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" 2507: The Star Trader Chronicles Episode 4: Mathias Brock could hear low murmurs coming from the galley of the Aurora Lady as he stepped from his compartment into the narrow corridor. Over the last few weeks the crew had taken to gathering there in the late evenings before turning in for the night. The informal nightly meetings sometimes culminated in a poker session but, more often than not, they were usually just a time to chat, relax, and have a little snack. It was the crew’s time to unwind and reconnect. Brock’s boots clanked on the deck as he made his way through the passageway and turned into the galley. Several voices called out as he entered. “Hey, Cap’n!” “How’s it going, Cap?” “We wondered where you had gotten to, Brock!” The greetings were short but welcomed. This was the best part of his day. “What are you hooligans up to tonight?” Brock asked with a grin. He started over to the coffee urn, grabbed a mug and filled it to the top with steaming black coffee. “Cowboy and Rose were just telling us their plan to rake in a million unis,” Zahirah volunteered. “THAT, I’d like to hear,” Brock chuckled. He chose an empty chair between Oro and Ian and sat down heavily. “Somebody pass me those muffins,” he said, as soon as he spied the basket of Zahirah’s fresh baked blueberry pastries. The doctor obliged by sliding them down the table where they slid to a stop neatly in front of Brock. “It was Cowboy’s idea, actually,” Rose admitted. “I’m not saying it’s strictly legitimate, but it would probably work.” Brock reached for a muffin and broke it in half as Zahirah slid a plate under it from across the table. Brock marveled at the way Miss Z always seemed to be buzzing around, making people comfortable and seeing to their needs. She was one heck of a cook too! He smiled at her then turned towards Cowboy. “So, spill it,” he said. “Tell me about this million universal idea.” Cowboy pushed his ever present cowboy hat back on his head and grinned. “Well, it involves acquiring some cheap land, finding the right patsy….er, potential buyer, and then convincing him, or her, that the land could be very lucrative for them.” The captain arched his eyebrow. “And just why would our buyer think that?” he asked with real interest before taking another bite of the muffin. “Well,” Cowboy drawled on, “it could be that they might think that the land could hold some very valuable mineral deposits.” “Uh huh, and why would they think that?” Brock pressed. Cowboy tipped his chair back, teetering on its back legs yet skillfully keeping his balance. “I was thinking that we might be able to kind of turn their thinking in that direction. We could…” Cowboy’s speech was interrupted by a loud repeating tone that was coming from their communications box. As the entire crew was present in the galley, it was obvious that this message was not internal.
Rose hopped up and went over and tapped an
audio button. “Incoming private message for Captain Daniel Brockman,” the
box announced. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Twelve days and 16 hours later the Aurora Lady was in orbit around Xerxes awaiting permission to land at Rivera Spaceport. Brock had informed the crew of their mission details, as he knew them, and Oro had insisted that the crew adopt a state of high security until their passenger was safely delivered. She was now in “predator mode” as Brock called it. You could tell by just looking at her that she was in a state of high awareness. She prowled the ship checking their weapons, checking their security systems and checking the crew themselves to make sure they were carrying side arms and were alert at their posts. The Lady held her orbit for almost two hours before a voice came onto the Bridge giving them instructions for landing at the private spaceport. Ian looked at Brock, who nodded his consent, and he began the interface that would soon bring them in for a landing. Once they were docked, as directed, they notified Coco Phnong and waited. “I guess we aren’t going to see much of this colony,” Ian complained. “It would be nice if we could just drag our butts outside for a bit of fresh air.” “I’d like that too, Ian, but it can’t happen. We’re supposed to remain as invisible as possible for this pick up,” Brock said. “I don’t like all this secrecy. You’ve got to know that Jannala isn’t being straight up with us. Something about this deal has got to be rotten. We just can’t smell it yet.” Oro entered the bridge carrying a plasma rifle. “There are three people standing aft of our ship, one is a big goon who might be a body guard. There is also an oriental woman and a little old man. They appear to be waiting for us.” “Let’s go then,” said Brock, who stood up quickly. He looked at Ian. “Stay here and be ready to get underway fast if something goes wrong,” he ordered. “Aye, Captain,” Ian acknowledged. Brock followed Oro across the ship to the aft gangway where Cowboy and Zahirah, both armed, also waited. As they stood by, Brock lowered the ramp and waited for it to lock into place. Then, with a nod to Oro, he exited the ship and walked towards the waiting trio. The large man was definitely some kind of body guard. He was bigger than Brock and from the size of the bulge Brock detected under the man’s vest, he was heavily armed. The oriental woman was petite with shiny bobbed black hair. She wore a dark skirt, white blouse and dark jacket, very business like apparel. The old man with her was dressed casually in tan slacks and an open necked white shirt. He carried one small bag with him. His hair was pure white and his eyes were steely blue. On the ring finger of his left hand was a very large ring with an enormous stone that looked like it could be a ruby. All three looked very somber. Oro followed a few steps behind Brock while Cowboy and Zahirah guarded the open hatch. Brock approached within a few yards of the new arrivals and stopped. “I am the captain of the Aurora Lady,” he said. “I understand you have a passenger for us.” The oriental woman looked around her before speaking. Brock followed her eyes and noticed then that there were several other goon types spread out around the landing platform, obviously sealing off the area from outsiders. He looked at Oro who nodded, letting Brock know that she, too, saw them. Now satisfied that she could not be heard, the oriental woman