by Piers Platt
Jiyake shook her head. “Not sure our brig is big enough to hold all of ‘em,” she observed.
The commander turned and surveyed the large metal shipping container in the middle of the bay. Its door lay on the floor several yards away, and at several points around the bay, large pools of blood were slowly drying.
“What a mess.”
“This place looks like a war zone,” Adnan said.
A Colonial Guard crewman stepped past them, excusing himself. He held a camera to his face, shooting continuously.
“You’ll pull their security camera footage, too?” Adnan asked. He pointed at cameras mounted around in the corners of the bay.
“Yes, sir,” the crewman agreed.
“That ought to be interesting to watch,” Jiyake said. “Actually, on second thought, not sure I’m up for a snuff film right now.”
Jiyake’s wristpad buzzed at her. “Go, Chief,” she said, tapping on the screen.
“Liberty Belle’s requesting permission to dock with us again,” Chief Risley reported. “They’d like to check on their friends they dropped off in the sick bay.”
“Granted,” Jiyake said. “I’d like to meet this Falken character.” She turned to Adnan. “Coming?”
“Yeah,” he said.
He followed her along the docking tube, then through the cutter’s maze-like below-decks areas, until they arrived at the starboard-side docking tube, on the far side of the ship. Captain Muir stood waiting there with a younger woman and a tall man whose shoulder was wrapped in a bandage; he had the toned look of a professional athlete.
“Vina and Falken,” Muir said, introducing them. “This is Commander Jiyake and …?”
“Detective Adnan,” the detective said, offering his hand to the trio.
“Nice to meet you guys,” Falken said. “Thanks for everything.”
“You bet,” Jiyake said. “We’re going to need a full statement from you – all three of you, actually – but that can wait until we get back to Harrison’s.”
“Sure,” Falken said.
“Come on,” Jiyake told them. “This way to the sick bay.”
They followed the commander up several levels, and through a hatch into a long room with curtained bays. The ship’s surgeon was washing his hands at a sink – he nodded when he saw them.
“Good timing, Commander,” he said. “Just finished surgery.”
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“Smoothly. The bullet managed to miss Mr. Talus’ major organs, though it did nick a kidney. I took the bullet out and sealed the wound; I don’t anticipate any post-surgical issues.”
“Can I see him?” Muir asked.
“You can peek into his bay, but he’s sedated right now,” the surgeon explained.
“I’ll go take a look,” Muir said, stepping past him into the bay.
Falken caught sight of Raynard, sitting up in his own bed. The journalist gave him a thumbs up, smiling. Falken and Vina walked over, with the others in tow.
“Ice cream, huh?” Falken asked, smiling. “Did you get a sticker and a super-hero band aid, too?”
“Hey, they offered,” Raynard shrugged, eating another spoonful. “And I was hungry as hell.”
The surgeon stepped over to Raynard’s bedside and adjusted an intravenous drip.
“Mr. Barrington here is still a little dehydrated, but otherwise there was nothing for me to do in terms of his wound,” the surgeon said, pointing at Raynard’s leg bandage. “You can tell the research center scientists they did a nice job working on him. I’m officially impressed.”
“I’ll tell them,” Falken promised.
Raynard put his ice cream down and held out a hand – Falken took it. “Listen,” Raynard said, turning serious. “Thanks. Thanks for taking care of us down there.”
Falken shook his head. “Look, I was just doing my job,” he said.
“Maybe,” Raynard said. “But the more I think about it, the more I think that none of us would have made it if you hadn’t been there.” He smiled. “And it’s going to make a hell of a story for my article on Olympus.”
“You’re going to write about it?” Falken asked.
“Are you kidding?” Raynard snorted. “I have to write about it – my editors would kill me if I didn’t.”
“We’ll likely ask you to hold off on publishing anything until after the trial,” Detective Adnan said, showing Raynard his badge.
“Ah,” Raynard said, looking disappointed. “Right. Forgot about that.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a great story, whenever it comes out,” Vina told him.
