The Outback Stars

CHAPTER


THIRTY





L

ieutenant! It’s nice to hear from you again.”



“Thank you, Holland,” Jodenny said to the borrowed gib in her lap.

“Can you get me Chaplain Mow?”



Chaplain Mow was delighted that she was awake and worried when asked to name the best lawyer in the Legal Services office. A few minutes later Jodenny reached Lieutenant Commander Cheddie. Notoriety helped: he had seen the missing persons alert and agreed to drop what he was doing to come over to the hospital. He appeared fifteen minutes later, a thin man with freckles and a sad excuse for a mustache.



He asked, “Am I going to be working with you or Sergeant Myell?”



“Both of us.”



“Then let’s start with your side of the story first.”



Jodenny began with Myell’s accident and moved on to their inspec-tion of the slots, the discovery of the master chip, Osherman and Ishikawa’s revelations, and most of the ordeal in T18. Cheddie made only occasional notes in his gib. When she told him about Myell’s recorded data, his eyes brightened considerably. She finished and waited for his response.



“Why do you think you’re going to need legal counsel?” he asked.



“Because Osherman said he was working for the Inspector General, but he participated in the attack on us. Ishikawa supposedly works for the IG too, and she even saved Myell’s life a few weeks ago, but no one can find her.” Jodenny fingered the edge of her bedsheet. “If they’re not who they said they were, I don’t want to be blamed for believing them. There are also too many rumors going on about me and Myell, and I want those stopped. And if anyone wants to make trouble out of the fact we opened those radioactive containers, it was my decision.”



“I don’t think anyone will object to that,” Cheddie said. “What about Matsuda?”



“What about him?”



“Maybe you killed him.”



“He’s been dead since before I checked onboard.”



“Maybe Myell killed him.”



“He had nothing to do with it!”



“You only say that because you’re lovers.”



Jodenny glared at him. “Sergeant Myell and I have not been in-volved in a sexual relationship.”



“You were using the cargo holds for your romantic rendezvous. A lieutenant and her sergeant. People will eat it up.”



“You can leave now,” Jodenny said.



“I’m simply preparing you for what people are saying.” Cheddie made another note on his gib. “I have a friend who works in the forensics lab. Are you aware that Sergeant Myell’s fingerprints are on the identification card that Commander Matsuda was carrying?”



“Of course they’re on it,” Jodenny said. “He pulled it out of Matsuda’s pocket when we were inspecting the corpse.”



“You’re sure? I thought you were wearing EV suits.”



“Have you ever seen the gloves on an EV suit? Too bulky for fine work. He took one glove off.” At least, she thought he had. He must have.



“I’m just saying,” Cheddie said. “They want, they could make an argument that his prints are on it because he helped kill Matsuda. There might be some way to date them, but still, it could be tricky.”



“As sure as I am sitting here, I’m telling you Myell had nothing to do with Matsuda’s death. If you can’t believe that, you shouldn’t de-fend us.”



“Belief has nothing to do with defense, Lieutenant. I’ll go talk to him, see what he says.”



“Do you really think we have anything to worry about?”



“Right now? No. You’re the heroic victims of a vicious assault. You also discovered a murder victim and uncovered a smuggling ring. You didn’t report anything, but you believed Lieutenant Commander Osherman, who may or may not be an IG agent.”




“How could he work for the IG and leave us to die?”



“Maybe he intended to tip someone off to your location and wasn’t able to,” Cheddie said. “Maybe he did get the word out, but it was ignored or overlooked. Unfortunately, heroism aside, you’re also the bringer of bad news, which is going to work against you. Data should have caught the dingo problems, and Core is going to come under as much scrutiny as Supply. Some unhappy people will try to discredit you by alluding to your relationship with Sergeant Myell, your professional capabilities, and your conduct since you came on-board.”



The nausea suddenly rolling in her gut had nothing to do with ra-diation sickness. “That’s what I thought.”



