19
Harris and McKinley reached the flight deck to find Doc and Hunter at the console, with Smith looking over their shoulder.
“What is it?” Harris asked.
Doc motioned for Hunter to speak.
“Captain, I kept thinking about how Grolsh could just disappear like that,” Hunter began, “and I remembered thinking when you guys first boarded the Darwin that it seemed smaller internally than it had looked externally as we approached it.”
Harris stared blankly at Hunter.
Hunter glanced at Doc, then turned around to the console and brought up footage captured from the Aurora’s forward cameras, as they approached the station. Harris studied it closely. It did appear substantially larger than the floor plan suggested.
“Could the extra space just be insulation and purification vents?” he asked Hunter.
“Possibly, but that’s a lot of insulation and shaft space, sir.”
McKinley nodded to himself as he studied the screen. “It would explain where the cat came from. We scanned every inch of that station when we boarded, and other than the four survivors, we didn’t pick up any body heat, human or otherwise.”
Harris looked back at Hunter. “We need to look at this footage and compare it to the floor plans. We need to figure out whether or not it’s possible for there to be a hidden area on the station. I’ll send for Brown and Bolkov to help.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter nodded.
“Smith, you go watch the other three with Louis and Carter and send the other two up here.”
“Yes, sir,” he said as he turned and left.
*
Harris was looking over the Darwin’s floor plans with Brown, Bolkov, Hunter, McKinley and Doc. Due to the classified nature of the station, they were unable to obtain a satellite image from overhead, but Hunter used the ship’s cameras to estimate the width, using the Aurora and its distance to the station as a comparison. They then compared the width with the floor plans on the screen.
“Width looks fine,” Brown said. “It’s gotta be in the height.”
“Okay, so what’s the height of the Darwin?” Harris asked. “Can we work it out by using the Aurora as a comparison again?”
“Yes, sir,” Bolkov offered, as he began tapping away on the console. Another screen appeared on the flight deck window. It displayed the image from the Aurora’s forward camera of the Darwin again. As Bolkov’s big hands whisked around the console, the onboard computer took measurements of the distance to the station and the height of it.
“I’ll get the Darwin’s exact floor measurement off one of our comms sets,” Hunter said, bringing up Harris’s headcam on another screen, showing footage from their earlier foray to find Grolsh. Another measurement appeared on Hunter’s screen. Bolkov took note of it and compared it to the measurement on his screen.
“Make sure you allow for the pressurized hull,” Brown told him. “And the insulation, pipework, air purification vents and crawlspace.”
The room waited in silence while Bolkov studied both figures, looking between the screens.
“According to my calculations, captain,” Bolkov began, turning around to lock eyes with him, “there’s plenty room for whole other floor.”
Harris nodded slowly, staring at the floor plan on the screen in front of him.
“That has to be where he is,” Doc said.
“If there’s a whole other floor,” Hunter said thinking aloud, “then what the hell else is up there?”
“And who else is up there?” McKinley added.
Bolkov looked over at him. “You think maybe missing crew up there?”
“Why would they be hiding from us?” Brown asked. “The Spector’s gone, man.”
Harris and Doc exchanged a glance.
“The problem right now,” Harris mused, bringing their focus back and steering them away from speculation, “is finding out how to get to this other floor.”
“Is it worth a transmission to Command?” Doc asked.
Harris nodded. “You’d better join me for this one.”
Doc nodded back.
Harris stood and looked around at his crew. “Keep working on these plans. If you were going to build a hidden floor on a station, where the fuck would you put the door?”
*
“Captain Harris. What is it?” Isaack asked as the transmission connected.
“Colonel Isaack, Professor Martin, as I’m sure you’re aware this is First Lieutenant Walker,” Harris motioned to Doc, who was sitting beside him, “the Aurora’s medic, and my 2IC.”
“Yes, we’re familiar with your crew, captain,” Isaack said nodding at Doc. “What’s this all about?”
“I have reason to believe the floor plans for the Darwin are not complete, sir. I just wanted to ascertain whether there were some, let’s say, more updated versions, or perhaps more classified versions, that you would like to give me?”
