Ganymede Station Pt. 02

I needed to eat something, hadn't had anything solid since breakfast. I clattered about in the little kitchen, found a food cake and stirred it with some water into a bowl until it had the consistency of what the package called food. Maybe I should stop by the grocery store tomorrow, get some of that better quality stuff that Cheyne would bring home sometimes. It tasted better, might even be good for me. Damn I was doing it again, thinking about the kid. The memory of him lingered everywhere.

I resigned myself to take some of the garbage out and clean up a little. I grabbed a bag from under the sink and started to toss bottles and other scrap inside. I bustled around the little apartment, grabbed some junk out of the bathroom and stopped by the bedroom to make sure Cheyne hadn't left any trash behind. I ducked inside, making my heart beat a little faster. I had spent so long avoiding this tiny room, giving it more power than it deserved. Recently I had spent the night with the kid in here, although I couldn't remember much aside from the next morning. It had been nice though, waking up with someone beside me again.

I surveyed the room, it was basically spotless, as expected. The photos on the shelf behind the bed caught my eye and I set the garbage bag down by the doorway. It had been a long while since I had looked at them. I sat near the head of the bed and picked up the nearest picture, the one of my first wife, Grace. She was pretty, blonde, petite, and I smiled as I looked at her. We had gotten married too young, I was a little older than her and though we had been madly in love neither of us had much direction. She wanted more than I could provide, materially and emotionally and within a few years she left me for some lawyer or something. I had taken it hard but when you're young you recover and your heart can still heal. I didn't miss her anymore, didn't wish her any ill will, I hoped wherever she had ended up she was happy.

I replaced her picture on the shelf and grabbed the one of my old man. He was the best father a kid could have wanted. He taught me right from wrong, to be good to people, fair, and the basics of flying a ship when I was still sitting on his lap as a boy. He had a great big moustache that completely hid his mouth except when he laughed. When I was old enough I grew one of my own. He had died before I finished my second and final term in the military when I was in my late twenties of aggressive brain cancer. The funeral had been a relatively small affair and miserable. I missed him a little every day. One of my greatest regrets is he couldn't see the man I became, although these days I wondered if he would be proud or disappointed.

Lastly I looked over my photo of Eilie. Grace was a pretty young girl, but Eilie had been a beautiful, refined woman. We had met midway through my training at the marshall academy on Olympia. She was lost and looking for a street address and as luck would have it I knew it well, the building right next to where I was renting an apartment on a freight pilot's salary. We got along immediately and I fell for her almost within our first conversation. She had grown up on Olympia with her family, the second generation not born on her homeworld of Scabareth. She made me laugh, she stressed me out, she was in my head at all times. Within three years I asked her to be my wife despite her parents' objections. We were married soon after and for a time, life was the best it had ever been for me and I hoped, for her as well. We couldn't have children of our own of course, but we were happy, just the two of us. I finally became a marshall and she was so proud. The only place I could find a position though was a fairly small station near the edge of a deep space shipping lane called Ganymede. I didn't need to ask her, she freely gave up some of her own dreams to follow me and help me pursue mine.

I replaced her photo on the ledge between the others. I needed to keep them here, where I could see and remember, my shelf of past loves. It wasn't meant as a form of torture or anything, but it was important to remind myself of those who I had lost. Maybe it could be enough if they were never forgotten. It was all I had to offer.

I was through reminiscing, and was about to haul myself to my feet when I noticed a scrap of paper tucked toward the back of the shelf. I cocked my head curiously as I leaned in and fished it out between my fingers. Had I left this in here? I unfolded the paper and became still when I saw what was there. It was one of Cheyne's art pieces, on a sheet of his drawing paper, torn out apparently along one side from his sketchbook. It was a drawing of him. It was a portrait drawing, facing the front of the page, some hair in his face and a smile on his lips. He had his chin held in his hands and maybe was sitting or lying down, he hadn't finished that part. In the corner was a scrawled note that read, "Put me in a picture frame?" I felt an unexpected surge of emotion and the paper began to tremble in my hands. When had he done this? It was very good, the kid had so much talent. I ran my finger gently across his paper cheek, missing the feel of his soft purple skin. I decided right then and there that it wouldn't be framed for this shelf. Cheyne wasn't an ending, not yet, more of a 'to be continued,' I thought. There were still things I wanted to say, needed him to understand. I was unwilling to lose him like I had everyone else important to me.

