CREEPER

A Science Fiction Short Story

Kristen Painter

Bruno Miller

Desperate to earn enough to pay his creditors, the captain of the cargo ship, Despora, manages to land the haul of a lifetime. With some shady side dealing, he’s going to come out ahead. But he soon learns the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. And sometimes, the green isn’t grass at all.

CREEPER: A Science Fiction Short Story

Copyright © 2020 Kristen Painter, Bruno Miller

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Chapter One

Date: 2170.3.19

Buckman finished his entry for the day, closed the ship’s log and pivoted his chair toward the lower crew deck. He liked that the bridge overlooked that part of the ship. It was an easy way to keep an eye on everyone.

Trina Daniels was logging time on the treadmill, the low hum of the machine meshing with the constant drone of the ship. She was the ship’s botanist and a new hire. Quiet. A little mousy but a good hand at rummy. She was from Le’meohu, also known as the jungle planet. Her nationality was apparent in the little tear-drop shaped scales that followed her hairline and went down her spine.

He wasn’t much into non-humans, but she had the kind of body he didn’t tire of looking at. All in all, not the worst kind of woman to have on the crew for a cargo run out to Respite 205.

The name of the little mining planet always amused him. Respite meant relief. There was nothing remotely like that where they were headed. 205 was a craggy, sooty, inhospitable chunk of rock good only for mining two things. Charnium and severite. The first was used for powering starships, the second was a gem that only the very wealthy could afford.

He'd be happy to get his hands on either one.

Respite 205 hadn’t even been very good for those things until recently, when it had been struck by a major meteor storm. The storm had left behind massive craters, and in doing so, had uncovered previously unknown deposits of both charnium and severite, the two being products of the same kind of mineral deposits and heat and pressure.

Those meteors had brought new life to Eden, Respite 205’s roughshod mining town topside. If you could call those three connected domes a town.

There was even a rumor that the meteors had seeded vegetation and that Respite 205 would someday be habitable outside the domes the miners called home. Buckman would lay every remaining credit in his account against that hunk of cold rock ever being a paradise, but then stranger things had happened.

Mining had recently resumed with a fervor, that much was true. What was also true was that he was going to be the first one there to haul that very valuable cargo. This was the run he needed. The run that would save his slab from the grill.

He’d gotten the gig because he’d caught the first ready message sent out from the pickup beacon transmitted by McNally Mining. And then promptly blown up the beacon in an effort to keep competition to a minimum. Granted, it was possible that a few other haulers had grabbed the message before it had gone silent, but there weren’t many who could haul as much as he could.

He grinned at his own craftiness. You didn’t get to run a ship like the Despora by following rules. You got a carrier like this by making your own rules. By being hard and mercenary and taking jobs no one else wanted. Life was hard enough as it was out here in the deep. He’d take any advantage he could, even the ones he had to make for himself.

Movement caught his eye. Movement that wasn’t Daniels.

Lee Kim, who took a rotation on navigation, but mainly handled IT issues and took care of the air scrubbers, had walked out onto the observation platform one level up, but his eyes weren’t on the stars.  He was watching Daniels. From his vantage point, he must be getting a pretty good show.

The lift chimed and Anjali Parmesh joined Buckman on the bridge. Her husband, Samar, had been their first nav man, but he’d been killed in a freak planetside accident two years ago. Despite that, she still wore her wedding ring. Buckman figured it was her way of keeping the others at a distance. Or maybe it was a reminder for Kim, who’d replaced Parmesh’s husband on the team.

She nodded in greeting at Buckman. “Where are we?”

“Fifteen clicks. We’ll land in time to see sun’s up.”

“Very good. This will be a good run. I can’t wait to see if these samples show anything new since the meteors. I’m anticipating it, really.”

Parmesh was a scientist, a geneticist by trade, but on his ship, she’d been demoted to quality control. Demoted was her word, not his. He didn’t give two verd rats what she thought of the position. She’d accepted it. He was glad though. Having a scientist as QC gave him the ability to charge a little more for her stamp of approval. “I can’t imagine they would. Rocks are rocks.”

She shot him a look but said nothing.

He ignored the look. “Holtz still in the mess?”

Parmesh nodded. “He was finishing his meal when I left.”

Holtz was the chief mechanical engineer on board and the task of keeping the Despora running smoothly fell on his shoulders. He was good at his job and Buckman was glad to have him on the team. Although Holtz cost Buckman more salary wise than he had wanted to pay to keep a mechanic attached to the Despora.

Holtz was a perfectionist and while that was good for the ship it was hard on the bottom line, especially when Holtz logged overtime, tweaking calibrations in an effort to optimize systems operation and performance. But none of that would matter after this run. If all went according to plan, Buckman would have credits to burn and he would need an engineer of Holtz’s caliber to implement some of the upgrades he had in mind for the Despora

“Good. I want him to run a diagnostic as soon as we land. I want to make sure everything is perfect. We’re going to be packed to the breathers. I may even store crates in the crew quarters.”

She frowned. “You know you can’t do that. Charnium gives off radiation.”

“Severite doesn’t. And a couple of boxes of uncut rough won’t take up much room at all in anyone’s quarters.”

She sighed.

He didn’t care. The whole point of this run was to maximize profit. He needed it. More than anyone knew. Well, not more than his bookie knew. Buckman shoved a hand through his salt-n-pepper hair. He never should have bet on those Leguarian lizard races. Or played three-eyed poker with those Fengols. Or let himself be swayed by the seductive fun of kwen-gig’s fast rolling dice. Not while he was already maxed to the hilt with En’demo, his bookie.

En’demo was Strengelli, too. A species better known for occasionally eating their young than their generosity of spirit.

He almost shivered. He was not in a good place, but he would be. Just as soon as he took on this load and got it back to Ceres Nine. The payday for an epic haul like this would be well worth his efforts, but it was the skim he was after.

The little extra he was going to demand for his troubles. The charnium he’d keep half of, for his own conductors, the rest he’d sell to the black market boys on Ibin Minor. They’d give him a fair price and keep him from getting his hands dirtier than they already were. He’d sold a few things on the dark web, but his last experience had not been a good one. He preferred to stay away from that underbelly of goods exchange.

But the severite was easy. He’d handle that no problem. It was going straight up for auction via the bright web.

He grinned thinking about how many credits an auction could bring him. It was all going to be so easy. Outside of the delivery, but for the kind of amount he was going to end up with, he’d hand deliver that cargo even if it meant a cruise out to Centaria.

At half their street value, those rocks would still bring in enough to pay off his debts to En’demo and give him a year’s cushion, no matter what he bet on. Life was about to improve remarkably for him.

Buckman went back to watching Daniels. She wasn’t remotely interested in him. He knew that. But he’d wager that would change once his fortune was made.

Not that he was going to flaunt his new wealth. He couldn’t exactly, not when a good chunk of it was coming from skim. But he had a plan for that too. A late uncle and a sudden inheritance.

Then he was going to splash out a bit and get Despora a few mods he’d had his eye on. Mostly the second gen accelerators, a set of retractable rail guns and some of those Mandle shields he’d heard so much about.

True, those mods might cost him a couple of his crew who weren’t comfortable with being on an armed carrier, but those mods would allow him to run more dangerous missions and carry the kind of cargo that demanded even higher prices.

The kind of black market goods that would take him from a reliable shipper to a sought after runner.

He nodded in approval of his own thoughts. Yes, his life was about to change. And he was going to enjoy every moment of the ascension.

Chapter Two

Anjali knew Buckman was watching Trina. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it wouldn’t be the last. Buckman was a small man with small ideas and a low entry point for amusement.

Anjali also knew Trina was wise to him. He was the reason she wore her jumpsuit a size smaller. The reason she pretended to be shy and clueless and easily shocked. Trina was smart enough to know how to use his baser side for her own good.

Anjali liked that about the young woman. It was part of how they’d become friends. There was so much more to Trina than met the eye.

In fact, Anjali suspected that keeping him interested was actually less work than Trina had imagined. Nothing wrong with that. It worked out for them. They’d decided to keep a close eye on him on this new jaunt to Respite 205. He was too giddy about it. Like there was something else going on that he hadn’t shared with the crew.

That wouldn’t surprise her, either, though. Buckman was always up to something. Always looking for an angle. So long as it suited him and his ends.

She glanced over at Lee Kim, who was trying not to watch Trina, but failing. She shook her head at his lack of self control. At least he was subtle about it, unlike Buckman who just stared.

But Kim was otherwise harmless. Of all the crew, she liked Trina the best. The woman was kind, competent and highly intelligent. She was the kind of person Anjali could work with and to that end, Anjali had gone out of her way to befriend Trina when she’d been hired.

Thankfully, Trina had welcomed the friendship with enthusiasm. Maybe she was glad there was another female on board. Maybe Anjali’s designation as geneticist had made Trina feel a kinship with a fellow scientist. Whatever the reason, they’d become fast friends.

Anjali had done her best to educate Trina about the rest of the crew, Buckman especially. None of them, not even the two Huth dockmen who did nothing but drive the loaders and drink, were particularly awful. Except Buckman.

Anjali didn’t like him, but she could manage. She didn’t need him to be a saint. Just pay her wages until something better came along.

