“Talk about fickle,” Brent growled. “It would’ve been different if I’d been young and pretty. And upper class. And English.” He shook his head. “And you know what? I never saw one cent in royalties from that thing. Not one.” He folded his arms and looked down as if studying the floor, perhaps searching for some trace of his missing millions.
Breamell sighed. “I don’t really care what they do to me. It will have been worth it to get Rawlgeeb back. I wonder if we can lock onto his escape pod with the tractor beam. I’d better ask Captain Stanch, I suppose.”
“Call him over,” Ellen said. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“I don’t like to disturb him, especially when he’s so busy running the bridge.” Breamell let out a small giggle. “You know, for an Andelian, he’s quite attractive. He has a certain something…a commanding presence.”
“Quite the alpha male,” Ellen agreed. “Very strong shoulders. I like that.”
“And his chest is very broad,” Maisie put in, patting the back of her hair. “He must work out a lot, and I mean a lot.”
Brent cast them a baleful look. “He’s not all that great. Just look at those rough scales on his forehead. He really should moisturize, preferably with some kind of industrial axle grease.”
“Moisturize?” Ellen said. “A dude like that wouldn’t even know what moisturizer is. You have no idea what we’re talking about, Brent.”
“Ah, forget it,” Brent snapped. “A guy can’t win.”
Maisie flapped her hand at him. “Quiet. He’s coming over.”
Stanch snapped to attention as he joined them. “I’m pleased to report that The Gamulon will shortly resume its normal orbit. I’ve been in touch with the Andel-Kreit fleet, and they’re standing down. They’ve taken steps to recover my shipmates.” He hesitated. “Naturally, there’ll be a full investigation, but until it begins, you’ll be free to return to Earth.”
“What about Rawlgeeb?” Breamell asked. “Are you bringing him aboard?”
Stanch raised an eyebrow. “Aboard? I don’t follow.”
“Let me spell it out for you,” Brent offered. “When is our buddy, the big, green lummock that he is, going to land on this God-forsaken heap of scrap metal they call a space station?”
“That’s no clearer,” Stanch replied. “If anything, you’ve made matters worse.”
“That’s his specialty,” Maisie put in. She favored Stanch with a smile that could melt permafrost and said, “Captain Stanch, we are merely requesting the approximate time of arrival of Rawlgeeb’s escape pod on The Gamulon. We’re keen to renew our acquaintance with our friend, and we wish to assure ourselves that he is in good health.”
Stanch let out a bark of gruff laughter. “The escape pod can’t land here! The docking protocols simply won’t allow it. We couldn’t bring him aboard even if we wanted to. You have to remember that the escape pods were launched after a level two alien biohazard alert.”
“So what’s going to happen to him?” Breamell demanded. “Will he be taken into your fleet?”
Stanch moved his lips silently for a moment before saying, “Eventually. His pod will need to be decontaminated first. And then he’ll need to be processed, and placed into quarantine, and monitored.” He brightened. “Oh, and there are some vaccinations too. Very important.”
“You’re kidding,” Brent protested. “That’s plain stupid.”
“No, that’s just the way it has to be,” Stanch replied. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing–”
Brent held up his hand to silence the Captain. “Don’t. The last guy who said that is currently trying out a new career as an avant garde doormat.”
“Your friend will be sent back to this station in due course,” Stanch said frostily. “In the meantime, I suggest you return to Earth. I understand that you arrived via private shuttle. I shall have it made ready. Until then, please try to stay out of the way, or I shall be forced to have you removed from the bridge.” He walked away without a backward glance, which was just as well, since Breamell’s glare might well have given him nightmares for the rest of his life.
“Asshole,” Ellen sneered.
“Maybe that’s what the alpha stands for,” Brent suggested. “Still, I guess he does have a point. If Rawlgeeb did get contaminated with something icky, you wouldn’t want him spreading it all over the place.”
“If we could take your friend back to Earth somehow, we could fix him up there,” Ellen said. “We have decontamination facilities at GIT. All the latest gear. The best in the world.”
