14
Harris sat in his office, where he’d finished eating his breakfast. He was pissed. He could understand Welles’s frustration, but she was way out of line questioning his order like that. Despite that, he was actually more pissed at Doc for intervening. He knew his lieutenant was just trying to calm the situation, but he should’ve kept his mouth shut. It hadn’t happened before. Even when Doc thought he was being harsh on a soldier, he normally refrained from passing judgment until they were alone. Intervening like that in front of the other soldiers belittled Harris’s authority and he could not have that on his ship.
He pushed his plate away angrily and slumped back in his chair. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Forget it. Deal with it later. Focus on the issue at hand. Find out what happened here. Find out what is going on with those survivors. Find out the truth. As soon as you get to the bottom of this, you can get back home and finish that leave. Thoughts of his son Ty and the basketball game he owed him filled his mind, and he remembered the disappointment in Taya’s voice. He sighed again and swallowed his anger, as the dream he’d had last night resurfaced. He’d been lost in a dark place, breathing heavily in fear, moving his weapon’s light about in the nothingness. He remembered being afraid of that darkness, and praying to find a way out of the trouble he was in. Then suddenly, his light shone on the faces of Sibbie and Etta, who reached out and latched onto him, saying: “Something’s wrong”. Panicked, he pushed them away, and awoke abruptly again in a pool of sweat.
And as he thought about it now, they were right. Something was wrong, here on the Darwin. He just didn’t know what it was.
Leaving his office and shaking the dream from his mind, he made his way into the station and headed for the bio cell in Section Two. As he approached, he saw McKinley and Bolkov standing there, guns by their sides, and Doc standing at the glass wall talking to the four men inside. He decided to stay back and observe, not making his presence known to the others.
“Your initial tests were fine, but I’m not satisfied that you’re in perfect health yet,” Doc was telling them.
“That’s because we’ve been locked up in here!” Logan argued. “Let us out. Give us more food, water, proper beds to sleep in and then we’ll be fine!”
“I just need you to wait another 12 hours to be sure, then if there’s no change I can let you out,” Doc said calmly, trying to reason with them.
“Fuck you,” Grolsh spat. “You sit in here for days. See if you’re fine.”
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Doc continued, holding his hand out in a placating way.
“You don’t understand shit!” Logan rushed up to the glass wall in front of Doc’s face and thumped it with the heel of his hand.
Doc flinched in reflex and McKinley snapped his gun up.
Logan glared at McKinley. “You going to shoot a man in a glass cage?” he asked, in his deep gravelly voice.
McKinley didn’t answer, but kept the gun trained on Logan.
Logan began walking up and down the cell wall, like a tiger in a zoo, staring demonically at McKinley.
“Look, you’ve all got high temperatures, high blood pressure and you’re sweating profusely,” Doc said, trying to use his most calming voice but Harris could hear it tightening. “They’re common signs of a virus.”
Chet spoke up calmly. “Our blood work was fine, you said it yourself.”
“Yes, it was, and if it’s still fine at 1800, we’ll have no reason to hold you any longer.”
“Our symptoms are also that of stress, are they not?” Chet asked. “Wouldn’t you agree that’s more likely the cause? We’ve been in this cell for who knows how long. We’ve got soldiers aiming their weapons at us, we don’t know where our colleagues are and, to be quite frank, we have no idea who you are, or whether your qualifications are adequate enough to keep us in here. You can’t possibly expect us to be calm about this situation?”
“No, but I ask that you do remain calm, or we’ll be forced to consider other measures,” Doc said.
“What measures?” Logan hissed through gritted teeth.
“Logan, if you’re fine at 1800, you’ve got no reason to be concerned. We’ll let you out of that cell. But if you show any aggression toward me or any of our soldiers, things won’t be fine. Do you understand? We’re here to help you, don’t forget that.”
Logan snarled to himself and continued to pace the cell.
Doc looked over at Chet. “Do you understand?”
Chet hesitated a moment, then nodded. “We do. Now, can you help us? We’re thirsty.”