Although the sooner that something appeared, the happier she’d be. Since her husband’s untimely passing, she’d become increasingly bitter about using her skills to stamp quality checks on Buckman’s cargo.

That seemed a waste of her education. No, that was a waste of her education.

But this new cargo they were about to take on had promise. The possibility existed that she might find something in it that would give her a reason to get back into the gene game. Because no one was going to take her seriously until that happened.

Her hand went to the vial of DNA she wore around her neck. Samar’s DNA. Her way of keeping him with her always.

It didn’t matter that she’d only taken this job to stay close to Samar. They’d been trying so hard to have a family. Being separated for months at a time when he went on cargo runs and she was stuck planetside in a lab didn’t seem the best way to make that happen.

Then things had gone so very wrong and in an instant, her world had changed. Now she felt trapped on this ship. Everything around her a reminder of Samar’s absence. She wanted off. Back to her life of test tubes and DNA extractors and plasmids. She wanted to do something that mattered. Something that she’d be remembered for.

Approving geological cargo as meeting quality standards meant nothing. She was a brain surgeon telling people they had nicely shaped heads.

She took a breath to calm the anger that had begun to worm its way up her spine. They were a day out from Respite 205. It would take another half day or so the cargo loading to begin. Once the cargo was on board, she’d begin taking samples and processing them.

Soon after that, she’d know if there was the slightest molecule of hope for her. All she needed was a few strands of DNA from whatever vegetation the meteors had brought, and for that vegetation to be special in some way. No matter how small, she’d turn it into her ticket off this carrier.

She refused to acknowledge there might not be anything. She wouldn’t allow that possibility to enter her mind.

Her determination alone would make something happen. Even if she had to get off this ship and find that something herself.

The supper chime rang, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Buckman got out of his chair at the helm and stretched.

Chow’s on, she thought.

“Chow’s on,” he said, right on cue. “You coming, Parmesh?”

“In a moment.” She smiled quickly and kept her words light.

He grunted and headed for the mess.

Having a cook onboard would normally be considered a luxury, but Envers, the mess cook, was a gen seven clonedroid that Buckman had won in a poker game years ago. The creature was more machine than man and probably should have been decommissioned out of mercy.

Not on Buckman’s ship. Not when Envers was free help and meant Buckman didn’t have to upgrade the replicators to produce more than gruel and flatbread and synth steak. The replicators were so out of date they couldn’t even produce beer with more than three percent alcohol.

Probably a good thing on this ship.

Trina hopped off the treadmill and glanced up at Anjali, giving her a little wave. Anjali waved back.

“Dinner?” She mouthed.

Trina held up a finger, then pointed toward the back of the ship. She was going to her room first.

Anjali nodded that she understood and flashed her hand, fingers spread, twice. Ten minutes?

Trina gave her a thumbs up, then took off.

Anjali glanced at the nav. The ship was on autopilot, set to dock at Respite 205 in a few hours.

She smiled. This was all going to be a memory very soon.

Chapter Three

Buckman sat at the head of the table. For one thing, it was his ship, his right. For another, it gave him a little privacy not having anyone on either side of him. He liked to watch vids or check cargo prices or see what certain items were selling for on the bright web.

None of the crew needed to know what he was doing. It was his business. He was captain. Not one of them. But eating meals with them felt like a good way to stay connected. And to let them think he was one of them.

The two Huth dockmen came in first. Tu and Ka. They were mountainous men whose physical power far outweighed their brains, but that’s why they were dockmen and not navigators. They ran the loaders, hauled cargo, and maintained inventories.

They were good workers. They cost him more in food than in pay, but he wasn’t complaining. Not once had they griped about a single thing, and twice they’d been the muscle he’d needed to get off a planet quickly.

The pair went straight to the chow line where Envers was serving the meal he’d prepared. Some kind of meat stew and biscuits. There was dessert as well. Nothing fancy. Zem cakes, probably. They had those a lot. And ginger cookies.

All because they were cheapest to produce. That would change soon. He wasn’t going to go crazy, but a few upgrades to the food supplies were due. He might even upgrade the replicators to produce a few more basic items. At the very least, better beer.

Tu and Ka came to the table with bowls that looked more like serving platters, but they were the only ones on board authorized for triple portions. No one complained, however. They were also the only ones on board who needed that level of caloric intake.

He could not have them running low on fuel.

As they dug in, the rest of the crew arrived, got their trays and joined him at the table. Tu and Ka didn’t acknowledge anyone with more than a grunt. Whatever they were doing became their focus. Multi-tasking didn’t exist on Huth. Neither did deep, lengthy conversations.

Buckman was good with that. He’d prefer the rest of his crew be more like that.

Instead, they were all chatting. About the food, about the latest vidcast, about nonsense that meant nothing to him.

At least they knew well enough not to try to pull him in. He stared at his holscreen, watching charnium prices tick up and down while a talking head prattled on in Buckman’s earpiece about the futures of a variety of commodities.

He turned the volume down to hear the crew a little better. Just to keep tabs on things. He stabbed a hunk of meat with his fork and kept eating.

Daniels glanced at him. “Stew is good.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, a little unsure she was talking to him. Then realizing she was, he nodded. “Yeah. Good.”

He caught the word vegetation and realized what the crew was so wound up about. Respite 205. If they thought they were getting a day of leave to lose their paychecks in Eden’s bars and gambling hall, they were wrong.

“There’s not going to be a day off,” he groused.

The crew all looked at him as if they had no idea what he was talking about.

He broke a biscuit in half and scooped up a knife full of butter to spread on it. He hated the plant-based crap they used, but it was budget friendly. “No day off when we get to Respite 205. We land, we load, we leave.”

Lee Kim frowned, but no one said anything.

Buckman almost grinned. It was good to be captain. He bit off a hunk of biscuit and chewed while he thought some more. Daniels didn’t look at him again. Then a new idea came to him. “Daniels. You’re a Botanist, right?”

Her head lifted. “Yes.”

“You’re coming with me to inspect the cargo.”

Her brows bent. “Me?”

He nodded. “I want you to make sure there’s not a speck of green anywhere on that cargo. If we have to open every crate, we will. I don’t want nothing screwing this up.”

Parmesh’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth, which remained opened. A moment passed, then she put her fork down, straightened a little and spoke. “Why would you think such a thing was even possible?”

“What thing?” Sometimes she said things that just didn’t make sense.

“That there would be any particles of organic matter on the cargo? Isn’t it washed before it’s crated?”

He shrugged. “Supposed to be, but better safe than sorry, right? Don’t worry, you’ll still get to do your inspection.”

Daniels glanced at Parmesh, but neither woman said another word. What was bothering them, he had no idea. Maybe Daniels thought he was bringing her along to try something? Fat chance. He wasn’t about to hitch himself to anyone, especially a woman, with the fortune coming his way.

He pointed his fork at Tu. “You come too. For muscle. I hear the population of Eden has doubled since the mining picked up. Last thing I need is trouble with one of those diggers.”

Tu looked up, nodded slowly, then went back to eating.

Daniels didn’t seem to be moved by the addition of the Huth dockman to the away team. He’d expected her to look relieved. She didn’t look any different at all.

Buckman went back to watching his holscreen and finishing his stew. There was no figuring women out, so he was done trying.

* * *

Trina showed up at Anjali’s quarters a few minutes after they’d both left the mess. Anjali had been about to reach out to her, but the younger woman seemed to understand they needed to talk.

Anjali let her in, but raised a finger to keep her quiet a moment longer. She tapped a few buttons and flooded the room with the soft, but persistent rhythm of Earth jazz.

She nodded. “Now we can speak.”

“You think your quarters are bugged?”

Anjali lifted one shoulder. “I don’t trust Buckman enough to think otherwise. Do you?”

Trina shook her head. “No, I don’t.” She sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Do you think that’s how he suspects your plan? Why he’s trying to thwart it?”

“I’m not sure. He’s not the type to be so subtle. If he knew I was trying to leave, it’s more likely he’d just confront me and have it out.” Anjali rubbed her chin. “It’s probably exactly what he said. He doesn’t want anything getting in the way of him making this shipment fast. He needs the money.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Look at this ship. Systems are so far behind on upgrades some of them don’t work fully. What does work has been pieced together with second hand parts. What hauler doesn’t take the best possible care of his ship? Without it, his ability to earn disappears.”

Trina shrugged. “I’ve never worked a run like this before so I don’t know what most haulers do.”

“They don’t get themselves a carrier class vessel and then treat it like it’s a rental, I can tell you that much.” She shook her head. “I’d say his gambling’s got the best of him. Again.”

“Oh?”

Anjali’s fingers went to her necklace and the cool, titanium vial that hung off the thin chain. “Buckman owed Samar nine hundred credits when he died from the poker they used to play. Buckman refuses to pay me. Says he owed the money to Samar, not me.” She rolled her eyes in frustration. “The man has no honor.”

“So it seems,” Trina said. “But sometimes lying and cheating are not such bad things.”

Anjali looked at her. “Meaning?”

“Meaning what I tell him and what the truth is may not be the same.” Trina smiled. “You need those samples. I can make sure that happens.”