Professor Martin interjected. “What do you mean, captain? You have the only set of floor plans there are.”
“The only issued floor plans, professor. I believe there to be secure, hidden rooms on the Darwin that could possibly account for the whereabouts of the missing crew.”
“I’m sorry, captain. What?” Isaack asked, eyebrows raised.
“The station is approximately two stories in height, yet we have access to only one story, sir. It could account for the whereabouts of the missing crew.”
“Captain, are you telling me you think the missing crew are hiding from you on the Darwin?” Colonel Isaack asked in disbelief.
“No, sir, I don’t think it. I’m quite certain of it,” Harris responded. “They’re in hiding, hostage or dead.”
“Why on Earth would they hide, captain,” Isaack asked incredulously, “and why on Earth would you think they were hostage or dead? You found four survivors locked up.”
Harris went to answer, but Martin spoke first. “Captain Harris, we found the missing ship, the Spector. Its homing device had been disabled, but it was spotted docked on Station Babylon approximately two hours ago.”
Harris stared down the screen at them. “Alright, and you were going to tell me this, when?”
“As soon as we had the sighting confirmed and the crew located,” Martin responded.
“So, have you located the crew?”
“Er, well, no. Not yet.” Martin stumbled over his words, as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
“So they’re still missing then?” Harris asked.
“They can’t be too far away,” Martin said.
“And was the Spector’s autopilot engaged?” Harris asked.
“Harris, the Spector is on Babylon, as will be the missing crew. Have you resolved the comms issue yet?” Isaack asked, changing tack.
“Not yet, no.”
“Well, may I ask what you’ve been doing? I believe that was your mission was it not? To resolve the comms issue?”
“Yes, it was, but then we had a case of some missing crew to resolve and a virus watch on our survivors, which, although it turned out to be a false alarm and we released them, has now created another issue. One of the survivors attacked one of my soldiers and the survivor in question is now also missing.”
“Attacked?” Professor Martin’s curiosity was piqued.
“Yes. Tynek Grolsh attacked Corporal Welles.” Harris cringed internally, waiting for the barrage.
“What?” Isaack asked. “I thought I ordered you to leave the women on the ship.”
“I did, colonel. The surviving crew were released according to UNF law, and under our watch, we brought them onto the Aurora. You did not issue me with orders to avoid contact between the new recruits and the Darwin’s crew, sir.”
Isaack shook his head. “So, under your watch, Tynek Grolsh managed to attack one of your 12 soldiers? May I ask what the other 11 soldiers were doing at the time?”
Harris stared at him.
“And her condition, Lieutenant Walker?” Martin asked Doc.
“She’s bruised and battered but she’ll be okay,” he answered.
“And the … nature of the attack?” Martin sounded apprehensive. His eyes stared fixedly at them.
“Asphyxiation. He strangled her,” Doc said.
“I see.” Martin nodded. “And do we know what led to the attack? Did she provoke him in any way?”
“No, sir. He invaded her space, she asked him to move away, then he attacked her,” Doc said firmly.
“And you say that Grolsh is now missing?” Isaack entered back into the conversation.
“Yes, he is,” Harris answered, “and I believe he may be hiding in some secret space on the station, that I was hoping, classification aside, you may be able to point me to.”
“Well, I would love to captain, but I’m afraid that such an area does not exist,” Martin said, almost mockingly.
Harris gave him a flat stare. “Well, do you have any ideas as to how this man could just vanish into thin air?”
Isaack glanced over at Martin, curious for his response.
Professor Martin shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sure you’ve just overlooked him somewhere.”
“I assure you I did not overlook him, professor,” Harris said firmly.
Isaack leaned forward over the table. “Captain Harris, I suggest you stick to your mission and focus on fixing those comms. As you’re aware, when you released the survivors, Professor Martin dispatched a ship to take over the investigation. They will be there in just over two days. They’ll deal with Grolsh then. If he shows his face, you throw him back in that cell, but in the meantime you stick to the plan. Do you understand?” Isaack ordered.