CHAPTER 11.

In the morning I was able to get by on just one drink of whisky before I got myself out of the apartment and on my way to work. I arrived on time just to make sure I didn't hear about it from Reynolds.

"Morning Deac." He said as I passed by his desk without looking up from his console. "You look better."

"Morning." I replied.

My office was on the second floor so after I grabbed my coffee I headed there. Normally I would hit the pavement, I didn't care much to be cooped up in the precinct unless I needed to be there. My small office was about as well-decorated as my place which was to say, nothing here but the essentials. A computer took up much of a fair-sized metal desk, a fan in the corner to help move the stale air and a rack behind the door for my jacket. Until recently there had been a box near the desk with files pertinent to cases I was looking into, but Cheyne had digitized all that. He had made a special point of taking care of my stuff first, even though it hadn't been the most pressing.

I hung up my sidearm, hat and heavy jacket behind the door and strode over to my desk. The computer blinked to life when I pressed my thumb to the key surface. I perused old case files and started looking at some newer ones. Time got away from me I guess because it was already afternoon when my device alerted me about a message. I checked it out, it was from Abby. "Deacon, come see me in my office when you can." She wrote.

I put the console to sleep and headed out the door, pulling my jacket on and strapping down my weapon as I left. When I was on duty I didn't go anywhere without them. I wondered what she was contacting me about, it would be great if any new leads had developed in the body trafficking operation I had been working. I knocked once as I reached her office downstairs before opening the door.

"Deacon, have a seat." She said.

"What's this about, Abby?" I asked as I pulled a chair out for myself and plopped down.

"Have you heard from Cheyne at all?" She asked.

"Nope." I said, unsure if I wanted to get into another discussion about him.

"Well, here, see for yourself." She said. Her voice was uncharacteristically reserved. She pulled out her own personal screen which she kept affixed to her arm and made a holographic projection with it in the air between us over her desk. It appeared to be a message.

It read: "Chief, thank you for taking a chance on me but I'm leaving Ganymede for Prometheus as of today. I am going to try to become a pilot. I learned much while I was in your employ and will miss you and the rest of the precinct. Take care, Cheynex."

I furrowed my brows as I digested the information. "He left." I said quietly to myself.

"I know things between you weren't left well but, I figured you would want to know." She said, giving me a solemn look as she collapsed the image back into her device.

I became lost in thought. I rubbed my moustache as I considered what he had written.

"Deacon, are you alright?" She asked when I hadn't responded.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, fine." I said.

She recognized the look of her friend completely preoccupied and asked, "What is it?"

"Well, he says he's what, on his way to Prometheus, left today?" I asked aloud.

Abby nodded.

"No transport shuttles left today or yesterday, next one isn't until tomorrow, which means he's going by other means." I said.

"You think he could have left yesterday?" She asked, giving me a puzzled expression.

"Or at least was preparing to leave yesterday, I went by his apartment last night but he wasn't there. I couldn't hear anything at the door, and I was pretty insistent." I explained.

She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, I'm glad you at least tried to see him."

I ignored her comment. "I'll need to get shipping manifests from the dockmaster, any ship heading to Prometheus today. He must have gotten a lift with someone, I want to know who." I determined as I got quickly to my feet.

"Deacon, so what? Are you planning to drag him back here? He obviously wanted to leave, just call him first." Abby made reasonable points.

"Something doesn't seem right, I feel it in my gut." I told her flatly. I dialed him on my smartscreen but it didn't even ring, just gave me his outgoing message. "You see? He didn't answer!" I pointed at the device for emphasis.

Abby tilted her head and made a slight frown. "You proved he turned his device off, or he's in a dead zone between satellites."

"No, I don't buy it. That kid always has his device on him. Never seen him turn it off. I'm just going make sure he's okay." I said, backing to the office door and resting my hand on the knob.

