Pret a 'Porter
It was his fault for not checking the 'porter before he used it, but Kailee had assured him that it was set correctly. Of course, she had been avoiding him anywhere but the Central Station Core where she had no choice but to see him for work, so her words were not exactly sacrosanct.
Qunnel swore; the thick brush around him told him he'd landed on an outer world, and with his luck it would be one whose denizens took a sick delight in capturing scientists from the Core and holding them for ransom. So far as he knew, the Council had never paid for any of its people to be released, owing both to their tight-fistedness as a research organization and the fact that far more people were willing to work on the station than actually worked there. Losing a junior-rank that was fed into the 'porter at the insistence of senior members was not of great concern to the council – they could simply train another dime-a-dozen researcher to take over where the lost one had left off.
Not for the first time, he was sorry he'd ended things with Kailee. She was sweet and pretty, but the spark just hadn't been there, not like with Julia. Kailee had known that, but was willing to try and make things work anyway, in spite of his often boorish behavior, especially after a few bottles of wine. He'd finally decided it wasn't fair to either of them to continue on, but hadn't exactly been subtle in letting Kailee down. Technically, he was her superior, but it was only by a matter of months and not really enough that it got him respect from any of the techs.
A movement in the bushes beside him had him wishing he'd led her on a little further – at least then they'd been on speaking terms and he wouldn't have gotten in the 'porter just to avoid an uncomfortable silence. It was amazing what stunted emotions could do for scientific inquiry.
The movement came again, this time followed by a low growl. Staring into the dark green foliage revealed two deep red eyes, both locked on him, and both of which remained there as he moved slowly across the clearing where he'd been dumped. Qunnel had no idea what kind of creature owned the eyes – he'd never been much for exobiology - but he was quite sure that unarmed and alone, almost anything would be a match for him.
A hissing sound from behind him had his heart in his throat until he realized it was the 'porter re-opening, and he dove through the expanding blue slice in the air before it had time to fully coalesce. Another bad choice, since he couldn't be certain who had opened it or why, but he'd take his chances back at the station.
Metal flooring met his face as he tumbled through, and he could feel a large strip of flesh tear off his chin as he landed. Laying still for a moment, he thanked the god he said he didn't believe in for getting him home safe.
“You OK?” That was Kailee's voice, and after a moment he saw her crouch down in front of him, round face concerned. “I started thinking about it after I left, and realized Vurt had been in here earlier. Then I started to worry about you -” she paused. “you asshole.” Another pause. “And I decided that I should probably come back and check.”
Qunnel mumbled thanks as she helped him up – from the look on her face, the cut on his chin was none too pretty.
“Come on,” she said, slipping an arm around him, “let's get you down to see the doc. Who knows what's been spilled on that floor over the last few years?”
He had to agree. Though the cut stung, it wasn't something he would worry about under other circumstances, but the amount of alien dirt and grime that had come through the station was substantial, and the last thing he needed was some kind of other-worldly STD.
“Vurt?” Qunnel managed as Kailee led him down the corridor to the medical sector. “Used the 'porter?”
Kailee nodded. “Not sure why – he came by right before I was going to power down last night.”
Qunnel frowned, bringing a low moan of pain as his face protested. Vurt had always been a bit on the strange side, and two Council men had been asking after him just the other day, questions about his schooling, background, and political leanings. It wasn't out of the ordinary for the Council to meddle in business that wasn't theirs, but the interest had seemed focused, almost desperate. Any questions he had were turned aside, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Vurt had done something of great interest to the Council – and that usually meant bad news.
“Where?” He mumbled, trying to keep his sentences short. The pain was really starting to ramp up, and he was finding it harder to walk.
“Did Vurt go?” Kailee said, catching on, “I looked – nowhere that odd. All seven of the outer worlds, though, in one night. I'm not sure why he was in such a hurry.”
He began to stiffen up as the small woman at his side led him through the medical sector doors, his body going rigid as whatever he'd picked up on his face-ride into the ground began to take hold. “Captain!” He managed through clenched teeth.
“Don't worry,” Kailee said, moving away as the doctors crowded in, “I won't tell him. You'll get better soon, and he doesn't need to know.”
Her kindness was noble, but Qunnel balled his spasming hands in frustration. She didn't understand! Telewave told the whole story, but she wasn't much for the news; a traitor had been trying to broker an alliance with the outer worlds, giving them information about the Core and its defenses. It could only be someone with both knowledge of the Core itself and easy access to the worlds – someone like Vurt.
Qunnel felt fear wash over him as a powerful sedative took hold. What the hell would he wake up to?
- D
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