“It’s not silly. I like it. You really care about people. Saul does too.”
“He is a nice guy. So, are you two an item, or what?” Dean smiled, poking Anya in the shoulder.
“Item?” she asked. After a moment, understanding dawned on her face. “Oh, no. He’s a grown up.”
Chuckling, Dean continued, “And you aren’t too far behind. Ah, well, there is a little age gap.” Anya’s face was going into a deep shade of red. Not anger. It was the other kind of red.
“Okay, I’ll stop now. He makes an excellent big brother. I know he cares about you. I am happy you’ve recovered so well. That reminds me…” Dean reached for a drawer. He removed the tattoo machine he’d stolen while living on the Cage. “I have to add yours.”
Anya grinned while Dean etched the new mark indicating a life saved.
***
Hours later, Dean held a small bottle of rum he had stumbled across while looking for some clamps. Whoever worked in this sick bay before him was also keen on a strong drink from time to time. Who was he kidding? For the last two years on the Cage, Dean had drunk like a professional.
He sniffed the vapors roiling from the open bottle. Eyes closed, images of those dead by his hand danced around him.
Replacing the lid, Dean knew it was pointless. Two years of using mind-altering chemicals got him nowhere except through some tough nights.
Dean was adamant they store the artifact here. He wanted to keep an eye on it. Perhaps it was guilty of committing the greatest crime of all: Earth was gone, and the Egg was found at the scene of the crime.
Removing his medical gloves, Dean reached for the abomination. Nothing. He sniffed, letting out the breath he was holding. Before he could take his hands away, an idea struck him. It took a couple minutes, but the doctor managed to dig out a pair of defibrillators.
I’m going to blow us all up, he thought. Placing the paddles atop the Egg, Dean gave it a low voltage dose. The vital readout still showed flat lines.
“No need to baby you. Let’s take it up all the way.” He held the pads steady at maximum voltage for ten seconds. And then he did it again for twenty.
Beeps. He was getting something back. The device needed electricity, Dean was certain. He tried to imagine what the Earthworms might have been up to when his team arrived to steal it. The Egg had the power to make two friends hate each other, and it altered the course of one man’s life forever.
“Alright, you bastard. I’ll make you a deal. Take all this crap that I want to forget, and in return, tell me what I want to know.”
EPILOGUE
Colonel Joseph Boone watched the sunrise flood the shoreline with golden, reassuring light. He stood on the deck, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. The warm, flowing wind caressed his uncovered skin.
He was astounded at how thoroughly they had upgraded the LFAF training station into a tropical paradise. The simulation perfectly mimicked some of the finer areas of Earth, a tribute to the best the dead planet once had to offer. It would serve as a quality museum to educate future generations. Best of all, Eden Station had become a fantastic vacation spot. At that very moment, the only regret the colonel had was the fact he had not taken his leave sooner.
This place helped Joseph take his mind off some things. Eden survived the Collision, though others in orbit around the Moon were deflected or destroyed by the colossal explosion. Depending on who you asked, Luna was a planet now, robbed of her dance partner, Earth. The colonel knew many things most Lunar citizens did not. For one, the Moon’s altered orbit was not as stable as first thought. She might not have a future.
A sharp series of beeps snagged his attention. The coffee was ready. Sliding the glass door open, Joseph stepped back inside his allotted quarters: a cozy bungalow nestled in amongst many others near the water.
His promotion to full colonel came at the expense of his nerves during a critical mission where everything that could go wrong did. Joseph was overdue for a much needed vacation, and had decided to celebrate by hiring an escort. The young lady was sprawled on the couch, snoozing gently. He certainly didn’t mind the company whether she charged him for the extra time or not.
Approaching the coffee maker, the colonel noticed it had not finished brewing. Strange. Looking around, Joseph saw a light flashing on his tablet. So that was it—the brass were trying to reach him. Picking it up, he tapped the button to answer the call, and walked back outside for the necessary privacy.