She rose to her feet and stepped around the desk. "Deacon, I know you want to see Cheyne, I know you probably feel responsible for him leaving..."

She was right about that, I knew I was the reason he left, but I wasn't ready to acknowledge that fact yet.

Abby moved to where I stood and put her hand on my shoulder. "This isn't a case you need to solve. It's a young man who needed to get away for a while." She fixed me with a look, I knew she was just trying to be understanding.

"I told you, I don't feel good about this, I'm going to call him again but if he doesn't answer or hit me back, I'm following up. You should message him too." I added.

She sighed. "Deacon, you're on the clock, this can wait."

"Then I'm taking the rest of the day off." I said pointedly and hurried out of the room.

I made my way to the docks at a brisk pace. Despite trying to spend time at the gym as often as I could manage, it proved to be a little too much exertion. I stopped and caught my breath before finally reaching the dockmaster's station. Near the front of the spaceport, where it meets the rest of Ganymede, are immense bay doors and a small office building. I opened the door and entered the cramped reception area beyond. I was actually quite familiar with this place as anything coming in or out of the station is recorded and logged here on these computers.

A larger girl sat behind the desk wearing thick glasses. It was rare to see anyone wearing glasses anymore as laser surgery was quick and inexpensive. Perhaps she had a rare condition, or more likely, employed them as an extension for using her smartscreen.

"Kelly was it?" I asked as I approached. I had seen her around the docks, tallying freight and verifying schedules before but hadn't seen her at the desk until just now.

"Kelsey." She corrected me. "What do ya need, marshall?" She looked over the rim of her glasses at me. She appeared bored.

"Kelsey, right, sorry." I acknowledged. "I'd like to see your shipping schedules, starting this morning. Anything bound for Prometheus Station." I said.

She turned to a large computer monitor next to her and began swiping the screen projected in front of her. It only took her a couple minutes to find what I had asked for.

"There were three ships that left for Prometheus today." She said, her voice conveying her indifference.

"Galaxy, an ice freighter left at six in the morning, Comet Chaser, hauling machine parts, and the Mackenzie, an ore mining ship heading to Prometheus for repairs." She looked up at me. "Anything else?"

"I need the names of crew members and any passengers." I informed her, leaning over the counter to get a better view of her screen.

She gave an irritated sigh. "Galaxy is huge, man, probably thirty to forty person crew. Give me a couple minutes, and some space please."

I ducked back out of her window. "Sorry." I mumbled.

I paced the floor of the office between a couple of chairs and an old faded map of the star system where Ganymede was located.

"Okay, I got all the names you needed." She called from the far side of the counter after a few minutes had passed.

I walked back over and asked her to clone the information and send it to my smartscreen. When I had the information in front of me I began to comb through the names. Some I recognized, guys who had gotten into trouble here, usually a bar fight or maybe forcing one of the brothel girls to do more than she wanted.

"Anything else?" She asked again.

"Hold on a minute." I said as I began to draw my conclusions.

The Galaxy was indeed aptly named, it was a huge freighter, likely hauling an iceberg's worth of water ice. Cheyne could know any of the folks onboard but it was unlikely that such a large crew would want an extra passenger who could get in the way and cause other issues. The Mackenzie was heading out for repairs and only had one pilot aboard, a man I knew fairly well. More importantly it had only left twenty or so minutes ago, meaning Cheyne wouldn't have sent his message yet. This left the Comet Chaser, a smaller freighter piloted by a fellow named Wexel Carson.

On a hunch I poked my head over the counter to talk to Kelsey again. "You know this Wexel guy?"

"Carson?" She asked.

"Yeah." I replied. "Know anything about him?"

She gave a noncommittal shrug. "Big guy, comes through every couple months I guess. I don't know, he seems alright, always on time with his deliveries. I know he stops by the big brothel on main sometimes. Think he was there yesterday."

"Rose Thorn?" I asked her, a note of concern creeping into my tone.

"Sure." She said.

"If there's any other information about Carson or his ship you might have, you pass it along to me, understood?" I said seriously.

"Yup." She agreed.

"Thank you." I added hastily.