Doc eyed them all for a second, then looked over his shoulder at Bolkov. “Get some water sent up.”
Bolkov nodded, then spoke into his mouthpiece. “Hunter, we need water at bio cell.”
Doc pulled out a syringe and a bottle of fluid from his pocket. “I’ll give you another shot of this. Your bodies should be almost fully hydrated again by now.”
“Thank you,” Chet said calmly, looking eagerly at the fluid.
Harris’s lieutenant studied Logan, who was still stalking along the cell wall glaring at them. Doc slipped on his surgical mask, then walked over to the control panel near the door. He hesitated, then pulled a lever which opened two windows in the glass wall with a loud echoing sound. One small window was at face height, the other larger window was at waist height, to pass things through. Harris noticed a continual fine mist spraying down over the openings, killing anything that had means of escape. Doc turned back to Chet. “Stick your arms out through the gap. I’ll do it from here.”
“What?” Logan’s gravelly voice held a hint of sarcasm. “Come on in, Doc. I won’t bite.”
Chet put his arm through the larger window, and Doc gave him the injection. Chet held his face close to the smaller window near Doc’s face and seemed to be inhaling deeply. The medic eyed him strangely, a puzzled look upon his face. When he was done, Chet stepped back quietly, and Doc reached in his pocket for more syringes and bottles. Fairmont and Grolsh both stepped forward and received their injections. Doc eyed them closely. When they were done, Logan stopped stalking and approached, holding his arm out in readiness.
Doc and Logan stared at each other, as he threaded his arm through the window. The medic filled another syringe with the fluid, tested the needle, then inserted it into Logan’s arm. He injected the fluid, and just as he finished up, Logan swiftly latched onto Doc’s arm and yanked him hard against the glass wall. Thankfully, Doc’s reflexes were sharp and he shot out his hand just in time to stop his face from hitting it.
“Let him go!” McKinley called out, aiming his gun on Logan, Bolkov doing the same.
Logan and Doc stared at each other through the window, their faces millimeters apart. The survivor seemed to whisper something to him. Whatever it was, it didn’t pick up on the headsets and was too low to be audible from where Harris was standing.
“Is that right?” Doc said, eyeing Logan squarely.
“What’d he say?” McKinley asked, gun still trained.
Doc and Logan continued to stare at each other, millimeters apart.
“Boyfriend’s talking to you,” Logan smiled.
Doc gave a steely smile in return and snapped his arm from Logan’s grasp. He turned around and walked away from the cell. “Nothing important,” he told McKinley.
At this point Harris stepped forward and made his presence known. His soldiers glanced over at him, but he noticed that the men in the cage didn’t seem as surprised by his appearance.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked, in his best authoritative voice.
Doc looked at the men in the cell and then back to Harris. “No, sir.”
Just then Hunter came walking in with a fresh supply of water.
“Ah, yet another new face. This must be Hunter,” Chet said smoothly, eyeing the Aurora pilot over. “How many more are there to meet, captain?”
Hunter gave Chet a blank look. Doc took the water and passed it through the misted window to the men, who eagerly grabbed the bottles and began draining them.
“Hmm,” Chet said wiping his mouth, waiting for an answer from Harris. “How many more?”
“There’s enough,” Harris said bluntly, then turned to Hunter. “Follow me to the control room.”
*
“Captain! I was just about to call you,” Smith greeted him, as Harris and Hunter entered the Darwin’s control room. “We’re in the mainframe and we’re downloading the info.”
“Good,” Harris said, then turned to Hunter. “Once that’s downloaded, I want you to go through it and let me know if anything stands out.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter said, taking a seat at the console beside Smith.
“Brown, I want you to get working on the comms situation now. We need to know why Command lost connection with this station.”
“Yes, sir,” Brown said, making his way to the wiring in the corner of the room.
“Smith, you head back to the Aurora and make sure all this info is being downloaded onto our systems. I want a full record on our files.”
“Yes, sir.” Smith nodded and left the room.
Harris leaned over the back of Hunter’s chair, scanning the information that was scrolling across the monitor in front of him.