The surgeon pulled the curtain aside for a moment, revealing Shep in the next bay over. He was awake, his head wrapped in a thick gauze bandage – his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of them. Falken noticed that his left hand was handcuffed to the bed’s metal frame.
“One of the ones who kidnapped you?” Detective Adnan asked Falken.
“Yeah,” Falken said, stiffly. “He and his brother were passengers on the Ecolympus. I think they smuggled a bomb into our cargo hold when we docked with the Liberty Belle. Then they took us hostage once we made it to the research center. Shep’s the one who shot Talus.”
Shep glared at them, his mouth set in a thin line.
“Which one is his brother?” Jiyake asked, pulling a note pad out of her pocket, with a list of names of the crew they had arrested on the Starfarer.
“Kuda,” Falken said. “He’s not on your list. He was killed by dragons while trying to break back in to the research center.”
Shep’s gaze bored into Falken. “I’m going to kill you for that,” he said, softly.
“You’re going to jail,” Falken told him. “Tell Archos I said ‘hi.’ ”
“What?” Shep asked.
“I think we should let you rest a bit longer,” the surgeon said hastily, pulling the curtain closed again.
They bid farewell to Raynard, and then Jiyake showed Muir, Vina, and Falken back to the Liberty Belle.
“Trying to create an immortality drug,” Adnan mused, as the five of them stood at the docking tube. “That’s really going to be a thing?”
“It might be, soon,” Falken told him.
“No wonder they went to so much trouble – this whole operation,” Adnan said, gesturing at the ships.
“That reminds me: did you guys find a data storage plug on the Starfarer?” Falken asked.
“Yes,” Jiyake said. “Cadellium had one on him. It’s in our evidence locker now.”
“That’s the one,” Falken said. “Keep a close eye on it, the research team is going to want that back when you’re done with it. That has all their data and findings on it, and it’s the only copy left – Cadellium deleted their server down at the research center.”
“Got it,” Adnan said. “I’ll make sure it’s returned to them, intact.”
“Okay, I need to oversee getting these ships loaded back inside the Nakimo,” Jiyake said. “Remember: full statements when we get back to Harrison’s. I know you’re probably tired, so rest up a bit, and then we’ll chat once we get in. I’ll send someone from my crew to come pick you up.”
“Okay,” Falken said.
Inside the Liberty Belle, Muir turned to climb to the bridge.
“Do you need an extra set of hands on the bridge?” Falken asked.
Muir shook her head. “I flew this thing for years before hiring Talus,” she said. “I got it.”
“Okay,” Falken said. He felt his stomach rumble, and turned to Vina. “Are you hungry? I’ve been trying to remember when the last time we ate was.”
“Breakfast?” she guessed. “Anyway, I’m starving.”
They found several Adrenaline Junkies guests in the ship’s cafeteria, eating and talking animatedly about the day’s events. Falken and Vina picked out food and sat down away from the others, seeking a little privacy by mutual, unspoken agreement. They ate in silence for a time, and then Vina took a sip of water.
&nbs
p; “Thanks for coming after me,” she said. “Up on the aerie.”
“You thought I was gonna just leave you up there?” Falken asked.
“I thought … I dunno. I was just scared.”
“Well, you did great,” Falken said.
She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. Her hand was warm, soft – it looked tiny and delicate in Falken’s large fingers.
“I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” Falken said, somewhat embarrassed.
“Do you always keep your word?” Vina asked.
“I try to. I didn’t use to. But I try.”
Captain Muir walked into the cafeteria then, carrying a datapad.
“Hey guys,” she said. “Extremis is asking for a roster of all survivors, just for records. Falken, I got you. Vina, what’s your last name?”
“Weaver,” she said. “Vina Weaver.”
“Got it,” Muir said. “Thanks.” She turned and headed over to the other guests.
Falken, startled, was studying Vina’s face.
“What?” she asked.
“I knew a Sef Weaver, once,” he said.
