“What do you want, Miss Glasco?” De Lorme unbuttoned his coat and sat leisurely in a nearby chair. He withdrew his pistol, laying it casually on the armrest. “And please, get up off the floor. It’s so undignified.”
Kristin complied, but only because she knew she had to get out of here as quickly as possible if Mia had any chance of surviving. She tore her eyes from the injured woman and stepped closer to the coiled snake. “I need the information Colt Jackson gave you.”
“The information on Camia,” he all but whispered as he lit a cigar and took a long pull. “Very nasty place right now.” From his breast pocket, he produced a small, blue computer chip and began to rim the inside of his cocktail glass with it. “Are you sure you really want to go there?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask for what purpose?”
“It’s… personal.”
“No,” he snapped, shaking his head. “No. I’m afraid that’s not good enough. Such a fragile, pretty little thing this is. Do you know what alcohol does to computer circuits, Captain?”
Kristin remained silent as De Lorme began to brush the chip lovingly against the side of his drink before doing the same to the sidearm on the armrest.
“So, you will give me what I desire, or like your friend there on the floor, you won’t leave this room alive.”
Both resigned and annoyed, she reluctantly gave in to his demand. “Revenge.”
De Lorme smiled in self-satisfaction. “Ah. That age-old motive. No doubt for the loss of something… or someone very dear to your heart, no?”
“My brother.”
“Family.” De Lorme was almost triumphant. “Vous devez défendre votre honneur. Et votre famille. Honor and family.” He looked down to Mia, whose body was now still of sound and movement. “I understand, Captain.”
“Then give me the data chip.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he stood once more. “Since I was able to settle a very personal score today with Miss Varela, I’m feeling quite generous. Instead of the five-thousand credits you were going to pay Mr. Jackson, you will only need to pay me seven.”
“That’s generosity?”
His satisfied demeanor turned deadly cold. “Don’t try me, Miss Glasco. Be thankful it’s not double the original price.”
She slowly reached into her coat and withdrew the funds, tossing them at De Lorme’s feet.
He didn’t give the credits a second look. “You have pluck, Captain. I like that.”
“I’m happy you’re happy,” she deadpanned.
He flicked the blue data chip at her, though Kristin had to dive to stop it from crashing into the floor.
“I hope for your sake you find the information useful,” he said as he stood. “I’d very much like to see you again, perhaps under better circumstances.”
She looked up to him from the floor. “I won’t hold my breath.”
Smiling, he buttoned his coat. “There will be a car waiting for you outside. Good day.”
Kristin slipped the chip into a pocket, then moved back to Mia. He body was still warm, but lifeless. “Do you think one of your boys can help me get her into the car?”
De Lorme didn’t say anything. He merely turned and, with his two goons in tow, stepped back into the rock he’d slithered out from.
“Fine.” Pulling Mia to her feet, Kristin secured an arm around her waist and made for the exit as quickly as she could.
* * *
Kristin had only a moment to make a frantic call back to the Cobalt Rose before the cab jetted away from its perch on the 64th level. When the car finally set down beside the Rose, the aft cargo hatch of the ship was already down and her crew was running out to meet her.
Popping the door open, Kristin pulled Mia’s limp form out just as Alasdair reached her. “Give me a hand.”
Thad was nearby, his hand already on the pistol hidden in the folds of his coat. “What happened?”
“Mias been shot,” Kristin labored. “Pay the cab. We’re leaving.”
At the top of the cargo ramp, Quinn had pulled out one of the antigravity pallet skids. He’d just finished strewing a blanket over it when Alasdair set Mia down. Quinn leaned down to inspect the wound. “Just the one?”
Kristin nodded.
“Small arms,” Quinn said, taking a deep breath as he inspected the wound. “A pistol, I take it. Close range?”
“About four meters.”
“Hmmm.” He peeled back a layer of Mia’s jacket. Blood bubbled out. He swallowed hard, wiped his brow, and then carried on. Kristin stepped back in revulsion.
