33
Harris watched as Welles left the bar. It was just after 1800. She’d said her goodbyes to them all, although he noted she seemed a little more formal with Doc. Almost too formal considering they’d been pretty close on the ship. Hopefully, that’s a good thing. He was keen on having her return to the ship, even more so than the other women. He didn’t know why exactly, but there was just something about her that intrigued him. He wanted her back aboard the Aurora to see if she was as good as he thought she was. So, if things were formal between her and Doc, that could only be a good thing.
“I hereby dub these ‘The Aurorans’!” Brown said clunking a tray of shots on the table, interrupting Harris’s thoughts.
“What the hell?” Harris said, looking down at the murky green liquid that filled the test tube glasses.
“Oh, Jesus!” Doc said, running his hand through his hair.
The four of them grabbed a shot and downed it. Harris looked over at Packham, who winced, but then shook it off. She noticed him looking at her.
“Boarding school,” she said. “We did a lot of training!”
The three men laughed at her.
“Looks like you’re initiating yourself, Packham!” Brown said, with a sly smile.
She looked over his shoulder at the pool table in the corner. “Pool table, now!” she ordered. “That will determine who gets to initiate who, sergeant!”
Brown looked over at the table and back to her. “Hell, you’re on, sister!” The two of them got up and walked off toward the table.
“My money’s on the boarding school, Brown,” Doc called after them.
Harris gave a throaty laugh.
Doc picked up his glass and moved closer to Harris. “It is good to be back at The Vicar, isn’t it?”
Harris nodded, “Yes, it is. Although it’s not the same …”
Doc sighed, looking down at his beer. “No.”
They sat in silence for a moment, then Harris glanced at his lieutenant. “So how’re things with Welles?” he asked.
Doc looked up at him a little surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Things were a bit weird on the ship for a bit, weren’t they? If you ask me things still seem weird.”
Doc shrugged and ran his hand over his mouth, looking back at his beer. “I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding the situation.”
“I know you have.”
Doc looked at him, but didn’t say anything. Harris watched him for a moment.
“I asked her back onto the Aurora. I’ve offered her a permanent position. That going to be a problem?” he asked carefully.
Doc shook his head, but averted his eyes. “No.”
“Good. I’d like to have her on the team.”
“So, she said yes?” he asked, looking at his beer and twisting it back and forth slightly in his hand.
Harris watched him again for a moment. Doc looked up at him and took another swig of his beer, waiting for his answer.
“No. She’s going to think about it.”
Doc nodded, looking back at the beer, considering what he said. After a moment, he looked back at Harris, noticing that he was still watching him.
“So, is that what your conversation was about with Packham earlier? You ask her, too?”
Harris nodded. “And Colt.”
“Yeah? What’d they say?”
“Packham’s in. She’s our new co-pilot. Colt, like Welles, is going to think about it. Welles, with some encouragement, will come back a yes, I think. But I’m not too sure about Colt. I think it’s in their best interest if they come back aboard. Given what’s happened, we should stick together for a while until we’re sure things are okay.”
Doc nodded again, seemingly thinking something over.
Harris took another sip of his beer. “Regardless, I’d like to have Welles back aboard either way. She did good on the Darwin, and despite the rough start, I think she’ll work well with McKinley. And I like the fact that she has that element of surprise. No-one will expect much from her on first look, but we know now that she can deliver.” He sighed. “I’m still going to have to find more soldiers, though.”
“You will, Saul. And you’ve always found the right ones before.”
“Finding them’s easy. Letting them go is another …”
Doc nodded sympathetically. “What do you think will happen with the Jumbo program?”
Harris looked him in the eye. “They’ll have spent too much money on it to let it go.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Doc nodded.
“I was hoping to have heard something about Sharley and Logan. They should’ve made it back to Earth by now. Probably going through the debrief as we speak. I’ll give it a couple of days, then I’ll follow it up. I’m keen to know what they’re going to do with them both. Especially Logan.”
Doc nodded again in thought, then finished his beer. “Have you spoken with Colonel Isaack since you’ve been back?”
“I tried to get a hold of him, but he’s been reassigned to a classified posting.”
“Is that right?” Doc stared at him, intrigued.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Should we be worried about something here?”
Harris noted the seriousness of his lieutenant’s voice and face as he locked eyes with him again. “They didn’t charge us, Doc. Whether Colonel Welles had something to do with that, I don’t know. But don’t think for a second that means we’re off the hook. We just need to keep our heads down and our nose clean, and hopefully we'll be fine.”
Doc’s face showed real concern.
