|
Page 6.
 Jared awoke from a groggy slumber at the insistent buzzing of a faint, obnoxious alarm.
He rose and walked to the see-port (not a window, but a true repro of a scene outside, broadcast through the ship’s neural skin as if it were a window or porthole).
Outside, TransSpace Station I gloried the stars with gleaming spider-laced expanse.
In the little spacecraft, another buzzer rang. Jared studied the display screen, but it remained a black aquarium of stars.
A voice, damp with electrical sparking, swam in the cabin air.
“Lieutenant.”
“Yes?” Jared replied, watching the stars.
“Sir, with your permission I’d like to hold idling at one-m from TS I. The Commissariat has beamed a message saying they want to send an agent aboard. Will you receive the man?”
Jared shrugged. “Why—yes, or course. Carry on.”
“Very well, sir.” The crackling faded.
Puzzled, Jared straightened out his uniform to prepare.
Stella stirred in her sleep, and he shushed her by leaning over her and brushing her hair lightly with his hand. When she slept, she looked the most human of all—pale, blonde, almost totally visible with the electronic holo cloud at rest. She slept peacefully on.
It was unusual for the commissariat to hold up a UGO ship and send a bureaucrat of some type aboard. Jared paced up and down.
In the transparent pilot bubble forward of the ship, a hand moved efficiently toward a button. A finger penetrated into the brown glow of the flight lights. The surface of the button retracted into the shimmering instrument panel, making a momentary dark spot.
In the passenger compartment, Jared turned off the bed lamp. He found a stack of rations in the refrigerator, and warmed himself a nutritious soup that stilled the pangs in his gut. A shot of caffeinated hot tea helped clear the cobwebs away as well.
“Docking now, sir,” the pilot’s voice crackled. The maneuver was so gently executed that Jared’s vessel did not even shudder slightly. Jared’s eyes rested on a small black corsair, sleek and bloody-red-nosed, which cut off his view of TS I. The corsair was a ship of the Port Authority Police. The black-and-red ship was a reminder of the fiery days before the UGO. The corsair was a police ship, and it stood for trouble.
Jared touched the window, and the cold was like an electric shock.
“Police Commander Thanar Valk is in the passage, sir,” said the pilot.
Moments later, Thanar Valk shook Jared’s hand. Jared invited him into a small room off the sleeping quarters, so as not to disturb Stella. “Will you have a drink, Commander Valk?”
Valk was short and fat. His brown eyes were bloodshot. His black uniform and black leather belt seemed to be strangling him, for his unshaven blackish jowls were puffed out purple. When he spoke the words dragged out between his lips. “No, thank you.” He produced a handkerchief and wiped the back of his head. “I have a spate of bad news, I’m afraid.”
Jared was still being civil. “I figured as much,” he said, making them each a new Menkent Express. He felt woozy all of a sudden, more from anxiety than a hangover. He dropped the lemon-half twice before squeezing it over the glass.
“Lieutenant, I’ve just come from Mercury City, bringing you a message.” He presented digitals. “I’m here representing my superior, Admiral Vodir Llewdollyn actually. We have a new president—your boss, Cyrus Mbe.”
Jared started with shock. “A new president?”
“Just a few hours ago. The brass isn’t saying, but there’s a pretty heavy rumor—if you know what I mean—it’s yesterday’s news that Interior President Liew Chao is dead.”
“Dead? How?” Cold acid seemed to rain inside Jared. What now? Of course this would affect him not only as a loyal citizen and star fleet officer, but personally in the mess of his private life. Could Lyxa ever be far removed from any intrigue? Hardly…
TOP
|
MAIN
Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
|
