J Mauldin - Final Solution

The Captain knew about Dad. He must have finally gotten caught. And the sentence for treason? Ten years in prison. Dad had never been physically fit, never taken good care of himself. He’d smoked three packs a day for thirty years, drank till his liver was pickled and spiced, eaten whatever the hell processed junk he could get his hands on, and never exercised. In prison, all he’d have to live on was four ounces of dried beans a day and one gallon of water. He’d even have to cook his own beans with that. Resources were stretched as thin as paper on the Martian prison front.

He wouldn’t last long.

One guard per two hundred inmates. That was the ratio. But there wasn’t much they needed to do. All they did was deliver their measly meals and listen to complaints. The cells were designed to be inescapable and the prisoners were never let out. It was little more than a high tech dungeon whose keys had been thrown down a black hole. Nevertheless, after two days in the Vindicator’s brig, I was starting to feel a bit of envy.

Not one bean, not one plate of slop had found its way to my nearly vertical cell. I was thankful for a water fountain and toilet, at least I wouldn’t die of thirst. But the hunger was maddening, that dull, stabbing pain in the side of my stomach. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since my last meal. One day? Two days? A week? They’d left this section on perpetual midday cycle with no change in visible light, and so, time had become irrelevant. How long would it be till they fed me, if at all? I screamed sometimes, hoping to get someone’s attention, but the section was sealed off. No one could hear me. I was forgotten, a lowly, traitorous spy left to wither under artificial light.

My fingernails had been chewed down to the quick. For as much as they shook, I was shocked I’d even caught hold of them. I closed my eyes and tried not to focus on the prison bars encasing me. I needed to get out. I tried to sleep, but it was impossible curled up like a dog on sheets that smelled of someone else’s sweat. Man wasn’t meant to be in a three by three box.

Boy, had I fucked up. I just couldn’t let curiosity lie.

The hatch opened and I slowly rose, swallowing as Dour Face entered the room. I was so weak I thought he might be a hallucination, then I saw he had a tool belt clutched in his hands, fingers wrapped around its band like a wet towel being wrung out. I had a sudden vision, him striking me against the back with it, trying to get information out of me and keep up the ruse. Was he the target? No. But someone had to be. I didn’t care what Cap said, the spy was real. I saw the code.

“Is this yours, Goddard?”

I shook my head as little as I could, holding on to my anger tighter than my fear. I growled, “No. It’s not fucking mine. That’s César’s, but last I saw it had turned up missing.”

Dour Face considered this for a moment. He shook his head and took a seat on one of the power breakers, his body deflating. “Damn nasty work that’s been done to the ship. How we gonna fix it now?”

“I can fix it,” I said. “But why would you want me to?” He looked up at me, his brows twisted and confused. “Just bring me back when I’m done. I promise I won’t hurt anyone.”

Dour Face set down the tool belt, looking as if he was chewing on something sour. “Hurt anyone? Were you ever planning to, hot shot?”

“What? No. The hell kind of question is that?”

“Forgive me. I need to unlock your cell.” He reached out and opened the door, using his thumb print as a key. “Here, take an energy bar. You haven’t eaten for a couple days. I promise it was that limey bastard’s order, not mine. Glad to have him out of the way.”

I snatched the bar from his fingers and sidled out of the cell warily, eyes flicking over to César’s tool belt. Freedom, sweet freedom. “What’s going on? You’re letting me out? Why?”

Liberty was looming in the doorway, eyes focused on a twisting boot tip, arms crossed beneath her breasts. “We are,” she sighed, “because now we’re sure you didn’t do it.”

Fury washed over me in a wave of heat so intense I swore I smelt my hair smoking. I tore a chunk out of the energy bar and swallowed it without chewing. “No shit I didn’t do it. I told you that myself, Liberty. Why didn’t you believe me? I’ve never lied to you.”

“Evidence, David,” she growled, “and there was a lot. Look, I’m sorry for not trusting you, but there’s one person who did. Jane Griffin. She deserves your thanks. She inspected the damaged to the engines, and after seeing how the cuts were made, sent us in search of César’s tools.”

“The broken red handled torch,” I hissed, sliding onto the floor. I finished off the bar and tossed away the wrapper. This was too much. I needed a stiff drink.

“That’s right. She told us you ordered César to fix it but he never did. We searched the ship high and low, and eventually, found it in Officer 2 beneath Graham’s bunk.”

Graham. Lank Hair. That little bastard. It was him.

I massaged my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut, tasting a hint of blood as molars ground the inside of my mouth to pulp. “But why did he do it? He’s a spy, isn’t he?”

“That’s where things get complicated.” She reached out a hand, helping me to stand. Her manner was less confident than last I saw, uniform coat unbuttoned to reveal a dangling necklace with a small charm tucked beneath her under shirt. “We need to get to the bridge. There’s been a change of guard.”

As we left the section two crewmembers, Kelly one of them, drug Lank Hair into the brig.

“When Command hears of this!” Lank Hair shouted, angry spit dribbling down his chin in a sheen of foamy white.

“Yeah, yeah. Mind the gap,” Dour Face said in passing. “I hate that asshole. Cock blockin’ son of a bitch. I’m surprised he didn’t send my right hand to the brig just to separate us.”

“Cock blocking?” Liberty asked. “What the hell are you going on about? Look, the reason Rosaleigh didn’t want to sleep with you is because she likes women, or are you that freaking dense?”

“Are you serious? I just thought…”

“Men can be so single minded.”

“And women can jump to conclusions,” I added, still feeling wounded. I limped between them, putting a hand on the wall to steady myself from time to time. I needed a real meal, not just compressed protein.

“Is everyone okay?” I asked.

Liberty shrugged. “I sure hope so.”

I felt for the rubber gasket on my right ring finger and took a shuttering breath. This felt like a crossroad.

When we entered the bridge everyone was staring. Everyone except the Captain.

“Comm, any response?” Liberty asked.

“No, ma’am. Not yet.”

She nodded, and then invited me to have a seat. XO Stone came over and extended a hand.

“We plan on making things right, Goddard,” he said as I shook it.

I pivoted around to see William Mason Fryatt sitting in the corner. His wrists were cuffed to the arms of his chair. He was wearing only his uniform pants and a plain white t-shirt. No rank of any kind was displayed.

Despite having a promise of murder in his eyes he remained quiet, seething in his anger. My feelings over this turn of events remained unsettled as silt in a churning stream. He may have been cuffed, but he scared the shit out of me nonetheless. Just like day one.

I turned my attention to the main display, taking in the bridge crew. Rosaleigh raised her eyebrows as Dour Face whispered in her ear. She chuckled and patted him on the back. He smiled, for the first time ever, and took a seat beside her.