“Stop playing doctor, Quinn,” Alasdair shouted as Thad returned to close the aft hatch. “She needs real medical help.”
“Hey,” Quinn shouted as he looked around. “Anyone in here who has advanced medical training, hold up your hand.” When none were raised, he did so on his own. “Now, if you don’t mind, maybe make yourself useful and step back. Mia needs fresh air, not that hot stuff you’re all spewing.”
Kristin watched as Quinn examined the wound once more. “I thought you were part of the OSI? When did you get medical training?”
Quinn harrumphed as he continued his examination. “I see you’ve been talking to Alasdair, getting all my dirty little secrets.”
“Not all, apparently.”
“It was during the war. In my second year, the university shipped us out to the frontlines to see what real trauma was. Real trauma,” he scoffed at the repetition. “Found out the hard way I didn’t have what it took. So, Intelligence recruited me based on my ‘latent abilities to analyze complex constructs’ they’d called it. Turned me into the genius I am today.”
Thesril padded into the hold, quietly sitting beside Quinn as he did his work.
In what Kristin considered a very un-doctor like maneuver, Quinn probed the wound with his finger, withdrawing it a moment later covered in blood. He examined it with marked curiosity. “Nasty.” He turned to Kristin and shook his head ominously.
“Is she…?”
He pursed his lips before answering slowly. “Afraid so.”
“There’s nothing you can do?”
Removing his cap, he ran a hand through his close-cropped graying hair. “Possibly.”
Alasdair was beside him in an instant. “Do it. Now.”
“Cap’n?”
Kristin nodded.
“Okay. If you say so.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, silver case. From it, he pulled two thin strands of wire with clips on the ends. He connected one end to the hover skid, the other to Mia’s left index finger.
“A defibrillator?” Thad asked, but got no response from Quinn.
“Now. everyone stand back.” Pressing a button on the box, Mia bolted upright with eyes wide open. Turning, she immediately belted Quinn on the jaw and sent him skidding to the deck on his backside.
“Mia!” Kristin shouted as she knelt beside the skid.
Quinn was on the deck, massaging his jaw. “Welcome back to the land of the conscious.”
“But she was dead,” Alasdair huffed. “How did you—”
“Nobody said she was dead,” Quinn laughed as he got to his feet. “She was just unconscious… or maybe just sleeping. With her, it’s hard to tell.”
“Sleeping?” Kristin repeated. “But, the wound.”
Mia looked down to the still oozing wound. “My jacket. It’s ruined.”
Kristin leaned in and ran a finger over the hole, but Mia quickly slapped it away. “Stop that! It’s not like it doesn’t hurt, you know.”
“But, the blood?”
“Frangoirian goo,” Mia replied as she scooped up a handful from her jacket. She molded the mass in her hand, making a pancake shape that instantly solidified. She then threw it at Quinn. “And you could have just let me sleep it off.”
Quinn smiled as he unclipped the device from her finger. “Maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re a sadist.”
He tos
sed the pancake back at her. When she caught it, it returned to its original gelatinous state. “Be glad that stuff likes you. If it weren’t for that and the body armor, you’d be dead right now.”
“I was just hoping it would stop a bullet. The blood-effect was a bonus.”
Kristin was beside herself. “You knew you’d get shot?”
She shrugged. “Actually, I thought you were going to be shot. I was just being cautious. Oh well. That’s life.”
Quinn helped her off the skid. “You should still take it easy for a few hours. That bruise is going to hurt as soon as the shock wears off.”
“Who made you the boss of me?”
“I did,” Kristin pipped in. “Quinn’s now our resident engineer and physician. His medical requests are not suggestions.”
“I really didn’t do—” Quinn began to backpedal.
“You have the training?”
He nodded.
“Then you’ve got the job.”
