Lt. Reilly 2321

Chapter 4: Hot Night

The nights at Lion's Head were miserably hot. It wouldn't have been a bother, but apparently, they shut off the power grid around midnight. With no power, the air system was also off, and the room quickly went from modestly warm to unbearably hot. The windows were sealed shut and I wasn't about to leave the door open while we slept. Sweat started to drip down my neck and face. “Damn it," I muttered to myself as sleep was not returning to me as I felt like I was roasting. So, I got up and filled the sink with water.

“What are you doing?" Kayla asked from the dark.

“Trying an old trick I learned when I was a kid. You take a towel, soak it and drape it over yourself. It helps to pull the heat off."

“I would like to try that," she said. “This heat is miserable."

I dunked both towels in the sink, rang them out, so they were just damp and took one over to the bed. The lights were still off, but there was enough light coming in to let me see the outlines of things. “You'll have to put it directly on your skin to work. I would suggest your back."

In the dim light, she unabashedly pulled off the t-shirt and then laid back down on her stomach. I draped the wet towel from her shoulders down to just past her tailbone. She pulled the top of the boxer shorts down a few inches to take full advantage of the wet fabric.

“That does feel better," she said, “Thank you."

Crossing back to the sink I rang out the other towel.Then moved back to my spot on the floor, pulled off my shirt and laid back down with the wet towel covering my back. It helped a little, but I still found it hard to get comfortable enough to fall back to sleep.

I laid there in the dark, listening to the native insects chirping in the distance like a group of deep throat crickets. The moon was three times the size of the one at Earth, so even in a crescent it kept the place well lit. Heavy drapes covered the window, but the white light filled the edges and allowed through enough light to make blue and grey shapes of all the objects in the room. My body was tired, but my mind was restless. I didn't like not knowing what my next day was going to be. Not having a job or access to enough money to book passage to anywhere was not a good feeling. I was confident I could find something, and if needed I could go to the government office and take out a loan against my pension for a steep interest rate. My future wasn't bleak, but it wasn't looking pleasant either.

