The Jovian Run: Sol Space Book One (28 page)

“That your engineer that I met earlier?” Ducard asked as he began to assemble a list of possible candidates for the repair team on a smaller surface in front of him.

“That’s her.”

“How’d she lose her foot?” The question had was asked in an offhand manner, but Templeton glanced at him sharply. The other man was still intent on building the repair team on his surface.

“I don’t know.” It was only half a lie. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Saw it when she climbed out of the hatch. Not too common to see injuries like that. Space tends to kill you when it hurts you.” He seemed satisfied with his list. He indicated the names with a hand and added, “I’ll contact these men and women and see what we can get together.” As he took a step away, he said, “I’ve really got to get back to work. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Templeton thought the other man had turned a bit frosty, perhaps sorry he had said anything about Dinah’s foot. “Actually, there is. I’ve got a crewman in need of a job; what have you got in the way of mind-numbingly repetitive tasks requiring little to no intelligence?”

Dinah Hazra walked down the same paths in Cronos Park that Templeton and Ducard had walked only a few hours before. The fountains burbled charmingly, and the recorded birds sang a pretty song, but her goal was not relaxation. Having obtained directions from one of the hosts in the office outside
Gringolet’s
receiving room, she was headed to the official cluster of buildings that housed the EVA office, supplies and requisitions, hospitality management, and communications, among other things. Once she exited the park, she quickly made her way past the EVA office and to a broad three-story building made of cut stone. The door was glass, and it said simply
Communications
. Through the pellucid portal, she could make out a reception desk manned by a bored looking young man. She glanced down the slim street in either direction, making note of a man appearing from the EVA building, then looked up. From her narrow view of the cylinder above her, she could make out part of the central elevator mechanism that filled perhaps twenty percent of the total station’s volume. A portion of the far side of the station was also visible, and Dinah could see a few people walking back and forth. She had been in stations like these before, but the effect of watching people walking on the ceiling was still a bit disconcerting. She opened the door and walked inside.

Three minutes later, Dinah was admitted to a large room of cubicles on the second floor of the building. The man from the reception desk pointed towards the far wall and said, “Over there,” then left to resume his position. Dinah walked past the half dozen or so coms personnel on duty at the moment, most with large can headphones on. They were all working on surfaces on their desk. She assumed they were parsing data into separate files, sending messages to various ships and stations, and perhaps reading and censoring personal letters. The whole organization had a military feel to it. It was familiar, and she knew how it worked.

A moment later she was standing behind the man she had come looking for. He was typing away at his surface, just as the others were. She could see that he was black and he seemed tall, though it was difficult to tell since he was seated. His head sported thick hair that stood out at various angles. She was about to tap his shoulder when he turned around and looked up at her. His eyes were widely spaced, his lips full, and he had a strong chin. She did not recognize his face.

“You’re Overton,” she said his name as a statement, not a question.

He stood up, tall indeed, and spent a moment searching her face. “Sir?” he asked speculatively.

Dinah nodded. “Good. How did you know?”

His face broke into a grin, revealing straight white teeth. “Well, you wanted me to hear you walk up behind me. I could tell you were making noise on purpose, which meant if you didn’t want to be heard, you wouldn’t have been.” She did not reply, so he continued. “You’re not an assassin, so I figured you were a soldier. No accent, so I assume United States military. Marines?”

“For a while,” she replied vaguely. “How did you know I outranked you?”

He was thoughtful for a second. “The way you spoke, like you were about to give me an order. I don’t know who you are, sir, but you know who I am, and that you outrank me. Or you did. How did I do?”

“Excellently. I can see why you’re a communications officer.” She offered her hand.

He shook it vigorously. “Yeah, great ears.” He pointed to his left ear with his other hand. “Not a bad way to make money out in the world. When did you get out?”

“A few years ago,” she replied, releasing his hand.

“Was it the foot?”

“In part.” Around most people, Dinah was uneasy discussing her injury. She was uncomfortable because they were uncomfortable. If they found out, they put on sympathetic faces, asked questions as delicately as they could, winced as though they could somehow feel her pain, and generally treated her as though she were still bleeding. By contrast, there was a direct and unassuming nature that most military types adopted after a few years in the service that she enjoyed, and it was a relief to answer without having to hear how sorry someone was.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume that your vague answers are for my benefit and not yours,” he said and indicated an empty chair tucked inside his cubicle.

As she took the seat and he returned to his, she said, “You’re not wrong.” She leaned back in the chair comfortably and laced her fingers over her flat stomach.

“Just tell me one thing. Who was your drill instructor at boot?”

“Gonzalez, same as yours.”

The grin returned. “So I could do that thing that people always do, where I ask you something about Gonzalez that’s not true, and you correct me to prove that he really was your drill instructor, but why don’t you just tell me something that only one of his squad would know.”

