by D. M. Pruden
It slides open to reveal a man, with dark, close-cropped hair and a pudgy, childlike face.
“Yes?”
His eyes lock on me and his brow crinkles, as if he tries to recall something. For my part, I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve met somewhere before. We stare dumbly at each other, both struggling with a memory that won’t dislodge and fall in place.
Then a flash of recognition comes to his eyes, and they widen, like he’s seen a ghost.
“Mel?”
All I can think is, Who the hell is this guy, and how does he know me?
Chapter Ten
“Do I know you?” I ask, still unable to shake off the familiar feeling.
He says, frowning. “You rang my buzzer.”
“Why did you call me Mel?” I ask, caution returning.
His expression softens. “You remind me of someone from Terra, but that was a long time ago.”
Terra; a long time ago... I study his face, mentally erasing the years from it, digging to the back of my brain until a barrier falls.
“Owen,” I say.
“Yes, I am he...”
“You’re from New London. You’re an orphan.”
His eyes narrow. “How do you know...?”
I stare at him as the whisper of a memory grows louder. “You lived in a bombed-out warehouse. I remember a bag with oranges and apples...and a ratty old teddy bear...”
His eyes widen. “Oh, my God! You are Mel.”
“When I last saw you, you were this tall.” I hold my hand at my shoulder level.
“And you...were a skinny, know-it-all teenager.”
“I wasn’t that thin.”
We continue to study each other, neither seeming to believe it. A noise in the tunnel snaps the spell. He invites me inside.
The apartment is cramped but comfortably appointed, and the tug of normal gravity grabs at me as I cross the threshold.
“Can I get you something?” Owen asks awkwardly.
“No, thank you.”
The place is a little larger than my cabin on Requiem, but with far too much furniture. He clears the remains of a meal from his table and bids me to sit on a chair.
“How did you find me?”
“Oskar Vostok.”
His back straightens and his smile fades. “Oh, so you work for him, do you? Are you my new contact, or are you just here to collect?”
“What? No! I’m looking for somebody, and he offered your name as a person who can help.”
He presses his lips together and nods. “Who are you trying to find?”
I pull a pad from my pocket and show him a picture. “His name is Carson Willis, or it was when he was on Luna.”
“And why are you looking for him? Does he owe Vostok money?”
“He tried to kill me.”
He abruptly hands the device back to me. “I don’t do vendetta work anymore.”
“What? No, I don’t want him killed. He has information I need about a missing person.”
Owen studies me warily. He asks to see Willis’s picture again.
“What did you mean by ‘vendetta work?’” I ask.
“Certain things I will no longer do for Vostok.”
He pretends to study the image, but he really avoids looking at me.
“How are his claws in you?”
Owen frowns and meets my gaze. “You first.”
I shake my head. “Nothing like that. Oskar is a friend.”
“Ha! Try again. Nobody is simply friends with him.”
“Well, I’m telling the truth. We do business together.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What kind?”
“You’re familiar with how he lives on Luna?”
He nods.
“I... procure certain medicines for the people under his care.”
“You steal for him?”
I frown. “We enjoy a mutually beneficial arrangement. He pays for what I can acquire.”
Owen shakes his head. “He wouldn’t send you to me if that is the extent of your relationship. What else?”
“Well, I sort of saved his life a few weeks ago.”
“I see.”
We stare at each other in silence. A pair of magnetic boots clanks down the tunnel outside.
“What’s your deal with him?” I ask.
He studies some spot on the floor. “I had nowhere to go when the war ended. Vostok took me in.”
“You fought for Luna?”
He nods. “Not by choice; I was desperate to get off Terra, so I joined a group of mercenaries who took a contract fighting for the Loonies. When it was over, I stayed on the Moon—you remember what a shit life we had on Earth, Mel. I didn’t want to go back. I had credits and figured I could find a job helping to rebuild.”
“What happened?”
“Things went okay for a short time. Then the corporations arrived and assumed all the reconstruction contracts; part of Regis Mundi’s grand vision to make Luna a power in the System. All the freelance jobs vanished, and if you didn’t work for the right people, you found yourself among the thousands of displaced workers.”
“Vostok took you in because you were a veteran.”
“Yeah, he needed muscle, and I thought it was an easy way to put cash in my pocket. I had no long-term plan beyond a warm meal and a place to sleep. Before I realized what I’d done, I found myself in deep.”
“How did you end up here?”
“Some of my methods were...aggressive. I became known to the Lunar authorities and drew too much unwanted attention to Vostok’s operation. Since my skill set is useful, he sent me here as his agent.”
“I see.” My memory of Owen is of a pudgy boy, too eager to make friends. I can easily imagine him ingratiating himself with Oskar Vostok. The part giving me trouble is how such a gentle soul became a mercenary and contract muscle.
He catches my expression and shakes his head. “I’m not that way anymore, Mel. I still work for Vostok, but I won’t hurt people for him. Phobos is too small, and the last place I want to end up in is a Martian gulag. I’m staying as incognito as possible and saving up for transit to the Galilean Colonies.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. I do some questionable stuff too. Hell, I steal drugs from my employer to sell.”