I keyed Carson's information into the marshall database on my device. Unsurprisingly the guy had a record, mostly smuggling, also a potential homicide for which he was never convicted due to lack of evidence. I looked over his physical description and mugshot, the man was big, thickly-built, had a trim blonde beard. I thought he looked like a typical space trucker though I suspected Cheyne would find him attractive. The fact that he frequented the Rose Thorn cinched it for me, this was the guy with whom Cheyne was traveling, I was positive.

I already knew that the woman who ran the Rose Thorn had gone after the kid once already and hadn't gotten satisfaction. Was she reckless enough to hire another man? I wished I could have put her away before but the men she hired to attack Cheyne hadn't given us anything, neither had turning their apartments upside down. I never told Cheyne, because I had come up empty, but I had spent two weeks trying to find any link back to Tetha, even going so far as to try to question her. That had proved fruitless, she was smart, calculating, given me nothing at all. In the end all I had were empty threats and telling her we were keeping an eye on her. She had only smiled.

I tried calling Cheyne again without any luck. I left another message for him, knowing I wouldn't receive anything back. Even though I was following my instincts and had a lead, I felt unease in the pit of my stomach. This Carson guy must know Cheyne and knew just when to show up and offer him a ride. It was too much of a coincidence, and in my line of work, coincidences were exceptionally rare. Even so, I couldn't get a warrant to pursue because I had nothing more than my hunch and I wouldn't be able to take the cruiser without one. I would have to speak with Tetha, get something out of her. It was a long shot, but all I had to go on at the moment. I headed with purpose toward the Rose Thorn bordello.

It was early evening when I arrived at the whorehouse and stepped inside. The front room was packed with randy pilots and miners chatting up girls and a couple boys in the large front room. No one paid me any mind as I made a quick scan of the room. Tetha was by one of the bars tucked into a corner, speaking with a couple of her subordinates by the looks of them. I started to weave my way through the crowd in the low red light of the bar. The tall scabarethen woman saw me coming and watched my approach with obvious attentiveness.

"Why marshall, coming to me directly for a good time? I'm flattered of course, but not sure your salary will afford you much of my time." She gave a sweet smile.

"I'm here on business, I need to speak with you." I told her plainly.

"Well, I'm here on business too. I'm teaching a couple of my newer employees how to better perform their duties for our clients." She nodded at a young human girl and scabarethen boy standing next to her. Neither of them could be much older than twenty. I tipped my cap to them and they smiled shyly in return.

"Where can we talk?" I asked.

She looked me over, narrowing her orange eyes. "I suppose there's a vacant room nearby. Follow me please." She snapped her fingers for her employees and I guessed for me to follow her.

She lead the way down two intersecting hallways to a room near the back of the brothel. She unlocked the door and ushered us inside, closing and locking it behind her. It was a bedroom, draped with heavy black and red sheets over the walls and the head of the bed. There was a small, expensive-looking couch on each side of the bed against the walls. Tetha motioned for me to sit on the nearest one and she slid in next to me. I pushed myself further into the corner of the couch to give us more space.

"You two, up on the bed please." She ordered. The pair quickly complied, climbing up onto the bed, sitting on their knees, facing one another.

"Boy, I want you to fuck her, let me see what you can do. Girl, let me know you're enjoying what he's doing."

The two began to slide out of their clothes and I rose to my feet. "We can't talk here, what is this?!" I exclaimed, flustered.

Tetha made a small snort. "My gods, who knew you were such a prude, marshall! Honestly, weren't you just dating a whore?"

"Why would you say that?" I questioned.

"Oh please, I have ears." She said with a roll of her large eyes. "Now if you wanted to ask me something I suggest you sit and get comfortable. I'm not wasting my precious time unless you have a warrant this time?"

"Do I need one?" I countered.

She smiled, cocking her head to the side. "Not at all, I'm entirely at your service." She patted the seat next to her.

I hesitated but sat back down. The young man was on top of the girl, slowly thrusting into her. He drew his long prick all the way out and then pushed back in to his stomach. Beneath him I could hear her moaning as she pulled at her nipples and bit her lip. I turned my head to face Tetha.