Project Columbus: Omnibus

by J. C. Rainier

  “Not yet, anyway.” Aidan and Diego passed them, continuing along the path that Gabi had chosen. Marya took a few steps after they passed, then stopped, looking back over her shoulder. “Maybe you care for him more than I thought.”

  Gabi scoffed. Diego was her responsibility to watch after, but that was it. Marya’s insinuation that their relationship was deeper only aggravated her nearly as much as the physical threat.

  “When this is all over, I never want to see you again,” Gabi growled.

  “That’s fine with me.”

  Silence again engulfed their party. This time, it was welcome.

  Calvin McLaughlin

  15 July, 6 yal, 06:54

  North Concordia

  “Are you sure about this, Calvin?”

  Dr. Taylor’s pensive expression did little to mask her concern. She seemed to sense that Cal saw through her front, and diverted her attention to Andrea, who stretched in her arms.

  “Why not?” he replied with a shrug.

  “Because it’s not your job. It’s not your place.”

  “He’s my friend, Doc. I can’t just stand by.”

  The doctor sighed. “No, I suppose you can’t. Even when you should say no, you can’t.”

  “No one asked me to do this, so I haven’t had to say no.”

  Dr. Taylor regarded him with a deepening frown. “Then I don’t understand why you have to do this. You don’t have any experience with police work.”

  “Neither do Dayton and Hunter,” Cal added.

  “Right, but they’ve already enlisted the former detective that came here aboard Gabriel,” she countered.

  “I know. Vaughn’s doing what he can. I want to do what I can, even if that just means sweeping the farms again or knocking on doors.”

  The doctor grimaced and reached for the bag of baby supplies that was slung over his shoulder. He relinquished his load.

  “If it’s what you want to do, I’ll watch Andrea for a bit. The clinic’s slow right now, but things usually pick up for me around noon, so don’t go too far.”

  He sighed in relief, though he had hoped that he would be able to devote more time to the search for Darius. “No problem. I know this was short notice.”

  Cal threw up a hand to shield his eyes as he stepped out of the clinic into the bright morning sun. Concordia’s streets were mostly empty, as the town’s residents were already settled in to work for the day. Cal stepped out of the way of a horse-drawn delivery cart as he walked down Foundation toward the Civic Hall. Monica, North Concordia’s chief architect, walked slowly along the street, holding an intense conversation with a small construction crew as she inspected several buildings from the outside.

  Damage from the quake still left ugly gouges in a few buildings, though most had been patched, leaving behind what Cal thought to be the structural equivalent of a scar. There was still a gaping hole in the western wall of Civic Hall’s second story, and anyone passing by on Foundation Street could look directly into what was left of the Governor’s Office. Cal shuddered. The missing wall was an unnerving symbol of their missing leader.

  Cal made his way inside. Deputy Governor Dayton had set up temporary offices in the meeting hall on the lower floor. Though to call it an office would be generous. He had dragged out a portable table, and rearranged a half dozen chairs around it, shoving the remaining seating from the room up against one wall. Concordia’s standard stood directly behind the chair at the head of the table. Dayton was slouched in the chair. He looked up at Cal, blinking listlessly. Dark hemispheres under his eyes underscored the stress and lack of sleep that was eating away at the former colonel. Hunter sat to his left, intently scrutinizing a map that dominated the tabletop. He didn’t acknowledge Cal until Dayton tapped impatiently on his elbow.

  “Cal?” Hunter said. His voice was a barely audible rasp.

  Cal nodded at each of them. “Hunter. Deputy Governor.”

  “Can we do something for you, Mr. McLaughlin?” Dayton asked.

  “I was going to ask the same. What can I do to help?”

  The deputy governor shook his head, then looked down at the map. “I don’t know. I’m beyond worried that something terrible has happened to Darius. There hasn’t been a trace of him since the night he disappeared. It’s almost like he fell in the river or something.”

  Well, that’s one way to get away from it all, Jerk chortled, though his voice was faint and muffled. After another day or two of regular meds, he would fade into the background again.