“Seriously?” Brent studied Ellen closely. “You could arrange that?”
Ellen shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“All right then.” Brent rubbed his hands together. “Who’s up for a spot of abduction?”
Vince sighed. “All right. I guess you want me to track Rawlgeeb’s escape pod somehow. I’ll get on it.”
“Good man.” Brent gestured toward the door. “Ladies, shall we?”
Maisie regarded him coolly. “That depends. What’s your plan?”
“We’ll discuss that in the comfort of our executive shuttle,” Brent replied. “Vince, it might be better if you stay right here. I might need you to run some interference. In the meantime, as soon as you find Rawlgeeb, ping the coordinates over to us in the shuttle, right?”
“Sure. Probably.” Vince didn’t look up from his console. “I’m going to need a minute though. This Gloabon hardware takes some getting used to.”
The overhead lights flickered briefly and Vince flinched. “Oops.”
“Don’t give up your day job,” Brent said. “Although, if you feel ready…I’d hate to step in your way.”
“Just go,” Vince snapped. “Before I decide to steer your shuttle into the moon or something.”
“Ah, I do enjoy our lively office banter,” Brent said. “Come along, ladies. Your chariot awaits.” He led the way from the bridge, with Breamell, Maisie, and Ellen following close behind.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Ellen said as she caught up with him. “I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I, my highly intelligent little friend,” Brent replied smoothly. “So do I.”
CHAPTER 34
GIT Shuttle Call Sign: MHal01
Brent tapped on the cockpit door before opening it. “Hi, guys. Me again.”
Captain Levinson kept his gaze steadfastly on his controls, his face impassive, but Sergeant Carter whipped around in his chair. “I told you to stay in your goddamned seat. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s bad enough we have to haul your sorry ass back to Earth, but I swear to God, you’re driving me insane.”
“I hear you,” Brent replied. “But I need a few seconds of your time. And the Captain too. Then I’ll get out of your hair. Fair enough?”
“No,” Carter snapped. “No deal. Step away from the cockpit door and take your allocated seat because I’m about to lock the goddamned door until we land.”
“Sure. No problem. Only, could you take a left just here?”
“What?” Carter’s eyes seemed in danger of bursting from their sockets. “This isn’t a cab, you imbecile. You don’t give us directions.” He spread his hands in the air. “What next? Do you want us to stop by and pick up your laundry? Or how about a little something for you to eat? I know this great place on the moon where they make a mean pizza.”
Brent beamed. “Really? I never heard of that. It sounds terrific. Maybe we could drop by later.”
“I was being sar-goddamned-castic. There is nothing on the moon but dust and the remains of that Elon Musk character. Why would anyone even build a restaurant on an uninhabited lump of rock? Seriously, tell me. I’m interested to hear your answer.”
“Does GIT have one of those anger management programs?” Brent asked. “For the sake of your blood vessels, I sure hope the answer is yes because you’re good and ready for the advanced class, Sarge. You’d be the star pupil.”
Carter started
unbuckling his safety harness, but Levinson laid his hand on the Sergeant’s arm. “Stay at your post. I’ll deal with this.” He turned to Brent, offering a professional smile. “Sir, what seems to be the problem?”
“It’s this. Hold on a sec.” Brent rummaged in his coat pocket and produced a gleaming parton pistol. “How do you like my souvenir from The Gamulon? I wanted them to engrave it in the gift shop, but there was a two day wait, so I went with the plain gloss finish.”
“I suggest that you put your weapon down very carefully,” Levinson said, his hand creeping across the control panel.
“Don’t move, Captain. No emergency signals. Nothing. And that goes for you too, Carter.” Brent leveled his weapon at each of them in turn. “Now, I’ll admit that I could have pulled the gun as soon as I came in through the door, but then I would’ve missed out on my pleasant little chat with Sergeant Carter, and that would’ve been a damned shame.”
Carter bristled, but Levinson pressed the man’s arm firmly against the armrest. “Leave this to me.”
