My watch vibrated. REPORT? IT HAPPENED AGAIN. The Captain’s tone was undeniable.
I wasn’t sure if it was the situation or just me, but his patience had run out.
I inspected the side of the box and found a length of RJ-90 run to one of the bridge’s secondary report stations. That answered one question. The Captain was watching a live feed on every startup, probably from his personal terminal, though, he could only guess at what he saw displayed, being that the feed would show thousands of lines of code per second.
I unclipped my tablet and connected it to chemical storage. I started reviewing the code line by line, not the big data blocks the Sol Net sent over, but merely startup and registry. I could read Sage language, but wasn’t proficient enough to write new code, only halfway edit what was already made. Everything was clear so far. I checked the BIOS as Griffin had suggested, the basic input output system used to direct our main computer during startup. It didn’t take long to locate what I was looking for; too bad it wasn’t in Sage. This was an assembly code, bane of all programmers, professional or not. I would have only been guessing if any of this had posed a danger, but our target was so damn stupid he’d led me right to it.
Whoever had coded this must not have expected anyone to find it, and had left commenting tags to the right of several lines, similar to remarks, rem:, as they were called in Sage. These were commonly used by programmers as not to lose track of what a specific function in a highly advanced system was intended to do. Not smart for keeping things hidden. I found several tags ‘;start false com check’ and ‘;add to disk image’ and ‘;xmit location’. I removed the code, first copying a set to my tablet’s note pad for safe keeping. I found myself hoping I could even trust these comments. Were they a trap? Would removing these bits do something terrible, like shut down life support and suffocate us?
Like a surgeon performing a lobotomy after only reading the wiki article, I carefully highlighted everything from start to ‘;end false com check’ and hit delete. I hoped that was enough. Any lingering, incomplete lines could interfere with normal ship operations, revealing what I’d done before being ready to make my final move. I inspected what was copied to the note pad several times, trying to take a guess as to who might have written this. The style, far as I could tell, was direct, to the point, and efficient.
I messaged our impatient Captain, noticing that another doodle was on the box made in black marker. THREAT REMOVED, I said, and received no reply. I ran a finger over the drawing, cocking my head to the side. It was the face of a bearded old man, a single tear falling from his right eye with its edges morphing into a knife.
XO cut in over the intercom, “Good work, crew. We will not be firing again for some time. Please standby. Take a few moments to collect yourselves.”
A calm of a sort washed over the ship. It was over for now, but not for me.
I made for the closest hatch and climbed down. A few crewmembers meandered past, slapping me on the back in congratulations for keeping power up and the guns firing. We were still alive, that was something. Griffin was waiting for me, a giddy smile plastered on her face.
“You were right,” she said, looking tough in spite, and possibly because, of the filth spattered down her white jumpsuit.
I patted her on the shoulder and made for Crew 1. I needed time to collect my thoughts, maybe even a nap. My eyes were dry and scratchy. Hot damn, I was exhausted, and could use a stiff drink.
The hallway was busy, crew heading everywhere at once. I made a mental note of each one of their expressions, searching for guilt among the pack. Dour Face and Lank Hair were carrying a man to the brig. Doc took someone’s vitals in the hall. Navigation sauntered past, tossing peanuts down her throat while sipping on a red liquid.
As I crossed the arboretum a scream came from the back of the ship. I whirled around, but it was nothing. Kelly was congratulating Griffin for her stellar work in an almost too friendly manner. A worry rolled around in the back of my head. I was missing something. Something very important. It was just on the tip of my—
Next thing I knew I was slammed against the wall, shoulders throbbing from impact. The air whooshed out of me and my hands trembled as I struggled to suck in breath. My lower flight suit brushed against a set of perfectly pressed black uniform pants, and the region grew interestingly tight. I drew a desperate wheeze and allowed my body to do what it did best.
Liberty forced her lips against mine, hard but sweet, tongue desperately seeking conference in a sloppy, hot mess. I worried for an instant we might get caught, but when I twitched to flee, trying to slide away and regroup, Liberty only pressed the offensive. She was far stronger than I had guessed. Her hips ground into me. Every nerve crackled like lightning, spidering from my arms, through my heart, and down beneath my boxers. After a moment of heavy breathing, a bit of shoving and near painful hair pulling, she disengaged, licking her lips while staring at me like a hungry animal.
She ran fingers through my hair, humming the melody to Love in an Elevator, by Aerosmith.
I croaked, “But what if—”
“Shut up, Davie,” she growled, and took me by the hand.
I wasn’t so much led into the arboretum as forced, routed down a single path without escape. I can’t say I didn’t like being pushed around a little, but I knew there were cameras nearby, though at the time couldn’t recall just where I’d placed them. If the Captain found out…
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, and threw me down on my ass in our secret hiding place. “But I want you and I’m gonna have you. You hear me, David? I’m gonna have you.”
I nodded, both excited and slightly terrified.
She ripped my jumpsuit in half, zipper shooting off into the trees, then peeled the clothes from her sweaty skin. She was glistening with the tension of our attack, eyes wide, brain running high on adrenaline. I stopped trying to be in control and let her take over. The heart shaped birthmark on the right of her neck blazed bright red. Only a few nuisances of clothing were in the way. She freed what she was after and a devious grin found its way onto my face.
Her open palms pressed down on my chest, pinning me to the dirt as she positioned her firm legs across my lap, her uniform jacket still on, its tail brushing against my thighs as she ground her hips into me. Time passed in a colorful blur of emotion, a sexual kaleidoscope of pleasure, rage, connection, empathy, fury, pain, and finally, precious peace—elation and release.
Liberty screamed so loud the whole ship must have heard.
She collapsed onto my chest and sighed.
I folded my arms around her, drawing damp, soft flesh against me. Something cool and wet dripped onto my chest. Liberty was trembling. I drew her ever closer, squeezing hard as I could, running fingers slowly through her hair and savoring her musty aroma like an expensive perfume.
A whisper rustled in the leaves. “She can’t save you.”
I glared back at the voice, invisible as it was. This was our moment, our crossroads. What I’d learned in life by now is that it’s not always what you do that you regret, it’s what you don’t.
I was done with regrets.
[16]