  “That wouldn’t make sense,” Cal remarked.

  Hunter rubbed his eyes, as though doing so would whisk away the fatigue. “Of course it doesn’t. He wasn’t acting strange before he disappeared.”

  “Well, a little,” Dayton corrected, “but we chalked that up to lack of sleep. Nothing that would indicate he was suicidal.”

  Cal thought for a moment. “An accident?”

  Wow, that’s stupid, Jerk taunted. Even for you.

  “In the middle of the night?” Hunter snapped hoarsely. “With no trace of where he went? What, do you think he just decided to randomly do a nighttime inspection of the bridges?”

  “Hey, take it easy.”

  Hunter rose out of his chair and ran his hand through his hair, stopping at the back of his skull as he gripped at the disheveled strands. “Sorry, man. I know you’re trying to help, it’s just, this whole thing has been…”

  “Stressful. Troubling. I get it.” Cal sighed, crestfallen. “No, maybe I should just leave this up to you guys. I tend to muck things up anyway.”

  “We’d appreciate the assistance,” Dayton replied. “We just need some time to figure out what you can do for us.”

  Probably nothing, he thought in dismay.

  Jerk was slightly amused by this. Oh good. You’re finally getting the message.

  I won’t miss you when you’re gone.

  Way to make me feel loved.

  What was that about messages? Cal retorted. His schism went silent.

  The door swung open behind Cal, and Detective Vaughn stepped in. He was a few inches shorter than Cal, but also had twenty years on him. Like many Concordians, he had lost quite a bit of weight shortly after arrival on the planet. Cal tried to imagine him as he must have been on Earth; slightly rotund, with an appetite to match his attitude. Now he was a grim, focused machine, given a chance to showcase his skills since the disappearance of Governor Owens. He regarded Cal with a squint as he walked to the table and sat down.

  “I found something,” he said, though his voice was devoid of any enthusiasm.

  Cal took two steps toward the table before Vaughn’s condemning stare froze him in his tracks.

  “Official business, Mr. McLaughlin,” he grumbled.

  Dayton cleared his throat and waved vaguely in the air. “It’s fine, Ben. Calvin has been consulting for me off and on since before landing. He’s helping us out again.” The deputy governor’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “What did you find?”

  Cal took the opportunity of Vaughn’s presentation to take a seat at the table. The detective pulled a cell phone from his pocket. Though useless for communication, the citizens had pooled together what few phones they had amongst them when they left Earth, creating a library of sorts. The library, which resided inside Gabriel, kept the phones charged until a citizen checked one out for whatever purpose. With a few swipes on the device’s screen, Vaughn pulled up a picture that he had taken using the phone’s camera. Cal craned his neck to see, but glare from the window behind him washed out the image entirely.

  “That’s the loading ramp of Michael,” Vaughn pointed out before swiping to the next image. “See this here?”

  “Looks like tread marks,” Hunter commented.

  Vaughn’s scowl shifted to Hunter. “No, look again. Figure in the scale. Trucks and crawlers have a much wider track. And there’s another one here that looks a little funny.” He flipped to another image. “I also didn’t see any sort of tire ma
rk pattern, so don’t go thinking this was made by a hand truck either.”

  By that time, Cal had repositioned himself between Hunter and Dayton, leaning over the table to look at the images. “Drag marks.”

  Vaughn nodded. “I think so. Not sure what this mark is over here,” he said as he made a circle in the air over an odd, curved mark. “I was able to follow the marks for a while. There were shoe prints every now and then on either side that paralleled this main mark. I lost it all at the road, though.”

  “Which road?” Dayton asked.

  “Rust Creek.”

  “Mr. Ceretti, I think it’s time for you to take a trip to go see Norris. Find out what he knows.”

  “Right. I’ll get a horse.”

  Dayton shook his head, though he never took his eyes off the phone’s screen. “No, tell Josephson you’re borrowing her truck. I need you there today, not tomorrow.” Hunter nodded and left without another word. “Detective, I want you to go over the inside of Michael one more time, see if you can find anything else.”

