by N. C. Reed
“They'll tell me,” Sean nodded but said nothing else.
“Can you get me the names of everyone working this morning, and everyone who works in the shops they used to stage the ambush?” Tony asked his father.
“I can,” the old man's voice held a tremor of hope, something it hadn't had when they had come inside.
“Do it, and let us work from that angle then,” Tony decided at once. “No one much knows me it seems, considering how much difficulty I had getting inside. We can move around without so much trouble. Anyone watching will be watching you.”
“You can't be serious,” Roberto spoke up again. “You show up after years, on the very day that Lucia is taken, and think you can just start giving orders around here?” he demanded. “You're a cook on a tramp freighter for God's sake! Flunked out of medical school and went on the lam! Now suddenly we're supposed to just let you-”
“ENOUGH!”
It wasn't the old man, surprisingly. It was Antonia Delgado, her beautiful features marred by anger.
“My daughter is in the hands of Spirit only knows who and you dare to stand here and bring up such trivial things as this?” she seethed at her oldest son. “Pity you are not so squeamish when dealing with your friends as you seem to be with those who draw the blood of your own people, my son. You will be silent unless you have something helpful to add. Do not make me say it a second time.”
Sean had heard only about half of that speech, good though it was. He had missed a good bit due to his shock and surprise at Antonia Delgado's choice of words.
Where most would have said “God only knows”, she had not. Instead she had said “Spirit”.
Suddenly Sean Galen knew another reason Antonia Delgado might look familiar.
-
“Well, your medic was correct in that you have a depth perception issue, there's no question of that,” Doctor Bernard said as he settled in behind his desk. The testing had taken most of an hour-and-a-half and they were now seated in Bernard's office to go over the results.
“Can that be fixed?” Lincoln was almost hesitant to ask. “And is that the only problem?”
“It can be corrected, but no,” the doctor shook his head, “it's not the only problem. Your injury apparently caused a great deal of swelling around your optical nerve area, which your medic correctly reported as well. I have to add that you're most fortunate to have someone as skilled and knowledgeable as he is as a ship's medic. His actions most likely saved you from permanent damage to your vision.”
“We are lucky to have him,” Meredith agreed.
“As I was saying,” Bernard returned to his test results. “Your depth perception issue is being caused by a very slight cataract on your left eye. You likely can't tell it's there it's so small, but when you try to change your focus from close to far or back again, it presents an issue for your optical nerve to try and refocus around what is for all intents a blind spot in your vision.”
“Wouldn't I be able to tell I had a blind spot?” Linc frowned.
“If it was a major one, then yes,” Bernard nodded. “One this small however. . .the brain is a remarkable thing, Mister Simmons. It does everything in it's power to make our lives better so long as it receives the proper nourishment and isn't impaired or injured. Essentially, your brain is creating for you whatever that small cataract is blocking from your vision. It shows you from memory what you should be seeing. When it fails to do that, or is unable to do it, then you experience blurred vision, and I dare say the occasional bout of dizziness, no?”
“Since the incident, yes,” Lincoln nodded.
“Well, removing that cataract should leave you with no further difficulty in that area. It's a simple procedure actually and we can perform it here in the clinic day after tomorrow. Should take about five hours total time, give or take. Your recovery time will be roughly ten days, mostly depending on you. Your vision, once you've recuperated, should no longer be suffering from that particular issue.”
“You did say it wasn't his only problem,” Meredith wanted to celebrate but couldn't. Not yet.
“No, it isn't,” Bernard sighed. “I mentioned the swelling, but in truth, other than the pain it surely caused I can't see any kind of permanent damage from it. There is a possibility that calcium spurs will begin to form at some point in the future around the area where you suffered the concussion. Should that happen then it will be possible that could cause you some problems further along and could also cause you to suffer from frequent headaches. But if that happens, it's at a point much further along.”
“So what is the problem?” Lincoln asked. “The other problem, I mean,” he clarified.