Dinah allowed herself a bit of a smile. “His breath was awful, unless he’d had steak the night before, then it was really horrific.”

Overton burst out laughing. “It’s true. Bastard must have never brushed his teeth.”

“We had this theory that he did it on purpose, just to make it worse when he was yelling in your face.”

He laughed again and pointed at her. “That’s a good theory. Probably true.” He let out a satisfied sigh. “It’s good to talk to someone from the service.”

“Likewise.”

“There are a few of us scattered throughout the station. We try to get together every week or so for cards or something. You must be off that ship that just docked. Any other military types onboard?”

Dinah shook her head. “Nope.”

“Too bad. I’d say you’re older than me, so I probably had Gonzalez in boot more recently than you did, and I don’t know you. So that leaves one question: how did you read my file? Hard to imagine you hacked station security, especially in the few hours since you docked.” His smile still lingered, and his questions carried the air of curiosity rather than suspicion.

“I read it three weeks ago, before we left Mars.” Her answer was flat.

“Ah.” He thought for another moment. “You were looking for a friend here, someone you could trust. I don’t blame you. Working for an energy company is like working for the military, only they’re more efficient and far more ruthless.” He continued his speculations. “So you either knew you’d need help when you got here, or thought you might and were just doing your homework. I’m curious which it is, though I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“It was just in case.”

“So something’s happened since you left. Word is that there might be some extra money for people willing to do some work on your ship. Does it have anything to do with that?”

“Yes it does.” She nodded once.

“Well,” he sat up a bit in his seat and fixed her with a more serious look, “how can I help, sir?”

Dinah sat forward, her hands still clasped, her elbows resting on her knees. They were perhaps half a meter apart. “I know there are some former military personnel in administration on Titan Prime. I need to know if a ship docked there, or anywhere else in around Saturn.”

“That’s all?”

“Not quite. I need to know if they docked, what their status is, and most importantly, when they plan to leave. I also need to know if those plans change.”

“That ain’t nothing. They followed you out here?” It wasn’t really a question, but Dinah nodded anyway. “Are you looking to have a piece of action done? Because I can’t be part of that.”

She shook her head even as he spoke. “No, I just need to know. It’s really just confirming intelligence, but I need to know if they’re going to follow us home.”

Overton thought for another few moments. “I might be able to help out. Flight plans aren’t public knowledge, but they’re not exactly top secret either. It’ll be easier if they put in at Titan Prime, but that’s certainly not the only option. There are about a dozen moons with refueling stations out here, and most are equipped to receive and sell to commercial flights. What’s the ship?”

“It’s a Hemlock class armed transport called The
Doris Day
.”

“I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you. Let’s meet at
Saturn’s Satyr
tomorrow night for a drink, say about twenty?”

The slight smile ghosted across Dinah’s face again. “Sergeant, are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes, sir,” he quipped, his smile broad.

Chapter 16

Saturn’s Satyr
was a corporate approximation of a quirky, independently owned bar and restaurant. The theme, someone’s idea of a Greek forests inhabited by dryads, nyads, fauns, and satyrs, didn’t really make sense, but in the ten days since they had docked, it was one that Staples had come to appreciate nonetheless. The walls were decorated tastefully with trees, and a few exhibited three-dimensional pieces of pseudo-bark on them. Contributing to this illusion was an array of real and fake trees and shrubs strategically placed about the dimly lit dining and drinking establishment. Here and there mischievous painted eyes peered out from the hollow of some tree or deep in a plastic shrub. The overall effect was kitschy, but also managed to be charming.

              Since it was designed to serve a station that operated around the clock,
Saturn’s Satyr
never closed. It transitioned smoothly from serving drinks to providing breakfast at about four. Now, at quarter past eight, the captain and her first mate sat across from one another partaking of a passable breakfast of eggs, beans, and vegetables. Staples and Templeton were seated at a green table that had no doubt impeccably matched the green of the walls when the place was first constructed, but time and a tide of alcohol had faded it to a more unnatural shade. While the food wasn’t great, Staples was at least grateful for the coffee, which was excellent. She had to hand it to massive companies like Libom; they knew where to spend their money for maximum worker productivity. She was just beginning her third cup when a movement at the door caught her eye.

              Templeton followed her gaze over his right shoulder and spied Evelyn Schilling standing at the door. The engineer wore jeans, a faded band tee shirt, and her hair was held back from her face in a messy bun. She wasn’t wearing any makeup; her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks flushed. It was the most unkempt either of them had ever seen her. When her eyes alighted on them, she did not smile, but hurried over. She crossed the mostly empty restaurant quickly, several pairs of eyes following her from the bar, and dragged a nearby chair up to their table. It made little sound on the stained carpet, and she nearly collapsed into it.

