Part 3-4
973 Words
We’re still twined together in my sweaty
sheets when they page us to the nav deck. No vidscreens this time,
just our names echoing through the ship as we hurry to dress, and I
get one of the jumpsuits up to my hips before I realize it’s too
tight along my thighs, it’s not mine. “Here,” I say, tugging it
down as Dylan starts to zip up the jumpsuit he’s wearing, my
suit. “This one’s yours.”
The page comes again. “We’re on our way,” he
mutters to no one in particular, stepping into his own jumpsuit. He
stands in the open doorway, watches me zip up, waits while I pull
on my boots. I can feel the weight of his gaze on my ass, my legs,
when I bend over to scoop the sheets back onto the bed. “I love
you,” he says suddenly. “Just so you know.”
“I know,” I tell him, waving my hand
dismissively as I walk past him out into the corridor. He grabs my
waist, pulls me back against him, kisses me hungrily. “Hey!” I
laugh, twisting out of his arms.
Vallery’s voice comes over the intercom.
“Don’t make me call you boys again,” she threatens.
On the deck, Val’s already in her chair,
Leena beside her, and Johnson’s in my seat, watching Shanley punch
coordinates into the computer. “About time,” he mutters as we
enter, and I get the feeling he’s still pissed about this whole
deal. He gets up and pushes past me, glares at Dylan when he stops
him with a hand on his shoulder. “Get off me, Teague.”
“Watch it,” Dylan growls. He gives
Johnson a shove out of his way, and when Johnson shoves back, I
think they’re going to get into it, right here—I catch Dylan’s arm,
whisper it’s okay, we don’t need to be fighting amongst ourselves,
but Johnson backs away. “You have a problem?” Dylan wants to know.
Johnson crosses his arms and shakes his head and avoids looking at
either of us.
I start to tell Dylan to forget it, he
doesn’t need this added stress, none of us do, but the transmit
starts to beep, signaling an incoming call, and I sink into my
chair as Vallery opens the channel. Leaning over my shoulder, Dylan
holds his breath until Conlan’s voice cuts through the ever-present
static. “S410 to Semper Fi, over. I repeat—”
“I repeat,” Dylan mocks, but Leena
slaps his shoulder and he laughs at her. “What? It’s
annoying.”
“S410 to Semper Fi,” Conlan
says, unaware of Dylan’s teasing. “Request transmission of
personnel medical files. I repeat—”
Dylan presses down the transmit button
before anyone can stop him. “We heard you the first time,” he says,
ducking around my seat to avoid Leena’s stinging hand. “Shanley’s
about ready to send the files—” He looks over his shoulder at the
med tech. “Are you?” With a nod, Shanley gives Dylan a thumbs up.
Jeez, is he for real? But Dylan only claps him on the back as he
stands and says, “It’s your show, then.”
Shanley leans close to the transmit as he
says, “Conlan, I need your DAQ cords—”
Suddenly Johnson’s there, pushing Shanley
away. “What’s your armament?” he wants to know, his voice
bitter and fast. “You have forty-two colonists, where are
their med files? What’s the terrain like down there? What’s
the condition of your craft? We don’t know s**t about you guys—we
need this info before we land—” Dylan grapples with Johnson,
trying to pull him back, and Leena wedges herself between the radio
tech and the control panel, knocking his hand from the transmit and
shoving him away. “Get off me!” Johnson cries, struggling, but
Dylan’s stronger than he is and Leena’s scrappy, she manages to
avoid his flailing arms and helps Dylan get Johnson behind the
seats until he’s up against the door and sputtering in anger. “We
need to know what we’re getting into,” he says, trying to extract
himself from his crewmates. “We’re flying into this thing
blind, can’t you see that? We don’t know—”
Leena hits the power switch and the door
irises open, spilling Johnson and Dylan out into the corridor,
where they land in a tangled heap on the floor. Then she hurries
through the closing door, helping Dylan haul Johnson to his feet.
Over his shoulder, Dylan calls out, “Evan, make sure those files go
across.” The door shuts on Johnson’s protests as he’s dragged away
from the nav deck.
“Well,” Vallery says, taking a deep
breath, “that could’ve been handled better.”
“No, you think?” I ask with a shaky
laugh. Shanley looks at me and I nod. “You heard him, send the
files. If they still want them.”
Conlan speaks tentatively, unsure. “Um,
Captain Teague? You must understand that we cannot give that kind
of information out just yet. Ours is a very precarious position…”
He trails off, as if these aren’t his words but someone else’s and
he’s listening to the next prompt. “Once the committee has verified
the medical condition of your crew, then we may be able to exchange
the information you… have requested. But until that time…”
I press the transmit just to stop his
halting speech. “Captain Teague is preoccupied,” I tell him. “I’m
the navigator, Neal James, and I apologize for that outburst, that
was our radio tech and his opinions do not reflect those of the
rest of the crew—” I hear Milano mutter, “Bullshit,” over the
intercom, but it’s low enough that I can ignore it for now. “If you
are ready, Dr. Shanley will send the medical files now.”
A long pause, and I’m almost sure that
Conlan heard Milano’s comment, he must have, and he probably
doubts the validity of my apology, he’s wondering where Dylan’s
gone off to, he’s wondering what the hell kind of command we have
if the radio tech can just interrupt the transmission like that but
none of us expected it, I know I sure as hell didn’t. I’m
about to apologize again, beg him to believe me if I have to, we
can’t come this far and be denied the chance to land and check out
this colony, Dixon will kill us if we let this slip by, fire us on
the spot, but then Conlan says, “Our DAQ coords are as follows—”
and I know it’s going to go right this time, I know we’ll get down
there and we’ll land, we’ll be the first to find one of the lost
Starseed colonies, and Dylan will finally get his name on a
star.
- Writer