“Of course, you have me, so it’ll all work out just fine.”



“Oh.” Jodenny almost but not quite laughed. She had more than Cheddie, if she could just hang on.



Cheddie went to talk to Myell. For a while she dozed, lulled to sleep by the sound of the air vent over her bed. She awoke when Cheddie returned with Myell in tow. Jodenny was careful not to leap into Myell’s arms or do anything else Cheddie might misinterpret.



“I didn’t kill Commander Matsuda,” Myell said.



“Of course you didn’t,” Jodenny replied. She thought he looked pale, and cleared a space on the foot of the bed for him to sit.



“Here’s what we’ll do,” Cheddie said. “I’ll arrange a meeting with the SUPPO and the Security Officer, maybe the XO. Lieutenant Scott, you tell them what you told me, all the same details, nothing left out. Sergeant Myell, you’ll corroborate. The thing to stress is that you be-lieved you were following Osherman’s orders. I’d like to set it up for right after lunch.”



“Excuse me.” Myell lurched off toward the head. Cheddie gri-maced at the sounds that emerged.



“Only if you’re well,” he said.



“We’ll be fine,” she assured him.



Cheddie was gone when Myell came out. Jodenny said, “You didn’t have to do that for his benefit.”



“I didn’t.”



“Oh. All right, back to bed you go.”



Myell gazed meaningfully at her mattress.



“No, your own,” Jodenny said, nevertheless pleased. She walked him back to his room and made sure he was tucked under the blan-kets with some appropriately affectionate gestures. Dr. Genslar came in seconds after she smoothed the sheets.



“Am I interrupting anything?” the doctor asked archly.



Myell said, wearily, “Dr. Genslar thinks the rumors about us are true.”



Jodenny eyed the physician. “Fraternization is against regulations.”



“Yes, I know. And while I was a lieutenant, I was a firm believer in regulations. The nurses tell me there’s been some emesis. Is that true?”



“Guilty as charged,” Myell said.



Dr. Genslar ran a scanner over Myell’s abdomen. “You might need another radvax. Lieutenant Scott, you can return to your bed. I’ll take care of this.”



At the hatch Jodenny asked, “Why aren’t you a lieutenant any-more?”



“I resigned so I could marry my chief,” Genslar replied. “Gave up a very promising career in the Medical Corps.”



From under his blankets Myell said, “Good for you.”



Genslar replied, “We divorced five years later.”



By the time the meeting rolled around, Myell was still vomiting and Genslar vetoed his attendance. Jodenny fidgeted in her chair in the physician’s conference room, wishing she could be by Myell’s side. Wrapped in a thin bathrobe, tapping her slippers against the deck, she stood up when Al-Banna and Picariello entered. Captain Umbundo was with them, which startled her.



“Sir!” she said.



“At ease,” Umbundo said.



Jodenny felt foolish addressing them as she was, but she explained what had happened as clearly as she could and omitted only the per-sonal aspects of her and Myell’s ordeal in the tower. Cheddie took notes. Picariello stared at the bulkhead. Captain Umbundo’s face was impossible to read, but Al-Banna leaned forward and seemed inter-ested in every word.



When she was done Umbundo said, “You’ve been one busy lieu-tenant.”



“Yes, sir.” Jodenny took a steadying breath. “Was Lieutenant Commander Osherman lying about being an Inspector General agent?”



Picariello said, “It’s best if we don’t discuss that, sir.”



Cheddie said, “Captain, the lieutenant and Sergeant Myell were nearly killed. They deserve to know who to trust, and if their lives are still in danger.”



Picariello said, “It’s not wise—”



Umbundo held up a silencing hand. “You did stumble across some-thing, Lieutenant. You weren’t the first. I can’t jeopardize any ongo-ing investigations by telling you more, but rest assured that you’re in no danger as long as you follow orders. Until this affair is concluded— and I’m assured that will be very soon—you and Sergeant Myell will be in protective custody on Mainship. There are too many people who would benefit if your voices fell silent.”