spoke. “I am Coco Phnong. This is Mr. Smith. He is the one seeking passage aboard your vessel.” She pulled an envelope from the side pocket of her jacket and handed it to Brock who had to walk forward several steps to accept it. “This envelope contains half of your pay and directions to Mr. Smith’s destination. He must be there within seventeen days. I’ve been told that this is an adequate amount of time for your vessel to deliver him. Please look inside the envelope, without withdrawing its contents, and tell me whether or not you can deliver Mr. Smith in the appropriate amount of time. Do not voice the name of the destination. Mr. Smith, himself, is not to know it.” Brock began to look inside the envelope and then jerked his head up again to regard Coco Phnong quizzically. “Mr. Smith doesn’t know where he’s going?” he asked in amazement. Phnong frowned. “Mr. Smith is a very important man but he does have enemies. His family wishes for him to relocate to keep him safe.” “But why can’t he know where he’s going?” The woman bristled. “It is not necessary for you to know everything about this transaction, Captain! Suffice to say, Mr. Smith sometimes has memory lapses and his family does not want him revealing his whereabouts should he communicate with someone. If he has no knowledge of where he is, he can not share that information with anyone else. Now... can you deliver him or not?” Brock pulled the business sized, carbolated envelope open with his thumb and peered in. He spied the destination quickly, New Budapest. It was a place he was very familiar with. It had been a regular stop on his route for Brockman Enterprises. It was not a very savory place, definitely not a tourist destination. It was mostly an industrial colony, with an under current of shadowy commercial transactions. Brock wondered who would be waiting for them there but shrugged it off and answered anyway. “Yes, I know this place and we can be there within seventeen days,” he said with assurance. “Good,” Phnong said with a bob of her head. “But, there are two more stipulations for this job.” Brock sighed. “What are they?” “First, no one on your crew is to ever speak about Mr. Smith, the time he spent on board your ship, or his destination to anyone else… ever.” “Agreed,” said Brock. Phnong reached into her other jacket pocket. “And, you are to give one of these pills to Mr. Smith every eight hours without fail. The next dose is due three hours from now. This is imperative.” She handed the bottle over to Brock who looked at it curiously. He then glanced at his watch to check the time before speaking. “Understood. I will give that job to our doctor.” The woman’s eyes grew wide and she looked suddenly alarmed. “This ship has a doctor?” she asked incredulously. She looked at the ship with disbelief, as if she could not fathom that such a beat up little vessel could possibly have the luxury of its own doctor on board. “Yes, she is one of the best,” Brock bragged. Phnong locked eyes with Brock. “Tell your doctor that she may only administer the medication as directed on the label. She is NOT to examine Mr. Smith, nor is she to treat him in any way. Is that understood?” “But what if he is injured or becomes sick?” Brock asked. His eyes scanned Mr. Smith’s face, but the man showed no reaction at all to this bit of news. “Then I expect you to contact me immediately for instructions. Take no steps to treat him!” Brock was alarmed by this turn of events but quickly decided that he would not gain anything by arguing with this headstrong woman. It was Mr. Smith’s and Mr. Smith’s family’s business, not his. “Gotcha. Is that it?” he asked. Coco nodded. “Follow your instructions to a ‘T’ and there will be no problems.” Without another word, she turned and left with the big goon bodyguard right behind her. Mr. Smith stood there looking at his own shoes, his face expressionless. Brock sighed heavily. “See you later,” he said sarcastically to the Oriental woman’s retreating back. Then he turned to Mr. Smith. “Are you ready to come on board?” he asked. Mr. Smith’s clear blue eyes met Brock’s. “Yes, I am ready to come on board,” he said flatly. “Good. The lady with the weapon is Oro. Why don’t we just follow her then?” Mr. Smith nodded. “Follow Oro,” he repeated. “Yes, let’s follow, Oro.” Brock shot a look of concern at Oro. She shrugged her shoulders and turned to lead the way back on board, although her concerns were deeper than Brock could imagine. She was worried that Mr. Smith, himself, might be a walking explosive. The thought was seated in her mind as soon as the Oriental woman said they were not allowed to examine Mr. Smith. She had seen similar tactics before in the UEF. Once they were inside the ship she tugged at Brock’s sleeve and whispered her fears. “I’d like to run him through my scanner,” she said with serious eyes. Brock nodded his agreement. “Good suggestion. That should probably be done whenever we take a passenger on board.” Oro pulled a hand held scanner from a pouch on her belt and flicked it on. “Excuse me, Mr. Smith, but would you object to a weapons scan?” she asked. Mr. Smith frowned. “No, I don’t believe so,” he said. Oro smiled and ran the scanner all around their guest, from head to toe. The scan took less than a minute. “Thank you,” she said to Smith. She then turned to Brock. “He’s clean,” she confirmed. Brock nodded his acknowledgement. Then, because Mr. Smith was their first V.I.P. guest, the captain personally showed him to the V.I.P. compartment next to his own. The crew’s exercise equipment had temporarily been moved out to a cargo bay and Mr. Smith’s new quarters had been spruced up by Rose and Zahirah. It now looked cozy with clean linens and a comfortable chair. “I hope you like your accommodations, Mr. Smith. I’ll let you get settled in. Please push that white button on the communications box if you need anything. We will call you when it is time for dinner.” Mr. Smith looked around blankly. “Time for dinner. Yes, dinner will be good. I am very hungry.” “It won’t be long,” Brock promised. “I’ll leave you for now.” He walked to the open door and looked back. Smith opened his suitcase and began to shuffle through his things. Brock closed the door quietly then walked to another squawk (communications) box and pushed the button. “Ian, call for clearance and take us back into orbit A.S.A.P. I’ll be up to discuss our new coordinates in a few