“Well, Mister Simmons,” Bernard smiled slightly. “You need glasses.”
-
Jessica Travers looked at the test before her and realized suddenly that she didn't know a damn thing on that test. Nothing she read made the slightest bit of sense to her despite the fact that she could effortlessly pilot any star ship currently sitting in Porto San Lucia at that very moment.
How the hell can I not know any of this? she wondered to herself. What am I going to do now?
If she couldn't get a license then they couldn't afford for her to be flying and with Lincoln out of action that meant the Simmons would actually need a new pilot and that would put her out of a job, and since the Celia was technically home now, not only would she be jobless she'd be homeless as well, with a fake diploma from a school she couldn't even describe and a failed litany of classes from a university she'd never even heard of before today, so getting any kind of real work that wouldn't leave her basically at the mercy of anyone she came across would be practically impossible, and-
Suddenly she jerked upright in her seat as her mind shut down all of her mental jabbering as if a switch in her brain had been thrown. She could almost feel gears turning in her head as information began to flood her consciousness, similar to a computer downloading information from an outside source. As she sat stiffly in her seat, staring out the window as if she were having an epileptic seizure, she realized with a start that she now knew everything she needed to pass this exam. This insignificant, paltry, a-child-could-do-it exam.
“Miss Trenton?”
She knew every answer to every question on this test. For that matter she knew the order the questions would be asked in and could literally answer them without even looking at the actual questions themselves again. A flood of calming ran through her, seemingly touching every part of her.
“Miss Trenton?”
When had she taken this test before that she could know the questions ahead of time and the order they'd be asked in? She wasn't aware of any eidetic memory tendencies. And she couldn't ever remember seeing this test before anyway, so where had that knowledge come from?
“Miss Trenton are you all right?” the tester's voice finally broke through her mental haze. Jess turned to look at the woman and smiled.
“Yes ma'am,” she assured the older woman. “I'm fine. Just thinking about something test related. Sorry, I was in a bit of a zone trying to recall something.”
“That's quite all right, I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” the woman smiled. “Remember you're on the clock, however,” she reminded kindly. “You don't want to waste too much time on a question you can't answer.”
“Oh, I can answer it I think,” Jessica smiled again. “But you're right. Regardless, I shouldn't be wasting time. Thank you.” With that she turned her attention back to the test and began reading the questions again.
And answering them.
-
Faulks watched as the cargo loader pulled away with the last of their cargo. It was a rare thing for the cargo bay to be empty and she took advantage of it to sweep the entire area and clear away any refuse that had accumulated around and beneath the cargo-tainers in the hold.
She had just finished and was thinking very strongly about a bottle of brandy she had in her hooch when the com on her belt buzzed. Sighin
g, she answered it.
“Yeah?”
“Faulks,” Tony Giannini's voice said at once. “Are you busy?”
“Not at the moment,” she replied reluctantly. I would have been in five more minutes, she didn't say.
“I need a favor,” the medic/cook said flatly. “I. . .something has come up that I absolutely have to deal with and it can't wait. I need you to go and get the girl and bring her back to the ship when her test is over. She could probably make it on her own, but she's expecting someone to be there and I. . .I can't. Not right now.”
“Have Galen do it,” Faulks suggested. “Girl likes him I'm pretty sure,” she added.
“I need him to help me,” Tony told her. “I can't explain right now but I will as soon as I can. I'm reluctant to call the Captain since they may still be in with the doctor about Linc's vision. I wouldn't ask you but. . .I really don't have a choice. I have to do this.”
“All right, all right,” Faulks agreed. “Send me the add and I'll go get 'er,” she promised. “I better get something good for supper some night though,” she added, semi-playfully.
“I'll make that goulash you like so much,” Tony promised at once. “I can get fresh ingredients for it here before we lift, and I'll make those yeast rolls you like to go with it. Promise.”
“Really?” Faulks was shocked. She really had been teasing for the most part.
“Really,” Tony promised again. “And thanks.” With that he was gone.
