Jeopardy Chapter 16

“Are you alright, John?”

“Yes, Captain. A little shaken but I’m okay.”

“The bastards battered Chen, and half the ship’s asleep from some anesthesia. Go to the auxiliary control room. Alter environmental controls. Set the temp for 40, the humidity to 10%, and the lighting to full brightness.”

“The main power is down all over the ship.”

“Use stored energy. Turn this ship into the Mojave Desert. Go!”

“What about you, Captain?”

“I’m going to sick bay. Go!”

Understanding that the machine room had been spared the toxic gas from closed ducts, it was logical to assume the corridor would turn to desert before the room did. The Zlōgers couldn’t stay in there.

Jackson took rope from the supply closet and dragged each Zlōger by a tentacle until they appeared like prostrate parachutes ready to be packed. He tied their six legs together to prevent them from walking, then tied their arms as well.

It was like dragging half a dozen king cobras across the floor but all four Zlōgers were secured and finally deposited in the brightly lit corridor. John Chin had gotten some power on, and the environmental controls adjusted. Jackson could feel the heat suddenly and removed his over-shirt to cool off. He locked the machine shop, stepped over the unconscious Zlōgers, and went up a deck to the infirmary where he found the door locked.

“Jackson to bridge. Lee, is Barone there with you?”

“No, but two short females are up here in your office.”

“Are they okay?”

“Besides annoyed that I told them to stay put, they’re fine. Maybe a little scared.”

“Thank you, Chen. Thank you.” Jackson let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Who’s awake and who’s asleep?”

“I’m not certain, sir. I believe I’m the only one awake, and the girls. I haven’t heard from anyone else. I’m alone.”

“You have the con, then. Stay on the bridge and carry on, I’ll be up soon.”  He changed frequencies on his wrist com. “Stone?”

“Captain?”

“Go to ops and put the ventilation system online 100%, then turn the O-2 up to 25% and flush out the crap those aliens put in our pipes.”

“All decks, sir?”

“I don’t know what’s toxic and what isn’t, so yes, let’s recirculate everything. I doubt their anesthesia can last much longer anyway.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jackson looked around but Barone wasn’t anywhere in sight. He peered in the sick bay door window and saw five humans on the floor, and one Zlōger stumbling about, his eyes blinking and swiveling in their individual orbits. His two arm appendages covered his eyes but it wasn’t enough. The bright lights had an immediate effect; the dry heat would kick in before long. He smiled to himself and hacked the door lock.

The door popped open a centimeter. Inside the Zlōger’s eyes slowly turned toward the noise. Jackson thrust the doors into their wall pockets and marched up to Pekeena. He wanted to kick the creature in his ugly head, but he had better self-control than that.

“Get up. You’re going back to your ship.” He flailed around and slimed his way to the water and basin. The water came on and he did his best to shower under it and rehydrate. Jackson stepped over to Rianya, stroking her cheek, and placing one hand on Dr. Ferris’ shoulder. Rianya opened her eyes but didn’t speak. She didn’t focus on him but seemed to stare through him instead.

“Love, how do you feel?” She didn’t move her body but instead looked left, right, then at his face. “Stay still, just relax, don’t get up.” He shook Dr. Ferris gently. She was breathing but didn’t move at all. Jackson looked at the Zlōger trying to revive himself.

“Stop. You come with me.” Pekeena refused to answer but continued to splash water on himself. Jackson raised his hand laser and aimed for a spot just above the Zlōger’s head. The electronic fire burst into life a half a meter from his head on the wall, which got the creature’s attention. “Come on,” Jackson roared, waving his weapon toward the door a couple times before aiming between the two googly eyes.

Barone dashed in and stopped short.

“Captain?”

“Get anyone who is conscious down to the machine shop and drag those Zlōgers back to their transport.”

“Aye, Captain,” she clipped and took off in the opposite direction. “There’s one more on the bridge,” he called after her. He turned to Pekeena. “Any more of you I don’t know about?” He backed up a few steps and touched the switch on the translator box before repeating his question.

“Seven total,” the medical zlo said. That left one unaccounted for.

“Come on.”

Jackson pushed the Zlōger along until they reached the airlock. Without a word he opened the airlock, poked Pekeena with his pistol, urging him on. He lifted each leg, unable to slime forward without any moisture, and as his last claw dragged across the threshold to his ship, Jackson pounded his fist on the close control. Before the doors even slammed shut he manipulated the locking mechanism and called his crew.

“Attention, this is the captain. If you can hear me, secure your station and report to the mess. Attention all hands, secure your station and report to the mess.”

Jackson arrived first, but a few moments later the galley crew trickled into the dining room. The intercom signaled.

“It’s Barone, sir. We have two more bodies to drag to the airlock. Do you want us to come to the mess instead?”

“No, absolutely not. Get those bastards off my ship.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“What happened, sir?” Bailey was the first to speak, or, rather, croak.

“Are you all okay? No one seriously hurt?” Sleepy faces looked from one to another and heads began to nod.

“It was the Zlōgers, wasn’t it?” Harchett mumbled.

“Yes, they were trying to steal our EBMs. I’ve got one locked in their transport craft--”

“Why’s it so hot in here?” Bailey shouted. It’s like 40 degrees!”

“It is 40, Bailey. Maria Mitchell’s on desertification environment so those bags of slime will have to leave.”

“When can we get back to normal?” The cook staff started to remove jackets and over garments. Jackson realized he was half undressed himself but what could he do? His shirt and jacket were in sick bay.

