Mercurial: Ace Evans Book 5 (Ace Evans Series), page 4
When he finished, he wrapped a thick towel around his waist and hung another around his neck. On the counter, still in their retail packaging, were a wide variety of toiletries. Alex used a toothbrush and a deodorant. His hair was buzzed short with no need for a comb, brush, or hair products. He ignored the skin creams and colognes. He would use one of the new razors to shave after he slept. The shower had relaxed him, and his eyelids felt heavy.
When he left the bathroom, he had just about decided to skip dinner and go straight to bed, but the food was waiting and he smelled it. A delicious, rich aroma that made his stomach growl. The food was on a silver tray, covered with a silver dome. The snacks were neatly arranged in a basket. He walked past the bed to the closet, where he found more of the silky-feeling uniforms. He put on a pair of pants, then devoured his meal. It was perfectly seasoned and surprisingly hot under the silver dome. When he finished eating, he crawled into the large bed. The covers were heavy, the mattress soft. His head sank into the pillow, and before he knew it, he was asleep.
He opened his eyes sometime later. The room was dark and Alex felt flushed. His head was pounding; the pain behind his eyes was back with a vengeance. It seared into his brain and forced a gurgle of agony from Alex. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists in the bedsheets, while the rest of his body went rigid from the pain. A few seconds later, the pain eased slightly, and Alex realized he wasn’t breathing. He took in a ragged breath, too frightened to even open his eyes. He didn’t want to move or do anything that might bring the awful pain back.
He lay still, his body sweating, the heat behind his eyes made him hot all over. The heavy comforter was suddenly stifling. Throwing caution to the wind, he flung the covers off his body. There was a soft glow from lights under the bed that activated as he moved on the bed. The pain was still intense. His shoulders and neck were bunched from the tension of dealing with the searing heat behind his eyes. Time seemed to drag by slowly. Occasionally the heat flared, seemingly whenever he was on the verge of drifting off to sleep again.
Finally, after several hours, the pain receded. The fiery spike dissolved and left Alex a quivering mess. His head throbbed with tension. Both sides of his jaws ached from clenching his teeth. After slowly sitting up on the edge of the bed, Alex rose to his feet. He was tired, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, but he was alive. There were moments when he feared he might die, and others when he wished that he would. Something was wrong, but he didn’t have the time or the resources to check into it. The last thing he needed was for Lynn Faulk to think he wasn’t useful to her anymore. If that happened, he was certain she would kill him.
He went back to the bathroom and showered again, this time with cool water that helped calm him down. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option, and he decided that he would take a walk through the ship. It might be useful to get to know his way around the place. It was tempting to simply sync to the PIL that General Cordair had given him, but he feared using his INC. The pain in his head was almost certainly tied to the extraordinary abilities he had, so it made sense to think that using the INC would bring on another attack.
After walking aimlessly for an hour, he found himself back on the grand concourse. Most of the ship’s amenities were found on the top level, under long stretches of transparent materials. Alex could look up and see the stars. The lighting was dim and gave the impression that it was always evening. It was long before other people were seen, mostly crew members. Some were cleaning, others were walking to their workstations. A few nodded politely to Alex and greeted him with a hello or good morning. He tried to be friendly, but he felt like a prisoner on the ship and it was hard not to think of every person on board as an enemy. At first he thought they were all traitors for choosing to work for a woman like Lynn Faulk, but the more he considered things, he realized that they were probably just like anyone else. They needed work, the ship needed a crew, and they could have taken the job without ever meeting or knowing who the owner was.
Eventually he found himself at one of the restaurants. It wasn’t like a typical establishment, but rather a group of tables in the middle of the concourse served by one kitchen. There were four or five places along the wide atrium where a person could sit and eat. Each one was a different arrangement of unique furniture. Alex had settled into a booth with low-back benches. It was the least pretentious of the eating areas. When a stewardess approached, she wore an outfit that seemed to fit the theme of the dining area.
She was tall and wore a short skirt with a V-necked T-shirt. She looked young and relaxed, almost as if she didn’t care about anything. She reminded Alex of girls he had known in school.
“Hungry?”
“Yeah, sure,” Alex said.
“Breakfast?”
He nodded.
“Want the full spread or something specific?”
“Just toast and some juice, if that’s okay?”
“Okay with me,” she said, adding a little wink before turning to go and prepare his meal.
He watched her leave and felt a twinge of jealousy. When he had been in school, the idea of working at a mindless job where he knew exactly what to expect day in and day out made him wish he was dead. Joining the CDF had been a dream come true, but things had grown steadily more difficult. He had responsibilities that he could barely shoulder. The need to escape the Silent Partner weighed on him constantly. He couldn’t help but worry that he was somehow letting his friends down.
The stewardess had none of those concerns. She was focused instead on getting food for him and nothing else. If she burned the toast, she could always make more. She might not even be preparing the toast. Her job might consist of simply carrying the food out to the patrons who sat in her section. She might be bored, but she had no idea of the stress that weighed Alex down. And he was happy for her, almost jealous, but he knew he wouldn’t trade places with her. Soldiering was in his blood. He could feel the need to get back into a battle suit even though he was afraid that it would set his head on fire again.