He smiles. “What happened to you back on Terra? You just vanished. I thought you died in the bombings.”
“Ah, no, obviously not.”
We share a laugh.
“I met a benefactor. He sponsored my entry into medical school. After the war, I was sick of death and wanted to try something new, so I emigrated to Luna.”
“Things didn’t quite turn out as planned; I presume.”
I give him a half-smile. “Not exactly, no. So, can you help me find this piece of shit?”
He glances at Willis’s picture. “I’ll make some inquiries. Where can I reach you?”
“I’ll give you my CI address.”
“That won’t work.”
I frown. “Damaged in the war?”
“Never had one. One of the reasons Vostok had so much use for me.”
“My ship is the Requiem. We are in berth 50-D91.”
“Okay, how long are you on Phobos?”
I sigh. “That depends on a few things. Our excuse for being here is the cargo we brought, but our motive is that guy.”
“So, your crew is involved in this?”
“Yes, but they don’t know about me meeting with you.”
“Oh? Why not?”
I return the pad to my pocket. “Let’s just say my relationship with Oskar Vostok is something I’d rather not share with my captain.”
He chuckles. “Still the loner, eh?”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m alive because of it.”
“Fair enough; I won’t pry further. I’ll contact you on your ship after putting out some feelers. If your man is here, I’ll find him.”
I stand. “I appreciate your help.”
“The least I can d
o for an old friend, Mel. We were a pretty good team, weren’t we?”
I’m at a loss for words. Back on Terra, I liked Owen but never thought of us as friends. We ran a scam or two together, but we were hardly a team.
“Thanks,” I manage.
As I reach the door, I turn and ask casually, “You wouldn’t happen to know of someone named Umbra?”
He shakes his head. “No, who is he?”
“Oh, just someone who I thought might be from here; nothing important.”
We say our goodbyes, and I leave to find my way back to Requiem. As I retrace my route through the warren of tunnels, I wonder if Umbra is watching me. I resolve to be more cautious about my movements on Phobos and who I speak to. The last thing I want to do is compromise Owen.
Hmm, perhaps I do consider him a friend.
Chapter Eleven
I got lost.
Twice.
It takes me three hours to finally make my way back to Requiem.
If not for the built-in homing tracker in my wrist comm, I wonder if I’d ever have found my way back.
Not that I was worried. The device works both ways, telling me where my ship is and informing Maggie where I might wander off to. Somebody would come looking for me if I was gone too long. Fortunately, it hasn’t been long enough for any of the crew to start missing me. I really don’t want to explain my excursion to Chambers. If Owen comes up with a lead on Willis, I’ll be compelled to get a bit creative about how I come by the information, though.
As I approach Requiem’s berth, I see something that sends a shock through my nervous system.
A crew of longshoremen stand outside our ship, in conversation with Shin and Miller. On the deck between them sits the mysterious cargo I was charged with keeping an eye on.
Shit! You had one fucking job, Destin...
The two burly dock workers seem bored and are arguing with our lads about something. I try to get a little closer to overhear them.
“I don’t care what your story is. The paperwork doesn’t match what we’ve got on record. This is going into quarantine.”
Miller says, “I don’t really give a shit where you store the damned thing. All I need is a signature for receipt.”
“And I told you,” replied the biggest of the two, “only the authorized receiver can give you that.”
“Well, he’s not here!”
“It’s not my problem. I have a job to do.”
“Well, I won’t let you take it without a signature.”
The large one chuckles. “You’re gonna stop us, Tiny?”
Miller is not a small man. He spends his off hours pumping weights in the cargo bay with the ship’s gravity turned up. Given the absence of gravity plating in this part of the docks, a fight between these two would not be a mismatch. I just don’t want to stitch up anyone right now.
“Hey, guys!” I say casually as I approach.
Both Miller and Shin are surprised to see me; I’d left without informing anyone of my trip. The longshoremen just seem annoyed.
“Hi, Doc,” says Miller. “What are you doing out here?”
“Just out for a stroll. What’s the problem?”
“Are you the Cap’n?” the smaller lummox asks.
“I’m the ship’s surgeon,” I say. That always sounds more impressive than doctor, for some reason.
“Close enough. Tell your guys to release this thing to us.” He indicates the box on the dock floor.
“I heard some of your conversation as I approached,” I say, “and I agree with our boys.” I jerk a thumb in their direction. “If we don’t get a signature, it can become huge problem for all of us. You especially, because we’ll need to claim the cargo as lost. You’ll be required to fill out a bunch of insurance forms and meet with our adjuster, and even the authorities if we decide to say it was stolen...”
I am shovelling the bullshit liberally. I don’t know how these things are normally resolved. Shin and Miller are grinning, but they are smart enough to keep their traps shut.
“Listen, lady, I got orders. If the paperwork is fucked up, it goes to quarantine.”
“Oh, is something wrong with it?” I say innocently. “Why didn’t you say so?”
