Endurance: The Complete Series Page 9

  “It won’t help.”

  Beep beep! A second failure.

  “You don’t know that. Just try it.”

  “No.”

  Beep! On the third attempt, the airlock accepted the code and opened the external hatch.

  All four officers—as Areva had surreptitiously joined them at some point—stood at attention to greet their CO. Captain Thomas Withers walked on board the Endurance and started to head toward the bridge, but halted when he saw the group waiting for him. His dark brow furrowed. “You’re all actually here.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Viktor. “You made it clear you wanted all of us present.”

  Withers shook his head, probably to clear the sense of astonishment away. “Well, good. This’ll be more efficient than trying to find each of you individually. I had a talk with Commissioner Wen right before I caught the shuttle back up here …”

  “Sorry I’m late!” Maureen, a young woman in her early twenties, darted around the corner and came to a halt. “I only just heard about the meeting. I was looking for my brother in the reactor room, and Grace told me all department heads were supposed to be up here.” She waved to Matthias. “Hi.”

  “Hi, sis! What do you need?”

  “Figure that out later,” said the captain. “Officer Habassa, while I appreciate your enthusiasm, you’re not a department head.”

  “Yes, I am,” Maureen said. “I’m the Endurance’s chief medical officer.”

  “You’re its only medical officer.”

  “And that technically makes me the head of the department.”

  “Whatever the case, you weren’t invited.”

  “But I came prepared!” She produced a small notebook and ink pen from one of her uniform’s pockets. “I’m ready to take notes!”

  Chris snickered. “Who uses paper and pen anymore?”

  “I do.” Maureen put a fist on her hip. “It’s more reliable. For instance, yesterday my computer deleted changes I made to a dozen different files. Paper never does that.”

  “Did you save the changes?”

  “I thought that happened automatically.”

  “Every twenty minutes. You have to tell it if you want it to save more often.”

  “Oh. Oops. That explains a lot.”

  “Getting back to the point,” Captain Withers said, “you’re not supposed to show up to meetings for senior officers when you aren’t one.”

  “But I am one.”

  “Not officially. And this is an official meeting.”

  “Oh.” Maureen flushed and tucked her notebook back into her pocket. “I guess I’ll, uh, just go, then.”

  Viktor thought it was rather silly of the captain to dismiss her after so much ado. “Sir, whatever you tell us will spread through the ship anyway. Perhaps it would not hurt for her to hear your news directly from you?”

  Withers pinched the bridge of his nose, and Viktor prepared for an argument. To his surprise, the captain shrugged and nodded. “Fine. Officer Habassa, you can stay.”

  Viktor frowned and paid closer attention to the captain’s tone and movement. Was something distracting him?

  Withers straightened his shoulders and looked each officer in the eye. “I just talked with Commissioner Wen. The department of Oversight and Investigations has officially cleared us of any wrongdoing involving the Haxozin.”

  That was good news, particularly for Viktor, who had shot four of them. His use-of-force reports had taken ages to fill out, but at least his thoroughness accomplished something. He smiled. Matthias whooped.

  “But they’re still refusing to assign us anywhere.”

  Viktor’s smile vanished. “Not even our regular patrol? What reason did they give this time?”

  “They want us to land at headquarters for a full systems checkup before they send the Endurance off into space again.”

  “Didn’t they do that already?” asked Matthias. “You know, when they were inspecting it to see if our story was true and find out what information the Haxozin downloaded and …”

  “They want to do it again. I’m just as upset as the rest of you, but there’s not a lot I can do about it.”

  The captain didn’t quite meet anyone’s gaze as he said this, and Viktor grew suspicious. Before he could start asking hard questions, though, Withers adopted the tone he used when issuing orders. “I hoped to have better news when I called this meeting, but it is what it is. You’re all dismissed to start prepping the ship for landing.”

  Areva, Chris, Matthias, and Maureen dispersed in various directions. Viktor waited, unwilling to abandon the issue so easily.

  It seemed the captain had a similar idea, but he waited for the corridor to clear before speaking. “Lieutenant Ivanokoff, I’d like a few more words with you.”

  “Good, because I have some words I would like to share. What are you and Dispatch hiding from us?”

  Withers glared at him. Viktor was a few inches taller than his captain, so the effect didn’t intimidate him as much as probably intended. “Is that what everyone’s thinking? That I’m conspiring against the rest of you?”

  “Since we returned, you have not spent much time on the ship. You have had multiple private meetings with Dispatch. Now you will not even make eye contact when discussing the issue. It appears as though you are working with them to keep the Endurance in dry dock forever.”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “Then explain what it is about, sir, because morale among the crew is plummeting. They need something to do. We need something to do.”

  “They’ll have to wait until Dispatch figures out how to handle everything. They’re still not happy about having the Endurance in the public eye, and with what’s happened now …” The captain’s voice trailed off and his shoulders tightened. He ground his teeth for a few seconds, as if unsure how to proceed.

  Apparently this wasn’t the same political song and dance that the Endurance crew had, well, endured for so long. No, this was something new, and from Captain Withers’s demeanor, it was significant. Viktor asked, “What has happened?”

