8.
 At the last moment, as the Inspector’s ship from Blue Star Station lined up for docking a few days after Jupiter’s mishap, several light skimmers dashed out the other side of Survey headed for Geos with a load of Egyptian dancing girls and snake charmers. There were still crews of Albanian carpet cleaners at work, vacuuming the acres and acres of rugs aboard the ship; those could probably be ferried off by a heavy skimmer while the Inspector was busy in another part of the ship, but boy, they’d blown it, Mars realized. No way could they cover up all the evidence of their misdeeds. In a desperate moment, he even considered Vulcan’s suggestion—maybe a skimmer crash—but nah, they were bad, but they wouldn’t murder a Galactic Service officer.
Shortly, Mars stood beside Neptune, the acting captain, at the head of the ship's complement, who stood several rows deep on either side of the airlock port.
Apollo and teary-eyed Juno stood beside the stretcher bearing the intubated and electronically monitored comatose Jupiter. The Old Man would be missed, Mars thought. He’d be transferred aboard the Inspector’s ship for evacuation to Blue Star Station and more surgeries. No more Geos for the old boy. Damn, but why did Diana have to be so good with a spear?
Mars steeled himself as the airlock's inner door slid open with a faint rush of air. Incredibly, nobody as yet had thought up a coherent story. Apollo, Mercury (the Survey's communications expert), and Urania, (the astrogator), wheeled the gurney into the airlock, where ramrod sailors from Transportation Fleet Command, wearing red, white, and blue striped uniforms, took over.
Neptune called “Attention!” Charon tooted three times to hail the boarding Inspector, who would take over as Captain.
The several hundred men and women stood stiffly. Sweat-framed eyes stole glances toward the open airlock.
"Toot once more," a stern voice crackled.
Charon emitted a solitary fweep.
"Thank you." The Inspector was a large, white-haired man. His face had a sort of deep, ruddy glow that conveyed great authority. He wore a purple jumpsuit and carried a swagger stick. "I am your new Captain," his voice boomed, addressing them all. "My name is Inspector Jaw."
"Yeah, and we're the meat," muttered Mars.
"I am also a Senior Civil Servant and Space Officer. Therefore, you will immediately toot twice more."
Charon complied, gladly, fervently. Fweep ! Fweep! he sounded and eyed the Inspector as if to say, "More? More?"
“Good,” the Inspector said, giving the crew a mean look that gave Mars chills. “Order is most important. Everything by the book, every minute of every day. That’s how it will be from now on.”
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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