“There has got to be something in there that tells us what the hell happened here.”
*
Carrie looked around the mess hall. Everything was clean and the lunch was under control. That was the wonder of Command’s stores. A lot of the meals were pre-prepared and only had to be heated up. Colt had left a few minutes ago. She’d followed Smith back to the flight deck when he’d come in for some coffee. Clearly, Carrie was someone she needed some space from for a while. She felt guilty for the trouble over breakfast, but she’d wanted this for so long that to be here now, have it in her grasp, and not be able to do anything, was frustrating.
With nothing else to do, she decided to head to the training room. When she got there she found Packham on the gym equipment.
“Hey,” Carrie greeted her.
“Hey,” she puffed back.
Carrie sat down on the equipment next to Packham. “What time did you finish up? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“About 0230 Harris came and told us to get some sleep.”
“Hey, good job on the docking, by the way,” Carrie smiled.
Packham stopped what she was doing and nodded. “Thanks. Space docking’s the easy part, it’s all about the timing. Launching and landing in different atmospheres, now there’s where you work!”
Carrie smiled. “Oh, to be able to work!”
Packham gave her a sympathetic smile. “Hey, technically it’s a good thing if they don’t need you to shoot somebody, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You want to do some weights? I’ll spot you.”
Carrie nodded. “Sure.”
They moved over to one of the weight racks and worked through a few sets, then moved over to the treadmills when their arms couldn’t take it anymore. Carrie listened as Packham talked about some of her previous assignments on transport routes, flying between Earth, the Moon and Mars. She talked about the different ships she’d flown and what the docks and landing areas were like on each planet.
“So which one is better?” Carrie asked her.
“Which planet is better? To live?” the sergeant asked her. “Oh, that’s easy. Earth. Definitely. I mean, in terms of landscape, the others are barren and bare. There’s a reason why we’ve flourished on Earth. Although, I do kinda like the Moon. There’s something very peaceful about sitting there and looking out into the sky and seeing the Earth floating where the moon should be.”
“Did you like Mars?”
“Mars is very much a frontier right now. It’s like a modern version of the old Wild West. The two colonies are up and running, but it’s still a little rough around the edges, if you know what I mean. It’s filled with geologists, engineers, miners, and tradesmen. There’re no families out there yet, no children allowed. There are females around, but only at about seven to one. And the red dust! It’s like you’re stuck in the desert. You half expect to see a cowboy come riding down the main streets,” she chuckled. “One publican had a sense of humor and named his bar the Red Dust Saloon. There’s a piano in the corner and whores upstairs. It’s hilarious.”
“You weren’t based there very long?”
“Er, no …” Packham shook her head and shot her a strange look.
Carrie waited for the rest of what she thought she was going to say, but nothing came. “Oh … not a good experience?” she asked slowly.
“No, no, the work was fine. It was just, um, more of a … a personal issue.”
Carrie continued to look at her, waiting to see if she was going to elaborate. Packham noticed.
“I was, um … seeing somebody. We were in the same unit.” She shot Carrie a glance. “It didn’t work out. I had to leave.”
“Oh,” Carrie said, looking back at her treadmill.
“Yes. Oh, indeed.”
Carrie flashed her a sympathetic look. “Hey, their loss, our gain. Right?”
“So, tell me about Antarctica?” Packham smiled, changing the subject.
“You ever been there?” Carrie asked her.
“No, but I imagine it’s fairly similar to some of the places I’ve been to in Russia!”
Carrie laughed.
“Sorry to interrupt, soldiers.” Doc’s voice sounded behind them. They turned to see him making his way toward them. “Welles, when you’re done, if you come to my office, I’ve got that work for you.”
Carrie slowed her treadmill to a stop. “Sure.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and stepped off the machine.
“Finish up here and I’ll see you there in a few minutes,” Doc said, holding his hand up for her to stop.
“Yes, sir.”
Doc departed as she grabbed her towel and wiped her face. Packham gave her a questioning look.
Carrie shrugged at her. “Well I guess I did ask for work!”