“Colonel Boone? I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, sir. I’m just taking my time getting up this morning,” Joseph explained. “How can I help you, general?”
“Enjoy this day, colonel, because it’s all the leave you’re going to get for a while,” General Michaels declared.
Terrific. “I can’t say I’m surprised, sir. What’s the op?”
“You remember the Stellocation Project? I hope so, because I can’t say much about it, even on an encrypted call.”
Joseph certainly did. More personnel were killed under his command during that series of operations than the rest of his career combined. “Yes, sir.”
“Then you’ll remember the Maxilla we lost,” the general continued.
“Sir, we lost several working on that project.” What did he mean?
“I am referring to the one we actually lost. The one still alive.”
A cold hand grabbed Joseph inside, bringing with it a flood of memories and emotions.
“Did you find him?”
“Yes. Look, colonel, I will be on Eden Station within the hour. Can we meet in person? This is terribly urgent, and inappropriate for the usual channels. Your orders will come from me personally on this one.” General Michaels did not mess around, Joseph knew.
“Of course, general. I know just the place.”
Stephanie, if that was her real name, stirred on the couch as Joseph put on a pair of beige slacks and a collared shirt. He determined it would be formal enough attire for meeting a general without attracting too much attention.
“What’s up, Joe?” Her eyes were still shut.
“Call me Joseph. I have to meet an old friend for lunch. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, but it looks like I’ll be leaving tonight or early tomorrow morning.”
“Hmmhhrpphh…” The escort was already falling back to sleep.
***
Sitting at the café table, Colonel Boone stared at the man in the pictures. It was him alright.
“Our contact at Rorvin Enterprises passed these along to us,” explained Michaels. The general went on, “The missing Maxilla went dark after defecting, and this is the first time he has shown himself. We’ve got some audio samples too.”
Joseph held the general’s tablet close to his ear and listened at low volume.
“I recognize that voice,” he declared. “The bastard’s using his real name. It’s as if he wants to be found.”
“Maybe, but that’s not the important part.”
The colonel raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean?”
“Two weeks ago, this man, Saul Iverson,” the general pressed his finger to the tablet, displaying a new series of pictures, “filed a salvage claim with us on an object identical to the Stellocation Compiler. That raised a stir, as you can imagine. We put together a plan and responded to the claim. This Iverson fellow has been stalling for almost a week, but he has finally come around to scheduling a rendezvous with us.”
“Has ours gone missing?”
“No, and that’s just it. If this truly is another Compiler, how many are there? And where are they coming from?”
The colonel had nothing to say to that. He fingered the mug of coffee cooling by his elbow.
“Have they made any headway in using the Compiler?” asked Joseph.
“Yes, but that’s classified,” Michaels pointed out. “We increased security on the project as soon as we got this claim. Oh, and there is a reason I’m bringing up your old sergeant to you at this time.
Both he and Iverson just signed on with Rorvin.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly so. Joseph, I need you back on duty immediately. If not for Stratos, I’d pick another team leader and let you finish your leave, but you know that traitor far better than anyone. The fact I won’t have to raise another officer’s clearance for the Compiler situation is a bonus.”
“I understand, general.” Colonel Joseph Boone looked up at the fake sky, and took a deep breath of the fresh-smelling Eden air. No other habitat had managed such quality.
“You’ve got two birds to kill,” General Michaels stated. “I’ll give you as many stones as you can carry.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank my friends and family who have encouraged me in my decision to write. Most of all, I am grateful to Mom and Dad. They put me here on this beautiful planet and have supported me in all my endeavors.
Special thanks to Effie, Amanda, and Julia for their invaluable assistance along the way.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Marshall Davis writes science fiction and fantasy from his home in North Carolina with the help of his dog, Jax.
Find out more: www.johnmarshalldavis.com
Salvaging the Beast (The Fall and Rise of the Third Planet Book 1) Page 9
