Ganymede Station Pt. 02

"What's that, Deacon?" Reynolds asked from the other side of the room.

"Uh, what?" I tried to play dumb.

"That paper you got out." He inquired.

"It's personal." I muttered.

"Oh, well okay. I'm just trying to make conversation." He said indignantly.

I rolled my eyes and looked over at the guy. Mike Reynolds was small, middle-aged, completely average in nearly every way from his short brown hair to his build. He liked to annoy me, poke at me, hoping for a response. Abby tried to assure me he was an upstanding cop but he and I, for whatever reasons had never really gotten along. It was just the two of us for the next while on this ship though, I supposed I could try to be more accommodating.

"It's, a drawing, that Cheyne made for me." I told him.

"Huh, I didn't know Cheyne could draw." He said.

"Well, I think he was pretty private about it, but he really has a knack for it. I think his stuff is great." I told him openly.

"What kind of things does he draw?" Reynolds asked.

"All kinds of stuff but he really likes nature, living things. I saw some trees he's done, and planets. Really amazing, all of it." I said. I thought of the piece he had done of me, but kept that memory to myself.

"And what's that one?" He nodded to the paper I had tucked next to my shoulder at the edge of the bed.

"It's one he drew of himself. I, I guess I just wanted to look at it." I admitted sheepishly. I felt like I had been caught doing something I shouldn't.

Reynolds chuckled and lay down on his back. "Aww you big softie." He teased.

"Fuck off." I muttered.

He was silent for a time, I thought he might have fallen asleep but he piped up a moment later.

"We're going to find him, Deacon." He sounded sure of himself.

I exhaled slowly into the low light of the room. "Ready for lights out?" I asked him.

"Yeah it's pretty late." Reynolds agreed.

I reached above my head and held two of my fingers to a sensor bar until the lights dimmed to full darkness.

"Night." I said.

Night, Deac." He responded.

My body trembled as I lay there, strapped to the bed. It took some getting used to, sleeping in zero gee. I had trouble getting to sleep, had for many years and without booze to help me pass out I was legitimately worried. I could no longer make out the image of Cheyne in the dark but I knew he was there. It was small comfort but comfort nevertheless.

I awoke with a start. I was bolt upright, snapping away some sort of restraint. There were more at my waist and legs and I cried out in alarm as I tore at them. The room was black except for small lights along the floor. I bellowed and tore the straps from my body and began floating away from where I had been tethered. I was having a nightmare about space that I was unable to wake from. Panic gripped me as I bumped into a hard surface and punched it hard, reflexively. Lights suddenly flooded my vision and I shut my eye, covering it with my hands. My knuckles stung with pain.

"Deacon! What the fuck? What is going on, man?" Someone asked urgently.

My mind was racing, I didn't know what was happening or where I was. My stomach heaved involuntarily.

"Dammit, don't you dare puke in here!" The voice came again.

I uncovered my eye and looked around. It was a room full of bunk beds. I turned and saw Reynolds floating nearby. Why was he here? I heaved again, tasting bile at the back of my throat.

"Fuck, come on big guy, bathroom's just outside." He said.

I felt his hand grab my arm and instinctively I reached back to clobber him. I threw a wild arm in his direction which he narrowly moved to avoid. There was a sudden inexplicable flash of recognition, I knew this place. This was the police cruiser crew quarters. I dropped my fist and saw relief wash over Reynolds' face. He tugged me urgently along behind him. I could feel my insides shaking.

He hauled me out of the bunk room and across the hall into the large restroom. He let me hang in the air where I was as he pulled some lined bags from a cabinet near the enclosed shower stalls. He unfolded it carefully and tugged it open, bringing it up to my face.

"Here, take this." He ordered me.

I vaguely understood what he wanted as I convulsed and vomited into the plastic bag. Reynolds held it tightly over my mouth until I was finished then wiped my face carefully and sealed the bag closed. He stayed with me for probably an hour or more as my insides turned outside. He rubbed my back and gave me a nervous look.

When my body had finally started to recover I gave him a feeble smile. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to do all that." I felt embarrassed and weak. I could feel sweat beading off my forehead where it hung in the air around me.

"You scared the shit out of me, marshall." He said with a shake of his head. "Has this happened to you before?"