Packham grinned back, as Carrie threw the towel over her shoulder and made her way to her room to quickly change.
*
Harris, seated at the console beside Hunter, listened intently.
“The last entry is August 24th. A cargo ship called the Belgo left the station —” Hunter told him, as he stared at the screen in front of him.
“Wait a minute,” Harris interrupted. “McKinley said that the Belgo docked about four weeks ago, which would make that around August 10th. Why the hell did the ship stay here for two weeks before departing? Did it break down or something?”
“It just says here that it was delivering laboratory supplies. It doesn’t mention anything about any repairs or problems.”
Harris stood and moved over behind Hunter’s chair. “Smith, do you copy? Over.”
“Yes, sir. Over,” Smith’s reply came.
“Get me the crew details for the cargo ship, the Belgo. Over.”
“Yes, sir. On it. Over.”
Harris bent down over Hunter’s chair again, reading over his shoulder. “What kind of supplies were they delivering?”
Hunter swirled and tapped his fingers over the screen and another window popped up. He began reading it aloud to Harris. “Okay. Various chemicals … the names don’t mean anything to me. Um … vitamins, all sorts of medical supplies. Some equipment, I don’t know what the hell that is used for … and er … er … cats!”
“Cats?” Harris asked in disbelief, sure Hunter had read it wrong.
“Cats, 12 cats. Looks like they came from a company called EnviroWire.”
“Why the fuck did they order a load of cats?”
“Maybe they were lonely,” Hunter shrugged.
“Well, they’re not here now,” Harris said, not sharing the joke.
“Perhaps they got hungry,” Brown teased from the corner of the room.
Harris shot him a look, as he straightened up. “Get me a data transfer for that manifest,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Hunter said, reaching over to a stack of blank e-files. He grabbed one, hooked it into the side of the monitor, swiping his fingers from the screen to the e-file, transferring a copy of the data.
Harris took the e-file pane. “I’ll get Doc to look at this for me and see if he can identify any of this stuff.”
“Now,” he said, leaning over Hunter’s chair again, “can you get me details on their cargo orders for, let’s say, the past 12 months?”
“Yes, sir, I should be able to do that. They have a cargo history here …” Hunter got to work and various screens flashed up on the monitor in front of him. “Right, I think this should do it.” He took the pane back off Harris, and began copying the data over.
Just then, Smith’s voice came over their earpieces.
“Captain, this is Smith. Over.”
“Go ahead. Over.”
“Captain, I can’t access the crew files for the Belgo. They’re all classified. Over.”
“Classified?” Harris asked surprised.
“Yes, sir. All access is denied. Over.”
“But they’re UNF approved cargo crew? We should be able to access that.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Is the Aurora picking up the information we’re looking at here?”
“Yes, sir. The information download to the Aurora is in place. Over.”
“Alright, well, how about you get your ass back here to the control room. Over.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harris let out a long sigh and put his hands on his hips. Why the fuck would their files be classified?
Hunter read through the data he transferred onto the pane, then handed it back to Harris, “Sir … it appears cats weren’t the only animal on their menu. They’ve ordered owls, a heap of bats …”
Harris scanned the list. “Animal parts, too … Polar bear, greyhound noses, pig snouts! Jesus! What the hell kind of programs were they running here?”
He closed the e-file down. “Keep looking through and let me know anything else you come across that seems strange. When Smith gets here, I want him working on the transmissions right up until the power cut out. I’m going to take this stuff to Doc and see what he can make of it.”
*
Carrie entered Doc’s office. “So, what have you got for me, lieutenant?”
“Corporal Welles,” Doc said, looking up from the computer screen at his desk, “take a seat.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk.
Carrie moved over to the chair, eyeing Doc carefully while she did. She had a sudden sensation of entering the Principal’s office.
“Before we start, I just wanted to have a word with you about your conversation with Captain Harris earlier—” he began.
She interrupted him. “Doc, I know what you’re going to say—”
“He’s the captain, Welles,” he shot back at her.