“The missing crew will turn up on Station Babylon, captain. I am sure of it,” Martin added.
“Colonel Isaack,” Doc said, “will Grolsh be formally charged with assault on a UNF soldier?”
“He will be dealt with,” Professor Martin answered for Isaack.
“Good. I’ve kept a detailed record of the incident. I’ll make sure you both get a copy,” Doc told him. His voice was light enough, but Harris could still hear a sharp edge to it.
Martin gave him a slight nod in acknowledgment.
“Are we clear on your orders, captain?” Isaack piped up again. “Fix those comms.”
“Yes, sir,” Harris said, then leaned forward and ended the communication.
Doc looked at him. “So, did I understand that right? They said forget about trying to find the man who attacked one of our soldiers. And forget about chasing up any lead with regards to hidden chambers on the station, or the missing crew. Just, fix those comms?”
“You understood correctly.”
They both sat there in silence briefly, thinking.
“So, what’s the plan then, Saul?” Doc finally said.
Harris sighed, rubbing his jaw, “Plan is, we put the other three back in the bio cell until Grolsh gives himself up, or until Brown and the guys figure out how to get to where he’s hiding. Meantime, we keep working on the comms to keep Command happy.”
Doc nodded.
“Alright,” Harris said standing up, “we’re going to need all hands on deck. Go get Packham or Colt, or both if possible and bring them back to the flight deck.”
“Yes, sir.”
*
Carrie sat upright when she heard a knock at the door.
“It’s Doc. Open up,” he called.
She felt a flutter of nervousness rush through her at the sound of his voice. Colt opened the door.
“I need a volunteer to come help out on the flight deck,” he told her.
Carrie stood and walked over to the door. “We can all go,” she offered.
Doc eyed her warily. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. I’m good. But I’m going stir-crazy sitting here and so are the others. Let us help.” Her voice was still a little husky, her throat still dry and sore.
“No more dizziness? Did you rest?” he asked, taking hold of her chin and angling it up to view her neck.
“No more dizziness and I did sleep for a bit. I’m all good. I promise.”
“Doc, she’s been fine.” Colt backed her up.
He dropped his hand, eyed the other two women for a second, then looked back at Carrie. “Okay, but I’ll be watching you closely. Light duties only.”
Carrie nodded, tied her hair back in a ponytail, then exited the room with the others.
*
As they entered the flight deck, she saw Harris pause and look up at her.
“Shouldn’t you be resting, corporal?” he asked firmly.
The others in the room, McKinley, Hunter, Brown and Bulk, turned and stared at her. She suddenly felt self-conscious, especially under McKinley’s piercing stare.
“She assures me she’s up to it, captain,” Doc answered for her, walking down the tiers of the flight deck.
“I am, sir,” she said confidently. “And I don’t want to sit back while everyone else is working hard to find him.”
Harris studied her for a moment, eyes wary. “Alright, Welles, but you so much as look like you’re about to pass out, I’m banning your ass until we get home,” he told her. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” she said firmly, clearing the croak from her throat as she reached the console. She glanced over at Brown and saw him looking between her neck and her eye, Hunter and Bolkov doing the same. “I’m fine. Trust me,” she told them.
“Welles.” Harris narrowed his eyes at her. “A question.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What was Grolsh saying to you when he had you up against the wall? Can you remember?”
Carrie thought for a moment, recalling Grolsh’s hot breath on her face. She looked back at the captain as an uncomfortable feeling prickled her skin. “He said, ‘You’re ours now. You belong to us.’”
The silence sat in the room for a moment, as they all stared at her.
Harris stood and turned to McKinley. “I want you to get the others and take the survivors back to the bio cell. If they argue, tell them I’m locking them up for withholding information and obstructing justice. Wear your comms. I want evidence if they decide to speak.”
“Yes, sir,” McKinley gave a nod. As he walked past Carrie, his piercing eyes locked with hers. She wondered whether he was quietly reveling in the fact that he’d been right about her self-defense capabilities. Although, if he was, his face wasn’t showing it.