Anjali understood. “I won’t forget this, Trina.”

Trina’s smile held fast. “I know you won’t. You are a very different person than Buckman.”

Chapter Four

Buckman was instantly sorry he’d told the crew there’d be no leave, not for their sake, but for his. Eden had changed a lot since he’d last been here a decade ago. Maybe it was the sudden rebirth of the mining industry, maybe it had been growing all along, but the once sad excuse for a town was now bustling.

The new population was due to the influx of diggers who’d come to work, naturally, but with the diggers came all the other workers who made a town possible. McNally mining, the main game in town, had added two more commercial domes and three more smaller, residential ones.

Eden was practically a metropolis. Especially now that the diggers had more work than they could handle. That meant money to spend.

No wonder a third gambling hall had opened in town.

It was that place that called to him the most. The Golden Galaxy. It had the most lights of any business and a glittering, spinning planet hanging above the door. He wiped at the trickle of sweat coating the back of his neck. There was no time for that. No money, either.

But the old demons weren’t going to be silenced that easily. They poked at him, reminding him that in a place like this, the tables had to be loose to keep people coming back. Diggers wouldn’t just throw money away if they weren’t winning.

Maybe he could get a few games in. Or more if he was winning.

“Which way, Captain?”

He just knew he could win here. Look at the diggers going in. Why would they patronize a place where they only lost?

“Captain Buckman?”

Buckman turned at the sound of his name, looking up at the Huth dockman casting a shadow over him. “What?”

“Which way?”

He scowled and found a way to temporarily silence the nagging voice inside his head. There was no time to see how sweet the tables were, not unless he invented a reason for the delay. He pointed down the main street toward the grandest building in town. “McNally headquarters.”

They moved forward as a group, but Buckman’s gaze stayed on the gambling hall as they passed it, hoping for a glimpse at the interior as the doors opened. He got one just as they went by. The lights on a sign announcing open kwen-gig tables flashed and danced, illuminating the dark, smoky interior. Then a cheer erupted as a jackpot was struck. Everything inside him tightened in response. Someone had won.

That could have been him. That should have been him.

The voices came back. His mood darkened.

By the time they reached the McNally building, his disposition was foul. It was ridiculous that the mining company forced haulers to walk through town to log in and accept their cargo. It was a ploy to get haulers to spend money in town. A dirty trick.

What McNally needed was competition, that’s what they needed. A company that set up docking and headquarters all in one spot. A company that was happy with the money they made on their goods and didn’t need the side hustle of booze and betting.

He practically growled at the man behind the window. “Buckman, captain of the Despora, here to accept my cargo.”

The man nodded and pushed a large holscreen at him. “Log in and sign.”

Buckman picked up the stylus. “I’ll log in, but I want to inspect the goods first.”

The man stared at him in disbelief. “It’s raw material, buddy. What’s to see? It’s all crated and ready to load.”

“And I want to have a look at it.” Buckman jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Daniels. “I brought my inspector.”

Tu stepped a little closer, his bulk not lost on the man behind the window. “Need help, Captain?”

“Not yet,” Buckman replied cryptically. He stared down the man behind the window. “Or do I?”

The man’s deep frown gave way to a sigh. “You know you’re going to have to come back here after your inspection to sign off?”

“Worth it,” Buckman snapped back. And not just because it might mean a swing by the tables.

With a shake of his head, the man typed something on his screen, then reached under his desk and came back with a rectangular key card. “Warehouse 14, dockmaster Winn.”

Buckman took the card. The dockmaster’s name was Winn? If that wasn’t a sign he was supposed to hit the tables, he didn’t know what was. He grinned. “See you soon. So long as my cargo isn’t tainted.”

And if it was, that would be just the excuse to delay liftoff that he’d been looking for.

* * *

“You want me to lie?” Trina shook her head. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Buckman said. “I just want them to make sure the cargo’s been cleaned thoroughly.”

She couldn’t do that. Not because she couldn’t lie. She’d already been planning to do that. But to benefit Anjali’s work, not Buckman’s scheme. Well, not entirely for Anjali’s work. But Anjali’s work served Trina’s purposes.

It would be easier to accomplish if Buckman wasn’t leaning over her shoulder, however. She thought back to what Anjali had told her about the captain. And then their walk through town and how his gaze had fixed upon the gambling hall.

An idea came to her. One she wasn’t sure would work, but it was worth a try. “I understand. This may take some time as I will have to sample many of the crates. I know your time is valuable. I don’t expect you to stay while I work, but I promise to call as soon as I have completed the task.”

He blinked a few times like he was processing what she’d said. “Right, right. I have things to do. How long will it take you think?”

She shrugged. “Hours.”

He glanced up at Tu. “You go to the warehouse with her. And stay there. Make sure no one interferes with her work.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Tu nodded.

Trina didn’t allow herself to smile, although she wanted to. The captain was easily swayed. That was a good sign for things to come. For her, of course. For him it would be…life changing. She nodded solemnly. “Thank you, captain.”

He grunted. “Just see it gets done.”

“I will.” She looked up at Tu. “The warehouse, then.”

He gave her a nod and off they went. When they’d put a little distance between themselves and the captain, she glanced back.

Just in time to see him slip through the door of the Golden Galaxy.

This time, she allowed herself the smile.

Chapter Five

Buckman had won. He’d won so much he’d been drunk on the rush and foolish with luck. He’d played kwen-gig recklessly, too many dice going at once, bets too large, and the luck he’d just gotten a taste of had dissolved into a black streak of loss that gutted him quicker than a Fengol’s knife through the tender skin of a brishna melon.

What little money he’d had was gone. He stood near the Golden Galaxy’s door, knowing he should leave, but so staggered by the loss that he couldn’t make his feet move or his brain process how deeply in it he was now. This was bad. It had been bad before. Now it was worse.

He was going to have to skim more than he’d planned. That was his only way out. His only hope. And then he was going to have to pray he didn’t get caught.

He checked the time. Daniels better have that cargo inspected and ready to load or he was booting her.

Another patron shoved through the door, cheery and smiling like winning was possible.

“Fool,” Buckman muttered. He caught the door before it swung closed and made his way out to the street.

The smoke and stench of too many bodies in close proximity clung to him. He flapped the sides of his coat, trying to air himself out. He didn’t care if his crew knew. What he did with his time was his business.

He let the coat be and put his head down as he trudged back to Bay 9, where the Despora was docked. As soon as he was aboard, he went to the main deck and hit the ship’s com. “Daniels, report to the nav deck immediately.”

She arrived quicker than expected. “Captain.”

“That cargo better be inspected and ready to load.”

“In process, sir. I took the liberty of signing off on the shipment so that Tu and Ka could onboard it. I hope that was all right?”

“In process? You mean it’s being loaded?”

“Yes, sir. I hope that’s all right,” she repeated.

The tiniest ray of light shown through the black mood hanging over him. “Yes, that’s all right. But don’t assume you can do that again. I’m the captain of this ship.”

She nodded and looked appropriately contrite. “Yes, sir. I fully expect you’ll want to inspect the cargo yourself now.”

“No, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Oh. Well, I brought you samples to show you. If you’re interested.”

He wasn’t. But he thought he’d better act like he was. “That’s fine. I’ll look at it.” Not that he’d know what he was looking at, other than the rough.

She reached into the pocket on the leg of her jumpsuit and pulled out two small vials. She handed them over. “There’s a sample of each.”

He took them, then hesitated. He had no idea what to do with them.

As if sensing that, she continued. “Generally, you can tell by sniffing the rough if there’s a presence of organic matter. You’ll notice neither one of these has that aroma.”

“Right,” he said. He popped the top off the charnium, brought it to his nose and inhaled. Dust from the charnium rough filled his nostrils and he sneezed.

He wiped at his nose. “Doesn’t smell like anything. Maybe a little metallic.”

She smiled. “Exactly.”

He repeated the action with the severite but not quite as close. Same thing. A little metallic. Maybe with a little something else.

All it really smelled like to him was money. Fat, juicy credits that were about to come his way.

He put the tops back on both vials, then put them into his pocket. “I’ll hang onto these.”

“Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“No. Wait. Tell Parmesh to get to work on that QC designation. I want that done immediately so I can send it ahead to the buyer.” And the other off-market buyers who would be snapping up the skim so he could line his pockets.

“I’ll go right now and tell her.”

“Good. Dismissed, Daniels.”

With a nod, she left.

He sat back down. He probably should show his face in the cargo bay. Wasn’t like he had anything else to do. And he needed to know that every single crate he’d asked for was there.

With a sigh, he shoved to his feet. A quick wave of dizziness hit him. He grabbed the back of the chair to steady himself. Being planetside on these small rocks like Respite 205 did that to a person occasionally, especially after a lot of time spent in artificial gravity.

The odd feeling passed a moment later, and he headed to the cargo bay. He put a hardhat on and punched the panel to open the big double doors.

With a hiss, they slid back and he went inside.

Tu and Ka had the loaders running. Looked like they were just about done, too. The crates were stacked a row higher than was regulation and two rows outside of the designated hold area.