moments. I need to make one stop first.” “Acknowledged,” Ian said quickly. Brock then pushed the ‘all call’ button which allowed ship wide announcements. “Secure all hatches and make ready. We are returning to orbit.” He switched the box off and headed off towards the infirmary. He stuck his head in looking for Dr. Green but when he found the facility empty, he turned back to the corridor, took a few steps and knocked on the doctor’s compartment door. “Just a minute,” he heard her call out. He waited only a few moments and then the door slid open. The doctor stood there dressed in a dark purple sweater and slacks, topped with a white lab coat. “Hello there, Brock. What can I do for you?” she asked lightly. “Can I have a private word?” he asked soberly. Winter smiled. “Sure, let’s step into the infirmary.” Brock entered first and the doctor followed, closing the door behind them. They both remained standing. “What is it?” she asked curiously. Brock fished in his pocket and brought out the pills that Phnong had given him. “We were directed to give one of these to Mr. Smith every 8 hours, beginning at 7pm Earth CST,” he said, glancing at his watch, still set on Nashville time. “I’ll see to it,” Winter said. “Hmmmmm, they are unmarked and I don’t recognize them. Did those people say what they were for?” Brock shook his head. “No, they were very secretive. In fact, they ordered us not to examine him or treat him without their direct permission.” The doctor’s forehead furrowed. “I don’t like the sound of that,” she said. “What did Mr. Smith say about that?” “Nothing. He’s been very quiet. Not communicative at all. I know we aren’t allowed to treat him, but I thought perhaps you could observe him closely to see if you can detect anything unusual about him. I think he may be under the influence of some kind of drug…maybe the one you are holding.” “Certainly. Where is he now?” “He’s in his quarters but will be joining us for dinner shortly,” Brock informed. The doctor nodded her head. “Fine, I’ll try to sit near him then.” Brock thanked her and took off for the bridge. An hour later everyone, including Mr. Smith, was sitting around the galley table. Zahirah had set out a burrito and taco bar and they all were enjoying their own unique edible creations. Mr. Smith had seemed stymied by the choices at the bar so Win had taken it upon herself to help him out, then she sat herself down opposite him to eat and chat. It wasn’t long before she realized that her conversation with him would be almost entirely one-sided. She tried every conversation starting tactic she knew and he either repeated her words or gave brief ‘yes’ and ‘no” answers. He remained stone faced, fidgeting with the large ring on his left hand and picking at his food. She looked into his eyes to try to confirm her suspicions but his pupils looked normal and so did the whites of his eyes. She finished the food on her plate and excused herself. “Where are you going, Doc?” Cowboy called out as she made her way towards the door. “There’s fried ice cream, y’know!” The doctor smiled back at Cowboy and the others at the table. “I’m too full to eat another bite,” she complained. “And there’s something I need to check on.” She left then and returned to the infirmary. By the time the dessert was completed, Winter was back in the corridor, outside of the galley, waiting for Brock. As he exited and started back to his own quarters, the doctor surprised him by reaching out and giving his sleeve a tug. “A private word, Captain?” she asked. “Of course,” he answered. “My quarters?” She nodded her reply. Brock turned and led the way. Winter, following behind, was suddenly struck with the thought of how his bulk filled up the narrow passageway. He was a very large man. Brock opened his compartment door and Winter stepped in ahead of him. This was definitely a man’s living area. Clothing was strewn over the bed posts and chair. More clothing hung unevenly from pegs nailed into the bulkheads. A pair of boots was flung into the corner and the desk was piled with debris. Brock picked up the clothing lying on a comfortable looking lounge chair and tossed the garments onto his bed. He then gestured for the doctor to sit, which she did, carefully. Brock pulled out his desk chair, turned it around to face her and plopped himself down. “What’s up?” he asked. “Well…it’s Mr. Smith’s medication,” she began. “You gave it to him?” “Not exactly.” Brock raised his eyebrow. “Doctor, I thought it was understood that you were to give him that medication as directed.” “I don’t like to dispense medication unless I know what I’m giving….so I examined those pills,” the doctor explained. Brock sighed deeply and grimaced. “No one said a thing about not examining the medication,” she defended,” they only said not to examine the patient!” Winter smiled. Brock shook his head, but he was smiling too. “I suppose that’s technically correct. So, what did you find out?” “The medication has no purpose except to sedate and subdue the patient. In essence, it’s a tranquilizer.” “A medical restraint?” Brock asked. “I was afraid of that.” “Yes, and I don’t want to give it to him, Brock. With long term use it could damage some of the pathways to his brain and nervous system.” The doctor looked somber. Brock grimaced. “That sounds like a treatment decision to me, Winter. We are supposed to transport this guy, not treat him.” “It’s against my principles to give medication to a patient when I don’t know what it’s for and, especially, when I know that it’s detrimentally affecting his health.” She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and handed the pill bottle back to Brock. “I can’t dispense this. You are the captain and you will have to do what you think is best. I won’t judge you, but I can’t be a part of it.” Brock turned the bottle over and over in his large hands as he thought about this new dilemma. “What would happen if we just stop giving it to him cold? Would he go into withdrawal? Would it be dangerous?” Winter shook her head. “No, he would need careful monitoring, but I don’t think it would harm him. My guess is that he hasn’t been on it for very long, although I’d need to draw his blood to determine that.” “No blood test!” Brock said firmly. “This will go against our instructions, but this whole thing hasn’t felt right from the beginning.” He looked up at the doctor. “Let’s take him off the drug for