“Anyway,” Harris said loudly, “I do not want to spend my first night of leave talking about the Darwin, or Sharley or the UNF for that matter. I am going to get shit-faced drunk, pass out and then sleep until my back gets sore!”
Doc laughed. “Or your ribs as the case may be!”
“I can handle the ribs, Doc.”
“Well, in that case, captain, allow me to fetch you a scotch,” he said getting up.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Harris saluted him.
*
Professor Martin stared nervously at Quint, who moved to stand right in front of him.
“You made sure to find my body in one of the Belgo’s barrels, didn’t you?” Quint asked with threatening eyes, his gray hair doing nothing to fool the professor into thinking he was weak.
Martin nodded nervously. Quint had this affect on him, and he knew it. As much as the other Jumbo’s made Martin uncomfortable, there was just something about Quint that he feared. He knew the only thing stopping the man from killing him on the spot was Sharley. Thankfully, Sharley had Quint on a respected leash. Although, that said, Martin was a little unsure exactly, as to where he stood with Professor Sharley right now, after all that had gone down.
“If someone goes digging, it’s certainly implied,” Martin assured Quint, “and as I told Sharley, the remains were slush. There was no way anyone could tell who or what is in there without running forensics. And unfortunately, the so-called barrels of waste were given to your fisherman friend as discussed. I have no doubt they are now sitting comfortably in the belly of a shark somewhere.”
“Good,” Quint eyed him with his pale green eyes, “’cause I do my best work as a ghost.”
Martin nodded. “I have no doubt.”
Quint continued to stare at him, and Martin tried hard not to be impressed by his Jumbo physique; tall and broad. Fearless. Deadly.
“Well, as I have done this favor for Sharley and ensured your safety, Quint, perhaps now you could ensure mine?” Martin asked firmly, but calmly. “The UNF was starting to ask a lot of questions when I left. The shit has well and truly hit the fan, and heads are going to roll.”
Quint didn’t answer, he simply gave a casual, uncaring shrug.
Martin exhaled impatiently. “I should have your allegiance too, goddamnit! You should obey my instruction! You forget, I'm in charge of this program,” he hissed.
“No, you’re not,” Quint said, placing his face in Martin’s, staring at him with those pale, threatening, green eyes. “Sharley’s in charge, Martin. Always has been. And I think it’s about time you learned that.”
Martin stepped backwards, unable to contain his fear. “W— what are you going to do?”
Quint gave a small terrifying smile, “Finish what we started.”
*
Carrie lay on her bed and yawned. She looked at her watch. 20:17. She flicked the TV over, even though she wasn’t really in the mood for watching anything. She contemplated turning everything off and going to sleep. There was no guarantee that Doc was going to call, and she could just imagine how much Harris could drink, not to mention Brown, who were both still in the bar when she’d left.
She got up and double-checked the locks, then brushed her teeth. She went back into her bedroom and laid back down, but didn’t have the heart to turn off the TV … just in case. After flicking through the channels for a few more minutes, she heard the beeping of her phone. She reached over and looked at the screen.
You still awake?
She smiled like a teenage schoolgirl and typed in her reply: Maybe. Who is this?
Your doctor. Should I make a house call?
She smiled again, as a wave of excitement raced through her body, waking it up instantly. I think you’d better. Just in case.
Very well. I’ll be there in …
Just then, she heard her front door buzz. Startled, she got up and made her way to it. It couldn’t be, could it? She flicked on the monitor beside the door and smiled. It was Doc. She opened the door and stuck her head around.
“That was quick,” she smiled.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he smiled back.
She pulled the door back and he stepped inside and looked around.
“Welcome,” she said closing the door.
He glanced around the room then turned back to her, stopping when he saw what she was wearing. “You always answer the door like that?”
Carrie looked down at the flimsy white singlet and cotton underwear she was wearing and looked back at him. “Only when I’m expecting my doctor.”
A smile spread across his face. “I see …”
He took a step toward her and slid one hand over her hip, while the other brushed her hair behind her ear. She slid her hands up along his arms and he very slowly leaned in and kissed her. Carrie brought her arms up around his neck and pressed her body against his.
“Shall I give you the tour?” she asked, when they came up for air.
“Mm-hmm,” he nodded, heading back in for another kiss.
She led him, kissing all the while, through her apartment to her bedroom. “That’s … the rest of my apartment …” she managed in between kisses, “and this … is my bedroom.”
“Mm-hmm,” he replied, his face never leaving hers.
She pulled him over to her bed and they climbed on. She could taste both beer and scotch on his tongue, yet he didn’t seem to be drunk.
“How come you’re still sober?” Her curiosity gave way.