He sighed. “I didn’t come onboard to patch up the crew. I work with computers, sometimes engines. That’s all.”
“Not anymore.”
All eyes were on him. He knew when he’d lost, so he threw his hands up in resignation. “Fine. It’s not like we’re going to be together much longer anyway.” He then waved a finger around the cargo bay. “But, nobody here is calling me doctor or doc. It’s just Quinn… plain, simple Quinn. And none, I repeat none of you are going to get seriously wounded. Got it?”
“Hey,” Mia called, getting his attention. “You could have just let me be. I would have been fine. You knew that.”
“I suppose I could have,” he said as he knelt beside her. Reaching down, he cautiously lifted Thesril from the deck and placed her into Mia’s waiting arms. Though it emanated groans of objection, it made no threating moves towards her owner’s savior.
Stroking the cat with one hand, Mia reached out with the other and placed it on his forearm. “If I was actually hurt,” she began softly, “like bad, would you have still tried to save me?”
He looked into her eyes and nodded.
“Thanks, doc,” she whispered.
Smiling, he shook his head. “Anytime.”
Chapter 16
The Cobalt Rose's galley—which also served as a makeshift lounge and conference room—seemed like more of an afterthought than an intentional part of the ship. Conduits crisscrossed the overhead, some humming with the energies of materials that flowed through them. It gave the compartment a semblance of life that Kristin would have otherwise found soothing, had her mind not been on other things. For now, she was content to pace near the table that dominated the center of the room, yet she was far from pleased. When Alasdair entered a moment later, she didn't even acknowledge his presence.
"Is there a problem?"
Kristin scoffed. "Problem? No problem."
"Then why are you pacing?"
"I'm not."
"Then maybe you'll tell me why you're walking the shortest relay race in the history of Beta Sector?"
"I'm not in a joking mood."
"Then maybe you'll enlighten me about just what sort of mood you're in."
Her back to him, she finally stopped a few feet from the aft bulkhead. She watched the blinking light of a refuse processor blink steadily, replaying recent memories in her mind. "She could have died."
"Mia?"
Kristin nodded.
"But she didn't. She's fine."
Kristin hung her head. "No thanks to me."
"Mia explained what happened. There was nothing you could have done."
"Why do I doubt that?"
"Maybe you're an idiot."
She turned to glare at him. "You know that part where I punch you in the face again? We're getting there really quick."
"I seriously doubt that I'm the one you want to hit."
She heaved a frustrated breath and turned from him again. "Maybe, but you're certainly the closest target." She heard him step up behind her, could feel that he was getting closer. When he put his hands on her shoulders, she had to resist the urge to strike. It didn't stop her body from flinching.
"It's okay. Mia's fine."
"It's not okay." She turned, her eyes watering before a tear fell. "He shot her. Right there… in front of me. De Lorme shot her! Why would he do that? Why would anyone do that?" She could feel her body trembling.
"There are a lot of bad people out there, Kristin. The universe might seem full of them at times. The difference between them and us is how we deal with the choices we're given."
The words were cold comfort, yet she still felt drawn to rest her head on his chest. "All I could think about was Bobby. How completely selfish is that?"
He reached around and embraced her. "It's natural. It's just shock. That's all. It'll pass."
"Natural," she huffed. "There's nothing natural about it. How many times have you seen people shot right in front of you?"
His embrace loosened, though he didn't let go of her. "Too many."
Another round of tears fell, this time being absorbed by Alasdair's jacket. "And did it just pass?"
He didn't even have to think about it. "No. Never. I'm sorry, I just—"
"Just be quiet and hold me."
He did as he was asked, but not just because he was asked. When Kristin's crying lessened, he released his hold and stepped back. "Don't want the crew to catch us like this. Might be bad for morale."
She managed a weak smile. "Or maybe good for it."
"Meaning?"
"Well, I'm sure you and Thad could use a good hug. Maybe then you'd sort things."
