Dark Vengeance (2 page)

“I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, Bernard.”

“Please deliver my highest salutations to Mr. Smith. I believe he is the only source of reason left to you, Commander. Although every time he touts his restored Corvair automobile to be the finest land vehicle ever made, it shakes my confidence further.”

I stood, a beaten man, and walked dejectedly to the door. When I looked back, Porre seemed to be gloating. “If it’s any consolation Commander, I’m now off to my daughter’s latest traffic fiasco. She seems unable to destroy only one other vehicle at a time. Would you consent to a DNA comparison, if asked?”

I shook my head, waved him off, and pulled the double doors closed behind me.

Chapter 2

R.J. and I sat in the living area of my modest section of quadplex in Cocoa Beach, Florida, drinking Blue Moon Belgian White, each waiting for the other to complain about unexpected dealings with Bernard Porre. I squirmed around on the simulated leather of the oversized couch. R.J. fought with the side handle on the recliner.

“So how did they get you?” I asked.

“Two shuttle pilots appear at my cabin door, hand me a secure satellite phone, and Mr. Porre strongly suggests I accompany you on this trip. He’s the only contact I’ve had with anyone about it. How’d they catch you?”

“About the same. It seemed to be well planned.”

“Why did we sign up for this again?”

“It was implied our best interests would not have been served by refusing.”

“I thought I was deep enough in the woods, but no…”

“I guess Porre fancies himself the hunter. So is this bothering you much?”

“I’d like to know what the heck we’ve been dragged into. I suspect we don’t really know.” R.J. pulled at his beard and shifted around in his seat. “You’re not drinking your beer. You keep drifting off because you know what I’m talking about, don’t you.”

“I know we take a luxury two week cruise to Enuro, then pretend to be seafaring Captains ferrying a large ship back to Earth. What more could a couple misfits like us ask for?”

He sat for a moment with a stolid look then finally tipped the amber bottle up against his lips. “Why are you trying to avoid the subject, Kemosabi?”

“I’m waiting for you to switch into Sherlock mode. I love the way you do that.”

He took another drink, looked thoughtfully off beyond me, then began the deductive reasoning he was so well known for. “How many people were in Porre’s office when you were there?”

“Just the delightful Mr. Porre himself. He said to give you his warmest salutations.”

“An operation like this and no other VIP’s in his office to help with the sales pitch? Does that sound right to you?”

“He seemed to feel he had the upper hand, which he did.”

“So, as far as you know, you’ve been given an assignment and the only other person in the world that knows anything about it is Bernard Porre?”

“Well, now that you’ve put it that way…”

“It’s the same for me. I only spoke to Porre, no one else.”

“You actually think Porre’s setting us up somehow? He’s supposed to be Mr. Upstanding, even though he’s such a nuisance.”

“Why only three days notice for a trip that will take more than a month there and back? How’d they know we weren’t going to be off-world, or having surgery or something?”

“They are nosy, I think.”

“I searched the net as soon as I was escorted home. There’s not a thing anywhere about the Electra having been refit and coming home in a few weeks.”

“Maybe it’s a big surprise.”

R.J. drank again. “Sir, I always love your impudent commentary, but there’s more going on here than meets the eye. I guarantee you that. Porre may not be doing anything really unethical, but he’s not telling us everything and this is not just about bringing the Electra back.”

“Well, as it stands, we are going to have to get into an unfamiliar vehicle with strangers. Mother always warned me about that, but I see no way around it.”

“Yeah! Why don’t we know anything about that? How big a ship is it? Who’s driving? What kind of trip will this be, exactly? Why do they just happen to be going our way?”

“A three hour tour?”

“Careful what you wish for.”

“So what do we do, Mr. Holmes?”

“We pack, my dear Watson. We pack and hope Moriarty isn’t doing the flying.”

Two days later we stood outside the fence near the VAB at the Kennedy Space Center, watching a panicked ground crew trying to clear a no-go on our surface-to-orbit shuttle. Surface-to-orbit shuttles look very much like all-white motor homes sitting on pontoons. With all the little service doors hanging open on ours, it gave the impression of unreliability. We stood, each with a single duffle bag, looking like lambs for the slaughter. It was a particularly clear, bright day. The smell of salt air from the nearby beach was strong. The sky was particularly blue, not a cloud in sight. For once the grand blue sky was disconcerting, because somewhere beyond it an alien spacecraft awaited our arrival.

When the umbilicals finally began to be pulled off, the mood of the service personnel changed to one of angry impatience. Our gate was hurriedly unlocked and opened. Threatening stares were ungraciously provided to indicate we should hurry. We climbed aboard, took seats, and were off the ground before we could strap in. Our light green flight suits quickly form fit around our bodies in the three-G ascent the pilots were allowing themselves. R.J. managed to look over at me and roll his eyes, his face sagging in the heaviness.

It was very dark beyond the blue. There had been no time to secure our bags so they began to float around the cabin. I unbuckled and pulled myself forward to the flight deck where I knew the first sight of our new space friends would come into view beyond the forward view ports. For a moment it puzzled me that no stars were visible. It took another long moment to believe that the entire field of vision was being blocked by our ride.

It was quite large, a polished dark green, so dark it almost blended with space. Given nothing for comparison, it had to be at least the size of a football field. The massive outline drew an elongated triangle, the body flat with rounded sides. A large tubular feature originated atop it at the center and ran all the way back to the stern with dozens of blackened view ports along the way. There was not much time to look. Our boys were maneuvering us alongside the midsection for docking.

