Randolph Lalonde - Fragments

They stopped in front of one of the security doors leading into the Botanical Gallery. Jason brought up his clearance code and ordered it open. The deck rumbled at the passage of the two meter thick, solid metal door being drawn back and to the side. The floor was polished silver from the friction the seldom repeated motion caused.

The smell left in the wake of the smoke wafted at the three. Oz couldn't place it, nor could Jason, but Laura's eyes went wide. "Did security identify what they were burning?"

"They said it was from the garden, they're still gathering details."

"It smells like wood."

Oz led his companions through a small group of security guards and into the open apartment door. The main room had a sofa, two chairs, and a sideboard. A spiral stairway led upstairs to the bedrooms. He stepped inside and glanced down the small hallway leading to the kitchenette and half bathroom. There were more signs of smoke there.

One uniformed guard stepped in front of his squad of seven and retracted his face plate. He was dressed in full black boarding armour. Horizontal flexible slats of metal crossed the entire surface of the suit. They protected personal shield emitters, inertial dampeners and a thin layer of artificial muscle that worked with the wearer. Oz's suit was thinner by comparison, missing the extra armour layer and heavier gravity compensation systems the guards' squad had installed. The guard himself was an issyrian who had modified his appearance slightly so the fine, slick rows of tendrils across his cheeks and the over lip of his mouth were hidden by smooth skin. It gave him a streamlined appearance that would have almost been feminine if it weren't for his large red eyes. Agameg had never looked menacing, but he could imagine how this issyrian guard could. "They started the fire in the kitchen sir. It looks like they used the stove to light several branches. There was no permanent damage, Commander."

"Thank you. Did forensic scanning point to any specific suspects?"

"There is evidence of five people who were in direct contact with the branches and the stove. Only one of them is known as a trouble maker. I've updated my report."

Oz looked past the guard to the soot stained ceiling leading to the kitchenette. If it weren't for years of experience in controlling temper, it would have gotten the best of him. The report listed Edward Stoppard and Leland March with the most exposure to the combustibles. He knew Edward, had watched him storm off the Flight Command Deck, feeling ignored and undervalued. He had no right to assume he'd get any more attention than any other specialist. Astrophysicist or not, he had to follow the chain of command and information. It might take two or three people to do his job, but it was worth replacing him to avoid this drama. His eye lingered on Leland March's grinning photo and he couldn't help but get a little heated. Now this one I've heard of. Lied about his qualifications, nearly got a whole crew killed, and it says he's lodged nine complaints at his new position on the ship; Crewman's Mate. The lowest rank we have. He deserves less.

He could hear shouting outside, behind it was the sound of a murmuring crowd. Oz closed his eyes and tried to press his rising frustration away.

"Thank you Kameri," Jason said to the issyrian guardsman. "You've been doing a great job while the Security Chief and her Lieutenants have been off ship."

"My pleasure. I'm only glad I could adequately attempt to fill her considerable boots. Stephanie makes it look easy."

"What's happening outside?" Oz asked as he turned towards the door. He didn't pause for a response but walked straight across the concourse to the railing. The park in the Botanical Gallery was a riot of natural colours with full grown trees, a stream, ponds, flower beds, vertical food planters that had young vines climbing at their feet. A couple trees were slightly askew, and one planter was leaning, but the Botanical Gallery had weathered their recent turbulence well from the little he could see. The lush centre was so large it wasn't possible to see it all from his vantage point, and the apartments surrounding it went on for what seemed like forever.

It was the best place to live on the ship. The rest of the great vessel could be completely destroyed and the botanical gallery would most likely survive. It had its own life support, backup power systems and even enough escape craft for half the crew, all carefully hidden out of sight but in easy reach. The only complaint he'd heard from residents was the lack of windows, which the ship made up for with entire walls that could display images so life like that many forgot they were in the centre of a large carrier.

The safety and beauty of the botanical gallery only made what Oz saw next worse. There was a crowd of fifty or so people gathered on the lowest level of the garden. Guards were stopping them from going up the ramp that led to the second floor concourse where Oz was standing.

Oz's temperament was cool, level, until he heard a familiar voice shouting; "My apartment's up there! I have a right to that level as much as any security officer!" It was Edward. He was at the lead of the crowd, the sight of him screaming red faced at one of the Triton soldiers was infusing the environment with a combative mood.

"This could go wrong," Jason said quietly.

"It could turn into something…" Laura inhaled deeply as she looked down at the gathering crowd. "…bad. Really bad."

"How much of their food and leisure rations are Botanical Gallery residents using on average?" Oz asked Jason over his shoulder.

"Most use their entire allotment daily. There’s also a market for trading rations starting. It’s still early, but it could become a problem," said an unfamiliar voice from behind.

He half turned and looked to the woman who came to stand beside Laura. She looked as irritated as he felt.

"I'm Mischa. When we settled here Captain Valance accepted me as civilian leader. I assume you're Oz. I mean, Commander McPatrick."

He couldn't help but pause a moment as he looked at her. Much like the rest of the civilians who lived in the Botanical Gallery, she didn't wear a vacsuit he could see. She wore a loose, long dark blue skirt and a light scoop necked cream blouse with long sleeves. Most of the civilians made their under clothes out of reshaped emergency vacsuits that would expand around their entire bodies under their clothing in an emergency, and he found himself hoping that she was wearing one somewhere underneath. "Good to meet you."

"I'm sorry I'm late to this party, but my apartment door wouldn't open. Security just bypassed me out," She blew a curl of her long dark hair out of her face. "Did he do it?"

"I'm about to find out," Oz said as he turned towards the crowd. The group was growing, most of the newcomers seemed to be observing more than joining in on the shouting match that was under way. Oz strode to the top of the broad ramp way. "You have my attention Edward!" he boomed.

The crowd quieted, Edward looked to Oz between two guards who stood in his way. "So this is what it takes to get one of you Officers down here!" He sneered.

"What do you want?"

"What do we-" Edward looked to the people around him as though insulted and astounded by Oz's question. "Do you have a couple hours? I mean, let's start with not getting paid!"

"You're being given credit against service, room, board, and luxury rations on the materializers. If there’s any cash owing when the ship is safe and you leave, you'll get it." Oz answered in a clear, loud voice. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Mischa, who stood with arms crossed, staring down the ramp.

"You call that payment? It's less than a tenth of my last salary and I can't even spend the credits aboard unless I trade with one of the civilian shops and they're all service. There's no where to buy anything and we haven't seen a port in as long as I can remember!"