“Bulk,” Harris continued, “when Smith comes back, I want you two to fix the Darwin’s comms issues once and for all. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Bolkov gave him a slow nod.
“And I want the rest of you to keep searching for ways to get to the Darwin’s hidden floor.”
Colt stepped forward to look over Brown’s shoulder. “There’s a hidden floor?”
*
Carrie looked at Harris. “You say you saw the cat in one of the offices?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it came from there,” he answered.
“Is there an air vent in that office?” Packham asked.
“Yeah,” Brown replied, “but we checked the headcam footage. Gap’s not big enough for a cat to squeeze through.”
“Can you merge the current floor plan with a satellite picture to see where there are gaps big enough for an elevator or stairwell?” the sergeant continued.
Brown shook his head. “Station’s classified, so there’s no satellite picture, but we did figure out the approximate measurements of the station. Kiwi, bring that back up on the screen.”
Hunter turned back to the console and brought up the floor plan, merged on top of a rough hexagonal background with the Darwin’s approximate measurements, as worked out by Bolkov. Just then four monitors appeared beside it; McKinley’s, Carter’s, Smith’s and Louis’s.
The captain focused his attention on them. “I want to watch this.”
Everyone looked at the monitors and saw Chet, Logan and Fairmont eyeing the cameras with expressionless faces.
“Taking us somewhere?” Chet asked in a low voice.
“Stand up,” McKinley ordered them.
They remained seated. Fairmont looked over at Logan and Chet for his lead.
“I said stand up!” McKinley said again, more forcefully.
“I would like to know where you plan to take us?” Chet said, his voice now an octave or two higher.
“They’re taking us back to the bio cell,” Logan said, staring at McKinley.
“As the captain warned you earlier, due to your lack of cooperation, you are now being held for withholding information and obstructing justice,” McKinley advised.
The three stared back in silence for a moment.
“Get … up!” McKinley ordered, his voice tight.
They continued to sit silently at the table, staring back. The seconds ticked past.
Fairmont suddenly jumped up, roaring as he did, and flipped the table over at McKinley. He quickly dodged out of the way and snapped his gun up. Louis, Carter and Smith did the same as cards rained down over them.
“Do that again and I’ll blow your FUCKIN’ HEAD OFF,” McKinley yelled.
Logan and Chet stood up slowly, calmly, as Fairmont breathed heavily with anger, shoulders broad and pulsing for a fight.
“You didn’t say please,” Chet said menacingly, his dead eyes staring at McKinley.
“C’mon Fairmont,” Logan said, walking around the upturned table.
Carrie saw Harris and Doc exchange concerned looks, then turn back to the screens.
*
Harris watched carefully, as the three survivors walked ahead of McKinley’s team. His lieutenant had motioned for his men to tag a survivor each, so Carter and Louis moved to walk slightly behind Fairmont and Chet, and Smith walked just behind Logan. McKinley stood back a little further watching all of them.
They walked in silence as they left the Aurora and cleared Section One of the Darwin.
As they entered Section Two, Chet turned to Fairmont. “Wouldn’t it be great if Grolsh were here right now?”
“Yeah!” he laughed.
As soon as he’d spoken, there was a thud, McKinley’s monitor went haywire and was suddenly viewing the floor. All at once there was yelling, gunfire and chaos, while Harris quickly eyed the monitors trying to figure out what was going on. He saw Fairmont standing over Carter, tossing his gun down the corridor. Louis and Chet appeared to be fighting, his camera moving about everywhere, and Smith’s camera appeared to be falling to the floor.
He quickly eyed McKinley’s monitor again and saw him getting up off the ground and shooting in the direction of what appeared to be Grolsh.
“FUCK! MCKINLEY!” Carter yelled.
McKinley snapped his head back around to see Carter’s bloodied face leaning over Smith and the other three survivors darting around the corner of the corridor. He raised his gun to fire, but it was too late. They were gone. He quickly snapped back around to see that Grolsh was gone too.
“Fuck!” he hissed, as he swiftly moved over to Carter and looked down to see him pressing his hand on Smith’s neck, which was bleeding profusely, as he choked and gargled up blood.
