by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
The Shikkeron drifted alongside the OjibSheannon, which was tied up to the MoonDust. For two days, Darla had busied herself pouring over all the pictures and other evidence collected at the crime scene. Before arriving, the major sent a request for detailed autopsies to be completed on all the crew and passengers, as well as the lone Stasis pirate. Now she was preparing to enter the ‘belly of the beast’ to personally view the results of such a murderous meal.
Ardon was also suiting up to go. Darla had tried to dissuade him. “The hold of that ship hides things too evil for me to describe. Only have the bodies been removed. Everything else remains as it was. For three days, the life supports systems went wild, with temperatures exceeding one hundred-thirty degrees. This, combined with the weightlessness induced by the destruction of the gravity machines, has produced a chamber of gruesome gore few have seen, except say, on some horrid battlefield. As the MoonDust pitched and yawed, the mess of destruction slid and bounced around the rooms. From floor to ceiling, the ship reeks with the sights of slaughter.”
But Ardon could not be dissuaded. Soon he found himself advancing into the tiny chamber just past the hatch. Suited up as if they were entering a ‘hot’ room, Darla and her team progressed along the pitch-black corridors. They stopped from time to time, taking notes or flashing pictures. The only other light was that of filtered lenses on each person’s helmet. The filter altered the colors of reality, reducing the graphic visuals to a manageable level. Even with the odorless air of the suit and the filtered light, Ardon was hard-pressed to keep from getting sick. He was glad that he had listened to Darla’s advice and not eaten any food this day.
Darla’s team members were masters at forensic research. For hours, they probed the ship from stem to stern. Blood, tissue and air samples were taken throughout the hold. Even the ventilation system was partially disassembled and the interior linings scraped for residue. Picture after picture froze in time the madness committed against innocent people. Everyone busied themselves at the assignments given. Ardon was astounded at the depth of professionalism and amount of expertise each and every team member displayed. Darla’s leadership went unquestioned. One would think she did this kind of work on a daily basis.
When the primary work was finished, the team coated the walls and floors with some sort of florescent chemical. After the proper wait, they traversed the ship again, this time to find the invisible - foot and hand prints, dried saliva, threads from clothing, etc. More notes and pictures were taken until, Ardon thought, they must have a million by now. As the day wore on, Ardon watched the team do acid tests, smoke tests, even polarized light tests, all to help provide his people with an accurate picture of what happened aboard the MoonDust.
As the people gathered their evidence, Ardon stood back and watched, often finding himself in the way. No one fussed or complained, a gentle nudge being the worst insult he received from anyone. A renewed shame grew within him while he watched these faithful attendants carry out their gruesome task. For far too long he had echoed his wisdom at the councils, pressing his opinions in the decisions made, considering the soldiers’ role as secondary and of minor importance. How little he had understood about the training and skill - not to mention the dogged determination - that it had taken to provide what, at times, he had considered skimpy information.
Finally, after an exhausting day, Darla’s team retired to the OjibSheannon to compile and catalog all the evidence. For the next forty-eight hours, the entire forensic team labored at this duty, catching only snippets of sleep and eating on the run. Ardon looked on in amazement. The diligence of the team aboard the MoonDust was nothing compared to the hustle and bustle on the little cutter. Every available ward and stateroom - even the galley was commandeered to quicken the needed duties to finish this task. Laboratories were set up on both the OjibSheannon and Shikkeron while other samples were prepared for transport to the fleet via a fast packet boat waiting close by.
When all the initial analysis was finished, Darla gave orders to her Marine captain on the OjibSheannon to do a circuitous patrol of the moons and asteroid fields near the calculated location of the initial attack. She also warned them to take no chances and, if things became tenuous, abandon the search and continue on patrol. The major then boarded the Shikkeron and requested Captain Bedan ‘make smoke’ for the fleet. She brought along copies of all the research, pictures, samples, and chemical analysis to pour over on the trip.
Darla spent the following four days buried in the mountain of evidence, searching for facts and reasons. For most of this time, Ardon found himself used for little more than errand runner. The hours often dragged at times as he watched others hunched over seemingly innocuous pictures and meaningless reports. Once in awhile someone would scratch a hasty note or make some excited exclamation. After exhaustive efforts, Darla and her team had compiled a probable scenario.