  Instead of answering, Withers studied the wall. “You worked in the organized crime division for almost a decade, right?”

  “Yes, sir.” Viktor didn’t know what his service record had to do with anything.

  “You probably had some run-ins with the Uprising crime group?”

  “Yes.”

  “They murdered a UELE officer two nights ago.”

  Viktor’s jaw clenched in anger at the news—outcast or not, he was a part of the United Earth Law Enforcement corps, and an attack on one was an attack on all—but he still didn’t understand where the captain was going with his story. “That is terrible news, sir, but what does it have to do with us?”

  “Not us, Ivanokoff. You.” Withers took a deep breath. “The officer they killed—it was Adwin Soun. Your captain from the organized crime unit.”

  Viktor’s stomach dropped. “Captain Soun? Murdered?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the only reason this affects you.”

  “I would think that would be enough.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s more. Whoever did it left a note on the body. A list of names. The first one was Soun’s, and it was crossed off.” Withers paused. “The second one was yours.”

  Viktor exhaled slowly. “A threat.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Do they know who wrote it?”

  “If they do, they didn’t tell me.”

  “How do they know it was the Uprising?”

  “I didn’t have time to ask, but I’m sure it’s in the case report. Since we’re stuck here for a while longer, they’ve asked you to consult.”

  Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Is this the real reason they are keeping us here for another inspection? To coerce me into helping?”

  “I honestly don’t know. It’s possible.” Withers took a deep breath. “I’m sure you and Org Crime didn’t part on the best of terms …”

>   “That would be an understatement.”

  “… but despite the bitterness I’m sure you have, you can’t get out of …”

  “I have no problem with working the case, sir.”

  Withers stopped in mid-sentence. “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Huh.” The captain stared at him. “Here I was, thinking I’d need to deflect a thousand excuses before you’d be willing to work with those people again. From what I’ve heard, Captain Soun was the one who kicked you out of Org Crime and got you assigned to the Endurance.”

  “That is true.”

  “Is it some kind of literary justice thing? You want to catch his killer to make up for not reconciling with him?”

  “No.” Viktor shook his head. “It is simple. If we are to be stuck here without an assignment, I would like to have something to do. I do not do boredom.”

  “What, running out of things to read?”

  “Never. But as I expressed earlier, the crew is tired of inactivity, myself included. If they are indeed keeping us here to secure my help, then the sooner I give it to them, the sooner they will give us a real assignment. I am doing this for the good of the ship. Also …” He shrugged. “I would not mind the opportunity to outperform the organized crime team.”

  “I see.” Withers nodded, and then a smile of understanding crossed his face. “Oh, I see. You want to look good by showing them up? Get some brownie points with Dispatch?”

  Viktor frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I get it. You do well on this investigation, and maybe you get yourself off the Endurance.”

  “That was not quite what I …”

  “Lieutenant, don’t worry. Nobody on the ship is going to think less of you if you try to secure a transfer. In fact, I’d think you were crazy if you didn’t take advantage of the opportunity.”

  Viktor honestly hadn’t considered that angle. While the thought of staying on the Endurance didn’t trouble him as much as it would others, he realized that Withers had a point. “I intend to do my best work, sir. If Dispatch takes notice of it, then I suppose that is an added benefit.”

  The captain, who Viktor knew had his own transfer request on file, clapped Viktor on the shoulder. “Then report to Commissioner Wen once we land tomorrow. The ship will be serviced by the Median engineering team, so if we need you, you’ll be right next door.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Best of luck, Lieutenant. Here’s hoping for a positive outcome.”

  * * *

  The Endurance suffered a shaky re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere and a bumpy run onto the landing pad, probably due to the way the Haxozin had poked around the ship’s machinery. Or just due to the pilot. Viktor debarked as soon as the ship taxied to its parking space in the Dispatch service lot. Fortunately he didn’t have to deal with a quarantine before getting down to work; the entire crew had undergone an embarrassing number of medical tests after returning to the solar system.

  He keyed in his code and waited for the middle deck airlock to slide open. A blast of fresh air scented with salt water blew into his face. It always smelled like sea salt in Median City, the capital of United Earth. Viktor had lived and worked in Median until his mid-thirties, but after spending the last six years mostly in space, he’d started noticing the scent whenever he returned. Amidst the salt he could pick out the aromas of various restaurants wafting through the air, offering cuisine from every corner of the world.

  He paused to breathe deeply of the sea air, and despite the morbid event that brought him here, he had to smile. He loved this city. Built on an artificially-constructed island in the middle of the Mediterranean, equidistant from the shores of Europe, Asia, and Africa, Median had eagerly shaped itself around its identity as a crossroads. It wasn’t unusual to see a family dressed in Yoruba apparel eating sushi in a building styled with Corinthian columns while conversing in Spanish, and so on. The scents, sights, and sounds blended into something that was simultaneously a mess and a work of art. Like any metropolis, Median had problems, but it was a destination that everyone had to visit at least once in their lives.