I'm not sure if it was an hour or just 15 minutes later, but the stillness of the dark room was shattered by a blood-curdling scream that caused me to bolt up from my near slumber. I looked over, and in the dim light, I could see Kayla's shape. She was shaking, and I could hear her near panicked sobs between gasps for air. I didn't even think about it. Getting up I moved myself up to sit on the edge of the bed and put an arm around her. She lunged onto me, wrapping her arms around me and pulled herself to me. Before I knew what was happening she had buried her face into my neck and sobbed heavily. I put my other arm around her and held her, letting her cry out whatever bad dream had freaked her out. “It's okay," I said as she continued to sob and mumble something so incoherent I didn't even bother to ask her to repeat it. After a while, she shifted her weight so she could rest her head on my shoulder, and her crying softened to a light whimper. Sweat on my chest mixed with her tears and I needed to change my position to be comfortable. So, I laid back on the bed with my right arm around her letting our body separate some without abandoning her. The separation of our sticky wet skin was only momentary as she cuddled up to me with her right leg over mine and her bare chest halfway across my bare chest. In another time and place, this might have been an exciting moment, but it was hot, awkward and very uncomfortable. Yet I didn't have the heart to not continue to comfort her. So, I stroked her back and hummed a tune that was in my head in the hopes that she would sleep easily and maybe let me sleep a couple of hours. Her breathing calmed, and she mumbled something again that I couldn't understand, but it wasn't as stressed as before. Not long after that she started lightly snoring. I tried to gently roll her off so I could go back to my spot, but she moaned and clung to me tighter. “Damn," I said under my breath. I grabbed a pillow and propped it under my neck. Then I wrapped both my arms around the very desirable young woman who didn't want me to leave.

~~~

One of the advantages of not having a job is the fact that you don't need to set the alarm for the c***k of dawn. So, you can imagine how irritated I was when someone started knocking on the hotel room door. Grunting, I rolled myself over and I pulled myself up to my feet. The pounding continued and before I could ask who it was a man's voice barked, “Mr. Reilly! Open the door."

Something in the pit of my stomach tightened at the command. I hadn't done anything to piss anyone off, at least nothing recently and certainly nothing on this world. Yet, I had a very bad feeling that the man on the other side of the door didn't want just to talk. So I moved to the door and tried to look through the peephole, but it was being blocked by a hand. I thought about asking who he was through the door, but if he had a weapon and meant to do me harm, my voice could give him a direction to shoot at. So instead, I braced myself against the wall on the side of the door nearest the knob. As quietly as I could, I released the privacy latch that was locking the door and turned the handle to let it open in. As I anticipated, at that moment the man butted the door with his shoulder in an attempt to knock me over and burst through the opening with a hand laser pointed out in front of him like an amateur. My position gave me the element of surprise that he thought he had. In the first second that he entered the room, he realized I wasn't in front of him, and he quickly spun around to confront me. With my free hand, I grabbed the pistol out of his hand, just as they taught us in basic and with my other hand I clocked him upside the head, bouncing him across the bed and onto the floor.

The whine of a laser pistol charging from around an inch from my right ear told me to freeze every muscle. From the corner of my eye I could see a short, but very fit Army Captain in standard duty fatigues, her golden blond hair pulled back and pinned under a uniform hat and intense light brown eyes slightly squinting as if she was locked on a target, pointing her service weapon at me. “Stand down, Lieutenant," she said, apparently knowing a lot more about me than I did about her or her cohort. I slowly put my hands part way up showing that I was yielding and turned to the Captain, hoping for an explanation. She kept her weapon trained on me as she took a step back and subtly assessed the situation. To a civilian, it might appear she was just glaring at me, but I could tell that she was taking in the entire room and making sure she was in complete control before reducing her stance. I, in turn, assessed her as well. Her uniform was well pressed and kept; a sign that she took her duty very seriously. The weapon was a T9 Gaoolt which had been discontinued five years ago. The scoring on the muzzle indicated that it was frequently fired, but the rest was in perfect condition as if it was cleaned and polished daily. She must have had it since she was first issued a weapon and cared for it with the diligence that they instill in new recruits. That told me she was a career officer. She had three scars that I could see. One on her gun hand just past the thumb, one on her neck that looked like it must have been long and deep enough to be nearly fatal and a third small one just under her left eye. All were indications that she earned her rank in the field and not from behind a desk. Her blond hair that would have probably been quite attractive styled in a number of fashions was pulled back and pinned so tight as to underline her status was that of a soldier first before that of being a woman. She wore no makeup and no jewelry even though regulations allowed some minimal allocations when serving in a non-combat duty. Vanity did not go beyond the pride of the uniform. Her partner, who was taking his time getting back to his feet, was a civilian, middle-age, balding and at least 60 pounds overweight. How these two mismatched individuals ended up working together was something I couldn't piece together by just their appearance.

“What the hell," Kayla said, trying to cover herself as best she could from a thin sheet that was partly pulled off the bed by the balding man's fall. Suddenly I remembered that I was wearing only sweat-shorts and the younger woman I was with was for the most part in the nude. There was nothing illegal about our situation, even if the conclusion the two strangers would be drawing was true. I reached over to the dresser that was within an arm's reach and grabbed my dirty shirt. I could have reached into my bag for a clean one, but that would have been pressing my luck with the gun still pointing at my head. I slipped the shirt on and said, “Someone want to tell me what this is all about?"

“I'm Captain Mitchell," the woman holding the gun said, “and this is Detective Jones." She looked over at the bed and asked, “Are you, Kayla Johansson?" Kayla nervously nodded. “Good, the two of you are under arrest. On your feet and put your arms around your back."

“No," I said as if I had the right to give orders. Captain Mitchell's face went from stern to very annoyed. I continued with an equally annoyed tone, “You've overstepped your bounds. I've paid for this room until noon, which means this is my private property until the conclusion of that lease. You forced your way into my residence without identifying yourselves or presenting a warrant. Either action can cost you your commission and this guy his badge. You also pulled your weapon on a civilian. Now that might not mean anything to a city detective on a backwater post like this, but for you, well that can get you a court-martial. So if you want any bit of cooperation from either of us, you will start explaining yourselves."

Jones snorted as he rubbed his bruised head. “What are you, some kind of freaking lawyer?"

“No," Mitchell answered for me, “He's an academy graduate. I tried to tell you that we couldn't approach him like a common street thug." She then looked back at me and said, gun still pointed at me, “Lieutenant, you and Miss Johansson are under arrest for the murder of seven members of the cargo ship Glacier Runner 17."

I looked over at Kayla who was as puzzled as I was. “That's insane," I said. “What makes you think we had anything to do with their deaths?"

“We can discuss that down at the station," Detective Jones said as he tried to grab Kayla by the arm.

“Jones," the Captain barked. Then she took a breath and said, “Why don't you cuff the lieutenant and take him down to the auto. I'll stay here with Miss Johansson while she gets dressed."

Since the Captain was treating us with some measure of respect, I decided to cooperate and see how this played out. I put my hands before me to be cuffed, and Jones stepped up with the ceramic bindings. He grabbed my right wrist and tried to move my arm behind my back, but he could not budge as I held it taught. I then glared down at him and said, “I have a bad knee, and I'm going to need my hands in front of me to navigate those stairs," I then held my hands out in front of me. He grumbled something incoherent and slapped the cuffs on my two wrists. We then exited, but before I crossed the threshold, I looked back at the Captain. Her eyes locked onto mine and she gave me a slight nod. That was all I needed to know that she was good to her word and would treat Kayla respectfully.

