Galactic Freighter: Scourge of the Deep Space Pirates (Contact) (25 page)

"And the orbit master?" Continued Buck.

"That's the easiest of all. Hell, everone knows them guys would lie to protect the secret. At least the way we'll tell it, everone will know it."

"You're devious," Mr. Simms." Buck clapped the engineer on the back.

"Thanks." Tommy puffed his chest.

"And then what do we do?" Buck prodded wanting to build on the thread of the idea.

Tommy seemed to consider his next comment. "Little risky but, rent a pinnace, dress up as doctors and make an old fashioned house call 'cept this un'll be on a spaceship and we'll have guns instead of doctorin' stuff. All we got ta do is find a real doc willin' ta go along with it, ya know, fix all the papers ta convince the orbit master the trip is on the up an' up."

"All we have to do," Ivan said. "You make it sound like a cake walk, engineer." He turned to Buck, "I don't like it. We're naked."

Naked meant no backup.

"No help if it goes bad and the odds are it will. This is an armed ship. Not just the cannons but also the crew. We'll be outnumbered a hundred to one. It's suicide."

Buck turned to Tommy. "Your turn, engineer. Anything to add?"

"Reckon not." Slowly he eyed each man.

"I want to think it over," Buck said. "Let's meet again in the morning, zero eight hundred, and breakfast in the wardroom. Commander Rasby, would you remain, please."

No one questioned the order and from the look on Rasby's face, he knew the difference between a request and an order.

The hatch closed and Buck motioned the SEAL into a chair. "This means you'll have to convince your lady friend to come up with a doctor willing to help. That is if we go ahead with Tommy's idea. Think it can work?"

Rasby rose to the occasion and streamed off a monologue. "We have a detailed description and pictures of the killer so we know who we're after. If I were leading, I'd be casual, make the bosun' believe we're legitimate, and have him take me to the bridge ta see the OD. Toss in a flash or stun grenade, get control. While that's going on, get to the electronic room, that'd be Tommy, lock down the ship, all the hatches, that's two of us. The rest, with stun grenades and blasters, do a systematic search of the ship until they find the killer and get him off the ship. Have the Mulholland and Forager move into the same orbit as Teutonic, Forager takes the captive and runs—Mulholland provides cover."

"Damn, you've already thought this through. You make it sound doable."

"It'll take a lot of luck and perfect timing. Probably ought to go up either at night or during morning mess call. Night would be better," he said on reflection.

"If you don’t mind my saying so, it all sounds too clinical."

Rasby seemed to mull that over for a moment. "Tell me, Lord Fryman, what happened on the Blue Marlin, and how you managed to pull that off."

Buck laughed. "I thought the same thing when Tommy came up with his idea. I called it hare-brained."

"Just like this one." That brought both men to their feet with laughter.

Buck sucked in a deep breath and let it slowly escape. He brushed his hands through the now slightly graying hair, stood and walked to the bulkhead. He opened the porthole cover and gazed at the planet's surface lights.

"Tell me of the woman," Buck said.

It wasn't as if they'd spent a great deal of time together, just four hours. Rasby didn't take long with his recital.

"You like her don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. I've made it a point not to get too attached to anyone, but she's different. The good kind of different. The kind I've looked for."

"Are your feelings for her clouding your judgment?"

Rasby shrugged. "How do you know?"

"That's the right answer," Buck said. "Let's get a nights rest. See how this sounds in the morning." With that, Rasby left.

Buck showered and before he went to bed commed Captain Conner extending an invitation to attend the briefing.

Surprising himself, he awoke the next morning having gotten a good night's sleep with taking the Teutonic seeming a possibility.

Dressed in freshly pressed khakis, he headed for the hanger.

***

Buck handled the sideboard for Captain Russell's arrival and at zero eight hundred, they entered the wardroom.

"Tommy, would you close the hatch?" Buck said.

Over breakfast, Buck opened the meeting. "Commander Rasby and I had a conversation after our meeting adjourned. I took the liberty of recording the commander's exposition on how he sees Tommy's idea." Buck slipped the chip into the player and watched the group's reaction.