              “Evelyn?” Templeton asked, concern in his voice.

              “What’s wrong, Evelyn?” Staples nearly spoke over the man.

              The computer scientist’s brown eyes were wide, and up close, Staples could see that the woman had been crying. Evelyn looked at her, then shook her head. She seemed overcome with emotion. She sat still for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them, the tabletop, and occasionally the other patrons, most of whom had gone back to their meals or coffee. Staples decided to wait her out, and Templeton followed her lead. Finally, she took a great sigh and opened her mouth.

              “I think something is wrong with me.” Her voice quavered.

              Staples spoke slowly and clearly. “What do you mean?”

              Before she could respond, the screens in the corners of the room flared to life and suddenly everyone was looking at Davis Ducard. Only his head and shoulders were visible, and a zippered black work jacket hugged him at his throat. Evelyn took one look at him and all of the energy seemed to go out of her. She put her head in her hands, and then she was the only one not watching the station’s second-in-command speak.

              “Cronos Station.” His voice carried loudly throughout the room. Staples thought she heard an echo of it float in through the front door, and several of the workers moved to silence their watches. He looked deadly serious, and the tenor of his voice matched. “It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that Station Commander Gordon Laplace died last night.” There were gasps and whispers from the other diners, and Staples and Templeton looked at each other in alarm. Evelyn continued to stare at the tabletop, her knuckles white against her fiery hair. On the screen, Ducard drew a deep breath, and then continued. “Doctor Stewart has ruled the death as the result of natural causes. He died of a heart attack in his sleep. We have every reason to believe it was peaceful.”

              “Then that’s about the only peaceful thing he did,” one of the men at the bar muttered to a woman next to him. She shushed him, her attention on the screen.

              “I would like to ask everyone to observe a moment of silence for the deceased,” Ducard continued, then bowed his head and closed his eyes. Most of the other people in the room did the same, and Staples traded another look with her first mate, then regarded the top of Evelyn’s head. In the silence that followed, the woman stifled a brief sob, and for a moment Staples thought she was going to begin crying, but she maintained her composure.

              “Thank you. This is a terrible loss, but you all know that the Commander was a believer in hard work. He would have wanted us to continue the best we could. I will be filling in as Station Commander until the company sorts things out. Details on services will be forthcoming, and grief counselors are available in the medical area.” Ducard looked as though he were going to say more, but then he just nodded gravely and the screen went dark.

              The noises of discussion in the restaurant began immediately. “Evelyn,” Staples said, placing her hand on her freckled forearm, “I think we need to talk, and not here. Will you come with me to
Gringolet
?” Evelyn nodded, and finally looked up to meet the other woman’s eyes. She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Don?” she asked, and Templeton immediately nodded and motioned to the waiter for their check.

              “I’ll see you on the ship, Captain,” he said as he produced his wallet. The two women stood up, leaving Staples’ half-eaten breakfast on the table. Staples swung Evelyn’s chair back into place, and together they walked out. Only a few of the patrons watched them leave.

              Twice Evelyn began to speak on their walk back to the reception room and the ship beyond it, but Staples gently asked her to wait. They were nearly halfway back when the captain noticed her chief engineer striding purposefully in their direction. To the best of her knowledge, Dinah had not been sleeping on the ship the last few nights, but she seemed to be coming from that direction this morning. When they met, all three of the women stopped walking. Dinah briefly regarded Evelyn, who seemed to be further from tears than she had been since she had entered
Saturn’s Satyr
, then turned to Staples.

              “We need to talk, sir.”

              After a quick glance at the distraught computer scientist, Staples said, “We saw the announcement, Dinah. We know about Laplace.”

              “Not about that, sir.” She looked around, but no one was nearby. “I have intel.”

              “Can it wait?” She thought that Evelyn might insist on waiting herself, but when she did not, Staples judged that the woman really needed to speak her mind.

              Dinah thought for a moment. “It can, sir, but not too long.”

              “Okay. Come see me in my quarters in half an hour, and bring Don with you. He should be a few minutes behind us, headed for the ship.”

              Dinah nodded and strode off the way they had come.

              Ten minutes later, Clea Staples and her erstwhile passenger sat across the wooden table in her quarters yet again. It seemed to her that she had spent an inordinate amount of time here lately, and for the first time since she had bought
Gringolet
, she considered converting one of the unused rooms into an office.

              “Now, Evelyn, please talk to me.” Staples was leaning forward, her arms folded on the table. “How did you know Laplace had died before everyone else?”

              Evelyn slumped in the chair, gazing off at nothing in particular, her heart-shaped face still flushed and her nose red. “Because I woke up next to his body.” Staples did not react. Evelyn looked at her dubiously. “You knew I was sleeping with him?”