Vina’s jaw dropped open. “My father’s name is Sef.”
Falken nodded. “I met him about eleven years ago.”
“No,” Vina said, her frown deepening. “You must be thinking of someone else. My father was already in prison then.”
“Sef Weaver from Lawson County, Texas,” Falken said. “He was a rare book dealer. He had a wife named Elize, and two kids – a son … and a teen-aged daughter.”
Vina covered her hand with her mouth. “Oh my god.”
Falken lowered his voice. “I did time with your father. Before all this.”
“You were in prison?” Vina asked.
“Yeah,” Falken said. “Your father and I spent a lot of time together. But … I wasn’t sure if he was real or not.”
“What do you mean?”
Falken sighed. “It’s complicated. I’m not sure I can say much more.”
“Okay …?” Vina said, confused.
“We were good friends. And he’s the main reason I’m no longer there … I owe him a lot. Where is he living now?” Falken asked. “I’d love to see him again.”
“You can’t,” Vina said, shaking her head sadly.
“What? What happened?” Falken asked, frowning in fear.
“Nothing happened,” Vina said. “He’s just still in jail.”
Return to Oz
By Piers Platt
Chapter 1
The boat lurched over the crest of another wave, tipping forward and sliding down into the trough with a splash of spray. In the stern, Weaver shook his head, clearing the seawater from his eyes. His grip on the sheet was slipping – the frayed rope cut his hand as it slid through his aching fingers. He wrapped it around his hand again, wincing as he struggled to keep the sail under control. Another vicious gust of wind caught the sail, and it snapped in protest over Weaver’s head, cracking like a whip.
Weaver scanned the horizon with a worried eye. Ahead of him, the clouds were thick and the ocean was choppy, but behind him, a solid mass of dark gray storm clouds loomed. Below them, a sheer curtain of rain blacked out the horizon. As he glanced over his shoulder at them, a single bolt of lightning connected the sky with the ocean, lighting up the onrushing storm wall. A small wave slapped the side of the boat, forcing Weaver to look forward again – the wave had dumped several more inches of water into the hull. Weaver dropped the tiller for a moment, took hold of his last remaining basket, and bailed one-handed, dumping as much water as he dared to, before dropping the basket again and grabbing the tiller. He pushed the rudder over, pointing the boat’s bow at the next wave.
At the wave’s crest, he stood for a brief moment, risking a half-crouch on exhausted, unsteady legs to scan the horizon again. White-crested waves surrounded the boat in all directions – Weaver could see no sign of land. In the far distance, a brief break in the clouds showed a hint of orange light. Weaver squinted at it, momentarily confused, before recognizing it as Oz’s sun. For a moment, the storm seemed to lessen, and then the bright orange sliver set fully, dipping below the horizon. Thunder rumbled behind him. Weaver sat and glanced back again – the storm was gaining on him fast. He pulled in the sheet again, hoping to coax some extra speed out of the sail.
The brunt of the storm hit with a suddenness that shocked him. One moment the air was clear, and the next, the boat was being lashed with wind and rain, and the waves around him now towered over him. In the darkness, Weaver could barely make out the faded sail above him, and the only hint he had of the tossing waves was the feeling in his stomach as the boat’s bow rose to meet them, and then dropped precipitously as they passed under him. Bilge water sloshed past his ankles, now – the hull had taken on more water, either from the rain or the bigger waves. Weaver tried bailing again, but it seemed to have no impact on the water in the boat. Then, out of the darkness ahead of him, a new wave appeared – impossibly steep, its foamy top breaking over the mast and sail, engulfing the boat.
Weaver cried out in fear, and reached instinctively for the photo album wedged underneath his seat. It slipped through his fingers, and then the wave snatched him from the boat in a torrent of roaring water, and he felt himself pulled under with irresistible force. He held his breath as he tumbled, fighting against the surging currents that threatened to tug him deeper down into the ocean. Weaver kicked hard, but he had lost track of which way he was facing. Then, through the water above him, another strike of lightning illuminated the sky – the bolt slammed into the ship’s mast, snapping it in half. The ship’s faded red-and-white sail burst, tearing itself to shreds in the gale, and the hull tipped under the assault of another massive wave. For a moment, the boat balanced, precariously, above Weaver. Then it came crashing down into the water on top of him.