For a moment, Carter’s features twisted into a mask of quivering rage, but when he exchanged a look with Levinson, his shoulders slumped, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
“They do have an anger management class,” Brent crowed. “Good boy, Carter. Stay quiet in your kennel, and maybe we’ll take you out to the park later to chase old ladies or something.”
“What is it you want, Mr. Bolster?” Levinson asked, the frostiness in his voice edging toward absolute zero. “Either tell me straight away or go ahead and shoot us both, because I’m done with your little games.”
Brent tipped his free hand from side to side. “Okay, you drive a hard bargain, but it’s a deal. All I want is for you to steer us a little closer to the Andel-Kreit fleet for a minute or two, and then we’ll all be on our merry way back to GIT. I’ll square the whole thing with your boss, you’ll be totally in the clear, and you’ll never lay eyes on me again. Everybody’s happy.” He paused. “I must say, I’ll miss Carter’s wet nose, and the way he looks up at me with those big, brown eyes, but in time, I’m sure I’ll move on and find true happiness.”
“How close to the fleet do you want to go?” Levinson asked.
“You can’t be serious!” Carter protested. “Don’t do it, Captain. Don’t let him drag you into his insanity.”
“It’s all right, Carter. It’s all right.” Levinson looked Brent in the eye. “I need an answer to my question.”
“Close enough,” Brent replied. “I’ll have my associate ping the coordinates directly to you, and we’ll take it from there. How about that?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned his head to call over his shoulder. “Ellen, could you send those numbers through?”
“On their way,” Ellen called back.
“Doctor Granger is part of your little scheme?” Levinson said. “That isn’t going to go well for her when we get back to GIT.”
“I heard that,” Ellen shouted from the cabin. “GIT can go screw themselves. They never did appreciate my skills, so I’m out of there.”
Brent chuckled. “She’s great, isn’t she? I’m telling you, she slays me. Every time.”
A soft beep sounded from the control panel, and Levinson glanced at one of the displays. “These coordinates are…acceptable. It depends what you’re going to do. I won’t take you there unless you tell me exactly what you’re planning. Gun or no gun.”
“All right. Our associate, a close personal friend of Mark Halbrook, is stuck out there in an escape pod. We aim to rescue him and take him back to GIT.”
“Is this the Gloabon we brought up from Earth?”
Brent nodded. “That’s right. So in a way, you’re partly responsible for his predicament. Think about it. Halbrook will be pleased if you bring his buddy back from the trip in one piece. Heck, he’ll probably pin a medal on your best ballistic vest. But if he finds out that you left Rawlgeeb out here to rot…not so much.”
Levinson pursed his lips. “And Rawlgeeb is in an escape pod because…?”
“You don’t need to know that,” Brent replied. “It’s highly classified, and if I told you…well, to be honest, you might get a little upset.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Levinson massaged his forehead with his fingertips. “Listen, those coordinates are close to the Andel-Kreit ships, so I wouldn’t want to stay there for too long. They have a reputation for getting a little jumpy when vessels start creeping up on them. They don’t like surprises.”
“Me neither,” Brent shot back. “I won’t lie to you, it kind of ruined Christmas for me as a kid, but I’m more or less over it now.” He grimaced. “So long as I don’t go too near those giant rolls of gift wrap they have now. Which means I can’t go into a store any time after September, but hey, there’s a branch of that new puritanical supermarket near my apartment, so at least I don’t starve. True, I have to turn vegan for three months of every year, but it’s a small price to pay.”
“Okay. I’ll take you to those coordinates, Mr. Bolster, and then I’ll give you ten minutes before we return to our proper course, but only if you remove yourself from the cockpit, or at the very least, remain silent while I concentrate on piloting the shuttle.” Levinson lifted his chin. “And that is a small price to pay.”
Brent sighed. “Fine.”
“You know, I’d definitely prefer it if you’d return to your seat,” Levinson stated, his hands already racing over the controls. He glanced up at Brent. “You can trust me. I’ve given you an assurance, and that should be enough.”