              She shrugged and inclined her head. “It occurred to me as a possibility once Ducard made his announcement. Why else would you be so upset?”

              “I suppose that makes sense.” She plucked a tissue from a nearby box that her host had provided and blew her nose.

              Some silence followed, and finally Staples offered, “You seemed attracted to him from the start,” in hopes that the other woman would begin speaking.

              She laughed a little bit. “No accounting for taste, I guess.” She put the tissue down lightly on the table. “He isn’t my usual type, I’ll grant you, but there was something about him.”

              “You’re not the first person to be attracted to people in power, Evelyn.”

              She shook her head. “I don’t think that was it. At least, that’s not usually my thing. Confidence, yes, but not power so much. I don’t know, maybe it was. I was definitely his type, I’ll tell you that.”

              Staples thought there was something here, and she seized on it. “What do you mean?” The man had been aloof and hardly genial. It was hard for Staples to imagine him as a sexual being, but of course, she had met him only briefly.

              “Well, I flirted with him here and there when we spoke, and after a few days, he asked me out. When we talked, he admitted that he had a soft spot for red hair and freckles. He said I was really beautiful.” Staples tried to picture Laplace as charming or complimentary and failed. “Just his type, he said.” She smiled warmly, reminiscing. “I slept with him that night. I didn’t love him or anything, but he could be really sweet at times.”

              “Evelyn, I am so sorry. It must have been terrible to wake up like that.”

              “It was. It really was.” She looked traumatized, as well she might, Staples thought. Anyone would be, waking up next to a cooling body, let alone one they had made love to a few hours earlier. “My alarm went off at seven and I rolled over to touch him and he wasn’t warm.” Staples thought about sleeping next to a dead lover for several hours and suppressed a shudder. Then she frowned.

              “Wait a minute. Seven this morning?”

              She nodded again. “My shift starts at eight.”

              “I’m not a doctor, but that’s a really short amount of time in which to conduct an autopsy.” She winced at her own statement. This was hardly the time to pursue this line of questioning, she thought, but Evelyn did not seem overly upset by it.

              “You know, you’re right. I am a doctor, though obviously not an MD, but that does seem really fast to determine cause of death. I guess it makes sense; he did tell me he had had some heart trouble, so maybe the station’s doctor just assumed.” Even as she said it, it was clear that she didn’t believe it, and Staples shook her head.

              “Medical doctors don’t make assumptions about the untimely deaths of Station Commanders, at least not in my experience. Not that I have experience with this, but-”

              The other woman cut her off, not unkindly. “I know what you mean.” Her face had taken on a speculative cast, and she was clearly thinking the whole thing through as well.

              “Curiouser and curiouser,” Staples said absently. There was a knock at the door, a quick rap that was almost certainly Dinah. Staples opened the door; her first mate and chief engineer stood outside. “I’m going to need a bigger room,” Staples muttered.

              A minute later, Staples’ chair was occupied by Templeton, and she sat on her bed. He had objected of course, insisting that she should remain seated, but it was difficult with Dinah preferring to stand, and Templeton wasn’t about to sit on his captain’s bed.

              “Sir, are you sure that this shouldn’t be private?” Dinah asked the captain. She turned to Evelyn and added, “No offense.”

              “None taken. I can go if you like.” She made to rise, but Staples waved her down with a hand.

              “Evelyn can stay. I trust her, and I’d just as soon she not be alone right now.” Evelyn sat back down, looking grateful for the continued company.

              “As you wish, sir. I conducted the investigation you requested. The
Doris Day
was hangared at another mining station, a small one operated by Suncorp.” No expansion on this was necessary. Suncorp was a power and fuel supply company, smaller than Libom, but competitive nonetheless. “They refueled, took some limited R and R, and left two days ago. I just got word. They were headed to Mars.”

              “So they just followed us out here,” Templeton reasoned. “They don’t care what we do now. Unless they’re gonna wait for us out there.”

              Staples shook her head. “I don’t think so. There is way too much space between here and Mars. We could slip by them without even trying. No, whatever they were up to, I think it’s finished now. Thank you, Dinah. That is valuable information. You’re sure of the source?” She knew better than to doubt the woman, but she couldn’t resist the chance to learn where the engineer had been spending her nights. Dinah simply nodded, disappointing her. “I assume that’s not all you have to say. It’s important, but it’s not pressing. What’s going on?”

              Dinah glanced at Evelyn briefly, who was staring at the wall, her eyes still wide. “It’s about the Station Commander, sir.” Evelyn seemed to tune back in, and turned to focus on the woman standing in front of the door. “He and the second-in-command, Ducard, didn’t get along. They put on a good face for guests and the workers, but there are rumors. They apparently fought a lot about how the station should be run, the risks the workers should take, that sort of thing.”