a while and see what happens. How long will it take to get out of his system?” Winter grinned. “We should see some changes in him by morning, but it will take a couple of days before its effect is completely gone.” Brock nodded his understanding. “I knew this wasn’t going to be as easy as it seemed,” he said under his breath. “I’ll be glad when he’s been delivered and we’re through with this whole thing.” ~~~~~~~~~ The next morning Mr. Smith appeared at the galley door escorted by the doctor. He had a deep frown on his face as he went to his accustomed seat and plunked himself down without a word to anyone. Winter walked around the end of the table passing by Brock. “Good morning,” Brock said pleasantly. “Is it?” she asked, flicking her eyes towards Mr. Smith and back to Brock again. “Problem?” Brock asked. “You’ll find out,” she answered knowingly and continued on to her seat. Brock looked back at her quizzically but could see that she wasn’t going to elaborate. Other members of the crew began to file in and line up at the galley counter. “Where’s the waitress?!” Mr. Smith bellowed. “I’m hungry and I’ve been sitting here forever!” Brock exchanged a look with Winter who shrugged her shoulders. He turned to their passenger. “Mr. Smith, this ship has no waitresses,” he said. “We serve meals buffet style. Remember?” Mr. Smith turned a hateful look at the captain. “Are you addressing me?” he asked. Brock blinked. “Well…yes.” “Then why are you calling me by that awful generic name?!” he demanded. My name is Mathias London, my friends call me ‘Tice’, and I’ve never seen a filthier, more primitive cruise ship in my life!” Brock’s face reddened as he struggled to control his anger. “Listen, Tice, this is not a cruise ship. It’s a cargo vessel and, sometimes, a transport. We are doing our best to make you happy but we are not a five star line.” “That’s for sure! Who told the likes of you to call me ‘Tice’?” Mathias bellowed. “You may call me Mr. London, or Mathias.” He pushed out his chair and stomped over noisily to join the chow line. The doctor turned a smile on Brock. “Pleasant, isn’t he?” Brock grimaced. “And you’re sure you won’t reconsider putting him back on his medication?” he asked hopefully. Winter just laughed out loud, then stood up and turned to follow Mathias. ~~~~~~~~~~ That afternoon Brock was alone on the bridge, giving Ian a well deserved break, when Oro came pounding down the stairs. “Captain, I just caught Mathias trying to sneak down here. I told him that passengers were not allowed on the bridge but he says it’s imperative that he speak to you. He’s very insistent.” Brock sighed loudly. “Let him come down just this one time. While he’s down here I’ll explain to him that he won’t be allowed back again.” Brock could tell by Oro’s expression that she didn’t approve. “OK, I’ll escort him down here then.” She left and less than a minute later Mathias’ black shoes, then tan pants, blue shirt, ring and finally, grey head came into view. He was followed closely by Oro. “Do you want me to stay?” she asked Brock. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Brock answered. Oro turned to leave but Mathias spun around. “Wait!” he told her, then turned back to Brock. “I want that doctor down here while we talk.” Brock thought this over a moment. “Oro, please call the doctor to the bridge,” he instructed. “Aye, Captain. I believe she is in the galley,” she answered, then disappeared back up the stairs. Brock stood up and gestured to a little used navigator jump seat built into the bulkhead behind him. “Come and have a seat,” he invited Mathias. Mathias walked slowly over to the offered chair while his eyes roved the area around him. “Not the most modern bridge I’ve ever seen,” he commented. “Have you seen many?” Brock countered. “No, not many,” Mathias admitted, “but I’d wager this one is the oldest and ugliest.” He went over to the chair, pushed down the seat, and settled his skinny rump into it. “It smells like old grease and stale air down here.” Just then, the doctor appeared. “You wanted to see me, Captain?” she asked. “Yes, Winter. Mathias would like to talk to both of us.” He gestured to the co-pilot seat, indicating where he’d like her to sit. The doctor walked quickly over and seated herself expectantly. Mathias stared at her. “Your name is ‘Winter’?” he asked. The doctor nodded. “No wonder you’re so cold!” he bellowed, tickled with his own joke. Brock rolled his eyes and Winter managed a weak smile. Brock changed the subject quickly. “What can we do for you?” he asked. Mathias sobered quickly. “I demand to know where I am going and who you are delivering me to!” Brock bit his lower lip in thought before answering. “I’m afraid that our agreement with your family’s agent does not allow us to divulge that information…..not even to you,” he explained. Mathias leapt to his feet. “I am fully in control of my own faculties and I have my rights. I demand to know where I’m going and I want to know NOW!” “C’mon Mathias,” Brock coaxed,” have a seat and let’s talk about this rationally.” “Rationally?! There’s no rationality to this!” Mathias stormed. “I wake up out of a drug induced fog and find that I am on my way to God knows where to meet with God knows who and none of it is of my doing! How would you feel?” “It must really be frustrating, Mr. London,” the doctor soothed. “I can’t imagine how upset you must be, but please, sit down and let’s talk about it.” Mathias looked at the doctor and slowly lowered himself back into the jump seat. “I feel like I’ve been kidnapped and am being held against my will,” he lamented. Brock exchanged a look with Winter. “We’re sorry about that,” he said. “That was not our intention. We thought we were just providing a service at your family’s request.” Mathias sneered. “My family?” he spat. “They rarely have my best interests at heart. In fact, they would like nothing better than to have me disappear. It would be quite profitable for them.” The doctor reached out and put her hand on Mathias’ arm. “Are things really that bad with your family?” she asked sympathetically. “Yes……well, with most of them. You see, my dear wife passed away twelve years ago, leaving me with five adult children, all boys.” He held out his left hand and the ring upon it caught the light shining above them. “My wife gave me this ruby ring on the day we were married. It has never been off my finger all these