it were the former? What would you say?”
Mara’s demeanor had also become more serious. “What if you just asked me outright and we’ll see?”
David licked his lips apprehensively. “I love you, Mara
Elliot. Will you marry me?”
A broad smile broke out across Mara’s face. “Yes.”
Chapter 33
Within half a day, the fleet had returned to the Sol system.
Those ships not too damaged were immediately ordered to other areas of engagement. The Pintoresco, which found its own sickbay overwhelmed, made its way to Titan for aid from the M.A.S.H. Units stationed there. The Horizon, the Hawking and about twenty other Cruisers docked at the Hephaestus Shipyards to undergo repairs. Captain Christenson contacted UEF Command and made plans to meet for a debriefing. He then placed a call to his friend Panther in England to tell him about his future nuptials with Mara, and to discuss other things. He then piloted a troop transport himself and headed to Earth…
Daniel Tallworth felt older than he looked. He had just finished drying off from a shower and stared at himself in a mirror, reflecting on how much he had lost in the ten years he’d been in prison. His once broad shoulders now slumped a bit, there was a scar at his throat which would never fully heal thanks to the particular cut made by the shank which found its mark on his first night in, and for someone only in his early forties, he had premature grey at his temples.
As he got dressed, he considered with great melancholia the fact that he could no longer practice medicine of any kind— something he had spent half his life preparing for, something he had wanted to do since he was a child. Now only a year out of prison, he was rapidly going through his life savings as he tried to find anything in the private sector that would allow him to make a decent living while maintaining a degree of anonymity.
Upon his release from prison, Tallworth had moved into a two-story private house in a small town in the middle of Kansas —one of the few small towns still remaining anywhere on Earth, considering the housing unit development boom of the 2160’s.
Unlike most convicted criminals in the 22nd Century, Tallworth did not have to live in an Outcast Colony or have signs planted on his property warning others of his criminal past or stating what crime he had committed. The nature of his conviction and the private sealing of the court documents allowed him that much dignity. However, gossip still traveled at the speed of light, and while houses were spread a fair distance apart from one another, his neighbors had some idea as to what he had done, and kept their distance.
Tallworth sighed forlornly as he headed downstairs. If only
I’d been able to taste that hot little bitch’s cherry, it might’ve all been worth it.
He was about to turn on his vid-com in the living room to check wanted ads on the Overnet, when there was a knock at his front door. He started, flat-out amazed that anyone could be visiting. In the year he’d been living here, not one person other than his parole officer had set foot on the property, and he wasn’t due for a visit from him for another three weeks. He was so excited to have company—any company—that he didn’t ask who it was as he threw open the door. When he saw who it was, his mouth dropped open and he rubbed his eyes, scarcely daring to trust them…
“Y-you’re…you’re David Christenson, aren’t you?” he asked the tall, handsome man standing on his porch.
“Guilty as charged,” the captain said with a smile, although he wasn’t wearing his uniform. He was dressed in black: shirt, pants, boots, even the long overcoat he wore. “You are Daniel Tallworth, aren’t you?”
“Yes…yes, sir, I am,” Tallworth answered, his mind still reeling from the shock. “This is an honor! A genuine honor,” he enthused and stuck out his hand. Christenson looked down, regarding the hand for only a moment, then shook it. “May I come in?”
He nodded and stepped aside, allowing one of the most famous people on Earth to enter. Tallworth glanced outside, half expecting a camera crew to be following the captain’s every move, but there was no one outside in the just-settled darkness.
Tallworth shrugged and closed the door. “I, I don’t know where to…sir, I’ve been a f
an of yours for a good few years now. Wh-what brings you to my door?”
Christenson didn’t answer immediately. He stood in the center of the living room, taking everything in. He spied the computer on the desk near the window and reached to turn it on. He paused, looking expectantly at Tallworth. “May I?”
Tallworth nodded and made a welcoming gesture with his hand. Christenson flicked the vid-com on. It displayed the UEF standard, which had the words ‘Standing by to serve you’ flashing over it. Without preamble, Christenson turned fully to Tallworth and said, “Some years ago, you were convicted for the attempted rape of one Mara Elliot. Do you remember that?”
Tallworth gulped lightly, feeling something stick in his throat. He suddenly felt anxious, but at the same time couldn’t begin to figure out why Earth Force’s most famous captain would be here asking about it, and he wanted to know more.
“Actually…it was a conviction for illicit use of medicines. But I didn’t—”
“No, it was sexual assault,” Christenson said firmly, in a tone of certainty which left no room for debate. “I’ve read the files, you see.”
“They…they were sealed against public viewing,” Tallworth said anxiously. “H-how…”
“I have a friend named Panther—”
“’Panther’?”
Christenson nodded, advancing toward Tallworth as he spoke. “Yah. It’s a nickname, and a longer story than I’d like to get into right now. Panther and I used to fly together in Her Majesty’s Royal Star Force. But before that, he was a part of UEF’s Intelligence Division—specifically, code-breaking and technology infiltration. He’s one of the very best that’s ever been.” He now stood only a couple of feet away from Tallworth, and the former doctor realized that they were roughly the same height, although Christenson might have been only a half inch or so taller.
Tallworth’s mouth inexplicably had gone dry, and he had to swallow once in order to speak. “Well…what’s that got to do with me?”