Doc shot forward to the console and yelled into the microphone. “Get him back to the ship, McKinley. NOW!”
Carrie watched in disbelief as McKinley swiftly removed his gun, tore off his shirt, shoved it against Smith’s neck, then swung his gun back on.
“Help me grab him,” McKinley barked at Carter.
The two of them lifted Smith, Carter grabbing his legs and McKinley lifting him under his arms and around his neck, holding the shirt in place.
“Louis, cover us! Stay sharp!” McKinley yelled.
“Brown, let’s go get them,” Harris yelled, as he raced up the flight deck stairs.
“Meet you in the hospital,” Doc said, as he flew up the stairs behind them.
Carrie began to run up the stairs too, and Colt followed. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she knew she had to go. Packham, Hunter and Bolkov stayed behind, eyes glued to the screens, their faces showing alarm.
Carrie reached the hospital and found Doc frantically running around with bags of blood in his hands.
“What can we do?” Carrie asked.
“Over there.” He pointed to a cabinet. “Get out bandages and swabs. Lots of them.”
Carrie and Colt started pulling out armfuls of the stuff and ran it all over to Doc, who threw them on one of the beds. He snapped on some gloves, then grabbed swabs, ripping open the sterilized bags they were in. Then they heard yelling in the distance.
“Out of the way,” Doc ordered as he rushed for the door.
Carrie stepped aside and Colt cleared out into the office. Within seconds, Doc came running back through with McKinley and Harris who were holding Smith, as he continued to cough and gargle blood. They put him on one of the pod-beds, and McKinley stepped away, as Doc immediately removed McKinley's sodden shirt from Smith’s neck, and started applying it with fresh swabs.
“Hold them tight!” he ordered Harris, who moved into position.
Carrie eyed McKinley, his was face pale and tight. He stood there for a moment, watching, then backed off and left the room. Doc grabbed the IV he’d connected up to one of the blood bags and quickly inserted it into Smith’s arm.
“Smith, you stay with me, you hear,” Harris said urgently.
Doc ripped Smith’s bloodied shirt open, then quickly wiped the blood away so he could stick some monitors on him. She heard his faint heartbeat as the corresponding monitor lit up.
“D— Do— oc …” Smith gasped, as he snatched tightly onto Doc’s shirt.
“I’ve got you, Pete, you save your breath,” he told him, squeezing Smith’s fist as it scrunched his shirt.
“Private, you look at me!” Harris almost bellowed at him. “We’ve got you, you hear? We’ve got you.”
Doc moved the swabs slightly, trying to figure out what the damage was. Carrie saw blood pooling over his hands.
“Fuck,” he said worriedly, “he’s losing a lot of blood.”
“Capta—” Smith gargled as he struggled to get out the words he wanted to say. Within seconds his body began to calm and his grip loosened around Doc’s shirt.
“Smith! SMITH,” Harris yelled.
The heart monitor suddenly fell to a single long beep. Doc looked over at it, then snapped his eyes back to the young private.
“PETE!” Doc yelled, as he started pumping his chest. “Stay with me, Pete!”
“Doc, his eyes aren’t looking at me,” Harris said worriedly.
“Just keep holding his neck!” Doc furiously pumped Smith’s chest as his body fell completely limp, his hand falling from Doc’s shirt; Carrie could see it bounce with every compression Doc made.
She turned and walked slowly to the doorway of Doc’s office. She saw Carter standing there, holding a bandage to his bleeding nose, which was clearly broken. Colt stood by Louis, holding a bandage to his shoulder, and Brown stood on his own, staring at the wall.
“C’mon, Pete. C’mon …” she heard Doc’s voice pleading.
She looked out the doorway into the corridor and saw Smith’s blood on the floor, smeared by their footprints. She listened as Doc continued to pump Smith’s chest, exhaling loudly, rhythmically, stopping only to breathe his breath into the young man.
“Doc,” Harris said quietly, “his eyes aren’t coming back to me. They’re staring at nothing.”
“He’s lost … a lot … of blood … too much,” Doc managed as he continued to pump breathlessly.
