Short Story

DATE: Year 308-B, Sol 445

LOCATION: Checkpoint Zero (Holding Cell)

The interrogation room at Checkpoint Zero was small, dark and smelled rotten. It wasn’t used a lot.

But now Captain Clinton sat handcuffed to a steel table. His flak jacket had been confiscated. He looked smaller without it.

Warden May sat across from him, scrolling through a data pad with the exhaustion of a man who had seen too much paperwork.

-You know the problem with conspiracies, Clinton? May asked, not looking up. They leave a paper trail.

He slid the pad across the table. It showed a financial transfer. A massive one, from the MTC Department of Resource Development to the EZM High Commission Charities Fund.

-That’s a forgery, Clinton said.

-This came off the block chain, the account numbers are known. Vanderpool was sloppy.

He swiped the screen. A new document appeared. A flight plan.

-And this, he said. The Dead Men protocol. This one we recovered off your data core. An order signed by Vanderpool to purge the citizenship records of Himalaya Market and the Marley crew. You need to wipe your data better.

May leaned forward. His eyes were hard.

-You sold them, Clinton. The MTC paid Vanderpool to send that fleet to Earth. It couldn’t just be to kill them. Why?

-I just follow orders, Clinton spit back. It’s a short story.

-But you think for yourself too, don’t you?

-They were fanatics, Clinton said, trying to convince himself. If the MTC wanted to pay their way on a quixotic mission to Earth, why say no?

-And the ambush? May asked. Why were you going to fire on them today? The MTC already failed.

-Doing what the NEC wouldn’t, stopping them from destabilizing the Venus Sky Cities, which you would blame us for, he said, leaning across the table, his chains rattling.

May stood up. He picked up the datapad.

-Do you think we’re monsters?

May walked to the door.

-What happens to me? Clinton called out.

May stopped and looked back at Clinton.

-Vanderpool filed a report this morning, Clinton. He claims The Defiance was stolen by rogue agents. He disavowed you.

Clinton’s face went pale.

-No. He wouldn't.

-He did, May said. To the solar system, you’re a pirate. And pirates don't get trials. They get sent to the mines

May signaled the guard.

-Process him. Then send a coded burst to the Venusian relay.

-Warning the fleet? the guard asked.

-No, May said, looking out the viewport. If they’ve made it this far, they don't need my help.

-I want to warn the MTC, he said coldly. Tell Resource Development that the NEC is conducting an audit. And we’re starting with them. I want to know what the hell is going on.