For the first time since leaving the gambling hall, Buckman smiled. This was exactly what he needed. He ditched the smile, waved for Ka to stop, and went over to him. He started shouting orders so he could be heard over the noise of the loaders. “These stacks are too high and they can’t be outside the hold lines. Some of this is going to have to be moved.”

“Where to, Captain?”

“Crew quarters. My quarters. The mess. Anywhere there’s space, stow them.”

Ka nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Tell Tu.”

He nodded again.

Satisfied, Buckman took off for the nav deck. His black cloud was lifting. Time to make some arrangements so that it stayed permanently gone.

* * *

Anjali almost couldn’t breathe. “It’s done? You’re sure it’s done?”

“Absolutely,” Trina said. “I saw the matter with my own eyes. I made sure our cargo was littered with it. I want your work to be successful. You know that. We’re in this together. Just remember, you have to keep this secret. You still have to certify the shipment.”

Anjali smiled. “Yes, I know. Trust me, I won’t reveal anything until we’re planetside again.” She would have her samples to back up her work as well.

“Good.”

“Thank you, my friend.” She exhaled in relief only to be swamped with worry a moment later. “He’s going to be furious with you. He will probably fire you.”

Trina smiled. “I think he will come around.”

Anjali knew better. Buckman would fire the young botanist, and it would be Anjali’s fault. “I don’t think he will.”

Trina’s smiled remained. “I can be very persuasive. You’ll see.”

“I hope you’re right. But if I’m not, which I’m sorry, but that is most likely, then I promise I will help you. Maybe I can find work for you with whatever lab hires me.”

“You’re kind, Anjali. But everything’s going to be okay.”

Anjali didn’t believe that for a second. But she smiled and nodded anyway. Who was she to crush the optimism of youth?

Chapter Six

Buckman had immediately sent word to his black market buyers that he had the shipment for them and to prepare to accept delivery. Then he went to work setting up the auction for the severite.

That took longer. He had to take pictures and uncut rough wasn’t that pretty. He had to trust that his buyers would understand what they were looking at, because he didn’t. Other than knowing these rocks were valuable.

But he supposed he ought to know more than that. Otherwise, how would he know if he was getting the best price?

That led him down a rabbit hole of research, looking at past auctions, comparing goods, reading up on the stones. It was exhausting and more work than he’d done in the years he’d spent in school.

He rubbed at his eyes and looked at the time. He sighed and shook his head. He should have been racked out hours ago. He had nav duty in four bells. He stripped off his jumpsuit and lay down on his bunk.

He fell sleep almost instantly, his dreams coming on hard and fast and vivid. He was running through a jungle, vines reaching for him. Singing to him. Trying to get him to stop and let them embrace him.

At the chirp of his alarm, he woke up groggy and covered in sweat, a sour taste coating his tongue. What sleep he’d gotten had done nothing to make him feel better. He needed a hot shower. And a lot of coffee. Something to shake the weird fog in his head.

The shower helped a little. Actually, it was the water that felt good. Not so much the heat of it. Maybe he was getting sick. Probably something he picked up at the Golden Galaxy from mingling with all those diggers and off-worlders. That would serve him right.

With a lot of huffing and grunting, he pulled on his jumpsuit and went to the mess for coffee.

Envers was in the galley, reconstituting eggs and frying patties of marsh larva sausage. Buckman poured himself a big mug of coffee, added extra synth-sugar, then went to his station on the nav deck.

Holtz was running an end of shift diagnostic, his eyes fixed on the screens in front of him.

“Everything okay?” Buckman asked.

Holtz nodded. “Fuel’s dropping a little fast, but we’re overweight so that’s to be expected.”

That almost made Buckman smile for two reasons. One, that overweight was his payday. And two, some of that overweight was charnium, which meant their fuel problem was no problem. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” He tapped the screen under one of the engine meters. “I don’t love this reading though. It’s a little hot. I’ll run down and check on it before I clock out. Coffee smells good.” Holtz finally glanced over at Buckman and grimaced. “You feeling all right?”

Buckman frowned. “Why?”

“You look a little…green.”

He felt that way too, but wasn’t about to let on. “Respite’s air doesn’t agree with me.”

Holtz’s skeptical expression remained even as he nodded. “Maybe the coffee will help.”

“Already is.” Except it wasn’t. Buckman just wanted to be left alone so he could get into the captain’s chair and close his eyes for a bit. Autopilot could handle it for a while. “You’d better get going. You’re pushing toward overtime. See you at dinner.”

“Yeah.” Holtz got up. “I’ll let you know what’s going on with that hot engine.”

“Save it for dinner. I have inventory sheets to go over. This is a big run.” The inventory sheets had actually been done last night because Buckman had to be sure the skim was hidden. Still a good excuse though.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Holtz left.

Buckman sank into the chair, cradling the mug against his chest. He hated being sick. Losing time. He really ought to run down to sick bay and do a quick medscan. But he didn’t want any of the crew to see that. Of course, there’d be a record of the scan, but he could go into the system and delete that. He sighed. He should have done the scan on his way up here.

Maybe he’d come up with an excuse later. Get someone to watch the bridge for a bit. He could just say he had to run to his cabin for a minute.

He put his coffee on the nav desk, then settled back and closed his eyes. A little sleep was probably all he needed.

He was jerked out of sleep by Holtz’s return. “Captain.”

“Hmm—what?” Buckman blinked hard a few times to shake off the fog. It still hung over him like a blanket.

“There’s some kind of gunk on the right forward engine. I’m going to have to shut it down and steam it.”

“Gunk? Shutting it down will delay us. Can’t it wait?”

Holtz shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Whatever this stuff is, it wasn’t there when I ran the last diagnostic.” He shrugged. “Might have been something in Respite 205’s atmosphere. Not sure. But that engine needs cleaning. If it overheats, we’ll lose it.”

Buckman let out a sound between a sigh and a growl. “Fine. But do it immediately.”

“You realize that puts me on overtime.”

“I’m aware. Just get it done.”

“Aye, aye.” Holtz left.

Buckman shook his head. Holtz enjoyed reminding him about the overtime a little too much for his liking. If he was feeling better he might have argued more, but he didn’t have the strength to get into it right now, or to care for that matter. It was always something. He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t get comfortable. After a few hours, he’d had enough. His skin was starting to itch, his eyes felt gritty and his muscles had the dull ache of recovering from hard work, but he’d done none of that.

It was time for the medscan. He was definitely coming down with something. He tapped the com and leaned in. “Daniels, report to the bridge.”

She arrived quickly, which he was thankful for. “Captain?”

He hauled himself out of the chair. As an afterthought, he picked up one of the command tablets and studied it like something there was the reason he had to leave. “Watch the bridge. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

He made it to the doors, then stopped and turned. Had those scales at her hairline always been so green? “Do I look…how do I look to you?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You look fine. Are you not feeling well?”

“No, no. I feel great. Just…wondering.” He touched the panel to open the doors and went through. He kept his head down and his eyes focused on the tablet. That should be enough to keep anyone from talking to him, but he got lucky and passed no one on his way to sick bay.

He slipped in, closing the door and locking it behind him.

The lights flickered on as the AI recognized his presence. “How are you feeling?”

The automated voice was female and had the kind of soft, caring tone Buckman secretly found pleasing. That was the main reason he’d never deprogrammed it. “Not well.”

“Would you like me to scan you for diagnostic purposes?”

“Yes.”

The medscan tube opened and Buckman stepped in. The housing slid shut and a ring of light swept his body from head to toe.

The tube opened again.

“I can only scan one occupant at a time. Please remove other occupants and say, ‘Restart’.”

He groaned. Now the medscan was malfunctioning? He stepped out, then got back in. “Restart.”

Again the ring of light swept his body. The tubed opened.

“I can only scan one occupant at a time. Please remove other occupants and say, ‘Restart’.”

He got out. “Fine, don’t scan me. Stupid hunk of junk.” He’d be replacing that useless thing when his payday came in.

Instead, he stuck the temperature gauge in his ear to see if he had a fever. That would tell him something. But it was normal.

He sure didn’t feel normal. He tapped the necessary buttons for an A pack, designed for general malaise, from the meds-supply and popped the pills with the cup of water dispensed alongside it. That ought to help.

With new hope that this crud would soon be behind him, he went back to the bridge to assume his duties.

Daniels was standing, looking out over the crew deck. It was empty.

“Everything quiet up here?” He asked.

She turned and smiled. “Yes.”

“Good. You’re relieved, I’ve got the conn.”

She seemed to stare at him a little longer than usual. “You don’t need anything else?”

“No.” He just wanted back in his chair so he could rest until these meds kicked in.

“All right.” With that she left.

He sank into the chair and closed his eyes. He just needed to sleep this thing off. That’s all it would take.

He hoped.

Chapter Seven

Anjali nudged Trina as she took her spot at the table with her food tray. “Can’t believe Buckman’s not here. When has he ever not been the first one to dinner?”

“You’d know that better than I,” Trina answered.

Across from them, Lee glanced at Buckman’s empty seat before sighing and picking up his fork.