His face grows red. “I did say so. To them!” He points a meaty finger at my crewmates. Miller’s grin keeps growing bigger, and I’m worried he might burst out laughing and get us all hurt.
“May I see?” I ask using the sweetest voice I can manage.
He growls something and pushes a pad into my hands.
After a moment examining the documents, I say, “Well, this should be easy to resolve. All that is necessary is make a link between the forms on the signature line. When the receiver collects it, the event will automatically register on our copy and everything will be resolved.” I return the device and show him.
I don’t know why nobody thought of this, but I am grateful they didn’t. The cargo would be gone to a quarantine locker, and all hope of fulfilling my end of the deal with Umbra with it.
As Miller and the longshoreman start to go over the paperwork, I sidle over to stand close to the crate. Turning my back to obscure my actions, I pretend to examine it while I remove the tracking module from the control pad on my wrist.
I don’t have anything with which to attach the tracker to the container. I realize my problem, and my heart begins to pound rapidly.
Noticing Shin watching me with a curious expression, I scowl at him. Then I see he is chewing something.
“Is that gum in your mouth?” I whisper.
Taken aback, he blinks dumbly at me.
“Give.” I hold out my hand.
Undoubtedly questioning my sanity, he reluctantly spits the chewed wad into his hand and passes it to me.
I deftly push the transponder into the sticky blob then reach around and attach it near the back hinge of the crate.
My job complete, Shin stares at me, dumbfounded.
In my most authoritative voice, I tell him, “Go on; nothing to see here.”
His back straightens and his expression changes to that of a scolded schoolboy. He turns and moves to stand next to Miller, never even casting another glance at me.
The men complete their negotiation of paperwork. The longshoremen pick up the cargo as if it was nothing and cart it away.
When they are gone, I turn to see Shin staring at me.
I frown. “Is something wrong?”
“What did you just do?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think you saw me do something? Are you sure about that? You’re due for your review physical soon, aren’t you? It would be a shame if I found a problem with your eyesight and your contract can’t be renewed.”
He blinks and straightens like I just shoved a metre-long rod up his ass. “I think I was mistaken.”
I nod, suppressing a smirk. “You probably just need a full night’s sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s it. See ya later, Doc. I’m getting some shuteye.”
He turns on his heel and scurries back into the ship.
I can be such an asshole.
Chapter Twelve
I owe Umbra a name.
He gave me a shitload of money and as a sign of faith the lead about Willis. He expects me to honour our verbal agreement and tell him who receives the crate.
In another life, a long time ago, I would have marked him as a naïve schmuck, pocket the cash, and disappeared. Technically, I’m justified to tell him to get fucked; there is no written contract, just his word against mine.
But I believe that would be a life-threatening move.
He knows way too much about me, Chloe, and probably Chambers. He found me on Terra when even I was ignorant that I was returning there. That screams that he’s watching me.
Shit! Why can’t I attract normal stalkers?
At least some fast thinking gave me the opportunity to still fulfill my part of the deal.
“Hey, Maggie, how’s the signal on that transponder? Anything
happening?”
“It is still strong. The device’s location is unchanged.”
Chambers isn’t too happy about the quarantine. Apparently, neither is Singh. I get the impression that this cargo attracts far more attention than either of them wants. I’m sure they are both scrambling to arrange for someone to pick it up, and I’m also betting they will not send the person Umbra is interested in.
In my experience, whoever shows up will be an expendable flunky.
This is not really my problem. All I agreed to do is provide a name of whoever receives the shipment. A quick review of the paperwork will allow me to pass on the undoubtedly false identity to Umbra. My obligation will be fulfilled according to a strict interpretation of the agreement. If he’s honourable, he’ll pay me the other half of the agreed sum. If not, there is still a lot of money in my account. Our relationship will be ended, along with any other information he can supply me about Nan, but there is no verification of his initial claim that she was brought to Phobos. It’s probably a lie he told to hook me.
That is, of course, if he is honourable. Anyone with the resources at Umbra’s disposal will not go away, especially after seeing I can be bought. He’ll try to threaten me next.
The buzzer sounds, and the med-bay door slides open.
“I hope I’m not interrupting you,” says Chloe. “Time for my shot.”
“Right,” I say. “Come in and take a seat.” I pat the examination table, and she hops up on it.
“Did Chambers learn anything?”
My back is turned to her as I prepare the injection so she can’t see me blush. “I didn’t talk to him today. Ask him.” I turn back to her, hypo-spray in hand and a fake smile on my face. “Besides, aren’t you bankrolling this expedition with your trust fund? He should be giving you regular updates anyway.”
“Perhaps I should ask him,” she says, “but Nan is his sister, so he’s trying his best. It won’t be helpful for our relationship if I’m a pest.”
My smile becomes genuine. “I encourage you to pester away. Then I won’t be the only annoying person in his life.”
“You’re a valued member of the crew, Mel. Who am I? The spoiled rich bitch he’s forced to put up with because I hired him. I’d rather not stress things; at least not this early.”
