Down Jump Blues

Down Jump Blues

  Jim Fogarty

  Copyright 2012 Jim Fogarty

  Cover Design by Andres Grau

  A pounding headache woke me. I felt just as bad as I did the morning after my first night's liberty in boot camp, only I hadn't had a drop this time. I had fallen asleep on my bunk reading a book on my handcomp, just like I do most nights. A quick look around the stateroom showed me everything in the same place as last night. Glancing at my wrist chrono I saw we were due to exit jump space in about an hour. I'd slept in. Normally I rose with the sun, when there was a sun. But today I'd slept in late, much later than I ever remember doing. I crossed over to the fresher and splashed some cold water on my face. That cleared some of the cob webs. I just needed coffee to get set for show time.

  My stateroom opened onto the passenger lounge on the main deck of the Silver Dollar, a 500 ton “merchant” ship. It was a sweet ride, the kind of opulent toy only a megacorp could afford. Smith General Transport spared no expense in outfitting this girl. Officially registered as an exploration vessel, her real role was that of an armed escort for merchant ships in the SGT line. A 4G main drive meant she could get to the scene of a fight in a hurry. The heavy armor and fusion cannons loaded into four double turrets meant she could hold her own once she got there. The luxurious interior outstripped all those naval scows I spent too much time on in my life as a marine. The empty lounge struck me as odd. An hour before down jump most of the crew would be at their stations, but I expected Rayburn to be there chowing down on the gourmet grub from the stores. Carlisle, that damned fop, should have been there too looking down his nose at us and complaining about the small size of his deluxe double stateroom. If I wasn't being paid to protect his ass, I would have kicked it to the next parsec soon after we entered J-space.

  I programmed the dispenser for a hot cup of Joe. No instant on this boat. While it brewed I thumbed the intercom, “Bridge, this is O'Quinn. What's our status? Everything green for down jump? Over.” No Reply. “Bridge, this is O'Quinn. Please acknowledge. Over.” My hackles were up. Manning the command station on the bridge was SOP, even in J-Space. I hit the alarm button on the chrono to warn my team and raced to Carlisle's cabin, drawing my mini SMG from the shoulder holster as I went.

  I used my security override to open the cabin door. Carlisle looked at peace lying in his silk sheets. I swept the room and crossed to the pompous executive's bed. He was at peace alright. Two small caliber entrance wounds and powder burns at his temple told me all I needed to know. I heard a sound behind me and spun bringing the SMG to bear. The wrong end of a gauss rifle pointed right at my chest. I relaxed a bit seeing the Professor, John Lee my second-in-command, behind the sights. We called him the Professor because before signing up with me he quit his post as a full professor at the prestigious Regina Technical Institute. I never thought it was a smart move on his part considering he was the smartest guy I ever met. But he proved himself indispensable on more than one occasion. The best move a commander can make is name a more intelligent guy than himself as 2IC. “Carlisle's down,” I said, “Autodoc won't help.”

  “The case?” he asked scanning the room.

  “Unknown,” I replied. “The team?”

  “All accounted for and backing me up. What's the situation?”

  “There's no reply from the bridge. Priority one is getting up there. Second, ascertain the status of the rest of the crew.” I exited the cabin and saw my team had taken up positions around the lounge covering the room in a defensive circle. They were all there, all three of them. The job only called for a small team and paid cherry for a milk run. I should have known. “Sandy you're with me. Professor, take Emmett and search the boat. See who's left. I'm going to the bridge.”