Let me start off by apologizing to anyone who has been waiting on this. I've had a personal tragedy recently that demanded my full attention. Pain demands to be felt. As such I haven't had much time for writing or even internet surfing. This week things will slowly be getting back to normal schedulewise. I hope to have the next few chapters written within this week so I can get back to my regular postings. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this next chapter as Marcus falls further down the rabbit hole.
4.
It was with less grace than the extent his abilities could achieve that the cyrostatsis pod was ripped from the escape launcher and dragged with little care to the medical bay. To say Marcus was upset was to say a star was slightly warm. His simmering emotions carried over to his care of the tools he was collecting as he slammed them down on a prep table. He retrieved several vials and an injector from a locked cabinet and being ready to begin the process of reviving the subject, he slammed his hands on the metallic table and hung his head attempting to regain his composure.
What the hell was happening? He had no clue as to why things were cascading out of control. He liked to be in control. He liked structure and routine. It was one of the reasons military life suited him and why, after his tour of duty expired and he could not rejoin, he went the solo life, away from the chaos others tend to bring in a personal life. He didn’t involve himself in affairs of politics and local policy. He didn’t involve himself in causes and crusades. He stayed to himself, alone, running routines he had set in place and planning details as best as possible. And yet somehow, everything had exploded into total confusion. He was suddenly involved in something which he knew nothing about, and the only thing worse that being involved in a chaotic situation was to be in that situation with a total lack of intel.
He turned around and picked up the cryostatsis module and plugged it into the unit. The display came up. T-0:24:43/5:00:00. He needed answers and this guy was bound to have something but it also provided a few problems. He had no good place to confine someone who was a threat. He had no real way of discerning truth from lies. In fact, waking this guy up could cause more problems than he was prepared to deal with. He absently watched the counter clock down as he tried to come up with a solution.
Finally he gave the cryostasis pod a good whack and turn around with a grunt. As he exited the medical bay he called Leslie.
“Leslie, start an inaudiable countdown for the next nineteen minutes and thrity seconds on my mark. Mark.”
“Done, Sir.”
He rounded a corner and made his way back to the cockpit. The hiss of the doors welcomed him as he stepped through and unceremoniously threw himself into his seat.
“Leslie, you got a minute?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Any chance you know what the hell is going on and you aren’t telling me?”
“No, Sir.”
Marcus fumed. He absently began bouncing his right knee up and down as he intertwined his fingers and placed his elbows on the armrests before biting a knuckle. “Leslie?” he asked.
”Yes, Sir?” she responded.
”What do we know?”
There was a moment of silence before she replied. “Nothing of any value, Sir. Everything is pure conjecture except for one fact. We were engaged in diplomacy with one Alliance military vessel over the release of a prisoner, then that ship was destroyed and we were fired upon by another military vessel which we couldn’t detect. This lends itself to only one of two possibilities. There was a stolen Alliance military vessel, or there is a schism in the Alliance military.”
“He is not really a prisoner. Not yet anyway,” Marcus mused.
“I understand, Sir. However for the sake of security while in Alliance space, should we be bordered and questioned, your personal log does make reference to a Coalition ‘prisoner’.”
“Damnit, Leslie!” but the exclamation had no bite. She was right. Though she had overstepped her ill defined bounds as she was often want to do, she was right. It was a precaution he should have thought of himself. “Tactical analysis. Should we wake the ‘prisoner’ or not?”
“I have serious concerns on your ability to adequately confine a prisoner, Sir. However, due to the nature of our current predicament, I would advise both caution and a swift interrogation upon the immediate waking of our… guest.”
Marcus sat in the quiet then listening to the nothingness for several minutes. Dead space. Finally he slowly rose to his feet. “What’s the timer?”
“T minus thirty seconds.”
Marcus just nodded and left the cockpit to the tune of a hissing doorway.
The old man’s eyes slowly opened and a groan rose unbidden to his lips. He turned his head slightly to the left and blinked several times and attempted to get his bearings. Cryrostasis had left him weak and he could still feel the drugs in his system. It was with a great deal of effort he raised his head weakly from the bed and found himself under the point of a beamer held by a stranger. With an expulsion of breath he dropped his head.
“This is how it is going to work,” Marcus said in his most threatening tone. “You are restrained to the bed. I’m going to ask you questions. You will answer the questions. If you fail to answer the questions, I will shoot you. Do you understand?”
His bald head nodded in understanding.
“Who are you?” Marcus asked.
“My name is James Pact.”
“What is your rank and ID?”
“I’m not military. I don’t have a rank or ID. My personal ID was lost with the ship.”