“I suppose I would know better. Well, I can tell you, it’s odd.” Anjali stuck her fork into her bean cake. Surprisingly, it was one of the better meals Envers made. “But you’ve seen it. He likes to be here well ahead of everyone else so he can be first in line and keep an eye on the rest of the crew. Not that he ever engages us in conversation. He just sits there, watching his—”

Buckman walked in.

Anjali smiled. “Captain.”

Lee nodded at him. “Captain.”

Buckman greeted them with a crooked smile. But that wasn’t the only thing about him that looked odd. He seemed to lurch slightly. And his skin looked…loose. And slightly…green. If Anjali didn’t know better, she’d think he was a new hire dealing with space sickness.

But Buckman was as seasoned as they came. Which meant he was sick with something else.

Hungover most likely. He certainly drank his fair share. But she’d never known him to suffer from it. And he was just coming off nav duty. When would he have drunk enough to get this way? No, that didn’t make sense.

He must have picked up a bug planetside. Dome living was rough that way, if you didn’t have the immune system for it. No matter how much they scrubbed the air and pumped it fill of anti-bacterials, things still had a way of getting through.

Respite 205 had just experienced a big population boom, too, with all that new mining to be done. Probably another two or three thousand diggers. Skies only knew what kind of germs they’d brought along.

Maybe she’d gently suggest he head to the sick bay for a medscan. He’d probably tell her to bugger off, but at least her conscious was clear then. And if he got worse, she could let it be known that she’d made the suggestion.

Buckman went to the chow line and came back with a tray. He took his usual seat at the head of the table, but instead of pulling out his holscreen, he looked around at everyone. He wobbled forward suddenly and grinned at Lee. “How’s it going? How’s everything running?” Then he laughed. “I mean besides the ship because it’s on autopilot.”

Lee looked at Buckman with blatant shock. “Yeah, um, I’m headed to my nav shift after I eat, but when I’m done there I have to go look at the scrubbers. They’re off capacity by a percentage. How are…you?”

“Fine, fine,” Buckman slurred back at him.

He didn’t seem fine, Anjali thought. Except for his mood, which was surprisingly good. Better than she’d ever seen it, in truth.

In fact, that might be the strangest thing about him. Buckman in a good mood. And conversing civilly with the crew. When was the last time that had happened?

Then she realized what was going on. Buckman was so excited about the massive cargo run that he had been drinking on the job. That had to be it. He’d probably picked up some bootleg hooch in Respite 205 and he was too sloshed to realize it was tearing him up.

He wasn’t hungover yet, but he would be soon with that much alcohol in his system. He’d be puking his guts up pretty quick too. The sanibots were going to be running overtime tonight.

Beside her, Trina leaned forward toward Lee. “What do you think’s going on with the scrubbers?”

Lee shrugged. “The filters probably need cleaning again. Mining planets kick up a lot of dust and fine particles. They’ll be fine until I get off my nav shift – a percentage down is nothing but no point in letting it get worse. I’m sure I’ll be at it for a couple hours. Hosing all that matter off takes for every when it’s small like that.”

“You need any help?”

He blinked in shock. “You want to help me wash filters?”

She laughed like it was no big deal. “I just figured it would be a good way to get to know the ship, seeing as how I’m new. And why not be useful?”

“Now that,” Buckman said. “That’s really nice of you.” He grinned lopsided at Trina. “You’re nice, Daniels. I’m glad I hired you.”

Anjali couldn’t help but stare at him. He was just being so odd. She took a deep inhale. She was right next to him and didn’t smell alcohol. Was it possible he wasn’t boozed up?

“Sure,” Lee said. “But you know I’m not working on them until after my nav shift. That’s around three bells. The rest of the ship is usually sound asleep at that hour.”

“I’m not.” Trina went back to eating. “Le’meohu don’t need the same amounts of sleep as earthers. I’ll meet you down there.”

“Okay. Be sure to wear a Tyvek. It’s dirty work.”

“Will do.”

Buckman suddenly gestured with his fork. “Hey. Where’s Holtz?”

They all looked around like he could be in the mess and they’d missed him. Then they all shook their heads.

Trina spoke up first. “Wasn’t he working on one of the engines? He must still be at it.”

Buckman nodded, suddenly serious. “He’s a hard worker.”

Anjali almost choked on the last bite she’d taken. She wasn’t sure Buckman had ever said that about anyone.

Trina looked at Buckman. “I guess as the new hire I should run a mess tray down to him.”

“See,” Buckman said. “I was right. You are nice.”

Anjali glanced at Trina. “You have any idea what the engine room is like? Loud, dirty and lots of fumes. You sure you want to go down there?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just to drop a tray off.”

Anjali nodded. “True.”

It wasn’t the first time Trina had expressed interest in learning more about the ship. She’d spent a lot of extra hours with Anjali in the quality control lab when she’d first come on board. It was how they’d gotten to know each other and how they’d become friends.

In a way, Anjali supposed Trina was doing things the right way. Learn as much as you can as fast as you can when you were new. It made your working life easier. If you cared about that.

But that didn’t jive with anything Trina had told Anjali. She seemed as focused on leaving this ship behind as Anjali was.

Because all Anjali could think about was getting off this ship and back into a lab planetside where she could do some real work that would result in something important.

Stamping a seal of approval on interplanetary shipments could be done by a lab bot. It wouldn’t carry the same weight, but that was Buckman’s problem, not hers.

Trina laughed at something Lee had said and Buckman joined in.

Anjali watched the young woman with new eyes. Had Trina been truthful with her? Did she really want to get off this ship?

Or did she just want Anjali off it?

Chapter Eight

At nearly three bells, Trina put on a Tyvek and went straight to the bridge.

Lee was there, at the helm, doing his end of shift things. “Hey, there. Didn’t expect to see you up here.”

“Yeah, well, I was up.” She took a step back toward the doors. “Ready to go?”

He stood, but went no further. “I can’t leave the bridge until Holtz arrives to take over.”

“Oh, I saw him in the hall. He had to check some readings in the engine room. After all his work last night, he wanted to make sure things were holding. He said to tell you to put it on auto and he’d be up in a few to take over.”

“Okay, can do. Just give me a second.” Lee sat back down, tapped a few things on the display, then typed in his code and hit enter. He logged out then stood. “All right. Ready to clean some filters? They really need it. They’ve dropped another percent.”

She nodded. “Lead the way.”

Trina had been in the area that held the air scrubbers before. Then it had been clean and bright, the enormous tubes with their layers upon layers of filters housed in pale turquoise casings that reminded her of the skies on Le’meohu.

Now, she imagined it was going to look a little different.

Lee unlocked the door with his keycard. It slid back with a hiss and they stepped inside to a low hum and lush, earthy smell. He let out a harsh curse, followed by a growl. “This is worse than I thought.”

Trina smiled, but only because she was behind him and he couldn’t see her. She quickly exchanged that expression for one of great distress. “What is all this?”

He stood there with his head on his hand, staring at the twin scrubbers. At the green, spongy growth that covered them in patches. “I have no idea. It looks like…some kind of fungus.”

“Or moss,” Trina offered. “But you’re the expert here.”

“Whatever it is, we must have picked it up on Respite 205.” He shook his head, clearly disgusted. “And I thought it was just mining dust.”

“What next?”

He sighed and dropped his hand to his side. “I need to do a full inspection, which means I have to turn the scrubbers off and climb inside to see how far this stuff has spread so I know just how much cleaning there is to do.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “But I’ll have to file a report on this, too. Any time the scrubbers are turned off there has to be a report to explain why.”

She smiled back. “Whatever you need to do. Just tell me how to help.”

“You can open that panel box and flip those override switches.”

She walked over and pointed. “This one?”

He nodded.

She opened it and cranked the two switches down. The hum died off as the scrubbers went still.

He went to a long tool bench against the far wall and picked up a large hex wrench. He used that to loosen the bolts holding the front of the first scrubber in place. When he had that off, he put the wrench back, then swung the front of the scrubber wide like a door.

“You want me to loosen the bolts on the other one while you’re in there?” Trina asked.

He looked at her while he was pulling up the hood of his Tyvek. “Sure, that would be helpful.”

“You got it.” She went to get the wrench.

He bent to slip his boots into protective coverings. When he straightened, she brought the wrench down hard on the back of his head.

He fell with a soft gurgling sound.

She put the wrench down, then grabbed his communicator and typed out a quick message. Done, she clipped it back to his belt, heaved his body into the scrubber, closed the front, replaced the bolts and finally put the wrench back exactly where he’d taken it from.

On her way to the door, she stopped at the panel box and flipped the overrides back on. The low hum started up again, briefly interrupted by a long, loud whine and several thumps. After a moment, the low hum returned.

She smiled as she looked at the two scrubbers. They were spore nurseries now. And Lee Kim would be a good nutrient source for all those tiny little lives that were just starting to take root.

* * *

Anjali had been in her lab since after dinner last night. She was tired, but she’d sleep soon. And Buckman would think she was working on his quality control seal, so he’d leave her alone.

The work was important to her, of course, and frankly far more interesting than anything else going on in the ship, but she preferred her lab for a lot of reasons, too. Like how easy it made avoiding the captain and some of the male crew.

She peered closer.