“Well, I’m a little happy … but for the most part I cheated,” he smiled as he slid his hand underneath her singlet.
“Cheated? How?” she asked, curling her leg over his.
“I offered to buy the drinks,” he said, in between kisses as he found her breast with his wandering hand. “So I ordered Harris doubles while I had straight coke.”
“Oh,” she breathed, partly because of his stroking hand, “you’re sneaky, lieutenant. I hope the captain doesn’t find out!”
Doc laughed quietly. “So do I!”
Carrie slid her hand up the back of his shirt, pressing her body even more tightly against him.
“So, do I get to kick you out tonight?” she purred in his ear.
“Mm-hmm,” he agreed as he ran his mouth along her neck, “but we’ve got plenty of time to kill first.”
They were done with talking then, as Doc swiftly removed his shirt and she curled her legs around him.
*
Afterwards, Doc and Carrie lay there staring at each other again. She curled one hand around his upper arm, while the other interlocked her fingers with his. She kissed his shoulder, and he reached over with his other hand and caressed the bruised side of her face.
“Here we are again, lieutenant,” she said softly.
He nodded in reply, and they lay in silence for a few minutes more, before Doc broke it.
“I hear Harris has offered you a permanent spot on the Aurora?”
Carrie felt a guilty look shoot across her face, then nodded. “He just asked me today.”
Doc nodded slowly then dropped his hand to his chest. “So, what are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” Carrie rolled onto her back, continuing to hold his hand. “But you know what? I’ve got eight weeks to think about it.” She looked back at him, and saw that he was rolling something around within his mind’s confines. She moved onto her side and slid her free hand along his torso. “Penny for your thoughts, lieutenant?” she asked quietly.
He looked down at her. “Have you been having more of those dreams you were having in the hospital on the ship?”
Carrie was a little taken aback by the change in conversation. “Er … I’ve been okay,” she lied.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, why?” She propped herself up on her elbow.
“Harris just mentioned something in his drunken state about giving you his number and the counseling number. Did you ask for it?”
“No,” Carrie gave him a reassuring smile, “that was Harris doing his job.”
Doc nodded, his thoughts drifting him off into space again.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s just, you were having some pretty decent nightmares in the hospital. If you’re still getting them … those numbers really can help.”
She laughed and rolled onto her back and let go of his hands. “Jesus, what are you trying to say? This mission’s sent me crazy? If I’m crazy, then what does that say about you being with me?”
He rolled over on his side and put a reassuring arm over her. “I’m not saying you’re crazy … although Harris may call you crazy if he ever finds out about us.”
“How’s he ever going to find out?”
“I don’t know, but if you decide to come back onto the Aurora, it will certainly be interesting.”
Carrie sighed. “I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to think about this …” She ran her hand along his arm and they looked at each other for a moment, before he leaned in and kissed her again. She traced her hand along his cheek, losing herself in those brown eyes and that beautiful smile.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she smiled. “Why don’t you tell me all about Colorado, Snowflake?”
*
Harris lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was drunk, but not nearly as drunk as most nights at The Vicar left him. He thought that Brown and Packham looked pretty happy, but that Doc hadn’t been his usual self. He made out like he was with us, but his mind was somewhere else. There was something about him that was reserved tonight, holding back. Why? Had Harris spooked him with talk of the UNF’s potential leverage over them?
He yawned and stretched his body out. A pain shot across his ribs, and he paused for a second, but it slowly dissipated. He glanced over at the napkin on his bedside table and grabbed it and read it again:
Jazz Club Woman
994 3000 451
He smiled to himself, holding it against his chest. He glanced over at the clock: 22:01, then stared back at the ceiling. He’d never felt so glad to be back on Earth. He focused on the softness of his bed, the stillness of the room, the calmness of the Earth. Time to heal, Saul, he told himself. Time to fix that brain of yours. No more crazy dreams, alright? He promised himself he was going to sleep for as long as his body would allow. He was so tired he was confident he wouldn’t even be able to dream.
“Lights!” he called, and his room slowly plunged into complete blackness. Blackness, stillness, calmness. The Jazz Club Woman appeared in his mind, smiling and dancing, but only briefly. She soon morphed into visions of Taya: smiling, dancing and laughing. It sent a warm smile across his face, and he promised himself he would call her first thing in the morning. His shoulders and ribs eased off as he continued to watch Taya in his mind, slowly making his way toward her, as the sleep began to envelop him.
But suddenly he noticed something that made him pause …
Standing in the background of his mind were Sibbie and Etta, holding that phone, eyes fixed on him with desperate, haunting stares like did.
His eyes flashed open. His heart was thumping.
And suddenly, he was wide awake again.