"Not usually this bad. I just have trouble sleeping sometimes. I uh, have nightmares." I hated having to admit this to anybody, let alone Reynolds. "Anyway, it's just normal readjustment to space."

"It's more than that, I think." He said. "Confusion, anxiety, agitation, nausea, tremors, it's not just spacesick, Deac. I think you're going through severe alcohol withdrawal."

"That's not really a thing." I said uncertainly.

"It sure as hell is." He snapped. "This is the first time you've gone this long without a drink in what, months?"

"I think years." I said quietly.

He gave me a disapproving look. "There's some pills in the first aid kit that should help with the nausea at least. There might be something to help you sleep." He pushed away from where we were hunkered in the corner of the restroom and unlatched the kit from inside another cabinet.

Within another half an hour or so I was strapped back into my bed. I was relieved to see that I hadn't damaged the piece of paper in my thrashing. Reynolds was holding the bed rail next to me, keeping himself nearby as he provided a thermos of water and a few pills.

"Here, this will help you sleep." He said, more gently than I was expecting.

"Hey, why are you being so nice to me?" I asked him.

He shook his head in disbelief. "You're sick, Deacon. You need someone to look out for you. Simple as that."

I turned my head away from him. "But you don't have to. I mean, I've always been kind of a jerk to you." I said, frowning.

"It's been mutual." He let out a long sigh. "Look, my parents were both drunks and I grew up around that, hating it. It's why I've never taken a drink in my life. Seeing you at work, drunk a lot of the time... I couldn't stand seeing it." He explained.

I looked at him, my brow furrowed. "I didn't know. I'm sorry about that." I said earnestly.

"It's, my own baggage, we all have it right? I'm sorry if I sort of dumped it on you over the years." He gave a heavy sigh.

He had shared something deeply personal and I felt an obligation to return the favor. "I don't think I can get through a day sober, Mike. And I'm scared shitless when I'm alone." I swallowed hard. Maybe it was the delirium, or how damn exhausted I felt but it felt good to be honest with the guy.

Reynolds actually smiled at me. "Deac, you're going to be okay. Get some sleep, I'm just ten feet away. I'm keeping a barf bag here for you."

He floated back to his bunk and strapped himself down. He dimmed the lights only halfway this time before we both fell back to sleep.

When I woke up later that day Reynolds wasn't in his bunk, so I guessed he must be at the bridge. His duffel bag was tied by the strap to one of my bunk posts. I figured he wanted me to find something fresh to wear. I dressed in some sweatpants and a t-shirt which barely fit and picked up my device from the locker. I sent Cheyne another message, even knowing he couldn't receive them. My warrant petition to the marshall service had been approved. I may have stretched some truths to have it authorized but such was the nature of the job sometimes. Something about the greater good and all that. I could have a shower later, right now I wanted to check in on the scanners and our proximity to the Comet Chaser.

Reynolds was on the bridge in the pilot's chair pouring over a console and I joined him there. His face appeared frustrated.

"What's up?" I asked him.

"Well, we should be damn close to that freighter by now. But our long range scans are showing no sign of it whatsoever." He explained.

I nodded slowly. "Shit. She let him know we were following him, obviously." I said, wishing I was wrong, wishing more that I would have seen it coming.

"Who did?" Reynolds asked.

"The woman, owner of the Rose Thorn. She hired him and she would have messaged him that we were gonna be bringing him in." I grumbled.

"So? What do we do? He could be anywhere." Reynolds pouted, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"We keep going, not much for it. He still has a shipment to bring in to Prometheus, and whatever else he might be carrying is bound there too." I scratched my stubbled chin in thought. "How much faster can we go?"

The sergeant sighed. "Not too much faster and it can't be for too long or else it might damage the engines."

"Speed up then, as fast as we can safely go. Don't blow anything but we need to try to catch him. If he reaches that station much before us we could lose everything." I said sternly.

He nodded his understanding and increased our velocity. I could now feel a slight shuddering throughout the cruiser. I clenched my teeth.