“Well, just for going to get the girl, that ain't a bad deal,” she told herself as she prepared to close up the ship and venture into town. “Not a bad deal at all.”
-
“You know you're being watched, right?” Sean asked Jerome Delgado as Tony called Faulks.
“I assume as much,” he admitted. “What have you seen?”
“There are three riflemen just off your estate that I saw,” Sean informed him. “Two actually in trees, and one in a building across the street. I suppose they could be police, or they may even be yours, I don't know.”
“The one across the street may be,” Jerome mused. “My security chief, Wilhelm Mueller, is a cautious soul to be sure, and I own the building across the street. I'll check with him and see if they are his. If not, we may have another problem brewing.”
“I assume a man in your line of work has enemies who could run this kind of operation?” Sean asked.
“Of course,” Jerome sighed. “I'm not so bad I like to think, but. . .one does make enemies, even when trying to simply make an honest dollar. Believe it or not, most of my holdings are legitimate, at least for the largest part. I still dabble in certain things that I find. . .useful. But since I've assumed the helm of this operation I've worked to make it more. . .dignified, let us say.” Sean was surprised at the man's forthrightness.
“You are surprised that I would admit so much to you, yes?” the old man looked amused.
“Thought crossed my mind,” Sean admitted freely.
“Talk to my wife, Mister Galen,” Jerome said simply. “You might learn that I know more about you than you think.”
“Excuse me?” Sean's voice had an edge to it now.
“That is not a threat,” Jerome raised a placating hand. “Just free information. Talk to Antonia, Mister Galen. I will contact my security chief. And see what my son Roberto is doing now,” he sighed.
“He disappoints you,” Sean said softly.
“More every day,” the older man nodded sadly. “He is not, sadly, like Antonio. None of them are.” With that the old man departed. Sean turned around to find Antonia Delgado looking at him from down the hallway. She was practically staring at him actually and it made him uncomfortable.
“Ak'eiaha noloe sangre nai' anakaa',” she said softly as he neared her. Sean froze hearing his native tongue roll from her lips. She had just asked him was he a warrior of the blood.
“Excuse me?” he asked in standard.
“Do not pretend you do not know what I say,” she continued in the mishmash language of his home world. “Do not disappoint me.”
“Who are you?” he asked, still speaking standard. He hadn't spoken his native tongue in a long time.
“I am, I was, one of the People,” she told him plainly. “I left to marry an off worlder, thus was shunned by my own family. It was a harsh thing to endure, but I have three sons, a daughter and a good husband who is devoted to me. It is enough,” she shrugged. “What about you?”
Sean looked at her for a moment, considering. She did look like one of the People, that was certain. He wondered if Tony knew?
“Who did you belong to?” he asked suddenly, using their native tongue, very quietly.
“I was of the Crystal Caves,” she replied calmly.
Well, that explained the blue eyes then, Sean thought to himself. Most all of the Crystal Cave people had blue eyes and the trait was a strong one, passed down even when mixed with others in marriage.
“And you?” she asked, an eyebrow raised slightly. “From where do you spring?”
“We are kin, after a fashion,” he said slowly, almost reluctantly. “I am, or was, of the Aridu Perro,” he practically whispered. “My mother was of the Crystal Caves.”
“That explains the eyes, then,” Antonia nodded, echoing his own thought about her. “What made you leave your home, child of Arida?”
“I had enemies, and it was better that I left,” he skirted the truth slightly. “A man is known by the enemies he makes, my grandfather taught me.”
“So mine taught me,” Antonia nodded. “Yet, I am not sure this is a true enemy who has struck my family, Sean Galen. This has a taste of the personal, but. . .I can see no reason for it. My husband is not an unfair man. Harsh at times yes, but not unfair. Despite what others may think of him, he is a man of strong honor. It means much to him. Too much to sacrifice, whether it be for gain in wealth or in power. The enemies he has are inherited enemies for the most part, and most of those respect him enough not to attack his family. This act was done from hatred, Sean Galen. For nothing more than to inflict pain. I am sure they will work to extort something from us, using my daughter as a bargaining chip, but. . .I think it will be for appearances only. I do not think they intend to return my daughter to me.”