years and it never will be. I intend to be buried with it.” “It’s beautiful,” Winter said softly. “And it’s quite a tribute to her that you have never removed it from your hand.” He nodded. “She was my life.” “And what about your children? Where are they?” she continued. “Four of them live in our compound in the colony with their wives and children. They all fight like dogs, each trying to promote their own interests and each trying to get me to appoint them as head of the company when I retire.” “And the fifth son?” Winter asked with real interest. “His name is Lucas and he’s the youngest. He’s also the only one with guts enough to leave the family. The last I knew he and his family were living on Margilla. I haven’t heard from him in three years.” Mathias shook his head from side to side. “He reminds me the most of my dear departed wife.” He suddenly looked up at the doctor. “He’s the only one of the lot that I still even care to be around.” Winter smiled. “Well, perhaps we are taking you to him, then,” she suggested cheerily. Mathias’ head whipped over towards Brock. “Are we going to Margilla?” he asked hopefully. “I’m not at liberty to deny or confirm that information,” Brock said flatly. “Brock, put yourself in this man’s shoes!” Winter pleaded. “How would you like it if you were being taken to some unknown place to be delivered to some mystery person? The representatives of his family, at least the ones that we’ve been dealing with, must be unscrupulous to have drugged him the way they did. I think he has a right to know where he’s going.” Brock shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t divulge that information......but,” he said holding up his hands to defend himself from protests, “I promise that when we arrive at our destination, we’ll check things out before we turn you over.” Mathias shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not much assurance.” “But, you are forgetting something, Mathias. You are going to have a card to play that the people who will be awaiting your arrival are not aware of,” Brock continued. “What’s that?” Mathias asked, squinting suspiciously at Brock. “They are not going to expect you to be clear headed and alert. They are going to think you are still under the influence of that restraint drug.” The corners of Mathias’ mouth turned up slightly. “Yes, that should be very interesting,” he said. “Very interesting indeed.” ~~~~~~~~~~ The next two weeks were a study in endurance. Mathias was a constant thorn in everyone’s side. Brock didn’t blame him for being angry that no one would tell him his destination, but the man seemed to delight in going around tormenting the crew. It was getting so bad that Brock had considered confining him to quarters, and probably would have, if they weren’t only two days out now from their destination. Brock, Ian, Rose, and Oro huddled together on the bridge. It was one of the few places on the ship where they could get away from Mathias, as he was now barred from that location. “I’ve never met a more crotchety git in my life!” Ian complained. “He told me that the Irish should have been eradicated back in the 20th Century, that it would have been a gift to the world.” “What does he have against the Irish?” Rose asked, intrigued. Her mother’s family’s roots were in Scotland and she wondered what Mathias would have thought of that. “He didn’t elaborate,” Ian answered. “And I really didn’t want to have to knock him on his aging butt, so I didn’t ask.” Oro snickered. “At least that might have been a fair fight,” she quipped, remembering a recent scuffle with Ian, a scuffle in which he had been the one who had been knocked on his butt. Ian spun around in his chair to face her. “And that will be enough out of you,” he scolded, somewhat good naturedly. He waved his finger in her general direction. “I swear a man can’t get a lick of respect on board this ship.” Oro just smiled back at him. Another sharp jibe was sitting heavily on her tongue but she swallowed it. She knew just how much teasing Ian could stand and she figured he had now reached his limit. “Brock, do you know who we are giving the old man to?” Rose asked, a worried expression on her face. “Wait!” Ian suddenly interrupted. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown a soft spot for the old lecher?” Rose crossed her arms and leaned back against an upright beam. “No, but I can’t help but wonder who we are turning him over to.” Brock turned the co-pilot chair, in which he was seated, to face Rose. “I honestly don’t know, Rose. We haven’t even been given the contact’s name yet.” “Well good riddance to him, I say!” Ian growled. “The sooner he’s away from me, permanently, the better.” “I second that,” Oro chimed in. “He told me my hair was the same color as a Resckillian rat. Then he told Cowboy that he sounded like a drunk and Zahirah that her potato soup tasted like wall paper paste. He even told the doctor that she was probably a quack if she couldn’t get any better job than the one she has on this ship, and he likes the doctor.” “I believe he has offended all of us equally,” Brock lamented. “He told me that I was nothing but a thug and a pirate. Then he told Nova to buy a pretty dress and get a man before it’s too late!” Rose’s face became animated. “He told me that our family must have been experimenting with growth hormones to come up with a giant like Brock, and a midget, like me!” Rose said, scowling. Oro, Ian and Brock laughed out loud. It wasn’t so much what Rose had said, but how she had said it that had brought on the laughs. “It will be ok, Rose,” Brock said soothingly while looking at his watch. “We’ll be shed of him in 45 hours and 32 minutes.” Rose sighed. “I’ll be glad to see him gone, but I just have a bad feeling about all of this.” “At this point, I just want him off this ship,” Brock said gruffly. He then turned to check out their status on the ship’s control panel. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Aurora Lady glided down to the coordinates fed to her from the air traffic control station on New Budapest as Rose looked over Brock’s shoulder at the forward view screen. “Ugly, isn’t it?