  Vaughn grunted as he tucked the phone back in his pocket. “I’ve found all I can. His bed was made, didn’t look like he made it back to his berth that night. I’ve traced all the possible routes from the sleeper pod to the back of the ship, and there’s no other trace evidence. No blood, nothing.”

  “Wait, blood?” Cal interrupted.

  Vaughn’s demeaning glare locked back on to Cal. “If my gut’s right about those marks, then the governor was kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped? Who the hell would do that?”

  “Assuming it’s true,” Dayton intervened, “it could be any number of people. During the labor strikes he made plenty of enemies, including Norris.”

  Cal froze in place, his jaw slack in dumbfounded silence. He wanted to tell Dayton that Norris wouldn’t do that, nor would any of his people.

  “I don’t think we should rule out someone in town either,” Vaughn continued. “Or those new folks from Mercy.”

  Cal scoffed and slapped the palm of his hand into the table, making the other men flinch in surprise. “Yeah, that’s it!” he snorted sarcastically. “I’ll ask Brittany if she’s seen anyone dragging around our governor. That’s what I’ll do to help out.”

  “Mr. McLaughlin,” Dayton soothed as he rose from his seat.

  “Oh, so you have come out of your shop to meet our new neighbors, have you?” Vaughn sneered. “I thought you were going to lock yourself away and become a hermit.”

  “What? No! Well, yes, I’ve met them. Or one of them anyway. It’s a long story.”

  “Do you want to give me the short version, or is this going to be another boring, rambling lead that goes nowhere?”

  “I thought that anything helps at this point,” Cal retorted. He was doing his best to stand his ground, but Vaughn made him feel like slinking away. Despite his lack of stature, Vaughn was carrying himself in a very aggressive and imposing way. It was a side of the man he had never seen before, but didn’t particularly want to cross any further.

  “Fine.” The detective folded his arms across his chest. “Who is this Brittany girl and what does she have to do with anything?”

  “She’s an old friend from Earth.” Cal watched the other men and their stunned reactions. “My friends were left behind when I was taken for the launch. At first I wondered what happened to them and how they made out during the War. Eventually I had images of how they died. Pretty horrible shit, so I tried not to think of it at all. So imagine my surprise when someone I thought was dead walks through my front door just days after Mercy lands.”

  “Does she know anything about what happened?”

  Cal shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her about it. I could, though.”

  “Have you interviewed Mercy’s survivors, Detective?” Dayton asked.

  “Not all of them. Enough to know that no one had seen the governor.”

  The deputy governor slid back into his chair, which groaned under his weight. “Would you mind at least asking this friend of yours if she knows anything?”

  Cal squirmed uncomfortably. “I could. I’m not sure how much good it will do. The last time I talked with her, things didn’t go so well. We pretty much pissed each other off.”

  “Alright, what about your other friends from Earth?”

  “I don’t know if any others made it. She’s the only one I’ve seen so far. She came into my shop with two guys I didn’t know, but they seemed to know her pretty well.”

  “What did these guys look like? Did they identify themselves?” Vaughn queried.

  “I don’t know. They were just guys. They came in, bought some booze, and left.”

  “Please pay closer attention to details next time, Mr. McLaughlin,” Vaughn rebuked coldly. “Anything you think is minor or not worth mentioning could be something that ends up turning an investigation. With how little I’ve got to work with, I need everything you can get me.”

  “That might be hard. She might not want to talk to me.”

  “So put your big boy pants on and apologize if you have to.”

  Cal felt himself flush. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

  He had to get out of there, away from Vaughn’s scorn and so-called advice. Cal’s return walk to the clinic was full of self-reflection. He wanted to help with the investigation, but he didn’t trust himself with Brittany. They had both changed so much that they seemed destined to part ways. Cal was only beginning to realize how the resentment he still harbored for her colored their current relationship. And there was no telling how her experiences on post-Launch Earth had done the same.

