His face goes wide with surprise. “Why the hell didn’t you say so?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now I need you to dig into your bag and find something that will numb the pain.”
“Dixon, that could cause nerve damage. We don’t know…”
I cut him off. “And if you don’t, it could be bad for us all.”
For a moment I think he’s going to argue with me. Instead he just mutters and starts digging through his medical supplies.
I go over to the door and type a code, sealing us in.
He looks up from a syringe.
“What’s the point of that?”
“I’ve locked us in. Not even Tamara can get through that door. If you try something, like giving me a sedative, you’re going to be stuck in here for a long time.”
“There goes that plan.” He puts the syringe away and takes out another.
Part of my concern is that he could still be my attempted killer. Although, his reaction to my locked door ploy indicates that his feeble attempt to knock me out may have been out of what he thought was my best interest.
“You’re pretty intense when you get angry,” says Laney over my comm.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“The half of what?” asks Warren.
I tap my earpiece. “Talking to my superiors.”
“Right,” he replies, not sure if I’m insane or not.
“Did you just call me you superior?”
I ignore her and keep my attention on Warren. Part of Laney’s job, besides providing me helpful facts, is moral support.
Back in the iCosmos control center we always had somebody standing by, usually a veteran astronaut to hop on the comm in intense times with calming anecdotes and sometimes helpful information.
Warren holds up a syringe. “Ready? This will numb your joints and cut down on some of the pain, but I don’t recommend we do that.”
“Understood. Do it.”
“Right. I just want your friends, hopefully not imaginary, to know this.”
“They do.”
“Read us the label,” says Laney.
“Hand me that?” I hold out my hand for the syringe.
Warren rolls his eyes. “I don’t recommend you administer that.”
“I’m not. Just being cautious.” The label is visible through a window in the handle. “Ropivacaine?”
“You’re good,” says Laney.
I hand the needle back to Warren.
He injects me in all my joints, which is made easier by the swelling, giving him plenty of surface area to target.
“Happy now?” he asks.
I rub my knees and elbows, trying to work the anesthetic into the tissue. “I’ll know in a little while. Now I need something for my face.”
“Have you considered a paper bag?”
“I’ll punch his lights out,” growls Laney.
“An anti-inflammatory to get the swelling down.”
“The swelling is your body’s natural way of healing. Otherwise I would have done something in the clinic for you.”
“Understood. But I need to get the puffiness down. Let’s not argue about it.”
He takes another syringe from his pack. “This will make you feel a little woozy.”
“How much?”
“In your condition? No way of telling.”
“Fine. We’ll leave it.”
I check my face in the computer monitor. It’s a little improved, but would still take first prize in the ugly pageant.
When I flex and stretch my hand I don’t feel as much pain as before. I also can’t feel much anything. It’s like wearing a thick pair of rubber gloves.
“One more thing. What sedative were you going to use on me?”
“Just a muscle relaxant. Nothing personal.”
“I want you to prepare a couple more.”
“What for?”
“I don’t exactly have a pair of handcuffs.”
“Handcuffs? I don’t understand.”
“Like I said, I’m here to investigate the transport explosion. The person who did that is also the one who just tried to kill me. And they’re still up here.”
“This just keeps getting better and better.”
When he finishes the doses I put them in a plastic pouch and slide them into my pocket. “Okay, Doc. Let’s go to the lounge module and call everyone together.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if we gathered in the hotel?”
“Not for me.”
“Well, this is going to be entertaining. I can’t wait to see the look on Tamara’s face when you announce you’re placing the station under Marshal Law.”
Technically I really don’t have any jurisdiction. But if they don’t know that, then all the better. If I want to survive this, I’m going to have to bluff my heart out.
“Go get ‘em, Sheriff,” Laney says over the comm in my ear.
Fifty-Six
Command
“What the hell is this about?” shouts Tamara as she enters the lounge module. She takes a look at my face as I hover near the intercom where I’d made my station-wide announcement. “Why aren’t you in the clinic?”
“I’d rather wait until everyone else is here to explain.”
“Who the hell gave you the authority to make an announcement like that?”
“I’ll explain,” I reply.
“Like hell. I’m going to call your superiors and find out what’s going on.”
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, stopping herself at the hatch. She pushes her way to the intercom panel and starts pressing buttons. “I can’t reach Earth.”
Eduard floats into the module. “Is this about the communication interruption? I was talking to my wife when everything went down. Did the meteor hit take it out? Holy Jesus, Dixon! Your face!”
Attwell, Ling and Cara drift in, followed by Samantha and the rest of the station crew. Each one takes a look at my swollen mug and either says something sympathetic or goes bug-eyed.
I do a head count then start. “Yes. I’m ugly. Let’s just move past that.”
“Why can’t I reach Earth?” asks Tamara, interrupting me.
I decide it’s best to ignore her outbursts and stick to my prepared speech.
“As some of you have surmised, I’m here on business other than research. I’ve been sent by United States Space Operations to investigate the explosion of the transport craft. We have a solid reason to believe that it was sabotaged by one or more persons currently on this station.
“As you all know, a few hours ago I was in a module that was ejected from the station and had to…improvise a return. While the computer system says this was due to a micro-meteorite strike, that is false. Someone tried to kill me.”
I pause to study their reactions. This was part of my plan. I’m no social expert and probably couldn’t tell a saint from a sociopath, but I was hoping that someone might have a telling reaction.
So far, Attwell, Samantha, Ling and Warren are just staring at me, trying to figure out the implication of what I’ve revealing.
“Dr. Warren, is this man sane?” asks Tamara.
“He’s got a gun, either way.”
For the first time, she spots the shoulder holster visible under my jacket.
“You brought a gun onto my station?!” she yells.
“No. I built a gun on your station. It’s designed for pressurized environments.”
“I’m going to the command module to call somebody downstairs. This is outrageous.” Her face is like an angry plum.
“Don’t bother,” I reply. “As it’s been pointed out, communications are down because I’m jamming them.”
“You’re what?” asks Attwell.
“We’re jamming all outbound and inbound communications. We don’t want the traitor communicating with anyone.”
There’s a murmur of surprise around the room.
Tamara pushes her nose nearly to mine. “Under who’s authority?”