“I know it was wrong to speak to him like that. I just really wanted to sink my teeth into this mission, you know?” She ran a hand over her face. “But … I know I need to learn when to shut up and deal with it. An order is an order, I know that. It won’t happen again, sir.”
Doc sat back in his chair, eyeing her.
She gave him a sheepish look. “Thanks for stepping in before I said something really stupid.”
He ran a hand across his chin. “You know the best thing to do is to get in first and apologize to him. Knowing the captain as well as I do, he’s going to want to have a word with you about it at some point.”
Carrie nodded. “Yes, sir, I will.”
Doc looked at her, his eyes searching hers.
“I will,” she added.
“Okay. Just make sure you keep your head down, corporal. Captain Harris does not respond well to those who give him any grief. You want to get on his good side, then do as he says, when he says it, and do it well … and don’t complain.”
Carrie smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Doc sat forward in his seat again and looked at his monitor. She studied his face. He looked a little tired, but there was something else about him that seemed different. His eyes looked a little heavy, as though he had a lot going on behind them. He reached his hand out to the touchpad beside his console. He started moving his fingers around on the pad, while his eyes focused on the monitor. She watched his hand, circling here and there, his fingers tapping every now and then. Her eyes moved from his hand to his wrist and along to his forearm, where the tendons were jumping about with each movement. She noticed some fresh bruising just above his elbow, wondering where it came from. Then her eyes traced over his upper arm and shoulder, right up to his neck. He glanced over at her and she snapped her eyes to his.
“I’ll just be a second,” he said.
She nodded awkwardly, embarrassed that he might have noticed her looking at him.
“What happened to your arm?” She asked as a means of distraction.
He glanced down at the bruising, then dismissed it. “It’s nothing.”
“So, are we any closer to knowing what happened here?”
“No,” his eyes darted to hers and then back to the screen, “not yet. There’s not a hell of a lot of information available.”
He moved his hands over to the console, hitting a few keys, then grabbed an e-clip and ran it over the scanner attached to his monitor. There was a beep, Doc glanced at the screen, tapped away at the console again, then handed it to her.
“Alright, so I actually lied before when I said I had plenty of work for you to do, but you can get this stuff together for me, if you like.”
“Oh,” she gave him a quizzical look, then smiled. “You lied, sir?”
He smiled back, his eyes moving away from hers, briefly. “I was, ah, trying to defuse a situation between you and Captain Harris, remember?” he said, looking back at her.
“Ah, yes,” she nodded. She looked down at the e-clip he’d given her. It appeared to be a form for a physical, with a list down the side of the items required to carry out the tests. Obviously she had to get the stuff ready for the next round with the survivors.
“Well, thanks for giving me something,” she said.
“I’ll show you where the stuff is,” he stood from his desk.
He ushered her into the examination room and showed her where everything was, then told her to restock the shelves from the medical store across the corridor when she was done. She gave him a nod and set about going through the drawers in the cabinet, pulling out the items he needed and placing them on the cart. She double-checked the labels with what was written on the e-clip. It took her a while to find the fluids he needed, but eventually located them. They were up high in the glass cabinet and she just reached them on tiptoe. She double-checked the list and the quantities on the cart to make sure they were all correct. Syringes, fluids, swabs, gloves, thermometers, BP gear, vitals cart, antiseptic wipes, and scanner.
She flipped over to the last screen and looked at the list of items he’d already used that needed restocking from the medical store. She walked back into Doc’s office. He was at his desk again staring at the monitor, hand moving about on the touchpad.
“Is the store open?” she asked him.
He looked up. “Done already?”
“Yes, sir,” she smiled.
He led her across the corridor to the store, and punched in a code to unlock it.
“Everything is labeled so you should be fine,” he said, as Carrie stepped inside. “The door will lock automatically behind you when you’re done. Oh, and don’t think of stealing anything. Every single item is accounted for.” He flashed her a grin.
“Damn, I really wanted a sick bag as a memento!” she joked.
“I could probably dig your used one out of the trash if you like?” he said with a straight face.
She looked at him in mock horror and he flashed another grin as he walked out of the room.