“Doc?” Harris said.
“I’m not giving up! A few more minutes!” Doc panted.
Carrie looked around at the pod-bed. Doc was sweating now and he had Smith’s blood halfway up to his elbows, breathing desperately into soldier’s mouth. The silence on the Aurora was deafening, broken only by the sounds of Doc’s panting as he continued with the chest compressions, and the long flat beep of the heart monitor.
Harris’s brown face looked pale as he reached up with one of his bloodied hands and closed Smith’s eyes.
“Doc, call it,” he said. “His eyes are lost. He’s gone.”
Doc glanced up at him, then back down to Smith’s face.
Harris eyed the private as well. “You said it yourself. He’s lost too much blood.” The captain looked Doc firmly in the eye. “Call it,” he ordered.
Doc started slowing the pumps to Smith’s chest.
“What’s the time, Doc?” Harris asked softly, but firmly.
Doc stopped and stepped back from Smith’s body, holding his bloodied hands out slightly to the side. He wiped his mouth on his shoulder, staring at Harris, then back at Smith’s lifeless body. Doc reluctantly lifted his arm to read his watch. He looked at it, but couldn’t see as it was covered in blood. He pulled his shirt up and wiped the face of it.
“2209,” Doc said.
Harris nodded at him slowly, then let go of Smith’s neck.
Carrie turned and moved slowly out into the corridor, feeling as though she were floating. The only sound now was the single flat beep of the heart monitor. She heard Doc yell “FUCK!” and there was a simultaneous loud bang that made her flinch. She stood in the corridor looking down at Smith’s blood smeared along the floor, and felt her whole body begin to rattle with shock.
Something moved to her right, and she looked over to see McKinley standing there, shirtless, and covered in Smith’s blood. His hands were by his sides and he was looking down at his feet, his face ashen, his jaw clenched.
“A— are you okay?” she managed to croak. “Are you hurt?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and shook his head very slightly.
The heart monitor stopped, then. Doc must’ve turned it off. It was so quiet now. Colt made her way out into the hall. She had some towels in her hand and walked over to the line of blood and began to clean it up. She looked numb, like she was on autopilot. Carrie walked over and took one of the towels and began to help her.
She could hear slight movement coming from the rooms, but no-one was speaking. She wiped at the blood, amazed at how much there seemed to be. Her heart raced, mirroring the shaking of her hands. Colt’s vigorous wiping movements sent a whiff of the blood straight to Carrie’s nostrils. She suddenly felt woozy. Oh, shit! I can’t pass out. Not now. She plonked down on her backside and slid her way backward to lean up against the wall and started taking deep breaths.
“Put your head between your knees,” McKinley said in a quiet, tight voice.
She glanced up at him, and those piercing blue eyes stared back. She put her head down and began taking deep breaths again. She started feeling better.
“So what do we do now, captain?” she heard Carter ask, his voice strained.
“You get your nose looked at,” Harris said, somewhat softly.
“Fuck that, captain,” Louis shouted angrily. “We have to get them and get them now!”
“No Louis,” Harris told him.
“What do you mean, no?”
“We need to regroup, Louis.” Harris told him. “They’ll be long gone into their hiding place. If we go after them now it will be futile. You’re injured, Carter’s injured! We need to regroup! Hunter will have the ship locked down, so they can’t get on here. We have to deal with Smith, and we need to figure out where the fuck they’re hiding, so we know what we’re dealing with,” Harris said in tense, angry voice.
“And we need to fully brief the team, captain,” Doc said firmly.
Carrie looked over her shoulder through the doorway and saw Doc and Harris staring at each other. Just then, Hunter, Bolkov and Packham came walking down the corridor. They saw the bloodied towels.
“Smith …” Colt shook her head at them.
“We saw over the comms,” Hunter said, clenching his jaw.
Carrie looked back into the hospital and saw that Smith still had his headpiece on.