“Well then, Mr Pact, what were you doing on a military vessel?”
The old man closed his eyes and moistened his mouth. The feeling of dehydration after cryrostatsis was common though it was a faux. “I was traveling along the demilitarized zone on my way to Zetty when my transport ship the Icon was attacked by a Coalition military ship. I was the only one to make it to a shuttle because I was taking a midnight walk near the bay when the fight broke out. The Icon was destroyed but they got a few lucky shots in at the military vessel and its life support systems and communications went out. I’ve a background in ship repairs. I was able to restore life support once I boarded but the pilot was dead. I couldn’t get communication back up. I limped my way back here but when I came across a patrol, I couldn’t signal them and they attacked. I defended myself as best I could, but got to the escape pods before they destroyed the ship completely.”
“Tell me,” Marcus continued dropping his beamer slightly, “how is it you came to be in a Coalition military outfit?”
“My clothes were wrecked from the repairs. I found these on the ship and changed into them.”
Marcus looked at the man for several moments before he stood and holstered his beamer. He then walked around the side of the table releasing the locks that held the man’s hands down. Mr. Pact rubbed his wrists and rotated his shoulders several times though it was obvious the cryosickness still made him groggy and slow. He released the leg constraints and then stood back while the old man sat up and slowly swung his feet over the side of the bed.
“Well Mr. Pact, I’m guess this has been some kind of massive misunderstanding then. My name is Marcus and I’ll be more than happy to take you where you wish to go.”
“Thank you, Sir. I just want to get home and forget this whole thing. If we are still near the site you found me, my planet of Sigma 7 – Utho is only a short jump away. If you would, please take me there. I’m a man of moderate means, but I’m sure I can pay you something for your hospitality and help.”
Marcus smiled. “I know the system. I’ll have you there shortly. My ship isn’t large, but let me show you to some quarters. I’ll have to ask that you stay there though. My own ship is a hair’s breath from falling apart and I can’t very well have you wandering about. I hope you understand.”
James nodded and motioned for Marcus to lead the way.
Marcus had already prepared the room for his guest and led him to it. The door opened and James was greeted with a room devoid of anything but a padded bunk. He motioned James inside and then frowned. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you more comfort. Nothing in here works except the bed and the lights I’m afraid.”
James just smiled at him and offered his hand as thanks. Marcus looked at it for a moment. “I’m sorry, I have this… thing about touching people. You’ll have to forgive me again.”
James barked a laugh. “Nothing to it my friend,” he said. “Thank you again for saving me from floating in the space forever. And I’m sorry for inconveniencing you. But if I might, could I trouble you to send a message to my brother on Utho? His name is Colin Pact. Just inform him I’m alright and when we will be arriving.”
“I’ll make sure to do that and it’s no trouble really. I’ll be back shortly with some food. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to get back. I hit some micro asteroids earlier and they got through my shields somehow.” Marcus rolled his eyes and laughed. “If it’s not one thing it’s another.”
James furrowed his brow. “I can help you with that. I’m quite good with shield repair.”
“That’s ok,” Marcus said waving him off with a hand. “I got the shield problem fixed just want to double check the damage and make sure it isn’t anything bad. I’ll be back in an hour or so with that food.”
James just nodded and smiling, Marcus left the room.
The moment he stepped out the door the smile fell from his face. “Leslie lock down quarter Alpha 5. No one goes in or out without my say so.”
”Yes, Sir.”
He marched to the cockpit walked over to the displays by his chair. He punched in a few commands in and then walked over to a cabinet and unlocked it. “Leslie, seal the cockpit with command code Marcus-Seven.” He pulled another beamer out of a case and then closed and relocked the cabinet. Returning to his chair he sat down and put the second beamer in the side pocket of his seat even as he felt the one at his waist press into his side. It was an all too familiar feeling.
He scanned the readout on his right manipulating the data by touch. “Who is Colin Pact, Sir?” Leslie asked.
“I have no idea,” Marcus admitted, “He supposedly lives on Utho and is supposedly the brother of our guest.”
“Supposedly, Sir?”
“Yes. Supposedly.”
“And you have cause for skepticism, Sir?”
“Indeed I do,” Marcus nodded as he pulled up more bio information on a Colin Pact who in no way resembled his guest. His eyes were focused on the screen quickly absorbing the information off the readout while scrolling through it quickly. “Turns out the bastard is one hell of a liar. I’m just trying to figure out if he knows I know he’s lying.”
Post
Sun Feb 03, 2013 3:10 pm
#1
Space Tails: Chapters 4-6
An eye for an eye and the world goes blind, but in the land of the blind the one eyed man is KING!