The organic matter under her microscope was everything she’d hoped for. It was unlike anything she’d seen before. Completely alien, although it had some similar characteristics to a few other plant species she’d seen. She’d yet to strip out a strand of DNA, but she was about to do that.

Once she sequenced it, she’d have a better understanding of what she was looking at, and how best to spin this to her benefit. Then she’d write up her findings and publish them. Hopefully, she’d have her pick of planetside labs.

She lifted the little vial around her neck to her mouth and kissed it. “This is it, Samar. I am finally getting us off this ship.”

The lab doors slid open with a whoosh of air.

She looked up from her microscope to see who it was. She smiled. “Hi, Trina.”

“Hello, Anjali. How’s it going?”

“Really well. Are you all done helping Lee with the scrubbers?”

“I was just on my way down there, but he messaged me not to bother.” She held up her communicator. “That there wasn’t anything to do. So I decided to see what I could help you with in here.”

Chapter Nine

It was no use, Buckman couldn’t get any rest. The harder he worked at it, the more uncomfortable he felt and the more he tossed and turned in his bunk. He tried to convince himself several times that he was turning the corner on this thing but it was a lie and he knew it. The A pack he’d taken should’ve kicked in by now but he actually felt worse. And every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror it reminded him of that fact.

On top of the other symptoms he was experiencing, his throat was now bothering him. He was having trouble swallowing and every time he tried it made his eyes water with pain. Drinking soothed the burning sensation but only provided temporary relief at best.

It was the same with the showers he took in an effort to clean up after sweating through numerous pairs of jumpsuits. The shower itself, the water specifically, felt good but the relief ended as soon as the water stopped running over his body. It was as if his body was drying up on the inside while he couldn’t manage to stay dry for long on the outside.

He’d been hiding in his quarters for too long now. Mostly because there would be no disguising how he was feeling from the others. There was also no denying that he’d picked up something serious on Respite 205. The likes of which he’d never experienced before.

The other reason he was avoiding contact with the crew was that he was afraid whatever he had was contagious. It wasn’t that he was concerned for the others health so much as he knew if they were all sick they wouldn’t be able to make the delivery.

If what he had was contagious and word got out about it, they wouldn’t even be allowed to dock, let alone unload cargo. It wasn’t uncommon for places like Ceres Nine to request a copy of a ship’s medical log before granting docking privileges, especially for cargo ships coming in with raw material from places like Respite 205. At least that was one good thing about the medscan malfunctioning.

Buckman was genuinely worried, and for the first time in a long while, a little scared. Without the diagnostic help and subsequent treatment of the medscan he was on his own until they made port. Delivering the cargo on time was important, but it was quickly becoming a second priority as his health deteriorated. Whatever he’d picked up on that Godforsaken rock was bad, real bad. All the credits in the deep wouldn’t amount to a hill of bean cakes if he wasn’t around to spend them.

He pulled at the collar of his last clean jumpsuit. It was already sticking to him and showing spots where he’d sweated through the material. It felt a size too small but he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or the clamminess of his skin that made it feel that way.

The fog surrounding him seemed real but it could have been a figment of his imagination, too. He couldn’t tell anymore. It seemed to cast a greenish brown light over everything. His vision had blurred considerably since his last nav duty, and he was having trouble reading the monitors in his quarters.

He took a small amount of comfort in the fact that he’d hired a competent crew. For all his gripes over what they cost him he was glad about the money spent now. It might be up to them to get this cargo off-loaded and delivered if his health didn’t improve by the time they reached Ceres Nine.

Buckman fought against the haze that gripped him and racked his brain in an attempt to formulate a plan to run the rest of the operation clear through delivery of the cargo from his quarters. He knew it would be impossible to pull off and he didn’t trust the others when it came to negotiating price for goods. He also didn’t want to share the profits with any of them, at least not anymore than he had to already.

Suddenly, a cold shiver crawled across his body. Along with it came a thought. Maybe he should be paying his crew more? Maybe they were worth it and deserved more credits for their efforts. He shook his head as if the thought was some physical thing stuck to his skin. This wasn’t him; he didn’t give away money like that. and he certainly wasn’t used to feeling generous with his share of the spoils.

This fever was making him delirious, and it was also making him hallucinate because the vines growing from the deck to the ceiling in his quarters couldn’t be real. They were the vines of his dreams, the ones singing to him. At least this time, they didn’t call out like sirens to embrace him, but he did feel drawn to them in waves of energy that pulsed through his body like the cold chill from before.

He shook his head again only this time it was in an effort to erase the vision he was having. He forced his eyes shut and squeezed them closed while wiping the sweat from his face. He couldn’t stop rubbing and then scratching. His eyes stung and itched along with the rest of his body. He felt like his skin was crawling off his body, and he was afraid to open his eyes again.

He was on the verge of slipping into a full blown panic attack when the intercom in his stateroom squawked to life.

“Captain, your presence is requested on the bridge.” Anjali’s voice rang out loud and clear and seemed to calm the torment he was experiencing for a moment.

It was a jolt back to reality. Better yet, it gave him something to focus on other than how he felt. It was also a reminder that if he didn’t man up and do what needed doing all this would be for nothing.

“Captain, do you copy?” Anjali’s voice filled the room once again, this time with a hint of concern.

Buckman had meant to respond to the first request for his presence on the bridge. In fact he thought he had. Maybe he’d imagined it. He wasn’t sure what was going on all of the sudden and struggled to get up off his bunk.

“I’ll be right there.” He managed to get the words out as a wave of nausea overtook him and he half-ran, half-crawled to the head. He almost didn’t make it in time but luckily he held out until he was over the toilet.

He coated the inside of the commode with a green sticky mucus followed by a session of dry heaving for a couple minutes uncontrollably to the point that he began to see dark spots dancing through his vision.

He gripped the side of the toilet in defiance, fighting off total blackout from the strain. He put his forehead against the cold rim. It felt good, despite the proximity to what he’d just heaved out of himself. Grimacing, he forced himself to take a couple deep breaths and exhaled until he began to regain his balance.

Buckman grunted loudly as he pushed himself away from the mess he’d made and reached for a towel to wipe his face. His mouth tasted like dirt and his tongue felt like sandpaper against his lips. He needed a drink of water to wash the dryness away. His throat hurt even worse than before, feeling like it had been lit on fire.

And then in the next ragged breath it was gone.

He stood there for a minute in disbelief. He still felt bad, really bad, but nothing like what had just overtaken him a minute ago. He dared to sneak a peak in the mirror and was surprised to see something that resembled a human being and less like the slightly green apparition of himself he’d seen earlier. Wiping the sweat away from his face with the remaining clean part of his towel he took a few steps back into his stateroom.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he needed to throw up and get it out of him. Weak in the knees but feeling slightly optimistic he dispensed a full flask of water for himself and gulped it down. He forced himself to stop for fear of making himself sick again but it was a struggle to pull the container away from his lips.

For a couple of tense moments, he fought to gain control of his hand. It wanted to bring the flask to his mouth again. He dismissed the struggle as an involuntary muscle reaction, all his muscles ached and he’d cramped up more than a few times throughout this ordeal. He could have easily downed the whole flask and more, but thought it best to go easy for now. He was certainly in no hurry to be back on his knees in front of the toilet again.

He gathered his wits as best he could and tried to straighten out his damp, wrinkled jumpsuit. He would have changed into a new one but he had none left. He had to put on a good face for the crew. By now, they knew he was sick but there was no need to let them know how bad it was, or how bad it had been, if he could help it.

Buckman mustered up all the strength he had and swiped his hand over the bio scanner to unlock his door. It responded with a familiar swish and he stepped out into the corridor. He paused, and glanced back timidly at the corner of the room where he’d seen the vines growing. Nothing there, good.

He looked away quickly, half afraid that if he stared too long they would reappear right before his very eyes.

He took a deep breath and headed for the bridge. His head hurt and his throat still burned a little with every breath but it was nothing compared to the darkness he’d just been through. He wasn’t well by any stretch of the imagination but he could fake it enough to get by.

With any luck he was over the worst of it and could focus on making his fortune a reality. Next time he went to Respite 205 he would wear a re-breather, even if they were uncomfortable and spawned ridicule from the seasoned diggers.

Because there would be a next time if this payload delivered the riches he hoped it would.

Chapter Ten

Anjali wondered if she should go to Buckman’s quarters or wait a few more minutes. She checked the nav screen and noted that it was approaching ten minutes since she contacted him. She decided to try the intercom again instead.

“Captain, do you copy? Are you all right?” The grief he would give her for her impatience was unavoidable but nowhere near the lecture she would receive for physically going to his stateroom to check on him. She waited for his response but there was nothing.

“He must be worse than we thought,” Trina commented.

“He was looking pretty rough last time I saw him.” Anjali wondered if her original suspicion of Buckman indulging in too much bootleg hooch was accurate. Drinking on top of being sick would certainly wipe him out.

She tried to remember the last time she’d laid eyes on him and realized it was in the mess hall when he had been unusually nice to everyone. That was the booze talking, she was sure of it. It had finally caught up with him though and he was hungover now.

She should have been more irritated with him for putting all their lives at risk by pulling nav duty drunk. But she was more concerned by the missing crew members right now to care about his irresponsibility. Kim and Holtz were both MIA and neither had responded to numerous calls over their communicators.