What was normally an eight day journey from Ganymede to Prometheus we made in just under five. It had been rough going, mostly for me. I was sick twice more but didn't have any more bouts of confusion or aggression, well, more than usual. We had picked up the other ship on long-range scanners, finally. That had been fifteen hours again. Clearly we weren't chasing a normal freighter, they simply couldn't move with this much speed. So it had been altered, souped-up, it almost certainly meant that he was a smuggler and likely into other shady dealings. Fortunately our cruiser was no slowpoke either. At our current velocity we should be able to catch up, though likely not quite in time. From the numbers on the screen in front of Reynolds, I guessed the ship would dock somewhere between thirty minutes and an hour before we could reach Prometheus. It had occurred to me to contact the station ahead of time, have them hold the Comet Chaser in space and not allow it to dock. At that point we could board his ship in space and leave the station out of harm's way. The issue with this plan was our comms were unable to contact Prometheus. It was possible that they were faulty, but I suspected it was more likely that we were being disrupted somehow, either by the station directly or possibly expensive, illegal equipment on Carson's ship. We had no way of knowing.

Prometheus station came into view within the hour. Our attempts to contact the small freighter were fruitless, just like trying to communicate with the station. It was frustrating.

"We'll be there in about ten minutes now, Deacon." Reynolds informed me. "We ran the engines into the red for practically the last four days. I'm actually impressed we didn't have any issues." He mentioned.

"It's a good ship, and you did a good job taking care of her." I told him.

A satisfied smirk spread over the man's face.

"You loaded up?" I inquired.

"Expecting trouble?" Reynolds asked with a twinge of anxiety.

"Just preparing for it is all." I said firmly. "Make sure the cruiser can dock as soon as possible. They might be jamming our comms but if there is an available dock near the Comet Chaser, you pull in and we do it manually."

He nodded. "Will do."

It could be tricky, maneuvering in a spaceport, beyond the shield. Normally docking and separation was handled while in contact with the dockmasters to avoid any collisions or scheduling conflicts over where one could land and disembark. We could get away with it simply by benefit of having a police cruiser.

There were several proto-fiber vests hanging in the armory section of the cargo bay and Reynolds and I would each need to wear one. They were the latest in firearms protection, able to stop many small blaster rounds and somewhat capable of stopping shots from energy rifles. Before we docked I would make sure to grab us a couple.

I pulled out my sidearm and looked it over. It had been fired frequently since that day in the apartment all those months ago but it appeared to be in good condition. Normally I was at the firing range at the precinct a few times a week. I was a good shot, even among the cops and other marshalls. I took care of my equipment, I wasn't worried about that. I turned the heavy weapon over in my hands to check the display on the side. The chamber showed as full which gave me about thirty lethal rounds. There was a setting to fire energy pulses which incapacitated as well and those were only limited by the battery stored in the handle. I tucked it back into my leg holster and pushed myself from the floor over to the large windows. Prometheus was getting larger by the moment, a wide, elongated oval of mismatched copper-colored metal.

"Can you tell which spaceport he entered?" I asked Reynolds over my shoulder.

"Yeah, our instruments pinpointed his location. Looks like the nearest port, almost directly ahead. Once we're through the energy shield we'll have to use our eyes though. We'll have too much interference from other ships, machinery." He said.

"Understood." I replied. I took a deep breath and even though my stomach was tying itself in a knot, I ignored my nerves to focus on the next steps. We would dock, board Carson's ship, arrest the man and find Cheyne. It was a simple enough plan though with his forty minute lead on us, I knew the execution wouldn't be nearly as smooth.

I let out my breath, causing a fog over the glass near my mouth. "I'm coming, kid. Hold on just a little longer."

CHAPTER 13.

Reynolds maneuvered the cruiser deftly between slow-moving freighters and mining vessels as we both kept our eyes peeled for the Comet Chaser.

"I just know it's in this vicinity." He said, glancing down at his screens and frowning.

"There!" I shouted, pointing out a side window. "Tried to hide it behind that big transport shuttle. Looks like maybe an empty dock a little further in."

Reynolds turned on the reverse thrusters and began to turn the ship slowly in the direction I had indicated.

"Hey! Comms just came back online, Prometheus dockmaster trying to get in touch." Reynolds informed me as he carefully maneuvered the large cruiser toward the dock.

"Put them through to my device." I informed the sergeant.

I pulled my smartscreen from my jacket and held it near my face. "This is marshall Henry Deacon of Ganymede Station, requesting emergency docking." I barked.