Jodenny knew how Myell would feel about protective custody. “Surely there’s another way, sir.”



“Follow your orders, Lieutenant,” Umbundo said.



He stood, nodded at Picariello and Al-Banna, and departed with-out any further word. Jodenny watched him, agape. That was all he had to say?



“A few days of relaxing in a VIP suite won’t harm you, Lieutenant,”

Picariello said. “Sergeant Myell can stay in transient berthing.”



“No, sir,” Jodenny said stubbornly. “Both of us go to VIP quarters or both of us go to transient.”



Picariello shared a look with Al-Banna, who said, “You might re-consider allying yourself with Sergeant Myell.”



“I’ve heard about the fingerprints, sir. They’re perfectly explain-able. I don’t believe for a single instant that he’s somehow tied to Commander Matsuda’s death.”



“Frankly, neither do I,” Al-Banna said. “However, some irregulari-ties have come to light regarding your April inventory. It looks like Sergeant Myell and Ensign Strayborn wrote off three hundred trans-actions to make your score better than it actually was.”



Jodenny had expected some kind of divide-and-conquer, but not so soon. “That can’t be true.”



He handed her a gib. “It’s all in the raw data.”



She scanned the information. “Holland would have caught it. I have her check for discrepancies and run standard fraud tests on every inventory.”



“Your agent was impaired,” Picariello said. “The subroutines were compromised so that she wouldn’t alert you. If you’d done a manual check you would have seen the changes.”



Her cheeks heated up. “Why would Myell and Strayborn do such a thing?”



“You tell me,” Picariello said. “And then you tell me why any of us should trust anything Sergeant Myell has to say.”



* * * *



H

ere he is,” Timrin said.



“You, bucko, are as green as an avocado,” Gallivan said as he and Timrin appeared at Myell’s bedside. Gallivan was as cheerful as ever. Timrin had a few more worry lines than Myell remembered.



“Shut up,” Myell said, and reached for a bucket.



Gallivan handed him a glass of water after he was done retching. “At least you showed up in time to bid me a tearful farewell.”



“You’re leaving today?”



“On the fifteen-hundred-hours birdie. Otherwise I’d stick around to see how this mess turns out. Three days left in damned Team Space and I’m free forever.”



“Lucky you.” Another wave of nausea swept through him but quickly passed. Maybe Dr. Genslar’s last radvax was taking hold. Myell said, “Can you see if they’re still in the conference room?”



Timrin asked, “Who?”



“Lieutenant Scott, Al-Banna, some others.”



Timrin poked his head around the corner. “Looks like it. What are they talking about?”



“Fraternization. Murder. Motives.” Myell put the bucket aside and swung his legs off the bed. He should be there, protesting his inno-cence. Timrin’s hand kept him seated.



“There’s a few things you should know,” Timrin said. “Security’s been down in Underway Stores since yesterday, turning things top to bottom. They found Lange’s porn collection and the cat VanAmsal’s been keeping over at LD-G. Caldicot’s saying you and the lieutenant have been carrying on since we left Kookaburra, which is rubbish. And they called Strayborn in for questioning, something about you and him gundecking the April inventory.”



“Did you do it, Terry?” Gallivan asked.



Myell gaped at them. “Strayborn squared it away.”



“Not, apparently, to the right people,” Timrin said.



Gallivan added, “Before you do drop your shorts in the lovely lieu-tenant’s company, you should know that she and Lieutenant Com-mander Rokutan have been consorting in a most familiar way.”



“Says who?”



“Rokutan himself. Told Zarkesh, who mentioned it to Zeni, who made a joke in front of Ashmont—”



“Enough.” Myell’s stomach threatened to revolt. Somewhere down the passageway a comm was buzzing in a most annoying way. “It’s just gossip.”



“I’m only telling you as a friend. Apparently she has a birthmark right about—”



“Shut up,” Timrin said. “The point is, if you’re not careful, Terry, they’re going to blame as much as possible on you.”