Conner was the first to speak. "Lord Fryman, I think I understand how you manage these…" he paused seemingly searching for the right word,

"Unorthodox schemes," Ivan finished the comment.

"Ah, just the right description, sir." The Mulholland Captain nodded.

"I prefer to think I use what opportunities are there and not invent something based on wishful thinking," Buck responded.

If Conner and Ivan intended their comments as levity, his manner put that to bed.

"How do you and I get involved?" Ivan asked. "We're so big we always attract a lot of attention."

"Simple," Tommy said and added, "You go in a wheelchair." he nodded toward Buck. "Ivan you bein' big won't attract no attention pushin' it."

Profound silence settled over the group.

"The doctor is the key," Buck said. "He has to issue the documents, and make the entire effort believable. We make that attempt first. If that doesn't get the job done, we come up with another plan."

"My ship and crew," Conner said tentatively, "are at risk providing cover, whether you get that far or not."

Again, that stopped the conversation.

"You can count that Teutonic won't be after anyone." Tommy cast the Captain a glance of assurance. "I'll make sure their engines and weapons don't work."

Conner gave a nod that seemed to lack conviction, something probably all were feeling.

"Are we in agreement to go with this?" Buck looked at each member.

Getting no turndowns, he said, "So be it," and turned to Rasby.

"My turn again." The SEAL stood with a little more eagerness than suited Buck. "I'll call Brenna tomorrow morning and see what I can get going."

"Yeah, with the doctor thing," Tommy teased.

Different expressions seemed to suggest similar thoughts but lacking the engineer's humor.

The formal meeting broke and for the next few hours, ideas floated among the men along with suggestions on all aspects of the plan. Late that night, the men dispersed. Captain Conner returned to his ship, a very somber man convinced they were all crazy.

With dawn breaking on Barnard city Buck stood with Rasby in the hanger bay. "Okay, Commander. You're the kingpin for this operation. I wish you luck." The two shook hands as the communal pinnace chime signaled clearance to board.

Four hours later, dirtside, the sky, hazy with a thin low cloud cover, a slight wind stirred the trees. From his pocket, Rasby pulled a comm unit and called Brenna.

"Right on time," she said. "I like that. Very prompt."

"Is there time enough for you to get dolled up and have lunch with me?" he asked.

"Maybe. I'll need a couple of hours. Got a few chores to do around here."

"Pick a time and place."

"You have my address, pick me up here, say at two."

"Done." Rasby called for an airtaxi. He had four hours to kill and sightseeing seemed the logical thing to do. The driver would know the better lunch places.

At the appointed hour, the airtaxi stopped at Brenna's condo. She dressed casually in a dark blue sleeveless spaghetti strap lace outfit while Rasby wore blue slacks and a tan pullover.

Rasby told the driver which restaurant he preferred.

Minutes later, Rasby and Brenna, her arm through his, casually walked into Folly's.

"My, you picked a very elegant place. Another first for me," she said approvingly.

"Me as well. With a beautiful lady on my arm, I'm sure I'll be the envy of every man and all the women will take note of you. I heard somewhere women dress for other women. Anything to that?" he asked as they waited to be seated.

"You aren't going to repeat the rest?"

Rasby looked quizzically at her.

"You know, we dress for women and undress for men?"

"I hadn't heard that but it works for me. I like it. Worth remembering."

She poked a finger in his ribs bringing a faked wince from the SEAL.

Seated, Brenna became serious. "Are you going ahead with what you mentioned?"

"Yes." He hesitated, looked at her, and said, "I need your help."

"Oh? How in the world could I help in something like this? I'm no SEAL, like you called yourself. And what happens to me when this is all over?"

"I plan on taking you with me on Forager."

"Just like that. I go with you."

"If you help me, this place won't be safe for you."

"That's all?" her voice and face seemed to carry a heightened concern.

"Brenna, we've had two dates, well, this is the second. I don't want to leave you here. Safe or not."