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. Brock remained silent, eyes locked on the screen, as Ian brought the ship in to land on a landing strip in front of a large dark building. Rose had been correct, the place was ugly. No trees, or any other vegetation were in sight, only dark square buildings, with few windows, surrounded by lots of paved ground. As the Lady pulled to a stop, the trio on her bridge were surprised to see a large door begin to open on the front of the building directly ahead of them. Their eyes grew wider when they received an audio message from the tower. “Taxi into the hangar immediately in front of you, you will be directed to a berth.” Ian tuned to look at the captain. “I don’t like this, Brock. It doesn’t feel right. Do you want me to follow their instructions?” Brock frowned. “We’ve come this far, I reckon we’d better finish the job.” Ian sighed. “You’re the boss,” he said, then powered up the engines to move them into the large hangar. “Brock, are you really going to leave Mathias in this God forsaken place?” she asked nervously. Brock turned abruptly to look at his cousin and he did not disguise his anger. “Yes, Rose,” he growled, “I’m leaving Mathias here. That is what this job is all about!” He turned back to the view screen. “But surely, you’ll check these people out before you leave him here?!” Rose pleaded. “I know you! You are not a heartless man.” The Lady passed through the hanger door and a uniformed man with a set of electronic torches stepped into view and started to direct them deeper into the facility towards an empty berth. Brock spun back towards Rose again. “Rose, get off my bridge!” he ordered. Rose looked back at Brock with disbelief. “You can’t mean that…..” she said, her voice trailing off. “I do mean it, and if you don’t get off this bridge right now, I’ll call Oro and have you confined to quarters!” He turned again to the view screen, watching as the Lady pulled into a berth and slowly came to a stop. Rose’s face turned bright red. “Aye, Captain Brockman,” she said loudly and sarcastically, then throwing an exaggerated salute in his direction as she passed, she made her way to the stairs and disappeared. Ian turned towards Brock and grinned. “That’s going to cost you,” he quipped. “I know,” Brock replied. “She’s small but she’s feisty, and she has a memory like an elephant.” The communications box beeped and then an announcement filled the bridge. “Greetings. I am Mr. Jones, your contact on New Budapest. I read your ship as operating on CST Earth time. At exactly 15:30 CST I will meet you at the bottom of your aft ramp where I will take custody of Mr. Smith and pay you your remaining salary for this job. Please have Mr. Smith ready at that time. Thank you.” Then the box went dead. Brock and Ian exchanged looks. “That’s in about 15 minutes,” Ian observed. Brock tapped the T.I.C. affixed to the back of his left hand. “Oro, we’ll be delivering Mathias to his hosts at 15:30 CST. Please get everyone ready for the exchange.” “Aye, Captain. I’m on it!” Oro’s voice answered. Brock turned to Ian. “The sooner we break orbit from this rock, the better,” he said flatly. ~~~~~~~~~~ At 15:25 Mathias stood next to the aft hatch with Oro, Cowboy, Zahirah and the doctor. The bag he’d brought on board was sitting next to his feet and he was breathing heavily. “Calm down, Mr. London,” the doctor soothed. “Take deep, slow breaths.” Mathias shook his head. “I don’t want to calm down and I don’t want you to leave me here!” he shouted. “If I were a younger man, I’d take you all on!” Brock walked up to the group. He had heard Mathias’ complaints echoing down the corridor. “Working yourself into a frenzy isn’t going to help anything, Mathias. You need to just chill.” Mathias turned towards Brock. His eyes were bugged out and his face was beet red. “That’s easy for you to say,” he raged. “No one is leaving you here to be kept against your will…….or worse.” He swung a fist towards Brock’s chin but Brock reached out and grabbed it, stopping it from connecting. “Stop it!” Brock said firmly. “Look, you need to keep your wits about you. The best thing you can do is get control of yourself and let them think you are still under the influence of those drugs. They won’t be expecting that.” He let go of Mathias’ fist and noted that Mathias let it drop harmlessly to his side. Mathias looked up at Brock with sad eyes. “You really aren’t going to help me, are you?” he asked sadly. “You’re really going to just leave me here and fly off into the Cosmos.” All eyes suddenly turned to Brock. “I’m afraid that your destiny isn’t in my hands,” he explained softly. “I was contracted to bring you here and that’s what I’ve done. I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain.” Mathias looked resigned and defeated. He reached down and picked up his bag. “Let’s get on with it then,” he said finally. “I’ll probably like them better than I like you anyway.” "We’ve got company,” Ian’s voice announced from the communications box next to the hatch. “There appear to be five of them, all male.” “Thanks, Ian,” Brock called out. “Stand by incase we need to do another Nashville exit.” “I’ll be on my toes. Good luck,” Ian said and the box shut down. Brock reached out and punched a button. They all watched as the rear hatch opened and the ramp began to deploy. “Oro, Cowboy, you’re with us,” Brock ordered. “Zahirah, Winter, guard the hatch.” He then looked over at Mathias. “Are you ready?” he asked. Mathias nodded. His head was down and he was again looking at his shoes, the same posture he’d had when Brock had first met him. When the ramp locked into place Brock led the way, followed closely by Mathias and Cowboy, with Oro bringing up the rear. This time their contact waiting at the end of the ramp appeared quite cheerful, almost too much so. He was a short dark man with greasy hair and a big toothy smile. He was flanked by four tall men in black trench coats. They appeared to be body guards, or some other kind of stooges. “Greetings!” the man gushed. “I am Mr. Jones.” His eyes locked on Mathias. “Hello, Mr. Smith. You look well.” Mathias just stared back vacantly. He bobbed his head slightly. Brock was impressed by how well Mathias was portraying a drugged out passenger. No one would have ever guessed that he was probably the soberest one amongst them. Brock looked Jones in the eye. “I’m the captain of the Aurora Lady. As you can see, we are delivering Mr. Smith, as promised.” “Thank you, Captain. He looks well,” Jones said. Brock noticed that Jones had tilted his head slightly to get a better look at the ruby ring on Mathias’ hand as he spoke. “You have