Spaceboots by Dalton Derick William

Author:Dalton, Derick William
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Immortal Works
Published: 2020-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

To Worse

Leo Jones. USS Herculean, 2061

Hophnia slept on the rack. I could see her eyes darting around behind her eyelids. She looked peaceful. Not an expression I’d seen before. Her hair arranged in kind of a ponytail. Rebellious, fighting its way out of place. She didn’t look frazzled; she looked real. Not that the Ensign Zimmerman take-charge attitude seemed a front, but no one can be that intense all the time. I felt intrusive, seeing her in this moment of respite and recharge.

Inocente sat in the corner, knees pulled to his chest and his head resting on them. He looked like a painting I’d seen at Uncle Dedan’s favorite Mexican restaurant. All Inocente needed was a big sombrero and an adobe wall instead of a steel bulkhead. I could almost smell the fresh pico. He snored gently, but that isn’t why I couldn’t sleep.

I had my explanation straight in my head, the one Captain Numa told me to get ready after storming the bridge and tackling the bad guy. But I hadn’t been asked for it yet. I hadn’t been asked anything yet, and I’d been waiting long enough to eat both a brig dinner and breakfast. I’d also been awake long enough to see the boots come back out of that other cell, but the lights were dimmed for sleeping, and I couldn’t see any writing on them. Nothing visible on the crewman’s boots who carted them away, either. Hophnia filled me in on Heath’s bizarre personality change, and I told her I’d noticed it, too. She told me what he’d said about boot messages, so I knew I was probably watching the same information runners we’d been accused of masterminding. Acting asleep was hard when I wanted to reach through the bars and put mister messenger in a choke hold long enough to steal and read those boots.

Choke hold. Heath.

I pictured the Lieutenant Commander on his mummy throne. I strongly suspected no one had found him. Otherwise I’d be on the other side of the Herculean’s hull. I hoped he hadn’t puked and aspirated. He’d be in misery. Might get pneumonia. Might die.

Behind that realization followed second thoughts about my method for keeping him out of the way. Even if I could go check on him, what would I do? Hi, sir. You seem a little stuck. Not too fresh in here. Need me to hit the flush button on that commode?

Speaking of which, sleeping cellmates made for a good time to address my well-hydrated status and efficient kidneys. Having the toilet right in the cell was awful and embarrassing, but no way was I going to complain in front of Hophnia. She had it worse.

Bladder business complete, I was about to wash my hands as the cell door opened and two armed crewmen waved me out. It struck me as odd they were being quiet as to let Hophnia and Inocente sleep.

Or didn’t want them to know I was gone.

No handcuffs this time, but the firm grips on both my arms made it clear this wasn’t a permanent release.

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