In response, Christenson suddenly spun around and lifted one leg about three feet off the floor. The boot heel came down solidly on Tallworth’s knee, and with a loud –CRACK!- he suddenly found himself falling hard to the floor. His body reacted to the abrupt shock and he started to let out a cry—but Christenson was on him in an instant, kneeling beside him even as a hand firmly covered his mouth, holding in the scream.
Tallworth wrapped his hands around Christenson’s wrist in an attempt to remove the hand, but the captain retrieved a Zuk-Lar handgun from an overcoat pocket and pointed it squarely between his eyes.
“Sshhh…”
Tallworth’s eyes went wide and tears streamed down his face. He whimpered beneath Christenson’s hand, unable to comprehend what was going on, why this was happening. He considered for a second that he might be dreaming, but the pain in his knee and the odd angle at which his lower leg now limply hung off his body set the lie to that thought.
“You’re going to be quiet, aren’t you?”
Tallworth whimpered and nodded his head as best he could under the captain’s firm grip. Christenson glanced meaningfully at the man’s hands and he quickly let go of the captain’s wrist.
“Good boy,” Christenson said, and removed his hand.
Tallworth immediately broke into body-shuddering sobs, shaking his head in disbelief as the captain stood and waved the gun in the air. “It’s not even charged, old boy. Truth is I just wanted to keep you quiet. Although your neighbors are a fair distance, your screams—or a gunshot, say—might carry far on a quiet Kansas night. It’s why I had to park my transport so bloody far away, to avoid notice. I mean, I enjoy a brisk walk as much as the next man, but good lord…” He tucked the gun back in his pocket and smiled affably, as if they were doing nothing more than having a casual conversation about sports.
“W-wh-why—!” Tallworth blubbered.
Christenson’s face darkened, and he kneeled beside Tallworth again, pointing a finger into his face. “Because you are a bastard. You damaged the woman I love. And because I don’t think she’ll ever truly be free of the hold you have over her, as long as you are alive.”
And Tallworth suddenly realized Christenson meant exactly that: as long as you are alive…
David Christenson was not overly muscular—he was almost averagely proportioned—yet Tallworth was still shocked that the UEF captain was able to cover his mouth with one hand to contain another desperate scream while lifting him fully onto his good leg with the other. He half-lifted, half-hopped Tallworth a couple of feet to the final landing for the stairs and swung him around, angled him downward and sent him crashing face-first into the lower portion of the wall at the foot of the landing. The former doctor slumped to the floor, leaving a sizeable crack in the plaster. Blood leaked from a head wound and the room spun around. He was too stunned to even think, and was barely able to perceive Christenson’s words as the captain went on:
“Panther and I talked about you for quite a while, mate,” he said as he straightened up once more, searching his right coat pocket for something. “He even tried to dissuade me from this course of action. In the end though, he sided with me, got me the layout of your house, your schedule for what times you tended to use your vid-com. He’s a good friend. Good enough that if I go down, he’ll fall with me. But he knows I’d never really give him up, which is why he provided me with these…”
He pulled two clear ampules out of the pocket he’d been searching. Tallworth’s vision cleared enough that he could see one of them had a blue top, the other green—though there seemed to be nothing inside either one.
Christenson took the green-topped ampule into his left hand and shook it a couple times. He uncorked it and waved it over Tallworth, like a magician performing a conjuring gesture. He then shook the vial over the carpet and near the door. He placed it back in his pocket and went over to the vid-com. He held up the blue-capped ampule He jiggled it lightly, uncorked it and held it directly over the vid-com. Nothing seemed to happen at first, but from where Tallworth was lying, he could see the screen begin to flicker, and the UEF seal waved and warbled.
Christenson placed the vial back in his pocket and turned to
Tallworth, eyeing him coldly. “Nan-probes. Small enough to do the job without ever being detected. The first set was designed to erase any traces of my DNA from your body and this house. The probes will integrate fully with your own system and act like powerful antibodies, destroying alien infestation—like any of my skin cells that might be under your fingernails, for instance. They’ll then bury themselves so deeply within your bowels and intestines that they can’t be found, even in an autopsy. Unless of course a doctor were to use an electron microscope or other such powerful device to look for them. But then again, why would any doctor think to look for something like that, in the case of such a tragic everyday accident as falling down the stairs? Which is how you broke your leg and fell into the wall, stunning yourself, by the way.”
Tallworth looked at him in horror. “You’ll…never… get away…with…with this…”
Smoke began to rise from the vid-com. David glanced back at it and nodded his head. “Possibly, if it weren’t for the simple explanation that your vid-com malfunctioned. You smelled the smoke from upstairs, raced to see what was happening, but tripped and fell. With your leg broken and stunned as you were, you simply couldn’t make it out of the house in time to escape the fire which killed you. Like I said, tragic.”
“Oh my god,” Tallworth moaned. “Oh my god…” David walked over to the bottom of the stairs and stood beside Tallworth, looking down at him. “Vid-com fires are extremely rare, but they do happen. There’s been a total of forty cases worldwide reported in the last twenty years, with two causing fatalities such as this. In the end, as much as I can’t stand you, I’m doing you a favor. You’ll be in the books, old man. Fancy that.”
“Please…” Tallworth wailed, searching Christenson’s eyes for any hint of mercy. “Please, don’t do this! I’ve
already paid for my crime…”
