Firmament: Machiavellian

by J. Grace Pennington

  “I don’t know. I can’t think how it would.”

  I let go of his arm. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you later.”

  He hurried back to his duties, leaving me sitting deep in thought at the bar.

  What motive could Unkrich, or anyone else, have for tampering with the system? Certainly no one who wanted us to go to the galactic center. There was no way the ship could navigate the uncharted sectors we’d have to cross without tracking.

  Someone who wanted us not to go there?

  Guilders and the Doctor were the only people I knew who’d expressed strong opinions against heading there.

  I stiffened. If I couldn’t trust the Doctor, I couldn’t trust anyone. And Guilders? My face crinkled in a frown. Not Guilders. Never had I met such a stickler for rules and regulations, and there couldn’t be a more loyal second-in-command.

  But if not them, then who? And why?

  Or was it just malfunctioning?

  With a sigh, I toyed with a spoon that someone had left on the counter. I spun it around and watched it fly a meter or so down the hard surface.

  If someone wanted the code, how would they get it?

  They could bribe him. But most people didn’t seem to think that he was the kind of person who would accept a bribe. From what little I knew, I agreed with them. He could have tampered with the mechanism himself. That also seemed unlikely. He had no motive for avoiding the mission that I knew of. The normal fear any crewman might have, perhaps, but surely that wouldn’t be strong enough for something like this. Besides, as the man I’d overheard had pointed out, where had he gone?

  Surely it was someone who wanted the mission turned down.

  But how could they get that code out of Unkrich?

  I stood up with another sigh and started for sickbay to put the matter behind me and focus on work for a little while.

  The Doctor again wasn’t there when I entered. I walked across the room to the medical cabinet for no real reason except to do something and walk somewhere.

  Halfway there, I stopped.

  Scopolamine.

  I remembered its other use besides being a tranquilizer.

  It was a truth serum.

  Chapter IX

  Taking a sharp left, I hurried towards the Doctor’s office to look up scopolamine on his computer. I had to make sure I was correct.

  His office was empty and the lights were low, but I rushed to his desk without bothering to brighten them. Fingers trembling, I navigated to the drug list, looked under “s,” and clicked on “scopolamine” for the results.

  C17H21NO4, a chemical found in the roots of nightshade herbs. It depressed the central nervous system, making it useful both as a sedative and—yes, a truth serum.

  Using it in the latter way was, however, illegal.

  I sat back and stared at the screen, my heart racing. If the drug had been taken and used to get Lieutenant Unkrich to reveal the code—

  A chill swept up my back and goosebumps shivered down my arms. I closed the dictionary and opened the medical files for the crew, keeping my movements in time with the slow but loud pounding of my heart.

  I typed in my authorization code, then scrolled down near the bottom of the alphabetical list to find the name “Unkrich, Richard, Lieutenant.” I selected it.

  Blood type, blood pressure, previous conditions and case history—none of this interested me. I scrolled down rapidly until I came to the allergies section.

  Peanut oil, shellfish, bee stings, penicillin, a few more drugs—

  There it was. Snuggled in the lengthy list of drug allergies—scopolamine.

  Heartbeat accelerating, I pressed the screen to get more information about the allergy in question.

  History of severe anaphylactic shock when exposed to scopolamine, find alternative sedative.

  I stared at the thin black words on the light blue screen. The Doctor’s clock ticked four seconds.

  Pressing against the arms of the chair, I jumped up, heart still pounding. Fumbling with my wristcom, I ran out the door. My shaking fingers kept misdialing, but on the third try I managed and called “Doctor?”

  A moment of silence as I hurried down the empty halls, then his voice came from the speakers. “Andi?”

  “Doctor, we have to find Unkrich now.”

  “What do you mean?” His voice didn’t sound alarmed.

  “I’ll explain later, please, Dad!”

  “All right. I’ll start looking.”