As soon as a solid conclusion had been reached as to the real fate of the MoonDust, Darla hurried to the communications room and requested the following coded message be sent, while not identifying vessel or location. “The moons of Chrusion cast a shadow on the waxing tide.” When asked if there was to be any additional information to send she said “no”, other than to repeat the broadcast each hour until an acknowledgment was received from the fleet command. The duty officer quickly coded the cryptic note and began the transmission.
It was nearly twelve hours before an incoming cryptic reply was received from the Oruomai, the fleet’s flagship, which, when decoded, read, ‘The Western Star should sail home.” The duty officer jotted down the message and rushed to deliver it to Darla. He also gave a copy to Captain Bedan. After reading the communiqué, Bedan hurried to the Marine command room to ask the major what this was all about.
Darla smiled. “Captain, as per the request of my colonel, and also the admiral, ordering me to make contact when our investigation was completed, I sent an encrypted message confirming that it was.”
“Why didn’t you confer with me before sending it?” Bedan asked, in an agitated tone.
Puzzled, Darla answered, “Captain, I correspond back and forth with my superiors regularly, using the standard code as I did this time. I understood it was my privilege to do so when it pertained to Marine matters. My forensic team was ordered by fleet command to gather information regarding the attack on the MoonDust. I was to notify them when we had finished the preliminary investigation. Their response only confirms that they received my message, nothing more. If I have overstepped my authority in some way, please inform me.”
Bedan stopped up short, putting his hand to his head as though in thought. He then apologized. “I’m sorry, Major. I am out of line. You have every right for open communication with whomever you see need, and in the way you see fit.” He hesitated. “…I mean, as long as the ship and crew are not put at undue risk.” He quickly added, “I am not implying such a thing in this case. It’s just, well, out here on the Frontier there is little margin for error.”
“I totally agree with you.” Darla cautiously replied. “As you should be well aware of by now, I have spent many years kissing the stars in the very quadrants of the universe we now find ourselves. It was partly for that reason I was assigned to the Frontier at this dangerous hour.” She sympathized with Bedan’s concerns and then reassuringly added, “Should I believe any of my actions will directly interfere with your authority here, be assured, I will defer to your position as captain of this ship before giving any directive.”
Bedan breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thank you. I so much desire your cooperation in this matter.”
Darla smiled wearily then begged her leave because of the great deal of work she needed to finish before reaching the fleet. Bedan returned to the bridge, the major listening to his footsteps as they echoed away down the hall. For the first time, she began to feel uneasy about things. Bedan was usually very cordial an
d kind, but ever since leaving the MoonDust he had become more reserved when in her company. Could it be that he had heard some of the stories regarding the demons hiding in her mind? Was he concerned about the welfare of the ship, fearing Darla to be a potential danger?
The night of her bad dreams came to mind. Crilen undoubtedly confided in his captain about the incident. It was a thing any good junior officer would do. ‘Better to be safe.’ They always say. Maybe Ardon had a talk with the captain. When they returned to the fleet, she would make sure to pass the matter by Euroaquilo. He would be honest with her. If he carried any reservations about her mental health, he would not hesitate to act on it. Meanwhile, Darla would be very careful how she handled matters.
As Ardon had promised, he stayed close to Darla’s side for the remainder of the trip, even sharing her dreams as best he could. He discovered the demon hiding within had apparently developed a personality of sorts, and could feel a seething hatred lurking in the shadows of her mind. It was as though Ardon’s presence angered it, keeping it restrained. Many stories he had been told of the power of Asotos’ mind before Lowenah removed that ability from him, yet the depth of that might was known as little more than myth.
Now Ardon was seeing first-hand a glimpse of what it could do. Here, in this woman’s mind, for nearly six millennia, a monster seed had been growing, gradually taking on a life of its own to the point of having developed some kind of a warped and twisted individuality. No wonder Zadar felt such a strong need to warn his fellow brothers of the wicked dangers he had discovered. But now the quandary he faced: was Darla’s sanity in question, or were there two separate persons living within one mind? Could she contain the evil, or would it best her in the end? ‘When the stormwind dies…’ What was Mother’s meaning behind it?
Ardon stared down at the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. No - no, he would not tempt the Fates. He had promised to see this through. If it cost his…no…if it cost the lives of all the people in order to accomplish what his mother had started, he would accept that. Euroaquilo would know he had shared Darla’s dreams. To him only would he speak. Sanity and logic be damned! For once in his life, he would go by his gut feeling. He would listen to the music in his heart and disregard the warnings in his head. He let out a tired sigh and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