She turned around and surveyed the small room. It was white and bright and smelt like a hospital, with a few rows of shelves stocked with goods. She began to search the rows for the items used. It only took her a few minutes to locate them all. When she was done, she double-checked the count on the tray. Satisfied she had them correct, she made her way back across the hall to Doc’s office, making sure the storeroom door closed behind her. She entered the office, nodding at Doc as he looked up from his screen. She didn’t want to disturb him so she headed straight back into the examination room to start putting the items away.
“Wait a second,” Doc said following her into the room. “I need to double-check those.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s alright. Normally Louis and Smith do this. It’s standard practice that all items are checked by a second party. Can I have the list, please?”
She handed over the e-clip and he began scanning. He looked up from the list to the items on the counter a few times, counting them. He looked back down at the list again and winced.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, moving to stand slightly behind him, so she could read the list too.
He shook his head and looked down his shoulder at her, still wincing.
“What?” she asked.
Then he dropped the wince and smiled. “I’m just kidding, it’s fine. You can put it away now.”
She snatched the e-clip out of his hand, narrowing her eyes playfully, then began to grab the items off the counter. Doc grinned and began to walk out of the room, but she called out to him.
“Doc?”
He stopped in the doorway.
“Thanks for giving me something to do. I appreciate it.”
He glanced down at his watch and nodded. “Even if it was only twenty minutes.”
“Hey, twenty minutes is twenty minutes, I’ll take it,” she smiled.
“Good. Now get back to work!” he smiled back. Doc turned and took a step into the office, but pulled up short. “Captain? What’s up?”
Carrie turned around and saw Harris standing there studying her from the other room. Doc looked between them both. “Er, I’ve got some stuff to do. I’ll leave you to it?” he said, checking for Harris’s approval.
Harris looked over at Doc, then at Carrie again, watching her put the items away. “No, I would like Corporal Welles to leave,” he said, with a dry emotionless voice.
Carrie shot Harris a glance, then nodded. “Yes, sir. This is the last of it,” she threw the syringes into the draw and began to leave, but then hesitated, stopping in front of him. “Captain, I would like a word with you about our conversation earli—”
“Would you?” he cut her off.
“Yes, sir. Perha—”
“Perhaps another time.” He cut her off again, staring down at her.
Carrie hesitated a moment, but then nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said, flashing Doc a quick glance as she left.
*
Harris held the e-file pane at Doc’s chest, before he had a chance to question him about Welles.
“What’s this?” Doc asked, taking it.
“I want you to look at those lists and tell me what the items on there are, and what they’re used for. You’ve got fifteen minutes and then I want to see you in my office.” He looked Doc in the eye, then turned and left.
He could feel Doc’s eyes staring after him. Harris could’ve easily discussed the list in Doc’s office, but after seeing Welles there, yet again, he felt it was time to have a different discussion with Doc. The kind of discussion that was best held in the captain’s office. It was as it had to be.
He’d had many a serious discussion with Doc over the time they’d worked together, but generally Doc was sitting on the other side of the desk on a somewhat equal footing. Today, however, his lieutenant would be standing. Harris would address the issues quickly and to the point. He didn’t believe that Doc would argue or disagree, but they needed to be said regardless. Harris had bigger fish to fry and this was one little thing to be nipped in the bud, asap.
Entering his office, he went straight over to the coffee machine and poured himself a strong, black coffee. He took a sip and then stretched out his back and neck, trying to relieve the tension within. He tried not to think about the dream of Sibbie and Etta. It seemed it have become a recurring one; the two of them appearing like they did. He gave a deep sigh and then went and sat at his desk. He stared blankly over at his bookshelf, running through in his mind the conversation he was about to have with Doc.
His mind began to wander back to the four men in the bio cell, however. He thought about how they’d been angry with Doc that morning. He thought about the Belgo. Why had it been here for two weeks? And why were they bringing animals and animal parts onto the station? Why was any information hard to come by? Was everything surrounding the programs classified, too? What the hell happened to the other five workers? What are the four survivors not telling me? And was Doc right about them trying to work out how many were on the Aurora? Were they just scared of strangers, or was it something else? He recalled Chet asking him about Aurora’s crew this morning, as both Hunter and Bolkov had been new faces to them. Why were they so interested in who was here on the station with them?