"You don't know much about me. I can be a real handful at times. I've been single for five years and do what I want when I want."

Rasby waited quietly for a few moments as the waiter brought water and menus. They both ordered salads with baked chicken and white wine.

"I need a doctor. One that's willing to help us get aboard the Teutonic. He will have to forge the documentation, and sell the idea that there's some kind of sickness on that ship. Our team will take a pinnace up using the story as a cover and take over the ship. Forager and the Mulholland will stand alongside to make good our escape."

"My god. You people are either mad or—or I don't know what." Doubt and fear spread across her face,

Rasby sat quietly, not pushing any harder.

"I hate it here on Barnard's Star. I've tried to find other work, off-planet, but these people are very selective when giving visas and off-world work permits. As you know, they don't allow any foreign ship to land, even a shuttle. It's like a prison."

She toyed with her salad, occasionally taking a bite.

Rasby did the same. Neither broke the silence.

The waiter approached and asked if there was something wrong with their lunch. Assured everything was fine, he nodded and returned to the kitchen.

"Okay, I'll help but, when it's over, I leave with you. That's a sure thing?" She gulped her wine, eyes closed.

"Absolutely." A big grin crossed Rasby’s face. He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. "Now that I've met you, I don't want you to get away." He squeezed her hand.

Following a second glass of wine, they left. He gave the airtaxi the address—hers and got a smile.

Chapter Twenty-Five:
The doctor

E
ntering Brenna's condo, Rasby closed the door and gently pulled her close. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he led her to the bedroom.

***

Brenna rolled over, her back to Rasby. His arm gently slipped around her. She snuggled, against his chest. They lay together neither speaking.

"I don't want this to end." Her fingers brushed his face.

"It won't. I won’t let it," he whispered and pulled her closer.

She rolled to face him. Her small firm breasts pressed against him and he was ready. Panting and sweaty, they lay side-by-side.

"Got any plans for the rest of the day?" Rasby lazily asked.

"No. I can fix something. I really prefer we have dinner here at the house."

"Why don't we order in?" he suggested.

She liked the idea.

With that settled, they showered—together. Each dried the other, sparking Rasby’s suggestion they visit the bed again.

Brenna laughed and countered that they save some for later.

What could he do but agree? Women always call that shot.

Rasby scrounged around, finally found the makings for coffee, to Brenna's amusement. They munched on cookies. "Got any suggestions for a doctor?" asked Rasby.

"Don, I can give you a name, but the first contact should be left up to me. It's a woman. Is that a problem?"

"Nope."

"She's run up against the authorities a time or two and it just might be her prior problems make her a liability. I need to know more."

Despite her earlier comment about not wanting to leave the condo, Brenna dressed in slacks and a shirt, called the doctor, then an airtaxi and left.

Almost four hours passed when Brenna appeared with another woman in tow. She introduced her as Doctor Mirabelle Giddings.

Rasby would withhold any judgment at least until he had some details. He realized both women were headstrong and sure in their decisions.

Taller than most women, the doctor presented a no-nonsense appearance. Dressed in a business suit with well coifed hair she was not unattractive. She graciously shook his hand at the introduction.

After getting the women seated and serving them coffee, Rasby asked how she got along with the Barnard's Star government.

"I am the former Director of the National Health Institute, appointed by the previous administration."

"And now," he asked and watched her reaction.

"I was asked to leave. Something quite out of the ordinary, I assure you. Politics being what they are, I am now in private practice. Limited, due to the government's national health program."

"And you do not favor the program?"

"My complaint is with the government withholding care to those outside the program—and there are many."

Rasby thought the discussion would not lead him to a better understanding of the woman. "Do you know why Ms. Smith invited you here?" Rasby watched for any sign that might suggest her leanings.

"A man was murdered and I might be of some help finding the killer."

"Doctor, what I have to say might cause you to walk away from here and call the police. On the other hand, you might find it of interest." Rasby tried to soften his voice but didn't think he'd done a good job from the look on the doctor's face.