The stewardess brought out a small plate with butter and a selection of jellies, jams, and preserves. She also had a napkin with metal cutlery rolled up inside it, and a glass of orange juice.
“So you’re one of them?” she asked as she set down the drink and side plate.
“One of whom?” Alex asked.
“The soldiers,” she said pointing at his fatigues. “The other guy, general something or other, is really full of himself.”
Alex didn’t know if the girl was pretending to be sarcastic and rude, or if she really thought poorly of General Cordair. The officer was handsome enough, and it didn’t surprise Alex that he was the type of person who played on his good looks.
“I’m new,” Alex said. “I don’t know him well.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen his type here before. The owner likes her guests young and good looking,” the stewardess said. “Not that I mind. Makes my job more enjoyable to have handsome guests.”
“Sorry you’re stuck with me,” Alex said lightly.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I’m just joking,” Alex said.
“My name’s Candice. What’s yours?”
“Alex. How long have you been on board?”
“Six or seven months. You kind of lose track after a while. Let me get your toast. It should be ready.”
She came back with a plate that had two pieces of perfectly toasted bread cut into triangles. She set it down in front of Alex but made no move to leave.
“You could have anything you want and you choose toast. That’s surprising,” Candice said. “I don’t get surprised very often.”
Alex didn’t butter or even touch the toast. It had a pleasant smell and that was enough for him. He wasn’t really hungry. And certainly didn’t need anything rich or too sweet. He lifted his glass and took a sip of the pulpy juice.
“How long have you been on board?” Candice asked.
“Just a few days,” Alex admitted.
“Well, at least you’re a guest and not working,” Candice replied. “I’m halfway through a fourteen-hour shift and there’s hardly anyone on board. It’s the most boring cruise I’ve ever been on.”
“Is that unusual?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, I mean, this place is set up for hundreds of guests. I know cruise liners that are smaller than this ship. And right now, I don’t think there is more than a dozen people, not counting crew.”
“Odd,” Alex said.
“Tell me about it. We were in port, doing the basic turnover and looking forward to some time off ship. Then word comes down that we’re leaving, and suddenly we’re on the move again. We didn’t even have time to get provisions on board. The crew is eating rehydrated noodles and scavenging whatever the guests don’t eat.”
“You mean if I don’t eat this toast, you’ll have it?” Alex said.
Candice giggled. “Well, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings any, but no, thanks. I’ll pass on the toast.”
“What’s your favorite food?” Alex asked.
“For breakfast? Eggs Benedict, hands down. Oh, and one of those monster cinnamon rolls with the cream frosting.”
“Sounds great,” Alex said. “I’ll take that.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No,” Alex said. “I want eggs Benedict and a monster cinnamon roll. Extra frosting, if that’s allowed.”
“The guests always get what they want,” she said with another wink.
“I’ll take it to go,” Alex said. “You know, just in case I can’t eat it all in one sitting.”
“That’s a great idea,” Candice said.
He watched her leave again. She seemed nice, but maybe a little too friendly. He didn’t want to get her into trouble. His mind was happy to have something other than his own predicament to focus on and Alex didn’t even notice General Cordair stroll up to the table until the older man slid into the booth across from him.
“Morning, Evans,” Cordair said. “I didn’t expect to see you up so soon.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Alex said.
“Yeah, I can see that. You look like hell, man. What’s wrong?”
“Just having a little trouble adjusting to my new surroundings, sir,” Alex said. “I’m fine.”
“That’s good. I know this place is a little overboard, but trust me, you get used to it. Candice, honey, how are you this fine morning?”
“Really? Like you care. What are you eating?”
“The spread, like always, sweetheart. I’m a man of variety.”
Candice rolled her eyes and walked away.
“I know she’s just pretending to be so disinterested, like she’s too cool for this place, but it works on me, Lieutenant. They say you always want what you can’t have and I’m starting to believe it.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said, trying not to sound repulsed by this superior.
Alex knew people like General Cordair who thought they were incredible just because they were handsome or their parents had money. In most cases, they were just scavengers in disguise, never really doing anything themselves, living off the dreams of others like emotional vampires.
“You should eat,” Cordair said, looking at the plate of untouched toast. “Our benefactor has taken a real interest in what you can do. I think she’s planning your next mission.”
“I was just about to head back to my room,” Alex said.
“You should stay and eat while your food is hot. Besides, we need to discuss a few things.”
Alex glanced over at Candice. She was standing close enough to hear the exchange, but far enough away to seem as if she were busy. Alex picked up a piece of toast and began spreading butter across the surface. He doubted that General Cordair had anything of importance to talk about, but as long as Alex was trying to keep up the appearance of cooperation, he needed to show Cordair the proper respect.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Drachma came through the space tunnel into the Gobal Sector with no problems. Loman had feared that the older ship might run into issues. They were built to be sturdy, but the Mora class ships had been abandoned for nearly two decades. Some of the older ships had been stripped for parts, or salvaged, but a few remained intact like the Drachma. It seemed like a small miracle that the ship’s wiring and computer systems still functioned.