“Ok, listen up!” Harris called from the doorway to Doc’s office. He looked around to make sure everyone was paying attention. “Everyone just take a few minutes to absorb this, alright? Smith is dead. Do what you have to do, but I want you all in the mess hall in 20 minutes. That’s all I can give you. We need to move on this. Do you understand?” Harris voice was authoritative, but not harsh. She heard the compassion that he was trying to convey.
He turned and walked off in the direction of his quarters. Brown exited the room and headed down the corridor toward the mess and the pilots followed. Colt stood up and took her bloodied towels back into the rooms.
“Where shall I put this, Doc?” she asked softly.
Carrie stood and turned to see Doc looking down at the towel as he took it from her. He looked over at Louis. “Laserfire?”
Louis shook his head. “He ripped into me with his hands and teeth!”
Doc shot him a confused look, then turned and studied Carter’s face.
“I’ll be with you in a second,” he said, and headed back into the hospital where Smith lay.
McKinley turned abruptly then, and walked off in the direction of his room, and Colt followed behind, to hers. Carrie stood there for a moment not sure what to do. She looked through into the hospital and saw Doc placing a sheet over the young private.
How did this happen …? A couple of hours ago they were all playing cards, and now this. All because of the incident between her and Grolsh. Did she cause this? Was this her fault? If she hadn’t left the mess hall on her own, would this have happened? Would Smith still be alive?
She moved to stand in the doorway, “C— can I do anything?” she asked, although her voice did not come easy.
Doc looked at her, and his eyes held a quiet devastation to them. He shook his head slightly, then walked over to a basin, snapped off his gloves, and started scrubbing his hands.
She watched him for a moment, then looked down at her own hands, and noticed they were surprisingly clean.
*
Harris sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face in his hands. Two years he’d been on the Aurora and he’d never lost a man. Some had been injured, but never before had he lost one, despite all the battles they’d had with pirates and thugs. Never before had he lost a team member on his watch, under his command. Smith was just a kid. A kid with a bright future ahead of him and now it was gone in the blink of an eye … the blink of an eye … Twenty-one was just too young. Did I do this? Could I have stopped this? Should I have warned them? Told them of my suspicions? What the fuck have I done …?
An image of Sibbie and Etta seemed to gently settle in his mind, and something about their presence was almost calming, reassuring, nurturing. He gave a saddened chuckle and shook his head. You’re going crazy, Saul … you’re going crazy. He inhaled deeply, trying to shift the lump in his throat. He hardened his face, clenched his teeth and violently shook the two old women from his mind. He had to pull it together. He had to be the person with strength and leadership for his crew. He had to pull the rest of them together so they could move forward and do what they had to do. He stood from the bed and eyed his clean shirt in the mirror, then looked down at his watch. He’d had to clean it just like Doc had had to do with his. He eyed the time and noted that the 20 minutes were almost up. It wasn’t long, but that was all the time he could afford.
When he arrived at the mess, he saw that half the team had already gathered, with the exception of Carter, Louis, Doc and McKinley. Those that were there displayed a mixture of emotions: concern, anger, and shock, primary among them.
“We’ll give the others a few minutes to get here,” Harris told them.
McKinley walked in then and took a seat. He’d used his 20 minutes to clean up and change. Everyone sat in silence for a few more minutes, before Louis and Carter walked in. Louis had a bandage over his neck and shoulder, and Carter still held a bandage of ice to his nose, which was now looking rather fat and purple. Clearly, Doc had run out of time to see to him. Harris gave Carter a subtle nod. He was Smith’s roommate, and he was going to feel it later. If they ever got to sleep, that is.
Doc came in then. He’d also found time to change. He’d had to. Walking around covered in Smith’s blood, was not what the team needed to see right now.
“Ok, listen up,” Harris said, trying his hardest to sound strong and firm. “Here’s where we are at. We have four men on the loose. Four dangerous men, who we now want for murder, not to mention several counts of assault.” He swiftly looked in the eyes of each team member. “We have good reason to believe there is a second, hidden floor on the station. We believe this is where Grolsh went into hiding, and where all four of them are hiding now. Although we still don’t really know what happened on this station, it would seem obvious that these four men had something to do with it.