“Bring me my daughter, wa'houn,” she said suddenly, again using an honorific that Sean hadn't heard in a long time. “Kill whoever took her and whoever ordered it done, even to the second generation, but bring me my daughter. Protect my son and bring me my daughter. Do so and whatever you ask of me will be yours.”
“I will do what I can,” Sean nodded. “Your son is my friend. One of very few. He has asked me for my help and he will get all that I have. If you think of anything that might help us, call us. He and I are going to this mall, and then to speak to these people who were in the stores from where the ambush was struck. One of them knows. I am sure of it.”
“Bring me my daughter,” Antonia nodded. “And see that my son returns,” she added. “I will have need of him soon, I fear.”
CHAPTER THREE
-
Jessica stretched as she stood from the small desk, looking at the wall mounted chrono. She'd been here for nearly four hours, an hour under the scheduled amount of testing time. Smiling to herself, she indicated to the supervisor that she was finished.
“So soon?” the woman raised an eyebrow. “Most need all the time we allot and then still fall short of answering everything.
“I answered everything, but that's no guarantee that I answered them right,” Jessica shrugged. “I think I passed though, which is all that matters,” she added with a grin.
“That it is,” the woman returned the smile as she entered her pass code into the computer terminal that held Jessica's exam. The machine whirred for half a minute before flashing a small white box on the screen.
“Ninety-one,” the woman nodded. “Well done, Miss Trenton,” she congratulated. “And. . .there,” she hit a series of keys and Jessica cou
ld hear a printer working at the front of the room. “And one more thing here. . .” the woman spoke to herself as she entered another series of code. “And that's it. All done,” she stood and looked at Jessica.
“Congratulations, Miss Trenton, you are now an officially licensed freighter pilot, certified by the Commonwealth Spaceway Authority.”
“Thank you,” Jessica smiled back. “I wasn't. . .I didn't think I did that well,” she affected a stammer. The truth was she knew exactly what her score was when she'd called the woman back. She had deliberately missed enough questions to avoid a higher score that would attract unwanted attention. She wasn't sure how she knew to do that, she just had, and thus she did.
“Well, some of your guesses must have been right,” the woman said over her shoulder as she moved to the printer. “This is a hard copy of your certification,” she tore a series of sheets from the printer. “This is your wallet card,” she offered her a plastic card now engraved with her information, “and this certificate is to give to the freighter you're currently working on since they paid for your exam and certified your practicals.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” Jessica smiled. “I appreciate it.”
“Fly safely, Miss Trenton,” the woman told her and then returned to her work. Jessica made her way out, expecting to find Tony and Sean waiting for her. To her shock and surprise she saw Carolyn Faulks in the lobby of the building, reading a bulletin board. Seeing Jess, she turned to her.
“How 'd it go, girlie?” she asked.
“Ninety-one,” Jessica showed her the certificate.
“Nice,” Faulks nodded. “Doc called and said he was tied up on something he had to do and Galen had to help, so he asked me to come over and walk you back. So you ready to head back now or got something else to do?”
“No, I'm ready now,” Jessica said. “We can head right on back.”
“Okay,” Faulks nodded and the two set out for the Celia. Jessica had to marvel at the change in Faulks since she had first met the woman. When Jess has first stepped foot onto the ship, Faulks had been an abrasive, arrogant bully that seemed to live for making other people miserable. Then Sean Galen had very nearly cut her head off and suddenly Faulks was okay. Jessica had compared it to an Alpha wolf finally exerting himself, letting the rest of the pack know that he wasn't prepared to put up with any more bullshit. Despite being a genuine badass herself, Faulks had gotten the message loud and clear; Galen was much worse than she could even dream of being.