When the bumping and jerking finally ceased, and the hissing and rushing air equalized, the shuttle’s side door slid open to a snow white airlock. We glided around, gathered up our bags and pushed them in, then watched them crash to the floor in the alien ship’s gravity.  With due diligence, we pulled ourselves into that gravity, stood and backed away from the pressure doors. The alien ship’s airlock did not slide closed. It snapped instantly shut. We picked up our bags and stood at the closed inner door, waiting.

R.J. could not resist a nervous quip. “Well, this really is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”

“Don’t push it or I’ll start scratching my head and crying.”

“I hope the flight suits are appropriate.”

“At least we can run away fast in them.”

“Right.”

The inner door suddenly snapped open so quickly and silently it startled us. Beyond the inner airlock door, large silver elevator doors swished open. We stepped in, found no controls whatsoever and before we could turn, heard the doors close behind us. There was no sound or sense of motion. The doors on the opposite side of the car opened a moment later. The view beyond was dazzling.

Before us was a large gallery area with plush furniture here and there, some of it difficult to understand. The high, domed ceiling peaked at a portion of the tubular section of ship we had seen from above. View ports filled its surface. They were tinted gray blue and not transparent. The room was oval with a wide wraparound chrome counter on the left and a large fireplace some distance away on the right. A dark figure with his back to us sat by the dead fire. Thick white carpet embedded with silver stars of various sizes covered the floor. Small glass courtesy tables were here and there. The air felt slightly too cool and smelled like that of a hospital with a touch of perfume added. The angelic receptionist behind the counter beckoned us with a wide smile.

She was not human but was breathtakingly beautiful and intensely radiant. There was a silver-white glow around her that matched the white gown she was wearing. It sparkled from silver embedded in the material. A wide luminous neckline added to the aura. The gown was sleeveless but she wore matching arm-length gloves that came up just short of the shoulders. She had pointed pixie ears barely visible through loops of golden-silver hair with silver clips in the center of each loop. The tiny nose and small mouth accented unblemished ivory skin. Her eyes were almost too large to be proportionate. They were blue-gray and piercing.

As we stepped up to the counter, I realized R.J. was just as mesmerized as I. The entire length of the counter top was displaying ship’s information. Our ethereal host kept her practiced smile and drew a small hand scanner from beneath the counter. She held it up pointed at us.

A computer voice from the scanner spoke:

“This audio file is designed to check your language translators to verify adequacy. If you do not possess a language translator please notify your attendant and one will be provided for you for the duration of your journey. The following segment of this audio file has been assembled from portions of the various dialects you will need. If at any time you do not understand any part of this audio file please notify your attendant. We are committed to providing you with the utmost in safety and comfort. Please advise the attendant of any needs that may arise. This concludes your language translator verification. Thank you for your patience.”

R.J. and I already had translators inserted in both ears, devices obtained on a previous trip to Enuro. I glanced over at him with a childish smirk and found him still staring at our beautiful host with his mouth hanging open. She did not seem offended by the earthling’s worshipful gaze.

“Captain Adrian Tarn, and Commander Rowland J. Smith?” Her voice was as hypnotic as her aura. It sounded like the two sexiest voices I had ever heard, mixed together to make one musical voice. Instead of answering her, we continued our blank stares.

Something snapped in R.J.’s mind. “Commander Rowland Smith? Commander?!” He looked at me and blurted out a laugh. “Captain Adrian Tarn? Captain?!”

I rolled my eyes at him. “R.J., didn’t they tell you about this?”

Our host interrupted, “Sirs, my deepest apologies. Are our records in error?”

I managed to recover from my flashback to puberty. “No, ma’am. It is we who are sorry for confusing you. Those are our correct names and ranks.”

R.J. had gone back to his endearing gaze.

“Thank goodness. We do not make errors here, please be assured.” With that she came out from behind the counter, stood in front of us, and scanned each of us with her handheld device. “Gentlemen, my name is Fantasia.”

“Of course it is,” replied R.J.

“I will be attending to most of your needs during this voyage. Please let me show you to your staterooms.” She touched a control band on her delicate wrist. Instantly, two individuals emerged from a nearby archway. They were no more than 4 feet tall, skin tone a light green, dressed in matching green attire that looked like wetsuits. They had no hair at all and their facial features were tiny and crammed together in the center of their faces. They scurried over to us and tugged at the handles of our duffle bags. We obliged by releasing them and the two miniature bellhops took the bags to a spot nearby, and waited to follow.

Fantasia resumed her hypnotic smile. “Captain, Commander…” She raised one hand and turned to lead us across the room toward a large, open corridor of glass and light. A wide domed entrance gave us access. As we passed by I recognized it as an elaborate pressure door disguised as a simple archway.

“The grand gallery is a social area for all guests who wish to use it,” she said. “Ahead of us now, this is the main concourse.”

Overhead the narrow, raised channel of windows continued. The tinting had been removed so that they now showed stars above us. The floor looked like white marble with the same silver star icons embedded within it. The passageway was much wider than the raised row of windows above and the extra ceiling was a display of slow moving intertwining colors that helped light the concourse. The walls on either side had long bands of waist-high blue menus scrolling information with the best deals of the day. Beyond the glass walls were various facilities available to guests. A kind of gymnasium and pool on the right, a cafeteria and lounge on the left. Ahead I could see a recreation area, and theater. Beyond those, still other facilities I didn’t recognize. All along the way glass phone booth-sized displays held items for sale or decoration. Display areas had extra golden light intended to ensure guests did not miss something they might wish to purchase. It was impossible to tell where the light was coming from, and yet somehow it did not interfere with the stars in the view ports overhead.