“Radar?” Loman asked.
“Still scanning,” the radar operator, Sergeant Gwen Kimmons, said. She wasn’t an officer, but a veteran NCO, who had been training new recruits for years and was excited to be back in the field. She had jumped at the chance that Loman offered to the CDF personnel in the Helena system.
“Helm, bring us around,” Loman said. The Olympus Nebula was directly ahead of them, though still several hours away at the ship’s top speed. “I want to be clear of the space tunnel, just in case.”
“Roger that,” the helmsman said.
“I’ve got it,” Sergeant Kimmons said. “There a ship on bearing 241. She’s in a spin and not transmitting anything.”
“Give me eyes on her,” Loman said.
A second later, the primary display section changed. It zoomed in on a dark shadow barely visible against the stars behind her.
“Looks like we might be too late,” First Lieutenant Rory Jones said.
“Sergeant Evans wouldn’t have sent us out here if that were the case,” Loman said. “Navigation, plot an intercept course. I want to get as close as possible without risking damage to the ship.”
“Yes, commander,” the nav officer replied.
Loman pressed a button on the arm of the command chair that opened a channel to the ready room where Acting Chief Nyx West was stationed.
“Get your Operators ready, Chief West. I’m sending them into the Starstruck.”
“Roger that, Commander,” came the instant reply from Nyx.
“Hard-vacuum suits and jetpacks only,” Loman ordered. “I want to rescue the passengers first. Then we can see if their ship can be saved.”
“Yes, sir,” Nyx replied. “We’re gearing up now.”
“Commander, we’re forty minutes ‘til contact,” Sergeant Kimmons said.
Loman nodded at her. Somehow, whenever she was on the bridge, his gaze kept finding its way back to her. There was no doubt that she was a striking woman. But it was more than just good looks that drew Loman’s attention. He had been around women who were considered some of the most beautiful in the galaxy, the rich and famous, even those who were surgically enhanced to perfection. Yet none of them had stirred Loman’s emotions the way that Sergeant Kimmons seemed capable of doing. Perhaps it was the enthusiasm with which she approached her job. She was skilled, certainly, but also clearly loved doing it. She was almost at the minimum required time for full retirement benefits, but Loman knew she wouldn’t retire until she was forced out.
“Sir, do we have room for all the passengers and crew that could be on that ship?” Lieutenant Jones asked.
“We only need one of them,” Loman said.
It was obvious, even though the Starstruck was a shadowy blob in the darkness of space, that the super yacht was bigger than the Drachma. Of course, whereas the battleship was all about function and efficiency, the yacht would be sprawling with large staterooms and expansive galleries. There was no way to know how many souls were aboard, or if any were still alive.
“Go down and make sure Chief West has what she needs to assist the Operators in getting the Starstruck back online,” Loman ordered Lieutenant Jones. “She worked with Sergeant Evans and should know the best way to reverse whatever he did to that ship.”
“Aye, Commander,” Jones said.
Loman looked at the dark ship, drifting out of control. It made him ill to think about it. There was nothing scarier than a dead ship in space. A ship without power was a floating tomb. He wondered how long the oxygen in a ship the size of the Starstruck would last without being recycled. Was it possible that the extreme cold of outer space hadn’t reached the survivors deep inside the dead vessel? He could have ordered someone to crunch the numbers. They had a pretty good timeline with the messages sent by Alex just before he disabled the ship’s systems, but it didn’t really matter. They didn’t know what he had done, so there was no value in guessing. Either the passengers and crew of the super yacht were alive or they weren’t.
“Sergeant Kimmons, are there any other ships in the vicinity?”
“No, Commander,” she replied. “There are ships near the Nebula, but nothing out this way.”
“What about the space tunnels?”
“They’re clear too,” she replied. “If we hadn’t come looking for the Starstruck, no one would have found her.”
Loman felt another shiver of fear. He didn’t fear dying, not any more than a reasonable person did. He wasn’t old, but he had lived an extraordinary life. After being an Operator for nearly fifteen years, a chance encounter with a high-ranking officer had changed the trajectory of his career. By the time he was forty, he had been promoted to colonel and had become the vice president’s go-to man. When his mentor retired a few years later, Loman was the obvious choice to replace him. That had been nearly thirty years ago. With rejuvenation therapy, he still looked the same age, although his drinking had increased and he wasn’t in fighting shape any longer. He could still expect to live another fifty to sixty years, even have children with a little help. Maybe that was why he kept returning to Sergeant Kimmons. Perhaps he saw in her a kindred spirit, and an attractive one at that.
But the thought of being trapped on a dead ship, with no hope of rescue or escape, still made him uneasy. That wasn’t the way he wanted to die. If he could choose, he would die fighting.
“Matching speed with the Starstruck,” the helmsman announced. “We’re within ten kilometers, Commander.”