“Thanks, but I’ll stay right here.” Brent examined the wall beside the door. “Ellen says there’s a jump seat here somewhere. Ah, here it is.” He pressed a release catch, and as a small seat unfolded itself from its recess in the wall, he sat down, fastening the harness over his shoulders somewhat clumsily since he still held his weapon in one hand. “Gee, I sure hope the trigger on this parton pistol isn’t too sensitive. I’d hate for it to go off by accident. I think I still have the damned thing set to maximum strength.”
Carter flinched, but Levinson managed a humorless laugh. “Don’t worry, Carter, parton pistols are all programmed with intentional algorithms. They’re foolproof which, in the circumstances, is for the best.”
“That’s just rude,” Brent retorted. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”
“No, I’m really not,” Levinson replied without missing a beat. “I’m in command of this vessel, and I’ll cooperate or not as I see fit. I’m as good as my word, but you seem to be forgetting your promise to stay silent.”
Brent held his hands up. “Sorry. That’s the last you’ll hear from me. You won’t know I’m here. I swear it.” He took a breath. “Silence. Pure, uninterrupted silence. You’ll be able to hear a pin drop. It’ll be quiet as the grave. As silent as the first fall of snow on a–”
“I’m in my happy place,” Carter interrupted, mumbling through clenched teeth, his voice strained to breaking point. “There is no need for acts of mindless violence.”
“And I’m happy to say that we’re approaching the position you requested,” Levinson announced. “Whatever you’re going to do, Bolster, you’d better make it quick.”
“Hey, that didn’t take long,” Brent said. “Carter, was that fast? I thought that was fast. Was it fast? Was it?”
“Leave the guy alone,” Levinson snapped. “We’re here, and I’m going no farther. Now, how do you intend to rescue your friend? I don’t see you strapping on a jetpack in a hurry.”
Brent’s mouth hung open slightly. “Jetpack? That’s a real thing? Wow! We were going to use Ellen’s fancy new zinger, but a jetpack! That sounds awesome. Where do you keep it?”
“I was kidding,” Levinson said quickly. “It takes weeks of practice to use a jetpack properly. You can’t simply strap it on and jump outside.”
“I guess you’ll have to come with me then.” Brent unstrapped his harness and jumped to his feet. “What are we waiting for?”
He glanced at Carter. “Unless you’d like to come along, Sarge. You’d love it. It’ll be just like playing fetch.”
“Er, Brent?” Ellen appeared in the doorway. “We have a problem. I can’t get the hyper-zinger to lock onto the escape pod. I think there’s some kind of shield getting in the way. It’s probably on account of the bio–”
“Don’t worry about it,” Brent blurted. “We were planning a jaunt outside, anyway.” He grinned at Ellen. “And get this. They have jetpacks. For real. I mean, who knew?”
Ellen blinked. “Everyone, I guess. Jetpacks have been around for years. Decades.”
“I’ll be damned.” Brent pushed out his lower lip. “Still, it’s always good when things work out in the end. The lack of pizza on the moon was a real disappointment, but this more than makes up for it.”
“Pizza?” Ellen looked to Levinson. “Has Brent been showing signs of hypoxia? Any tremors or delirium?”
“Delirium, certainly,” Levinson replied. “But it’s hard to say. Usually, you’d track a person’s behavior against their normal state, but for this guy, the baseline is already off the charts.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Brent shot back. “But we’re wasting time. Come on, Cap. Let’s suit up and ship out.”
CHAPTER 35
Space. Twelve Parsecs Clear of the Final Frontier.
“I’m a rocket man,” Brent crooned, his voice echoing over his helmet’s intercom as he stared out at the distant stars, their light made all the brighter by the depths of the inky void that stretched out all around him. “To infinity and beyond,” he cried out. “Hey, I just got that.” He chuckled to himself. “Levinson, did you see that movie in VR? What am I saying? You’ve practically lived it. Maybe it’s time you told Carter he’s not a real space ranger.”
“Quiet,” Levinson snapped. “I need to adjust my vector. Shit!”
Moving awkwardly in his bulky EVA suit, Brent angled his head to watch Levinson gliding through space alongside him. “What’s up, Cap?”
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