She would have searched for them herself, but she’d been on nav duty, longer than she should have thanks to her missing shipmates. She should have put it on autopilot, but that felt like shirking her duty. Trina had looked for them but reported back empty handed. Still, they had to be somewhere on the ship.

Had they both indulged in too much drink like Buckman? She doubted that very much. She didn’t even think Lee Kim was a drinker. Of all the times they’d been off ship on liberty at various ports she’d never seen him indulge. Holtz had joined them from time to time at some of the watering holes they frequented but he always kept it together and she’s never seen him drunk.

Neither Kim nor Holtz were ones to shirk their duties and blow off nav watch. They were normally punctual and good communicators if there was a conflict with their schedules. Holtz was known to get carried away with his work and tended to overestimate how much time he had to wrap something up before his watch shift, but he always let someone know if he needed more time.

Something was wrong. Anjali’s gut told her so.

“I’m going to get Buckman,” Anjali stated.

Trina nodded. “Okay, I’ve got the conn.”

But before Anjali could take a step, the bridge door swished open revealing a disheveled but present Buckman.

He leaned against the bulkhead on the other side of the doorway as if he hadn’t expected it to open so quickly. Then he straightened and stood up awkwardly before he stumbled forward. After a moment and clearly with some effort, he found his stride.

Anjali looked at Trina and rolled her eyes. “Still drunk,” she muttered under her breath.

Trina shook her head in disapproval.

But as Buckman approached them Anjali saw that it was more than just booze causing his unsteady gate. He looked like death warmed over. His skin was greenish white and so pale that she could see his veins running up his neck and into his cheeks and forehead. There was a brownish green crust at one corner of his mouth and she wondered if he had bothered looking in a mirror before making his way to the bridge.

She tried to hide the disgust that she feared was evident on her face. She glanced at Trina and they exchanged knowing looks. She was seeing this too.

Buckman was sick; there was no doubt about it. And it wasn’t some run of the mill space bug. This was something different.

Something worse.

“Wass the prahblem,” Buckman slurred.

“You don’t look so good.” Anjali took a step back as Buckman leaned in too close for her liking.

“Have you done a medscan?” Trina asked as she retreated a few steps and stood by Anjali.

“Yeah, I’m fine. A pack kickin’ in. Feelin’ better already.” Buckman did his best to stand straight but Anjali could tell he was struggling to keep it together, his white-knuckled death grip on the console gave that much away.

She debated on whether or not she should even tell him about Kim and Holtz. But sick or drunk or whatever he should know. He was still the captain. For what that was worth in his condition.

“Kim and Holtz have gone missing and they aren’t responding with their communicators.”

“What…uh…do ya mean?” Buckman straightened up and looked half alive for a second.

“I mean we can’t find either one of them.” Anjali frowned, frustrated that she had to repeat basic information.

“This is a ship, where’r they gonna go?” Buckman slid his butt across the console until he was in front of the navigator’s chair and plopped down with a loud sigh. Resting his head in his hand he seemed to be working on keeping himself steady.

“Maybe they got into a little drink. I want to do a more thorough search of the ship. They could be down in cargo with Tu and Ka.” Now that she thought about it, the possibility existed that they’d gotten into a heated game of poker with the two Huth dockman. “Maybe they’re celebrating their impending payday a little early.”

It was unlikely but the only reasonable thing she could come up with.

“They better not be goofing off on the clock.” It was the first coherent sentence Buckman had managed since he arrived on the bridge.

At last, Anjali saw the Buckman she knew, and she was actually glad he’d shown up for once.

“Can you manage the conn while we look for them?” Anjali asked.

“I got it. Go,” Buckman barked as he slouched lower in the oversized seat.

His eyes would be closed within a few seconds of them leaving the bridge and Anjali knew it.

She headed for the door and turned to make sure Trina was close enough behind her to hear her whisper, “I want you to stay behind and keep an eye on him. I don’t trust him navigating this close to Ceres Nine.”

Anjali glanced back at Buckman who already had his eyes closed.

“You sure?” Trina asked.

“Yeah, in fact, see if you can talk him into going back to his quarters,” Anjali added.

“I’ll give it a shot.” Trina cracked a smile and headed back toward the bridge.

Anjali watched Trina walk away for a second before heading off on her own. She wasn’t sure how much she trusted Trina anymore. Trina was too calm in all this and it didn’t sit well with her. In a way, Anjali was glad Buckman was a mess. It gave her a good excuse to search the ship alone while Trina took over nav duties.

There was another issue she’d barely thought about though.

It wasn’t uncommon for approaching vessels to have to change course because of space debris. The closer to Ceres Nine they were the greater the chance of coming across trash and discarded parts caught in orbit around the small planet. The last thing they needed was to suck up a bunch of junk in one of the intakes or worse yet collide with something heavy and do critical damage to the Despora.

She was too close to seeing her plan through, too close to risk losing it all because Buckman couldn’t keep it together for a few hours more. When they were a bell or so out from docking she’d encourage him to head back to his quarters and stay out of sight if Trina hadn’t convinced him already. That shouldn’t be too hard based on how he looked.

Then they could handle the docking sequence and data transfer instructions without him. Besides, the risk of being denied docking was too great. If Buckman put his ugly mug on the holscreen and tried to communicate with the docking marshal at Ceres Nine it would be over for them. One look at him and the whole ship would be quarantined. Ceres Nine would designate them as infected and they wouldn’t be allowed to dock anywhere. At least anywhere that was safe.

They might be able to dock at Ibin Minor, but that was cesspool of black market dealers, bounty hunters and criminals. It was no place for a scientist. And as much as she hated to admit it they needed Buckman in a place like that and he was in no shape to help anyone right now.

There was also no guarantee that the ship wouldn’t be overrun by bandits and stripped of its cargo in a place like that. She didn’t care about the financial loss, that was Buckman’s problem. All she cared about were her samples and the cargo to back up her findings. If that was lost all this would be for nothing.

She rubbed the DNA vial hanging from her neck. She wouldn’t let that happen, no matter what she had to do.

Chapter Eleven

Anjali left the bridge and headed down the main corridor. The first place she would look for Kim and Holtz was the cargo bay. She really hoped it was as simple as the two of them losing track of time and getting wrapped up in a high stakes game of poker or something like that. It was unlikely but she wouldn’t allow herself to think about any other scenario for the time being.

The walk there seemed to take twice as long as usual. Frustrated, she jogged the last couple of corridors leading to the bowels of the ship and the massive cargo bay. The first thing she noticed upon entering the bay was the overwhelming odor of organic matter. The dank, earthy smell reminded her of the swamps on Ceres Minor, the moon-sized wasteland that orbited Ceres Nine.

The only life on the tiny moon was vegetation and other various forms on a microscopic level. An interesting place, but the planet was inhospitable to human life and had never been colonized. Still, it was a well-known spot for scientific expeditions and home to a few research stations.

Frankly, the place reminded her of a giant Petri dish. Paradise if you were bacteria or a fungal life form. The only person she knew that might qualify was Buckman. She laughed at her own joke.

She’d only been there once as part of an internship after graduation but she remembered it well, especially the funk of it. That was the smell that filled her nose as she slowly made her way deeper into the cargo bay.

She hadn’t noticed it earlier when she was doing her quality control sign off on the raw materials for Buckman. No, something had changed since she was down here last, something big was happening with the cargo they had taken on. Or maybe to it.

The air was humid and felt thick, like you might expect in a jungle or a rainforest. Anjali had never been lucky enough to see a real rainforest, she’d been born too late to see them on earth before they were all destroyed, but she had been in enough simulations and bio-domes over the years to recognize the feel.

She stopped to take a closer look at one of the shipping crates, temporarily forgetting why she had come down here in the first place. Placing her hand on the side of the metal container, she slid her palm down the exterior and felt the outward bulge of the steel. She pulled her hand away and stepped back when she noticed a greenish-brown liquid oozing from the seam near the lid.

The buckles that were located every few inches around the top appeared to be bent and struggling to contain the cargo trapped inside the container.

She’d never seen anything like it.

Anjali should have been scared or at the least concerned about the amount of pressure that was clearly building up inside each container. But instead all she could think about was running back to her lab and grabbing her equipment. She wanted to take a sample of the foreign substance that was forcing its way out from under the rubber gasket that ran around the outside of the lid.

Her second overwhelming thought was that Buckman was in for a surprise.

There was no way Ceres Nine was going to accept any of this cargo, not looking like this. And there was no way she could give the raw materials her seal of approval anymore. She would have to write up an ITR. The one report that was sure to fill Buckman with panic. An In Transit Retraction brief. But she had no choice. She couldn’t risk her reputation on a load of tainted cargo. There was no hiding what was going on here, whatever that was.

Buckman was going to blow a gasket of his own when he found out his plans for a big payday were over. On top of that he’d have to find a place to unload this mess.

That wouldn’t be easy. His best bet would be to jettison it all into deep space. It was going to be a total loss for the Despora, or maybe worse, and a good time for Anjali to put some distance between her and Buckman. She could easily find another ship to attach to out of Ceres Nine. With her credentials finding another shipboard job would be a piece of cake, as long as she walked away from this and managed to stay under the radar.