“As soon as they’re all off the ship. Gather everyone here and let me know when everyone is accounted for, Bailey. I’ll be on the bridge.”

“Aye, sir,” she said, and fanned herself with her apron.

Jackson routed himself to sick bay to gather his garments and the staff had finally found their feet. Rianya was his first thought. He spied her standing near a counter top for support, holding his shirt and jacket.

“It was the Zlōgers, Captain,” Doc Adams piped up. They – where did doctor Zlōger go? Why’s it so damn hot in here?”

“When they’re all off the ship I’ll reset the environmental control settings. Until then, just pretend you’re in Egypt.” He took the shirt Rianya held out to him, but not the jacket. He just shoved his arms in the sleeves but said to hell with the buttons. It was too damn hot to worry about that.

“Are you okay?” his wife asked him. He nodded.

“Are you okay? I wasn’t asleep; we were trapped on their mother ship.” Jackson looked around. “Where’s Zalara?”

“She was with Bailey when I came to sick bay. I don’t know!” Rianya stumbled in an effort to panic.

“No, wait, Chen said they’re in the doyen’s office. I’ll go there now. You all go to the mess. We’re congregating there for safety.”

Jackson dashed out and headed straight for the stairs. Waiting for an elevator might take longer than two flights of steps. At the second deck, however, the heat changed his mind. He left the stairwell and took the easy way up.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight on the bridge when he stepped in. Commander Gugnichacrik looked like a beached squid drying in the sun when the tide rolled out. The black spot where Jackson’s pistol had shot him oozed a clear but greenish fluid. His eyes had shrunken back into his head somewhat.

“I can save him,” Zalara said, standing at the door to the doyen’s office with Honey glued to her behind.

“No, you won’t. Chen, get Clay and Dean up here to drag his sorry corpse to the airlock.”

“He’s not dead, sir.” Jackson stepped closer to have another look, then strode to his office, brought the pitcher of water from the table, and poured it on the commander’s gills and eyes. More green juice flowed out of the charred wound but he seemed to sputter with a hint of life after all, some drops spraying from the gill organs and his eyes blinking.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Jackson said. The box squealed something that the Zlōger picked up in his ear receiver.

“This is fatal,” was the reply. One arm lifted and pressed against his scorched skin. “Is just time now.”

Jackson wasn’t sure he believed the commander. He’d been lied to several times in the last day or two. Chen shrugged.

“I can fix him, Papa. I can see the hurt.”

“No!” He turned to Gugnichacrik. “Let’s go, you’re going back to your ship.”

“Just shoot me.”

“I don’t kill anything unless I have to. Lieutenant, help him up so he can get to the docking port. Lee stood and examined the commander, searching for a place to get a hand hold.

“I cannot fulfil my contract with Pegasi. I am better to die here, with dignity.”

“Pegasi?” Jackson was sure he said Pegasi. His shoulders dropped a centimeter. “What about the Pegasi?”

“We are nomads, mercenaries. We collect on bounties, run cargo, fight. Females forced us off our planet.”

“All of you?”

“Most, but they keep some of us, as slaves, for reproduction.”

“We’ve never seen your species before.”

“Grant me this, Captain Thomas Jackson. I wish to die. I will lose face, I’ll be ruined anyway.”

Jackson lowered his weapon and sighed. Such a pathetic sight of the commander begging for death. He looked at Chen, and Chen looked back without an answer.

“I can fix him, Papa.”

Jackson didn’t want his child running around healing every injury she came across.

“I didn’t want you to fix Mama, I don’t want you to fix him.”

“Mama had water all over in her. He’s only burned inside one spot.” He begged himself to say no but instead he nodded, fighting his instinct to protect her. Maybe she could bring a peace between humans and these nomads, an ally in this part of space. Besides, Jackson had no desire to fulfill his wishes.

Zalara bounded into the nadir and examined the dorsally positioned eye. She placed both hands on the laser wound and closed her eyes. Under her hands the carbonized epidermis rippled slowly, replacing the charred skin from the outside closing inward. When the process was complete she stepped away and shook her hands as if to cool them off and looked in his eye again.

“He’s kind of dry. I think he need water.” Mr. Lee stood with his mouth open, eyes wide, and stumbling up the steps he took the empty pitcher and returned with a full one. Jackson took it and poured the water over Gugnichacrik’s head and gills. He blew a few bubbles and fanned his gill organs.

“Hot. Is this the Eternal Flame?” The elevator swished open and his two security forces sprang out.

“Get him off my bridge.” Clay and Dean struggled to get the alien on his feet. His golden eyes blinked and he looked at Zalara.

“Why did you do that?”

“It makes me happy when I make someone feel better.”

“You saved my life.”

“Yes, she did, Commander. Now kindly take yourself and your fellow mercenaries and get off my ship. You better hope we don’t meet again any time soon.”

“Wait,” he croaked. “Why did she do that?”

“She’s young and foolish.”

“I am in her debt.”

“I thought you wanted to die. We just saved your life.”

“Is better to live to fight another day, if possible.”

“What about the Pegasi?”

“I will think of a suitable answer. Good bye, Captain Thomas Jackson.”

Captain Thomas Jackson was in no mood to be polite.

“Accompany the commander to the airlock, Mr. Lee.”

“Aye, sir. Why’s it so damn hot in here?” Tom looked down and saw two girl children with big eyes and stringy hair looking up at him. He stepped to the bridge ops console and promptly reset the environmental controls from 40-10 to 25-25, reset O2 to 20, and shaved a few lumens off the lighting, just for good measure.