  After his moment of reverie, Viktor checked his belt for his two favorite guns, and then he stepped through the airlock, leaving it open to vent the ship’s interior. He descended the long metal staircase that had been set up to allow passage to the ground. While the Endurance had its own loading ramp on the lower deck, deploying it took a while, so the crew used the smaller, middle-deck airlock whenever possible. This meant they needed to use the parking lot’s portable stairs. Viktor noted that the parking crew put the Endurance all the way at the end of the lot—no doubt on purpose.

  Dispatch headquarters lived in a ten-story, square-shaped building constructed of gray blocks of stone. Viktor took the stairs up to the fourth floor, the home of Oversight and Investigations, and approached the division’s reception desk. “Lieutenant Viktor Ivanokoff,” he said. “I am here to see Commissioner Wen.”

  The young man sitting behind the desk looked up. His mouth dropped open when he saw Viktor’s height, but he quickly collected himself. “Ivanokoff. From the Endurance, right?”

  Of course, he had to announce the name of the ship to the entire room. At a nearby desk, a sergeant nudged his partner and muttered something, then both started laughing. Viktor lowered his voice as he replied, “Yes.”

  “You’re late,” said the desk officer. “She had you down for 0900.”

  Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “That is not my fault. My ship has only just now landed.”

  The man shrugged. “You can tell her that, but the commissioner doesn’t like excuses.”

  “That is an explanation. I do not do excuses.”

  “Everybody does excuses.” The young man hit a button on his desk. “Your 0900 is here, Commissioner.”

  “Good,” said a female voice. “Send him in.”

  The man waved Viktor toward the corner office and returned to whatever he’d been doing on his computer. Probably playing cards, Viktor thought.

  He passed the still-snickering sergeant on his way to the commissioner’s office. The sergeant’s desk had a computer tablet on it, open to a digital library. Viktor twisted his neck to see the title of the active book. “Ah, I enjoyed this one.”

  “Oh?” The sergeant had tensed when Viktor stopped at his desk, but relaxed at the comment. “Yeah, I like it, too. Seems very deep. When did you read it?”

  “When I was in the second grade.” Viktor turned a stony expression to the man. “That was also when I learned that it is rude to laugh at other people.”

  The sergeant spread his hands. “What, you can’t take a joke?”

  “I can. But I do not want to. So keep your mockery to yourself next time.”

  The sergeant sputtered something, but Viktor knew better than to continue the argument until it became a fight. With his size, he’d definitely be the one charged with instigating, and he didn’t want to get kicked off of this case before he even started work. He continued toward Commissioner Wen’s office.

  The commissioner’s door opened on a nicely furnished room. Four computer displays covered the huge desk—three of them upright and one built flat into the surface. Of the remaining desk space, one corner held a couple piles of paper, and the other displayed one of those laser-pointer desk toys that showed the alignment of the solar system in real time.

  Behind the desk sat the commissioner. Wen herself was a tiny woman with a tight bun of black hair and a glare that could melt titanium. “You’re late,” she told Viktor as he walked in. “I expected you twenty minutes ago, especially since you didn’t even need to take the shuttle down from space dock. Shut the door behind you.”

  He obeyed. “Our ship was …”

  “I don’t particularly care at this point, Lieutenant. There’s work to do. I assume Captain Withers briefed you on what’s going on?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Then I want you to report to Lieutenant Okoro on t
he eighth floor. He’s running the investigation into Captain Soun’s murder. He’ll fill you in on the details and tell you what he wants you to do. Also, in light of your name being on the list we found, I’m assigning someone to watch your back.”

  “That is not necessary,” said Viktor. “I had a perfect score on my last marksmanship test, and I am well armed.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Wen paused. “Although I admit I was impressed by the report of how you took down those aliens. I understand you used guns that you customized yourself.”

  “I call them Dickens and Dante.” Viktor patted the weapons on his belt.

  “Cute. You brought them with you?”

  “Da.”

  “Tomorrow, don’t. Bring your service weapon, and only your service weapon. The uniform may seem like a suggestion to you, but at headquarters we take it seriously.”

  Viktor’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t yet convinced Captain Withers to let him carry the two guns on the ship, but he’d hoped to sneak it past the people here at headquarters. He hated leaving his favorite weapons in his berth, but he wanted even less to be left there himself. He nodded his understanding of the rule.

  “Also,” continued the commissioner, “I’m still going to insist that you have backup.” He grimaced, and she rolled her eyes. “Everyone on the list is getting a bodyguard. I don’t know why all of you act like it’s a big inconvenience. They’re just keeping an eye out for you.”

  “May I at least request the officer assigned to me?”

  “If they’re available, I suppose so.”

  “She is available. Areva Praphasat.”

  Wen cocked an eyebrow. “From the Endurance? Are you sure?”

  “I am from the Endurance too, Commissioner.”

  “Of course, but from what I’ve heard, she’s not the best person to have with you in a firefight.”

  “With Areva around, the other side will not have a chance to fire.”

  Wen folded her arms. “Are you only making this request because you don’t want to deal with anyone from headquarters?”

  “No. I am already comfortable with Areva, and we have a good working relationship. She will provide less of a distraction than someone else. Also, she has nothing else to do at the moment, so you will avoid reassigning one of your own people.”