"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!"
Oz’s patience was fraying. "If you can find a position off ship that pays more, we'll be happy to drop you off at the next port."
"And when would that be? Where will that be? We don't have any say over where we end up or what we're doing! We're not all soldiers hell bent on getting ourselves killed in some hopeless uprising, some of us have careers and more important things to do!"
Oz couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You were right beside me on the command deck when we last tried to pull into a safe port. There was no haven to be had."
"That asteroid mess was supposed to be a safe port?" Edward screeched.
"Yes! And like so many ports out here it's run into hard times."
"Hard times? Slavers! Killers! What are we doing out here anyway? Oh yeah! I almost forgot! They're hunting for us, these Regent people. Anyone who served on Triton gets public execution, isn't that right Commander?" He spat the last, mocking the rank.
Oz didn't know what he was about to say. If it were a military ship the entire front two rows of the crowd would spend the next week in the brig or confined to quarters. He wanted more than anything to command the Triton troops to stun Edward and his group of dissenters and drag them all to a small room where they could argue amongst themselves for a few days.
A hand landed on his shoulder from behind and he couldn't have been more relieved to see Chief Engineer Liam Grady. He was wearing his thick cotton blue robes, cinched at the waist by a thick red belt with the Triton silver skull flag imprinted on the end. "Would you like a hand?" He asked in a soothing, low tone.