No one was answering the damn comm. Myell said, “Lieutenant Scott won’t let them.”



“Looks like their chat group is breaking up,” Gallivan said. “Large group of officers heading this way.”



A moment later Jodenny appeared in the doorway with Cheddie behind her. Myell didn’t like the pinched expression on her face, the utter lack of anything remotely resembling affection. He expected her to wear a mask of professionalism in front of others but this woman was a stranger, unsympathetic and harsh.



“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Gallivan said, but she ignored him completely.



“Did you fake the April inventory?” she asked Myell. “Write off three hundred transactions?”



A cold fist wrapped around his heart. “That’s not what happened.”



“You did. You and Strayborn.”



“Lieutenant—” he started.



Jodenny turned to Cheddie. “Tell them I’m ready to go back to Mainship. I’ll take the VIP quarters. Sergeant Myell can stay in tran-sient.”



He needed to make her understand. “Kay—”



Her voice was as cold as her gaze. “That’s Lieutenant to you,” she said, and walked away.



“Ouch,” Gallivan said.



Cheddie eyed Gallivan and Timrin. “Sergeant Myell, once you’re feeling better, you’ll be going into protective custody while we settle this whole thing.”



“Yes, sir,” Myell said woodenly He should have expected it. Love never lasted; friends always betrayed. He’d been stupid enough to forget the lessons of Baiame and the whole Ford affair, but now they came back like buckets of ice water dumped over his head.



“But the last time—” Timrin started.



“It doesn’t matter, Mick,” Myell interrupted. “Leave it alone.”



Cheddie nodded and followed Jodenny.



“You can’t let them do that,” Timrin said.



Myell squeezed the bridge of his nose. Protective custody. Not again. Then again, why not. His reputation was ruined. If he wasn’t blamed for Matsuda’s murder, he’d still get demoted for the trick with the inventory. Jodenny despised him. And somewhere just beyond the horizon, Chiba was mocking him with laughter. Nothing meant anything if Chiba walked away free.



“Jesus, what’s that?” Gallivan demanded, recoiling from a dark splotch on Myell’s pillow.



“Koo!” Myell said.



Timrin chuckled. “Scared of a little gecko, are you?”



“Shut up,” Gallivan said.



Myell picked Koo up. For a lizard on the lam, she appeared pretty healthy. She peered up at him, circled in his palm, and poised with her head held high. His eyes watered. It was silly to be so emotional, but he’d thought her dead for sure. “Where did you come from?”



“She must have been in my jacket pocket,” Timrin said.



Koo flicked her tail and curled up in the palm of Myell’s hand. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured. Surely her reappearance wasn’t a coincidence. He stared into her beady eyes and waited for inspiration.



“So what are you going to do?” Timrin asked. “Let these officers push you around?”



Koo’s tongue darted out in search of an imaginary fly. In that in-stant he caught a glimpse of a barren landscape, the sun boiling like gold on the horizon, the uncurling of a vast snake. Whatever the fu-ture held, it wasn’t to be found in the confines of protective custody.



“No.” Myell tested his footing. “Are there any clothes in that closet?”



Gallivan opened the door. “Just some pants and a scrub shirt. Why?”



“I need a uniform. I need the two of you to help me get out of here. Then I need to be on that birdie at fifteen hundred hours.”



“You’re going down there?” Timrin asked. “You can barely stay on your feet.”



Gallivan folded his arms. “And just how do you propose to get on that birdie? You don’t have a flight pass.”



“No,” he admitted, “but you do.”



“It’ll never work,” Timrin said. “Your face has been plastered over the news for almost two days. Security will recognize you in a heart-beat.”



Myell reached into the bedside table for his dilly bag. “Then I’ll go with Plan B.”



“Which is?” Timrin asked.



Where could he find haven in the middle of a starship? Who would shelter him and assist him in getting down to the planet?



“Take me to the governor,” he said.



* * * *