~~~

The ride to the civil law complex was in silence as no one had much to say. The Captain and Detective wouldn't tell us anything more about the charges being leveled against me, and I was not going to volunteer anything until I had a better understanding of who was pointing the finger at me and why. The Captain had grabbed my belongings, stuffed them in my pack and brought it to the auto when she brought Kayla down. At first, I was relieved that all the personal possessions that I owned were not left behind for the hotel staff to plunder until I realized that she was collecting evidence to build a case against me.

Why the hell do they think I have anything to do with the ship going down? I silently thought to myself. Unlike my predecessors, I kept daily maintenance logs in military-style detail. It's the only way I know how to do the job. Some of my repairs were creative considering the limitations on tools and supplies I had to work with, but there was nothing that I could have done that would have caused such a catastrophic failure. Even if I had installed the wrong part that the i***t wanted me to use, it wouldn't have caused a total failure of the primary engine on take off. At worst, if the part failed, the ship would gradually lose power and be forced to make an emergency landing. It would have been a greater problem out in open space as it was part of the primary thruster drive. That would leave them stranded in the black on battery power as the main engine was also their main power plant.Getting stuck in open space is like being on a life raft in the middle of the ocean. Even if you can call for help, there is no guarantee anyone will be able to find you before you starve, suffocate or freeze to death.