Harris’s thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door.
“Come in, Doc,” he said, before taking another mouthful of his coffee.
Doc entered the room, manifest e-file in hand, and stood on the other side of his desk. His lieutenant obviously sensed something was up, as he didn’t take a seat. Harris didn’t offer him one either.
“So what can you tell me about the list?” Harris asked.
“Well, I’m not 100 percent on all the items, but there’s definitely growth hormones, certain amino acids and steroids on here, along with other vitamins and proteins used for strengthening muscle and bones and promotion of general good health.”
“Growth hormones?”
“Yes, sir.”
“For animals or humans?”
Doc shrugged. “They can be used on both.”
“Did you see the list with the animals on it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you make of that?”
Doc looked down at the manifest, scanning over it. “Well,” he began, “Sharley studied hunters of the animal kingdom, so maybe this is some extension of that. I mean, owls and bats, they’re great nocturnal hunters. Dogs and cats—good hunters too. I don’t know, it’s definitely weird. They’re running classified biological programs here. Who the hell knows what they were doing with them. It’s a list and it’s a start, but it’s only a piece of the puzzle. For all we know, it has nothing to do with what happened here. Or maybe the crew didn’t agree with what they were doing? Maybe they believed in animal rights or something? Maybe they got a conscience and took off in the Spector? Maybe these four guys left were the only ones who wanted to go ahead with the experiments?”
Harris nodded. “Could be … I’m still not satisfied, though.”
Doc shrugged. “All we can do is check those labs this afternoon and hope there’s no change, which at least will mean there’s no virus.”
Harris nodded and sat back in his chair. He took another mouthful of his coffee, placed the cup down and looked Doc in the eye. “I want to talk to you about what happened this morning.”
Doc nodded. “I spoke to Welles. She knows she was out of line and I don’t think you’ll have any further problems with her.”
Harris placed his hands into his lap and interlocked his fingers. “Welles was not who I was referring to, Doc. Although, believe me I will be speaking with her at some point. I was referring to you.”
Doc looked a little surprised, but it didn’t last long. “Yes, sir?”
Harris sat forward in his chair again. “You jumping in like that undermined my authority in front of the other men.”
Doc thought about this for a second, then nodded. “I apologize, captain. That was not my intent.”
“No, your intent was to protect Welles from my wrath, I believe.”
Doc shook his head. “Everyone was a little short on sleep, captain. I was just trying to defuse the situation before it got out of hand unnecessarily for both parti—”
“Before Welles got herself into a world of trouble. I certainly didn’t need your protection, Doc.”
His lieutenant looked like he was about to say something, but he hesitated, then answered. “Captain, I apologize if I undermined your authority in front of the other men. That was not my intent, nor was it my intent to appear to be taking any sides. I assure you I was just trying to jump in the middle, sir. I’ll stay out of it and keep my mouth shut in future.”
Harris eyed him for a moment. Doc was a good soldier who generally knew when to keep his mouth shut. Every good soldier makes mistakes and he knew his lieutenant never meant any offense to him when he’d spoken up. It was simply a mistake in judgment.
“Alright,” Harris told him.
“Was that all?”
“No, one more thing,” Harris said, taking another sip of his coffee.
Doc waited expectantly.
“I want you to take a step back from the new recruits.”
Doc looked at him, seemingly a bit lost. “I’m sorry?”
“The new recruits. I want you to back off.”
Doc’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong, captain?”
“No, Doc. I just think it’s time to take a step back … from Welles at least. Packham and Colt are fine.” Harris reached forward, grabbed his coffee and took another sip, eyeing Doc carefully.
Doc’s brow furrowed even further in confusion. “Wait a minute, I haven’t done anything wrong, but you’ve singled out one soldier that I’m to back off from.”