  The call terminated, and my mind cleared enough to decide on a destination. I’d start in engineering. I sped my pace, praying that if my suspicions were correct we wouldn’t be too late.

  Even though I knew that chances were, we would be.

  Rounding a corner hurriedly, I ran headlong into someone who was coming the other way. Arms wrapped around me to keep me from falling, and my shoulders slammed forward into the other body. Gasping, I caught my breath and righted myself blindly.

  The other person let go of me and I pulled back and looked into the face just ahead of mine.

  Napoleon.

  He put a hand on my arm. “Miss Lloyd! Is something wrong?”

  I hesitated, watching the expression on his yellow-white face. His naïve smile was firmly in place, but his smooth black eyebrows were gently furrowed in concern.

  I bit my lip. “I have to find Lieutenant Unkrich right away.”

  His smile vanished, and he nodded. “I’ve heard that the poor man is missing. I must tell you, I am sadly puzzled. It warmed my heart to see one of my men step up and agree to take the position, but it saddens me to see any kind of problems, it does indeed. I’m very pleased indeed to see your dedication in searching for him!”

  I shook my head, still panting a little. “No, you don’t understand. I think—I think he might be hurt. I… have reason to think he’s in danger.”

  I’d never seen a look on anyone’s face as appalled as Napoleon’s expression was at the moment. “Oh dear, oh dear! You don’t mean that…” He stopped, looking at me with his eyes wide with horror.

  I pushed past him towards the elevator. “He might be dying.”

  The little man hurried to catch up with me. “We must find him,” he said with a firm nod. “And I assure you, any and all of my men are at your service in this matter!”

  “Thank you.” I pounded my fist on the elevator button as I reached it. “I’m going to look in engineering.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he hastened. Then, raising his sleek silver wristcom to his lips, he said, “Jackson, get as many of my men together as you possibly can and begin a search for the missing Lieutenant Unkrich. It’s high time we began repaying Captain Trent for his kindness!”

  “Yes, Captain Holloway,” a voice replied.

  As I stepped into the elevator, I noted that he hadn’t corrected the man to just say “Holloway” as he always did with us.

  We rode the elevator down to engineering, and when it stopped I jumped out as soon as the doors opened. The room buzzed with quiet, controlled activity and the usual whir of the engines was louder here.

  McMillan was working at the main reactor in the center of the room when I stepped in, and he turned to me. “Miss Lloyd?” he said, raising his eyebrows. His curiosity was merited—because of a metallic knee implant, I wasn’t really supposed to visit engineering.

  “We’re here to look for Lieutenant Unkrich,” I said urgently, as he looked beyond me to where Napoleon was just stepping out of the elevator. “His life may be in danger.”

  I spotted a blue and silver uniform across the room among the smattering of forest-green jackets in the room. If that was the Copernicus technician who’d replaced Unkrich, that must be the tracking station.

  McMillan stepped forward, his always-serious face pulled into a frown. “This level has been searched,” he informed, “but you’re free to search further.”

  A shiver shook my body. Where could he be? If he really had been inj
ected with the drug, the possibilities of him remaining alive much longer were very slim indeed.

  “Where could he be hidden?” I asked, speaking as quickly as I could while still enunciating my words. “Are there any places at all, any nooks or anything down here where he could possibly be?”

  The engineer rubbed his beard. Napoleon tapped me on the shoulder. “Do you think he’s unconscious, my dear? If he is, there might be places they wouldn’t have thought to look, places he wouldn’t have gone himself.”

  “I can’t think of any place that hasn’t been searched,” McMillan replied. “We’ve checked under every panel, inside every storage chamber, and behind every engine…” his voice trailed off as he continued to think.

  A voice came from my wristcom. “Andi? Where are you?”

  I raised it and replied, “In engineering, Doctor.”

  “Be right there,” he said, and cut off the call again.

  I lowered my arm and looked slowly around the room. Was there anything that could have been overlooked?