“Now, we know the station’s ship, the Spector, was missing when we arrived. Last I spoke to Command, they informed me it had shown up on Station Babylon, but they’d been unable to locate the missing crew. The way I see it, this could mean one of two things.” Harris held out his fist, then unfurled his thumb: “One, the rest of the crew took off to escape these four men, and have vanished for their own safety.” He unfurled his index finger: “Or two, the missing crew are here and are being held hostage on the second floor, or they’re dead, and the Spector was sent off so that we would assume they’d left, and the survivors then locked themselves in that cell so we’d believe they were victims in all of this. It’s not crazy to think that these four men killed the other five … because we do not believe that these men are entirely normal.”
“What do you mean, not entirely normal?” Carter asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Harris eyed him and took a deep breath, “Doc and I have come to believe—now we have no proof of this, this is just a theory—but we believe these guys aren’t just UNF scientists. We think they may have been put through full UNF training, like real soldiers … and when I say real soldiers, I don’t mean just any soldiers. We think they’ve been engineered to a certain extent to improve their capabilities.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Louis asked, struggling to control his anger.
Harris went to answer, but Doc stood and turned to the men.
“We’re fairly certain they’ve had their senses heightened, for one,” he told them. “It would appear that Sharley and the crew were studying animal hunters, that’s why all those animals were on the manifests. We think he was studying their senses and how particular senses enabled them to be great hunters. We’re almost positive the four men’s hearing is advanced. They all had scars behind their ears and it seemed that they heard people coming long before they saw them. Now, we’re not 100 percent sure, but there’s a good chance their eyesight and sense of smell are also advanced. And clearly, they’re very strong and they can fight.”
“I knew Logan was watching me,” Louis seethed, eyes as dark as his skin.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this before?” Carter was clearly trying to restrain his anger.
“We weren’t sure of anything before,” Harris answered his question. “We’re still not exactly sure—
“You must’ve known something,” Louis accused, shaking his dreadlocked head. “Why were Brown and McKinley armed earlier?”
Harris noticed both McKinley and Brown flash each other uncomfortable looks.
“They were armed because I did not trust those men. I had no proof against them, only theories, so I took my chances and yes, I armed some of my men.” Harris tried hard to control his voice. He wouldn’t normally stand for such attitude from a soldier, but Louis had spent a lot of time working with Smith in the stores and on mess duty, so he was going to cut him some slack.
Harris looked around at everyone. “These men are cunning. They’ve studied great hunters, animal and human alike. They clearly know how to stalk their prey. Grolsh proved that when he snuck up on McKinley. They also know how to escape unnoticed, hence the reason Grolsh got out of that mess hall in the first place. Now you connect all of that with the possibility of them using Sharley’s mind-fucking techniques from Hell Town and you got yourself one hell of an enemy. We need to be extremely careful with these guys. We cannot take any further chances. Do you understand me?” Harris looked around at them. “Anybody got any questions?”
Brown piped up. “Yeah. If what you say is true, how the hell are we going to get these guys, seeing as they’ve got these extra senses and shit? They’re going know we’re coming way before we get anywhere near ’em.”
“Well, that’s something I need to figure out, but before we deal with that we have to figure out where they are exactly and how to get to them,” Harris answered.
“You think they’re some kind of experiment gone wrong?” Hunter asked.
“I think the experiment was planned. Whether it has gone wrong, I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out if we find the bodies of the other five men. I think the UNF was trying to create the perfect soldier. Let’s hope, for our sake, they haven’t accomplished that.”
Harris looked around the room to see if there were more questions.
“Captain?” Welles spoke up.
He looked over at her.
“Permission to carry a gun, sir. Like the others,” she asked.
“Permission granted, corporal. You too, Colt and Packham. I want everyone armed at all times.” He eyed them all again. “I will not take any more chances, I can assure you. Now, we’ve got some work to do. Colt, Welles, get some coffee and food going. We need to fuel up the team. I want everyone else on the flight deck looking at those plans … except you, Doc. You … go do what you need to do. Alright, let’s get to it.”
Harris clapped his hands together and the team went into action.