  How the hell can I even talk to her anymore? Much less see if she knows something?

  Gov Darius Owens

  15 July, 6 yal, 10:05

  The wilderness, somewhere west of Concordia

  Darius felt someone nudge his foot. He craned his head, shielding his eyes with his hands. They were still bound together at the wrist, though his captors did not keep him tied to a tree when they were awake.

  The two men who had guarded Darius for the past day barely spoke at all. They seemed cautious about carrying on any conversation in front of Darius, and would only do so at a whisper beyond the range he could hear. They were, in fact, so evasive with Darius that he didn’t even know their names. Darius labeled them by numbers. The swarthy black-haired man was One, and the gaunt one whose hair bordered somewhere between blond and gray was Two.

  “Eat,” Two commanded.

  At least one of them was always on guard duty, and they took turns performing chores to keep the campsite running smoothly. Two had just finished preparing a meal foraged from native plants, and One took silent leave to eat.

  Two reiterated his command by thrusting a bowl in Darius’s face. Darius reached up and took the steaming bowl of soup from Two. The tips of his fingers registered the warmth of the metal bowl. It was decidedly uncomfortable given the midday heat, but the food was welcome. Darius’s stomach had been growling for the last hour. He took a sip of the near-scalding broth, coughing and sputtering as it burned on the way down. Darius would have cursed if it wasn’t for the fact that the scorching pain was a temporary distraction from the constant throbbing from his injuries.

  The soup, though rather bland, was filling. Hearty chunks of wild potato were mixed with small, Demeter onions. There was meat, as well, though not a lot of it. It was definitely some sort of small game bird. Darius scanned the ground around the campsite, looking for signs of feathers that would give it away. He found the discarded pile of yellow and gray feathers that identified the bird as a pine ranger, an insectivore about the size of a large quail. Not commonly hunted by Concordians as they were elusive, yet didn’t yield much meat for the trouble.

  Darius pondered why Two would have taken out a pine ranger instead of hunting gray pheasant. There were a number of factors that he weighed, including how short a time Mercy’s survivors had been on Demeter, the perceived marksmanship of his captor, and the
time involved in finding a pheasant. The woods around Concordia were thick with pine rangers, but it took a lot more effort to find the much more rewarding pheasants.

  Are you trying to keep it simple? He wondered. Darius glanced at Two’s Winchester shotgun. It was a typical pump-action, probably 20 gauge. A small game hunter’s weapon. Not sure I want to mess with you, Two. You’re a good shot if that bird was in flight. And that weapon of yours would tear me up.

  One returned from out of sight where he had taken his meal. A canteen was clutched in his left hand. On his right hip rested a holstered pistol. Another deadly weapon in the hands of a man who looked like he could put it to good use. One knelt next to Darius. He collected the empty metal bowl and poured water into it, then handed it to Darius.

  “Drink,” he ordered in a flat tone.

  Darius obeyed. The cold water was a refreshing contrast to the hot soup and weather. He drank down the entire bowl in one breath. He panted for a moment, catching his breath, then held out the bowl expectantly.

  “More, please,” he asked.

  One filled the bowl again without hesitation. This time Darius drank it in a far more measured manner as his captors held a whispered conversation about twenty feet away.

  They’re keeping me fed. They give me water when I ask. That’s good, I guess.

  Shortly after he had finished the second bowl, three men marched into camp, each with a pack on their back and a weapon at their side or in their hands. As they got closer, Darius recognized them as the men who had originally beaten and captured him. Apprehension began to take grip, and Darius clamored to his feet, scrabbling at the bark of a Demeter pine with his bound hands.

  One and Two turned their backs to Darius briefly. They seemed to relax for the first time since their arrival. The pock-faced man smiled wickedly as he told them something, then One and Two scurried off and began to break camp. Suddenly, Darius was face to face with the leader of the renegades.

  “Good afternoon, Governor,” he grinned. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Like a new man,” Darius replied sarcastically.