  My eyes caught the tiny square metal door on the opposite wall. “What about the engineer’s lift?” I asked, pointing.

  McMillan shook his head. “We checked there. And in the storage rooms.”

  But when they checked, they thought he was hiding, not hidden.

  I started sprinting towards the lift, calling back, “Did you look inside the crates?”

  “Only the open ones.”

  I transitioned into a full run. It would only be open if he had hidden there. If someone had put him there when he was unconscious, they would have sealed the crate.

  Boots tapped on the metal floor as McMillan and Napoleon followed me. When I reached the one-meter-square door, I gripped the metal bar that ran along the bottom and slid it up. The bright lights of engineering illuminated the bare lift inside.

  “I’m going up to check,” I said. Without commenting, McMillan held out his hand and I gripped it to steady myself as I climbed up into the tiny space.

  “Be careful up there,” he cautioned. He slid the door closed as I stood up in the dark space, now lit only by the tiny window in the lift door.

  Gripping the pole in the center of the lift, I felt along the rougher metal inside the wall for the button to start the lift. My shaking fingers found and pressed it, then clung to the pole as the lift began to rattle upwards. I watched Napoleon and McMillan’s faces drop through the tiny window, then gripped the pole tighter as the light was snuffed out.

  After a few minutes of slow upward motion, the lift ground to a halt, and I felt for a handle on the door, then slid it upwards.

  The space I climbed out into was pure darkness. I held onto the borders of the small doorway as I put my boots down on the metal floor and balanced myself. Then I let go, wishing I knew where the lights were.

  It was colder here than in the rest of the ship. I pressed my hands up against the wall next to me and began feeling all over it for those controls. The cold, slightly textured metal repulsed my skin, but I tried to ignore that as I rubbed over it, creeping along as quickly as I dared in the darkness.

  “Oof!” I bumped my knee on a metal crate, but kept going, feeling the urgency rise in my chest with every moment.

  There were the controls. I pressed a cold button and lights flooded the room, bright, fluorescent ones, making me blink in the sudden illumination.

  Metal crates and barrels filled the room, obscuring my view of the lift. Some of them were so shiny I could clearly see my reflection in them, while others bordered on rusty. Licking my lips, I started for the closest container that seemed large enough to hold a man, and pressed its electronic lock. It unsealed and I pulled the lid upwards and shoved it all the way open, wincing at the bang as it swung back to hit the other side of the crate.

  It was filled only with round cans of fruit and vegetables.

  I hurried to a round metal barrel and repeated the process, only to find bundles of brightly colored tools. Another crate was full of freeze-dried packages of meat.

  A creaking sound from the other side of the room alerted me that the lift was starting downwards, and I wondered who had called for it, but I didn’t stop my search. Each one turned up either ordinary items or empty air.

  After the sixteenth container, I began to lose heart. I also began to doubt myself. What if I was wrong about Unkrich altogether and he was actually a traitor?

  The lift started creaking its way back up again and I kept on searching, making my way methodically across the room. Still nothing.

  On my twentieth attempt, the lift groaned to a stop and Napoleon climbed out, followed by the Doctor.

  “Any luck?” the Doctor asked.

  I shook my head and called “No sir,” while continuing to search containers. “I’ve looked in all the ones from here back,” I explained, quickly gesturing.

  Napoleon nodded and rushed to the opposite side of the room to begin examining crates. The Doctor moved more slowly towards me and began silently working the same rows I was but in the opposite direction.

  For several long minutes, there was silence. The click of containers unsealing, the metallic bang as they swung open, and an occasional “Nothing here” or “I’m sorry to say I’ve found nothing yet” were the only sounds that rang out in the room.

  After a few dozen crates, I was doubting myself more strongly than ever and was about to suggest that we look somewhere else when an exclamation from Napoleon stopped me.

  “I declare!” he cried. “Look!”

  The Doctor was quicker than I this time and rushed over to where the captain stood. I followed, heart beating with apprehension. “What is it?” the Doctor asked as we approached, but when we reached the little man, the question was rendered unnecessary by the sight that met our eyes.

