by Ivan Turner
“Okay,” she said. “I’m in. You’ll need a good pilot.”
He was taken unawares by her quick assent, but he tried not to show it. For her part, Dorian went right back to reading the report on her screen. It was almost as if she was dismissing him.
When they touched down, Beckett took Hardy with him and went off ship. Dorian was left in command. He didn’t like to do it. He didn’t trust her as much as he wished he could. If she was lying to him about joining his new crew then he was as good as done. He thought about asking Boone to be her watchdog, but the infantry officer’s indecision made him as much of a wildcard as anyone. Though he’d shown impeccable loyalty, that loyalty could very easily be for the Space Force rather than Ted Beckett himself.
Beckett was gone for almost half a day. He radioed back to Dorian every hour to check on the status of things. The Admiralty had tried to contact them several times. She was sure there were agents in the area and that they had very little time in which to accomplish their goals. He agreed. Unfortunately, what he had to do took time.
When he returned, he called a meeting of all personnel. The only place large enough to hold it was in the hangar deck, which worked well for him. Once they were all assembled, two of his new crew took their places at the entrance with weapons at the ready. He was also armed, as were both Hardy and Dorian.
With the touch of a button, the bay doors began to drop open. Waiting outside the ship were six armed men. There wasn’t one of them under fifty years old. Three of them had served in the Space Force. The other three were from New Earth. Beckett and Hardy had been very selective in choosing these eight people to join their crew. Though Beckett had never met any of them personally, he had been steered toward them by people he trusted.
Not one of the members of the crew of the Valor moved.
“Some of you know what happened on the planet. Most of you know only part of it. For that I’m sorry. That’s the way it has to be. I’m taking this ship. If you want to remain loyal to the Space Force...and alive, you should leave now.”
They stood there in stunned silence, the few people who had not been invited to join him. He watched them, watched their faces. They didn’t know what to do. This mad captain, who had thrown half of his crew off the ship on some unidentified planet was now ejecting half of what remained. They were not traitors. They knew they were not traitors. The doubts passed from eye to eye.
“Go,” Hardy urged. “Whatever you may think, there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Beckett said nothing as those people formerly under his command began to move. Beckett watched Boone very carefully. He could see the indecision in the man’s eyes. Jack Tunsley, too, looked on furtively as the hangar deck began to empty out. He didn’t move, though. He simply watched.
A couple of others stayed, those Beckett had spoken with. Malouf. Zephyr. Klon and Barnes. Winkler looked dazed, but moved off ship. Beckett hadn’t even approached the young navigator. His future was bright. There had been no reason to rob him of it.
When those who were leaving had all filed past the six people at the bottom of the ramp, those that remained satisfied Beckett. Boone was there. Tunsley was there. Bonamo and Massey had both stayed. In the corner, out of the way, stood Rollins and Walker, two men out of time.
“You, too, Doctor,” he said to Cabrera.
“Don’t you need a doctor?”
He nodded. “I do, but I’ll pick one up on the way. Maybe Paul Royce will meet me out on some remote planet.”
“I’d like to stay, Captain.”
He took a quick breath and then swallowed the words. His instinct was to grab her and throw her off the ship. He didn’t want her there. She was a distraction he couldn’t afford. Or could he? Maybe, just this once, his instincts were wrong.
As before, he pressed the button that began the doors closing. The remainder of his recruits leapt onto the closing hatch and marched upward. There were two engineers in the group. One had served in the Space Force and one was a colony engineer for New Earth. Both had fallen out of favor with their respective employers, but neither had a criminal record. Beckett hoped they would satisfy Jack Tunsley.
“Dorian, do we have clearance to take off?”
She looked startled. “I haven’t requested clearance, sir.”
He nodded. “Don’t bother, then. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
Walker Log #5 - Deleted
This will be my last log entry.
Ever.
Cornered, and at gunpoint, I finally understand what is happening.
You are human, from Earth. You are from our future.
Why have you come to kill us?
I am relieved that there are still some heroes among you. Mr. MacDonald has offered to protect me from the captain you sent to assassinate me for as long as he can. The captain who, he told me, has murdered the rest of my crew. Even as I came to, Roger pointing out the marine on the deck as someone trying to protect us from the two who had attacked, I could hear the shouts and the gunshots. It seemed like an endless rattle as that bastard cut down some of the finest people I have ever known.
Thank God for Mr. MacDonald. He has promised to fight for me while I record this final entry and launch the black box.
Roger Rhodes has offered to stay with MacDonald and help.
Make the report, MacDonald told me sadly. Send the box.
So I’m here to send the box. I’m under no illusions about what will happen to me. In just a few words, MacDonald has told me all about this Captain Beckett and what kind of a man he is. That animal will kill us all. I will not give him the pleasure of seeing me beg for my life. I’m not sure I want to return home in a time when its leaders are men such as you.
As a final word from myself and the crew of the Einstein, from the people who gave you the ability to be here in the first place, I send you my despair. But, most of all, I send you my pity.
Black Box Launched – Computer Record Expunged...
Walker, Colonel Nicholas