Chapter 2
“Captain Muir,” the prosecutor said. “Please tell the court what happened next.”
At the front of the courtroom, Muir sat up straighter in the wooden witness’ chair. “After we landed on Olympus, Mr. Auresh handcuffed me and Talus to the railing in the docking tube, and then went down into the research center with Mr. Cadellium. I didn’t see them again until it was all over.”
Falken, sitting next to Vina at the back of the court, watched as the prosecutor strolled over to the jury box and leaned against it. The small courtroom was packed with spectators – many, like him, were seated not in the wooden benches of the audience section, but in folding chairs lining the green-painted walls. But despite the crowded room, the audience was hushed and quiet, watching the drama unfold with breath held.
Nothing better to do on Harrison’s, I guess, Falken thought. This is the best entertainment they’ve had in months.
“Who did you see next?” the prosecutor asked Muir.
Muir pointed at Shep, who sat at the front of the courtroom next to Cadellium and Auresh. “He came up into the tube, carrying a gun. I recognized him as one of the passengers we had ferried to the Ecolympus several days before. He shot Talus, but I closed the hatch on him before he could shoot me.”
“Is that how the accused got that head injury?”
Muir nodded. “Yeah, the hatch knocked him down, and he hit his head on the deck.”
“You were able to free yourself at that point, and assist the others, down in the research center. Tell us what happened after you took off.”
“I flew up to the aerie first, to pick up Falken and Vina – Ms. Weaver,” she said.
“The ‘aerie’ is …?” the prosecutor asked.
“Oh, sorry, that’s where the dragons roost. At the top of the mountain. We picked Falken and Vina up, and then headed for orbit ourselves. By that point, the Starfarer had already boosted up into orbit, and I had lost track of them. But as soon as we were through the drone patrol screen, they were on our tail.”
“They ambushed you?”
“Right. They fired at us.�
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The prosecutor gestured to a vidscreen across the room. “I’m entering into the record several more exhibits. The first is an inspection report of the vessel Starfarer, filed by Commander Jiyake of the CGS Extremis, following the events on Olympus.”
On the screen, Falken saw a detailed document, and then several photos taken of the interior of the Starfarer, showing missiles in racks, and the breech of a cannon.
“Her inspection found several illegal modifications to the Starfarer, namely the addition of port and starboard missile bays, and a heavy cannon turret disguised to look like an auxiliary refueling probe. One of the missiles had been fired – at the Adrenaline Junkies – and the cannon magazine was found to be half empty. Several shells of the same caliber were found embedded in the hull plating of the Liberty Belle. In other words, members of the jury, the forensic evidence supports that Mr. Auresh’s ship was illegally armed, and he had used those weapons in a manner consistent with the testimony of Captains Hylie and Muir. Namely, to attack their ships.”
He turned to Muir. “Thank you, Captain.”
The judge turned to the defense attorney, a harried-looking man with gray hair and a large bald patch. “Defense?”
“No questions,” the attorney said.
He hasn’t argued a single point, Falken thought. Although I’m not sure what he could argue.
“Prosecution would like to call our next witness,” the prosecutor said. “Mr. Sirio Falken.”
Falken stood up.
Vina smiled nervously at him. “Good luck,” she whispered.
Falken nodded. “I’ll find you afterwards.”
As Muir stepped down from the witness stand, Falken made his way up the middle aisle of the courtroom. Auresh and Cadellium turned to look at him as he approached – Auresh’s arm was still in a sling, broken by Falken during their fight on the Starfarer. Falken’s own shoulder still ached from time to time – the cut on his shoulder from the dragon’s claws was still healing as well.