  I gasped, and clapped a hand over my mouth.

  Inside the large metal crate was a man, unrecognizable as Lieutenant Unkrich at first glance. His face was swollen and purple, and his neck was swollen as well. His eyes were shut and his mouth was open in a permanent gasp.

  Chapter X

  I remained frozen by the gruesome sight for several seconds. Not so the Doctor. He darted forward and gripped the man under the arms. Napoleon gently pushed me out of the way and reached to help the Doctor, and the two men dragged the stiff body out of the crate and laid it on the metal floor.

  The Doctor dropped to his knees beside the figure and felt the back of the swollen neck for a pulse.

  I watched in silence, breathing heavily. I sensed Napoleon’s presence beside me, but he didn’t move or even seem to breathe.

  At last the Doctor shook his head and sat back on his heels. “Dead. He’s probably been dead for several hours.” He looked up at me, and I braced myself against the shiver that shook through me, chilling me from the spine out.

  “My word,” Napoleon breathed slowly. “How do you suppose this man got here?”

  The Doctor gripped the edge of the open crate above him and pulled himself up slowly.

  I couldn’t stop staring. Yes, I’d seen people who’d died of asphyxiation before, but—this was so sudden. It all felt so surreal.

  The Doctor reached out and squeezed my arm gently as he replied to Napoleon. “He was put here. Why or by whom, I can’t say. But we need to get him to sickbay; I’ll want to perform an autopsy immediately.”

  *****

  The autopsy showed what I had suspected—the cause of death was asphyxiation, caused by anaphylactic shock. And there were signs of scopolamine in his system.

  After making his report, the Doctor sat back in exhaustion. I watched him from across the desk, mentally tracing the lines in his face. His clock ticked away in the silence.

  I waited a moment, then cleared my throat. “Whoever did this probably didn’t know that he was allergic.”

  He only shook his head, ushering in a few more minutes of silence.

  “Dad, I…” I began.

  He interrupted. “You did well, Andi. Thank
you for thinking this through and finding him.”

  He didn’t talk like that except when he was either very tired or in a very affectionate mood.

  I doubted it was the latter.

  “I just wish we could have found him sooner,” I sighed.

  He nodded again, and glanced in the direction of sickbay, where the corpse still laid on one of the cots. I didn’t follow his gaze.

  “Have you talked to the Captain?”

  He looked back at me. “I told him the man was dead. I haven’t talked to him about the cause yet.” He saved his report and stood up. “Would you mind doing that for me? Just tell him what happened… I need to file a few more things and transfer the body.”

  “Sure.”

  He smiled a bit, then called through his wristcom, “Trent, I’m sending Andi to briefing room B to talk with you about the autopsy.”

  The Captain’s voice replied, “Okay Gerry, be there as soon as I can.”

  The Doctor handed me the pad with the report. “Tell him everything, Andi.”

  He said it as though he expected me to hold back information. “I will,” I assured, taking the pad.

  Nodding, he headed out the door and towards the body, and I shuddered, then stiffened, willing myself to be stronger. I thrust my shoulders back, gripped the pad a little too tightly, and stepped out the office door.

  I didn’t look at the corpse as I passed it. Keeping my eyes firmly fixed ahead, I marched out of sickbay and down the hall.

  The narrow room was empty when I arrived, and I walked down the long metal table and selected one of the black, slightly-cushioned chairs.

  As I sat down, I tried not to recall the swollen purple face of the dead Lieutenant. At least now the question of him being a traitor was effectively answered. But there were still so many questions left that it didn’t help much.

  “You have Gerry’s report?”

  I jerked my head towards the doorway, startled out of my thoughts. The Captain stood there, shoulders back, chest expanded, eyes narrowed.

  I scurried to my feet. “Yes sir. I have it here. He requested that I explain everything that happened.”