Harris let out a big sigh and rubbed his hand over his face. “Okay, Doc, I’m going to level with you.”
“Please do!” Doc said quickly.
Harris eyed him again for a moment. “I want you to take a step back from Corporal Welles, because I think she’s attaching herself to you and I can’t have that on my ship.”
“Attaching herself?” Doc seemed to be having trouble understanding exactly what Harris was trying to say. Either that, or he was playing dumb. Harris couldn’t decide.
“Doc, let me be very blunt … I think Welles is attracted to you. She’s come on this ship where the other men haven’t exactly been welcoming, and you’ve been the friendly face for her, and I think she’s attaching herself to you because of it.”
Doc stared at Harris, “Wait a second, captain, you asked me to help assimilate the women onto this ship because you knew the guys would give them a hard time. That’s what I’ve done. And now I’m getting shot down for it?”
“I’m not shooting you down, Doc. I did ask you to help assimilate them and you’ve done that for me, thank you. As I said, Packham and Colt are fine. I just didn’t account for Welles having a thing for you, but now I know that’s where we’re at, I’m asking you to take a step back. I’m just looking further down the road on this thing than you are. I’d prefer to stop things now, before something does happen.”
Doc gave a laugh of disbelief and shook his head slightly. “Are you questioning my integrity, Saul?”
Doc was using his first name. That meant the conversation was no longer between a captain and his soldier, but between two friends. He could see Doc was starting to get angry, his jaw clenching up. Harris sat back in his chair, eyeing him. He’d never seen him direct any anger or intensity at him before, though he was doing his best to control it. This was new. He was curious as to why Doc was being so touchy about this.
Harris softened his voice a little. “Doc, she’s an attractive woman. It would be … understandable, if you slipped …”
“Slipped?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Are you trying to tell me that you’re not attracted to her? ’Cause I know you, Doc, and I know your type!”
Doc kept looking at Harris but didn’t answer. There was that line in the sand of his.
“Hmm?” Harris pushed it a little further. “You don’t find her attractive, at all?”
“Are you going to ask me the same question about Packham and Colt? They’re attractive?” Doc deflected.
Harris kept his voice calm and steady, but firm. “No, I’m asking you about Corporal Welles. Welles, who always seems to find her way into your office, or sit near you in the mess hall, and who you seem to feel the need to protect on occasion. I’m not attacking you, Doc, I’m just pointing out what I see. She’s attracted to you and because of that, I want to put as much distance as possible between you two, so that this thing can be quashed. Now, I’m not going to discuss this any further. My order to you is, take a step back from Corporal Welles and keep her at arm’s length. Do I make myself clear? She is not to hang out in your office and maybe once in a while you could sit at different tables in the mess hall. She’s not going to get to know the other soldiers if she’s following you around, is she? Understand?”
Doc clenched his jaw as he looked down at his feet, exhaling deeply through his nose. He knew very well that Harris was having the last say on this. “Yes, sir,” he said, looking back up at Harris.
Harris looked him in the eye for a moment.
“Doc, I’m not just saying this to you as your captain, alright. I’m saying this to you as a friend. I just want to make sure that we don’t let Welles make a huge mistake that could affect you, too.”
Doc’s jaw unclenched slightly. “I understand, sir. It’s not a problem.”
“Fine.” Harris nodded.
“Is that all, captain?” Doc asked quickly. Clearly he was keen to leave.
“No, one more thing.”
Doc shot him a “What now?” kind of look.
“What did Logan say to you at the cell this morning?” Harris asked, eyeing the fresh bruises on his lieutenant’s arm.
Doc’s face softened a little, obviously happy this wasn’t directed at him, personally. “He said it would be a huge mistake if I didn’t release them at 1800.”
“A huge mistake? Why?”
“He didn’t elaborate.”
Harris eyed the bruises again. “They from him?”
Doc glanced down at his arm and nodded. “He’s got a strong grip on him.”
Harris looked at Doc, rolling Logan’s comment around in his mind. “Very well,” he nodded. “Dismissed.”
Doc immediately turned and left the room.