So I know that I did nothing wrong, but until I can get a clue about what actually happened, I was going to be on the defense.

~~~

Once at the complex, I was put into an interrogation room. My hands were tethered to a metal ring in the middle of a concrete table, and the metal chair that they had me on had a bent leg that made it wobble whenever I shifted my weight. I was still dressed in just shorts and a t-shirt, no shoes or socks in the overly cooled room. They left me alone for what was probably 30 minutes. I assume they were trying to make me sweat, but all it did was annoy me. Just how stupid do they think I am? I muttered to myself. For a while, I just sat there staring at my hands reciting lessons from school that I had memorized by assigning names of things to the joints in my fingers. Something I use to do to pass the time in the service. There was always a lot of downtime on a ship, with short bouts of terrifying battles.

Eventually, I got bored of the memory games. Looking up at the wall in front of me I noticed it had a wobble in it. That's what engineers call the effect of an inconsistent power supply on an object that is really a holographic projection. I smiled and gave a knowing nod as I was pretty sure Detective Jones and the Captain were watching me from the other side of the facade.

About 10 seconds later the door opened. Jones waddled in followed by Captain Mitchell. The officer had an annoyed expression, and her hands were clasped behind her back. I could tell she didn't like following Jones who clearly moved slower than she could stride, forcing her to stagger her steps. Jones took the chair on the other side of the table from me, and the Captain stood behind him and to the left.

Jones cleared his throat, coughed a phlegm-filled cough and cleared his throat again. “Alright, Mr. Reilly…"

“Lieutenant," I interjected, being deliberately obstinate.

Jones' eyes squinted in a glare, and he started again, “Tell me, Mr. Reilly. Did you sabotage the ship before you quit or did you have your accomplice do it for you to cover your tracks?"

For a moment I just stared back at him until I could see the corners of his eyes twitch. Then I sat back as best I could with my hands still cuffed to the center of the table and said.

“Why the hell am I here?" I asked.

“Just answer the damn question," he said.

“What makes you think I had anything to do with the ship going down?" I asked.

“I just told you," he said with a sneer. “You sabotaged the ship. We know you did. I want to know why."

“You don't know crap," I said. “Tell you what. If you would like to have a civil conversation with me, I will be happy to accommodate you. But if you are going to continue to violate my rights and make unfounded accusations, I will exercise my right to silence until I'm provided counsel.

“Now you look you piece of s**t!" Jones growled and looked as if he was going to reach across the table and strangle me. Yet before he could, Captain Mitchell grabbed him by the shoulder of his wrinkled suit and pulled him to his feet. She then turned her back to me, said something in his ear that I couldn't hear and then took the seat he had just been sitting in. Jones mumbled something and then left out the door.

Mitchell pulled out a small palm computer, placed it on the table and turned on the audio and video recording function.

She then looked me directly in the eye and began her interrogation. “Lt. Jack Reilly. In accordance with Alliance Law, you are being charged with seven counts of murder and three counts of attempted murder in the second degree through actions that resulted in the crash of the Glacier Runner. If you are willing to plead guilty to these charges, I can take your confession and recommend leniency to the quadrant attorney. If you wish to plead innocent, I will take your statement, and it will be entered into the record and presented to the court."

I nodded, somewhat relieved that she was at least proper with me, despite the fact that she still looked like she had already concluded my guilt.

“I will make a statement," I said, “But first I would like to know what exactly it is that you think I did."

“I'm not at liberty to discuss evidence in an ongoing investigation," she said, pushing the computer a little closer to me.

The computer was just in reach of my right hand. I stretched my index finger to it and turned off the recording function. The Captain was a little surprised by my action and quickly pulled the device back to her side of the table.

“Captain," I said and waited until her eyes were back on mine. “You've obviously looked up my record. You know my certifications and experience level. Do you for a moment believe if I wanted to kill anyone on that ship that I would do such a sloppy job of the task."

With no variation in her expression, she said, “A clever man might try to cover up his crime by making such sabotage appear to be poorly done. Such a deception would require a skill set held by very few people not currently serving the Alliance."

“Fair enough," I said, “But from what I saw on the news feed, the ship couldn't even leave orbit.How is it that no one is questioning the survivors about why the ship's Captain didn't try to bring it back down, rather than push it to its breaking point."

“We've already questioned the Captain and have concluded the incident was beyond a reasonable control for a safe landing."

“The Captain didn't go down with the ship when others couldn't get off?" I asked.

Mitchell looked away for a moment. I could tell that the idea of the cargo ship's Captain evacuating his ship while leaving others behind bothered her as much as it did me. “Who determined that the crash was unavoidable?" I asked.

Mitchell bit down on the inside of her cheek. She knew her place was to be asking the questions, not answering them, but I could see that the entire case was irritating her like an itch inside a wet boot. She pulled the computer around, activating something new in its menu. The holo-wall became slightly more solid as she adjusted it to a privacy setting, preventing anyone on the outside from listening in on the conversation.

“The local flight safety administration," she answered as if the words left a sour taste in her mouth.

“In less than twelve hours the local FSA gave a conclusion?" I asked, never hearing of any government investigation taking less than a month. “And you don't have an issue with that?"

“What the hell do you think, Lieutenant?" she said, no longer trying too hard to maintain her officer persona. “This whole thing stinks to high heaven. Look, if you have half a brain, you will realize that I'm your best bet right now, so listen and don't repeat anything I'm about to tell you." She double checked the readout on her palm computer to make sure no one had overridden her audio lockout and then leaned in to talk in a lower tone, just to make sure. “The whole reason I got assigned to this case is that you are still listed as on active duty. The local government only gets database updates once every few months, and this place is one of the worst for keeping up with the rest of the quadrant. I know that you resigned your commission three months ago because I contacted Starbase L-77 to get your service record. Once I learned that you are back on civilian status, I could have gotten myself relieved from the duty, but I could see from the first page of the report that something wasn't right, so I kept my mouth shut in the hope of finding out what was really going on."

“What have you learned?" I asked.

“I can't prove anything, but it's blatantly obvious that someone has been either blackmailing or bribing some of the local officials and are using you and your girlfriend as scapegoats. You're only chance is to get you a fair hearing off world. I've already contacted my CO, and she's sending a fleet hopper to collect you and take you to a transport for Starbase L-77. From there the JAG's office will decide if you should be held for trial, but in order to get you out the front door of this place, I'm going to need to prove that I'm getting something out of you that they can use. So, give me your statement. Make it as long and complex as you can. Something that will take them time to scrutinize. My authority is extremely limited here, and the quicker we get you and Miss Johannsson out of the local jurisdiction, the better." She then turned the recording function back on and pushed the computer to the center of the table.

I wasn't entirely sure if I could trust her or not. For all I knew, she was giving me a finely crafted performance to get me to trust her and give her the evidence she was looking for to fry me. However, I didn't have anything to lose as I had no incriminating evidence to present and dealing with the locals had no appeal. So, I started at the beginning, with the day I signed onto Gerald's crew, the challenges I had keeping his ship operational, the lack of quality of the equipment, all the way up to the defective part that he wanted me to install and how my refusal resulted in my end of employment. Weaving in the technical details and the laundry list of all the mistakes the cargo ship's Captain had made in my short time on the ship, the recording exceeded an hour in length. At the conclusion Captain Mitchell turned off the recording, stood, picked up the palm computer and exited the room, leaving me still tethered to the center of the table.