There was a brief electrical buzz of static. "This is Prometheus dockmaster Phil Jaster. Understood marshall, but you really should have contacted us before this!" Came the older man's somewhat frazzled voice.

I glanced down at my screen where I could see Phil scratching his balding head. "Sorry about that, Phil, but our comms were being jammed. Please grant us clearance and prepare for landing, what airlock are we approaching here?"

The dockmaster looked at something to his side that I couldn't see on my display. "Um, the vacant one I assume? That would be dock fifty-one. Be ready in a jiffy." I could see the man tapping and sliding his fingers over what I guessed was the console in front of him.

"Has the freighter, Comet Chaser been unloaded yet?" I asked, knowing full-well the answer.

"Yes, marshall, about twenty minutes ago or so, there were vehicles waiting at the dock before it had even landed. Must have been some important cargo."

"Fuck." I swore softly. I turned back to Reynolds. "Get in touch with station police and have them go over every inch of that ship. I doubt they'll find anything but just in case." He nodded and reached for his own device.

I spoke into my smartscreen again. "Meet me at the dock please, Phil, I'll need surveillance of that ship's arrival as well as anything street-side." I ordered him.

"Okay, give me a couple minutes to meet you there." He said.

"You have one." I said. "And Phil? That ship is not to leave this station for any reason or it's your ass."

"I understand, marshall."

Reynolds lined up our door with the airlock hatch and large mechanical arms drifted down from the ceiling of the spaceport like immense insect limbs to hold our cruiser in place. I was already waiting by the door when a display overhead turned green indicating to me that we had made an airtight seal and the doors could be safely opened. I opened the doors as quickly as I could and rushed into the airlock. A few moments more and I was in the connecting walkway to the rest of the station. Reynolds would catch up shortly but I couldn't afford to wait for him. As I exited through one final hatch I was in the spaceport of Prometheus. I was immediately struck by its sheer size. Ganymede only had two spaceports and this station had eight. I saw Phil hurrying over to me carrying a large screen.

"Marshall! Sorry, bit of a trek from the control building to here." He puffed.

"That's fine Phil, what can you show me?"

The old dockmaster swiped his screen and displayed the arrival of the ship. He handed it over to me so I could speed up time as I saw fit. I watched for a minute and saw three unmarked vans arrive. Wexel Carson emerged a short time later from the access walkway and met with some other men. They moved offscreen.

"Where did they go?" I inquired sharply.

Phil tapped out some items on the display and we got another camera view from the far side of the street running parallel to the docks. The men appeared here, opening a much larger hatch, this one leading down and connecting to the freighter's cargo bay. The vans descended into the tunnel in single-file.

"Is there a camera in there?" I asked.

"Uhm," Phil poked around on the display. "I, can't seem to find it." He said unhappily. I watched sweat drip down his forehead.

"Forget it, we'll assume they loaded up. What can you tell me about these vehicles?" I asked him urgently, tapping them on his screen. Behind me Reynolds had finally caught up and craned his neck to see the display that I held.

"I don't really know, marshall, they're not labeled or anything. They look just like any of the mag-vehicles around the station. I know his delivery said he was unloading machine parts though if that helps." Phil added hastily.

The display showed the vehicles leaving up the street but beyond that I had nothing to work with, I would have to get in touch with the traffic division for further camera angles and that would take time we didn't have. Every minute Cheyne was being taken further away and giving these assholes more time to cover their tracks.

"Fuck!" I screamed at the station ceiling.

Phil jumped back, clutching his screen to his chest, his eyes wide with surprise.

Reynolds put a hand on my shoulder. "Deacon, we just need to think this through, find another angle."

"There's no goddamned time, don't you get that?" I turned and snarled at the man. "If we go to street cams, it takes too long! The station's too big! They're long gone and we have no idea where!" I could feel panic set in and my legs felt rubbery. To come this close, and lose the lead, I wasn't sure if I could bear the weight of my failure. I couldn't bury anyone else I loved. I had never lost it like this on the job before, I could feel myself coming undone.

Reynolds regarded me carefully but focused his attention back on the screen that Phil still held. He was a good cop after all, keeping a cool head, reviewing the information. I had too much personal stake in all this and it wasn't helping anyone.