"Maybe," he laughed, then wiped a tear from her cheek. "But I'm not going to be the one to suggest it to him."
Kristin withdrew a cloth and cleaned her face. "Me neither."
"So, do you want to clue your first officer in on just what was so important that we had to stop here and put you through this trauma?"
Kristin withdrew the small, blue data chip. "It's a detailed analysis of the Camia system."
"I thought we had those already?"
She wiped her nose and moved over to a nearby computer. "We did, but these are far less official than the ones you provided."
"Less official? You mean free traders?"
"I mean scavengers."
"Scavengers," he spat. "Talk about the dregs of Beta Sector. No allegiance to anyone, picking the bones of the dead for the slightest profit. They’re nothing but a menace."
"They don't report to anyone, and that's our biggest asset right now." She inserted the chip into an alcove, and the embedded holoprojector sprang to life. Hovering above the central table was a dimensional image of the seven planets of the Camia system, the central white star glowing white and casting shadows on the galley walls. "This data is virgin, untouched by Sector Command, the Unified Trade Guild, or anyone else for that matter."
"And how do you know about it?"
She was tempted to tell him, but Mia’s wounding reinvigorated the hurt she felt over her brother’s death. There were things she needed more time—and healing—to discuss. "An old acquaintance came across it not long ago. I was going to ask him about it, but we didn't cross paths. I had to get it from De Lorme instead."
"So, this data is how old exactly?"
Wiping her nose a final time, Kristin looked at the date displayed below the projection. "About a month. Seems like the scavengers made a pretty thorough scan of the system." She reached out and manipulated the fourth holographic planet from the central star. A series of statistics were displayed beside the world. "This one. It's the only habitable planet in the system. That's where we're going to start."
"Anything else in the file? I mean, I could have told you that from my data."
Kristin cupped the small world in her hands, then threw out her arms wide. The rest of the Camia system dissolved from view as the fourth planet grew to encompass the entire table. The landmasses were clearly defined, with topology and weather patterns far mor
e detailed than anything Alasdair had seen before. A cluster of lights appeared on the western continent. Kristin reached out, grasped the lights, and again zoomed into the scan.
Alasdair stepped over to get a closer look at the bright, irregular surface features. "Those look like ships."
She pointed to the ground topology near two of them. "And look at these troughs. I'd say none of them went down willingly."
"There must be dozens of them." The lines of most were familiar, though some of the shapes were of designs he'd never seen before. "Look at the tree lines here and here," he pointed. "A few of these have been there for a really, really long time. The question is, why didn't we ever pick them up on our scans before?"
"Maybe you did. But something this big? I'm willing to bet someone has gone to a lot of trouble to hide this from just about everyone. Altered logs, misplaced data, forged records. It's all possible."
"And it's something important enough to kill for," he muttered, then looked at her apologetically.
"Seems that way," she replied.
“And what do you make of these?” he asked, pointing to a line of mountains and caves to the north. “Looks like some of these could be large enough to hold even more ships.”
“I’m not sure. The scans weren’t strong enough to penetrate them.”
He waved dismissively at the image. "And you're just going to go there and figure it all out? Just like that?"
"Not me. Us."
"Us," he exclaimed. "Kristin, this is bigger than us. Look at those ships! The tonnage of all that scrap alone outweighs us thirty to one. You think one small trader and a crew of misfits can make it past whatever did that to them? No. Sorry, love, but this is a job for Sector Command, and this data chip is the evidence I need to make sure it happens."
"Sector Command doesn't give a damn about Bobby! He was my brother, and he was your friend. We owe it to him to see this thing through to the end. I didn't come this far to tuck tail and turn around at the first sign of inconvenience."
"Well, death is pretty inconvenient if you ask me."
"I have every intention of taking the Cobalt Rose to Camia, with or without you. I'd much rather do it with you, but if you can't handle it, then you can take the shuttle back home and drown in your own sorrows. But the data chip is staying with me.”
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