taken very good care of him.” “We tried,” Brock replied simply. Jones raised his right hand over his shoulder and the large man behind him reached into the pocket of his trench coat and produced an envelope which he handed over quickly to Jones. “Here is the remainder of your pay. You may count it here, if you wish.” Brock took the envelope from Jones and slipped it into the interior pocket of his own jacket. “No, I trust you,” he said. “Well then, that should conclude our transaction,” Jones said. He reached a hand towards Mathias as if to guide him along with him. “Uh……one more thing….” Brock began again. “Yes?” Jones asked. He was now looking more than a little irritated. “My crew and I kind of took a liking to the old coot and, well, I’d like to know who is going to be looking after him while he’s here.” Brock folded his arms in front of him. Jones grinned that snake oil salesman leer again, though his eyes betrayed his anger at this intrusion. “Well, I don’t want to divulge any real identities, but I will tell you this. He is my uncle and he will be in good hands.” Mathias’ head snapped up and the fire came back into his eyes. “I am NOT his uncle,” he declared loudly. Jones did a double take as he observed Mathias’ reaction. He was silent for a moment and then regained his composure. “He’s easily confused,” he explained. “I am his nephew and my family and I will be caring for him.” “I AM NOT HIS UNCLE!” Mathias screamed. “BROCK, DON’T LEAVE ME HERE! PLEASE!” He dropped his bag and scrambled behind Brock, peeking out from around his back at Jones. Jones frowned. “This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid,” he said calmly. “The old man has these spells from time to time. He’s acting as if he is off his medication. Did you give it to him?” Brock ignored the question. “You did just call him ‘Mr. Smith’,” he pointed out. Why would you call your own uncle ‘Mr’?” “Because I was trying to protect his identity!” Jones huffed. “I’ve had enough of this! Hand him over or we’ll forcibly take him and you and your crew will suffer the consequences!” That was enough for Mathias, he turned and ran back towards the open hatch. “Get him!” Jones yelled. “Take him out!” The four large men behind Jones suddenly produced laser pistols and began firing directly at Mathias. Cowboy and Oro raised their own weapons and began to try to give him cover but it was too late. Mathias screamed and spun around from more than one hit, then sank to the ground. Brock turned to Jones and delivered a strong blow to Jones’ jaw. He hit the ground and stayed there. Jones’ bodyguards, distracted by the condition of their boss, turned to help him. Brock ran back to Mathias, who was already being dragged inside the ship by Cowboy and Oro. As soon as they were all inside, he closed the hatch. “Take him to the infirmary!” Winter shouted. “Was anyone else hurt?” “No, they were only aiming at him,” Oro informed. She, Cowboy and Zahirah all grabbed one of Mathias’ limbs and began to move him quickly, as the doctor had instructed. The T.I.C. on Brock’s wrist sprang to life. “The hangar doors have closed, Brock. They’re sealing us in!” Ian’s voice declared. “Understood,” Brock answered. “Keep watch, Ian, and let us know if there are any other changes out there.” “Will do,” Ian answered. Brock followed the group down to the tiny infirmary. As soon as Mathias was deposited onto the examination table the captain turned to Oro. “Post guards and report to me if you see anything suspicious, anything at all.” “Aye, Captain,” Oro called out. “Wait! I could use Zahirah’s help,” the doctor shouted out. “Zahirah, stay. Cowboy, you’re with Oro,” Brock commanded. “Aye, Cap’n,” Cowboy acknowledged then he and Oro left the room. Zahirah went to the supply cupboard and began retrieving supplies in anticipation of what the doctor might need. Winter began ripping what was left of his shirt from Mathias’ body. “How bad is it?” Brock asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “It’s bad, Brock. He’s taken a hit to his left shoulder and one to the upper left quadrant of his abdomen.” She turned Mathias’ head to better take a look at the left side of his face. “Most of his left ear is gone too. What’s left is just hanging by a thread.” She turned to Zahirah. “Pack the ear for me while I see how much internal damage there is,” she instructed. “Yes, Doctor, “ Zahirah answered. “She began to rip open a package of sterile gauze. “Brock, there’s nothing more you can do here,” Winter said firmly. “You’d be of better use if you worked on getting us out of this mess.” Brock nodded. “I’ll be on the bridge. Keep me informed of his condition.” Winter looked up at him. “I will,” she said softly, then turned back to her patient. Brock pounded across the ship and down the stairs to the bridge. “Report!” he called out as he came up behind Ian, still sitting in the pilot’s seat. “There’s been nothing new since the hangar doors closed,” he said, his eyes still locked on the screen which was in constant motion, providing a 360 degree few of the hangar space around the ship. “It’s been quiet.” “I guess they know they have us locked in here like caged animals,” Brock commented. “No need to post guards on us.” “With our new weapons we could probably blast our way out of here,” Ian pointed out. “Yes, but we’d probably kill someone in the process.” Brock plunked himself down in the co-pilot seat. “We don’t need to make any more enemies.” “True enough,” Ian agreed. He thought for a moment then asked, “How’s the old man?” “Pretty bad. The doctor and Zahirah are working on him now.” The communications box lit up. Brock quickly popped the button and wasn’t surprised to hear Jones’ voice. “Greetings, Captain. That wasn’t very friendly of you to loosen my teeth the way you did.” “Just open the hangar doors, Jones, and we’ll be out of your hair,” Brock responded. Jones laughed loudly. “You know I can’t do that, Captain. However, we can fix this easy enough. Just turn over the old man and we’ll send you on your way.” “Can’t do that,” Brock answered. “He’s dead.” Brock glanced over at Ian who rolled his eyes at the lie. There was a short pause and then Jones responded. “You’re sure.” “Yes, our doctor confirmed it.” Jones laughed again. “Well, no matter. I’m sure you figured out by now that he was not sent to us to baby-sit.” “You were supposed to eliminate him?” Brock asked, already knowing the answer. “Let’s just say that his family wanted him to take a permanent vacation. In order to get paid, I just need to send them his ring, and enough tissue for DNA confirmation. So, just open your aft hatch and roll him out on the tarmac and you can be on your way.” Brock grimaced. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll get back to you,” he said, then reached up and turned off the squawk box. “Now what are you going to do?” Ian asked. “I’ve got a plan, just sit tight,” Brock replied then got to his feet and headed off towards the infirmary. When he entered the door he was pleased to see Mathias propped up against a pillow, his eyes were open and he was sipping water from a glass held by Winter. “You’re looking better,” he said with a smile. “His injuries weren’t as bad as I first had thought,” Winter said. “He is going to need some rest but he’ll be just fine.” Brock approached the examination table as Mathias pushed the glass away from his lips. He reached over and grabbed Brock’s large hand in his small one. “What about that Jones guy? Did we get away clean?” he asked eagerly. Brock exchanged a glance first with Winter and then with Zahirah. “No, he has us trapped in the hangar. The doors are closed and we can’t move.” “Let’s shoot our way out then!” Zahirah said vehemently. “I’m sure we could do it!” “We probably could, but not without loss of life. I do have another plan though,” Brock said, a glimmer of hope in his voice. “You see Mathias was right. Jones admitted that he was brought here to be eliminated.” “You mean murdered!” Mathias interrupted. “I knew my family would do anything to get control of my companies!” “Mathias, listen to me a minute. I told Jones you were dead.” “Why would you do that?” Winter asked with surprise. “Because it’s the only way I think we’re all going to get out of here alive.” Mathias eyes grew very wide. “YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME?” he shouted. Brock shook his head. “No, of course not, but we are going to have to fake your death. You see, in order to prove to your family that you are really dead he is suppose to send them your ring. Then he’ll get his pay, which I think must be a small fortune.” “My ring?” Mathias raised his left hand before his eyes and looked lovingly at the large ruby adorning his ring finger. “Yes, that makes sense. They knew that the only way that anyone could take that ring is if I were dead.” Winter looked into Brock’s eyes. She immediately knew what he was asking. “Mathias, I think what Brock is saying is that if we are all going to get out of here alive, then you are going to have to let Jones have that ring.” Mathias bit his lower lip hard. “I know that. I’m not an idiot!” he declared. He brought the ring close to his lips and kissed the stone. Then he grasped it with his right hand, slid it off his finger and handed it quickly to Brock. The scene was so touching that it had made both women’s eyes tear up. Brock looked down at the ring in his hand. “Thank you, Mathias. I know how hard that was for you.” Mathias wiped at his eye with the back of his hand and then grinned up at Brock. “You and your crew can call me ‘Tice’” he said. “I think you’ve earned it.” Brock smiled back down at him. “Oh, and there is one other thing we’re going to need,” he said quickly. “What‘s that?” Zahirah asked. “Doctor, you haven’t sewn Tice’s ear back on yet? Have you?” ~~~~~~~~~~ Three weeks later, the Aurora Lady had broken orbit from Margilla and were headed back towards the main shipping lanes. Ian had laid in a course and the Lady was flying on automatic pilot. The crew sat around the galley, having breakfast and reflecting on the adventure they had just completed. “It’s almost like a fairy tale ending, isn’t it?” Nova said, a slight smile dancing on her lips. “Not quite,” Brock said. “Making this trip out here has almost depleted our funds. By the time we pick up more supplies, we'll be tapped.” “Well, I’m still happy that we were able to secretly reunite Tice with his favorite son and his son’s family,” Winter said. “It’s too bad, though, that he’s lost all of the fortune that it took his whole life to build.” “He wouldn’t have had much use for a fortune if he had been dead,” Zahirah observed. She picked up a mug of steaming coffee and took a large sip. “I’m surprised they allowed us to get away without giving them Tice’s body,” Rose said thoughtfully. “Jones didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would trust you to bury him anonymously, like you promised.” Brock smiled. “Well, there must have been some good left in Jones. He got the DNA he needed and he seemed to understand when I told him that I had promised Tice, on his deathbed, to bury him in an anonymous grave.” “I never would have believed it,” Ian added. “Well, I’d like to think there is some good in all of us,” Winter said softly. “I’ve got something to share with everyone,” Oro piped up. “When I hugged Tice good-bye he pushed this envelope into my jacket pocket. He said it was for all of us and that it should be opened when we were all together.” She handed it across the table to Brock. Brock held it in his hand and looked at it blankly. “Go ahead, open it,” Cowboy encouraged. Brock awkwardly grasped the envelope and tore it open on one end. Out spilled a pile of green universal bills. Rose snatched up the money and began to count them quickly. “There’s 150,000 unis here!” she called out in surprise. Brock picked up the envelope again and checked it. He found that there was still a note inside. He pulled it out, read it to himself, then grinned. “Well,” Rose said impatiently. “What does it say?!” Brock cleared his throat and read: “To the Crew of the Aurora Lady – These universals represent all that I have left of my fortune. Please take them and use them to fix up that old rust bucket of yours. I would hate to see my new found friends marooned. This money is your reward. You passed my test. Expect to hear from me again. Sincerely, Tice London” There was a moment of silence and then Ian threw up his hands. “OK, I admit it,” he said. “The old git does have some redeeming qualities.” He stood then and picked up his glass. “I propose a toast to Mathias London,” he said. “A blessing in his absence!” The toast was made and an impromptu party began. The toast was made and an impromp End: Episode Four
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