The only saving grace for Buckman might be the charnium. The containers filled with the raw material used to make starship fuel seemed unaffected by whatever was growing on the severite. Unfortunately for Buckman the severite was worth ten times what the charnium was. And based on the level of onboard contamination, Ceres Nine might not even allow the charnium to be off loaded. In fact she’d bet her degree on it.

Buckman would have to sell it on the black market if he hoped to earn any credits from this run, and she wanted no part of that. That wasn’t what she signed up for and she wasn’t about to stamp her seal of approval on contaminated cargo, especially not for the black market.

That would be one way to ensure she never worked for a reputable lab again. As Anjali thought about the ramifications of contaminated cargo for Buckman, herself, and the Despora she couldn’t help but wonder if any of it even mattered based on how Buckman looked.

Anjali forced herself to focus on the real reason she’d come to the cargo bay. Kim and Holtz, she reminded herself. There would be time for more samples later or at least she hoped there would be. There was no telling how much longer the containers would hold together. She wouldn’t want to be in here if or when they gave way. And by the looks of things that wouldn’t be long.

For the time being she’d take whatever precautions she could.

Making her way over to the gear locker, she fished out a re-breather and strapped it on. It was probably a waste of time. Surely, she’d already been exposed to whatever had a grip on Buckman so why hadn’t affected her yet? There had to be a reason. Maybe it was the antibiotics she’d injected herself with when she’d first suspected Buckman had picked up a bug of some kind on Respite 205. Anjali always took extra precautions on cargo runs to new locations. And Buckman never missed an opportunity to give her a hard time about her paranoia, as he called it. But that wariness was paying off now and might just save her life.

Anjali wiped a thin layer of dust off the mask visor and continued on, deeper into the cargo bay. Her exhalations echoed inside the re-breather and she suddenly became aware of how alone she was.

Pressing down on the coms button she called out, “Hello, anyone? Tu, Ka. Anyone in here? Holtz, Kim, are you in here?”

The sound of her own voice filled the re-breather as she continued her search. She wiped at the lens again but it didn’t help. The cargo bay seemed to be getting darker the farther back in she went. That shouldn’t be the case though, the space was uniformly lit from above, or at least it used to be. But there was no denying the fact that it was definitely darker near the back of the bay.

As she rounded a row of contaminated and oozing containers, she stopped dead in her tracks. She switched on the re-breather’s built in headlamp and tried to understand what she was looking at.

There against the hull of the ship were Tu and Ka completely entangled in vegetation and a web of vines that seemed to hold them to the wall. The appearance of their skin instantly reminded Anjali of Buckman’s current complexion. The two Huth dockman also had the same brown pasty residue around their mouths and down the fronts of their jumpsuits.

Anjali’s breathing intensified inside her helmet as she studied the scene and tried to make sense of what had happened. She scanned the brothers back and forth with the thin beam of her headlamp. The vines reached upwards and covered some of the overhead lighting which explained the dim conditions. She assumed they were both dead based on the fact that the vines were running through their bodies and had them suspended part way off the floor where they dangled limply.

Not even the Huth could survive that.

She dared to step closer. The scientist in her took over and she was able to quiet the fear welling up inside her for the time being in an effort to understand what exactly was going on. Her head was spinning as the pieces started to come together. It was all related, it had to be. The brothers’ skin looked like Buckman’s. The veins visible under their pale complexions weren’t veins at all, they were small vines growing under and through the skin.

Was this the fate that awaited Buckman? Maybe Tu and Ka had experienced all this at a faster pace due to them being trapped in the cargo hold, a closed-off space, with the spores? Yes, the spores.

There was no other way to describe what she was seeing as her attention shifted from the bodies and she focused on the particles that were floating in the beam of her headlamp. How had she not been infected? The thought of breathing them in any more than she already had made her want to gag. Clenching her jaw, she inhaled a slow breath of filtered air through her nose while fighting the urge to panic.

That wouldn’t do her any good now. All her plans and hopes for accolades from her peers in the scientific community escaped like sand through her fingers. The only thing that mattered now was surviving and that meant getting off this ship. She had to let Trina know what was going on. They could escape in one of the pods after setting the ship on a collision course with Ilios Six, the closest yellow dwarf star.

Anjali nearly jumped out of her skin when Ka groaned and reached for her with a vine infested arm and hand. His eyes were milky white, all traces of the pupil and iris gone. She didn’t realize she was still moving backwards until she ran into one of the oozing containers which scared her just as much as the newly awakened dockman.

Calm down, breathe. Ka wasn’t really alive, he was being manipulated by the thing growing inside of and through him. At least that’s what she told herself.

But she’d seen enough. It was time to get out of here. There was nothing she could do for either of them. Kim and Holtz weren’t here either. For all she knew they had suffered similar fates somewhere else on the ship. She’d keep an eye out for them on the way out but there were other escape pods and they would have to figure things out for themselves.

She was about to turn and head for the door but froze in her tracks as she felt a firm cold hand on her shoulder.

As soon as she could muster the strength to face who, or whatever was behind her, she twisted around as she took a step back. She sighed in relief.

She was glad to see Trina, although the young botanist’s calm demeanor was a little odd considering what was going on around them. Trina wasn’t wearing a re-breather and didn’t seem the least bit concerned about breathing in the spores that appeared to have multiplied somehow in the last few seconds.

“Trina, we need to get out of here. Don’t breathe this in or you’ll end up like them.” Anjali tipped her head at Tu and Ka.

Trina cracked a sinister smile that sent chills up Anjali’s spine and raised goose bumps all over her body.

“It’s okay, Anjali. It’s all going to plan.”

“What…what do you mean?” Anjali took another step back. Her gut feeling about Trina was right. She suddenly felt like a fool for befriending the young scientist so readily.

Trina laughed and moved toward her. “I mean, it’s all going to be okay. You’ll see.”

A dull flash caught Anjali’s attention. Trina had a knife in one hand. The short, hooked blade used for cutting cargo straps. The kind of thing that would slice through re-breather hose like it was paper. Anjali shook her head as she continued to retreat. “I…I don’t think so.”

“Trust me,” Trina said. “All you need to do is breathe.”

Thanks for reading!

If you liked this short, try our other joint effort, LOST BOY.

More about author Bruno Miller:

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Author Bio:

Bruno Miller is the best selling author of the Dark Road series and the Cloverdale series. He’s a military vet who likes to spend his downtime hanging out with his wife and kids, fishing, or getting in some range time. He believes in being prepared for any situation. You can find him on Facebook or his website.

Other books by Bruno Miller:

The Dark Road Series:

Breakdown

Escape

Resistance

Fallout

Extraction

Reckoning
Deception

The Cloverdale Series:

Impact

Survival

Endurance

* * *

More about author Kristen Painter:

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Author Bio:

USA Today Best Selling Author Kristen Painter is a little obsessed with cats, books, chocolate, and shoes. It’s a healthy mix. She loves to entertain her readers with interesting twists and unforgettable characters. She currently writes two best-selling paranormal romance series: Nocturne Falls and Shadowvale. She also writes the spin off cozy mystery series, Jayne Frost, and is about to launch her first paranormal women’s fiction with The First Fangs Club. The former college English teacher can often be found all over social media where she loves to interact with readers: Website * Twitter * Facebook * Instagram

Other books by Kristen Painter

COZY MYSTERY:

Jayne Frost series:

Miss Frost Solves A Cold Case: A Nocturne Falls Mystery
Miss Frost Ices The Imp: A Nocturne Falls Mystery
Miss Frost Saves The Sandman: A Nocturne Falls Mystery

Miss Frost Cracks A Caper: A Nocturne Falls Mystery

When Birdie Babysat Spider: A Jayne Frost Short

Miss Frost Braves The Blizzard: A Nocturne Falls Mystery
Miss Frost Chills The Cheater: A Nocturne Falls Mystery

Miss Frost Says I Do: A Nocturne Falls Mystery

Happily Everlasting Series:

Witchful Thinking

PARANORMAL ROMANCE:

Nocturne Falls series:

The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride

The Werewolf Meets His Match

The Gargoyle Gets His Girl

The Professor Woos The Witch

The Witch’s Halloween Hero – short story

The Werewolf’s Christmas Wish – short story

The Vampire’s Fake Fiancée

The Vampire’s Valentine Surprise – short story

The Shifter Romances The Writer

The Vampire’s True Love Trials – short story

The Vampire’s Accidental Wife
The Reaper Rescues The Genie
The Detective Wins The Witch

The Vampire’s Priceless Treasure

Sin City Collectors series:

Queen of Hearts

Dead Man’s Hand

Double or Nothing

Standalone Paranormal Romance:

Dark Kiss of the Reaper

Heart of Fire

Recipe for Magic

Miss Bramble and the Leviathan

URBAN FANTASY:

The House of Comarré series:

Forbidden Blood

Blood Rights

Flesh and Blood

Bad Blood

Out For Blood

Last Blood

The Crescent City series:

House of the Rising Sun

City of Eternal Night

Garden of Dreams and Desires