She chewed and swallowed a french fry. “You don’t like it?”
He shrugged. “It is all right. It is not what I am used to.” He thought for a moment, then turned to the security officers. “Can you add items our cargo list?”
“Sure.” He pulled out a handheld to make notes.
“Can you arrange to get us a variety of Terran food for her? I am sure she would love that.”
Erin was too busy slowly chewing her cheeseburger to pay much attention.
“Yeah. We can do that. That shouldn’t be a problem. How much and what?”
Yanna pointed to Erin. “Whatever common Terran foods someone might enjoy, enough to well supply her for our journey to Mars and then some. And a portable Terran water filtration system, if possible.”
“You got it.” He tapped notes into his handheld. A moment later, he nodded. “Confirmed. They’re compiling an order for you now. Do you want to approve it before it’s finalized?”
“No, that is not necessary. Thank you for your assistance.” Yanna smiled at Erin. “It is good?” he asked her.
She sighed, happy and quickly growing full. “It’s very good.”
Ford found a bar and quickly drowned his sorrows. He kept enough senses about him not to get so drunk he couldn’t get himself back to the Bight alone.
On his return stumble to the hangars, he encountered a crowd in one of the shopping and dining districts. He asked one of the men standing on the outskirts what was going on.
“Beyants. Apparently one of their gang loves Earth food. They’ve taken over a restaurant. Security’s keeping a cordon around them since they’re pre-treaty. They’re almost done.”
Ford edged around the crowd, trying to get past, not caring about the stupid political bullshit. As he moved by the last guard, he thought he caught the sound of a woman’s voice.
His heart nearly seized in his chest.
Emi.
As he listened, he realized it couldn’t be her. The voice wasn’t speaking English. He didn’t know what she was saying. While the sound crushed his soul, he knew it couldn’t be her.
However, he still found himself unable to resist seeing who she was. He turned and watched the Beyant party, surrounded by both Beyant guards and station security forces, leave the restaurant. A tall Beyant man walked in the middle if the group, his head bent as if listening to someone much shorter walking with him on his far side.
The woman’s voice grew louder, clearer.
“Emi.” He realized he’d spoken out loud. It had to be her.
He spotted the woman, finally, but…
Part of him wanted to dive into the group and get a better look. Same height, but her hair was a different color and shorter, her skin tone different.
But she even gestured the same way Emi did as she talked. The Beyant man smiled and hooked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him and laughing as he did. She was Emi’s height and build, although looking far thinner and more gaunt around the face.
As if Emi had lost a lot of weight. Maybe from time spent starving in a lifepod?
Stupidity won out. Ford took a step toward the group, but a station security guard stopped him. “No way, buddy. Diplomatic party. No contact with them until they get their treaty signed.”
“I’ve got to talk to her!”
“To who?”
“That woman!”
The guard looked at the departing group. “Her?”
“Yeah! That’s my wife, I know it! She’s been missing over five months!”
The guard snorted with amusement as he got a whiff of Ford’s breath. “Go sober up, buddy. That’s Erin Cafford Raoulx, the Beyant ambassador’s daughter.”
The guards let people through after the diplomatic group had left the area via the VIP high-security lifts. Ford raced to the hangars and got there in time to watch as the group disappeared into the Beyant vessel.
Before they did, he heard the woman laugh.
Emi. He’d swear it.
His security pass allowed him to freely move about the docking area. He had to get into the Beyant ship, find her, talk to her.
And he didn’t have time to get Caph and Aaron.
He spotted one of the dockhands, one he’d met before during their last stay at the station, bringing a large cargo palette into the docking area. Ford tried to look nonchalant as he walked over.
“Is that for us, Max?”
“Naw, this is for the Beyant vessel. Weird last-minute order of Terran food and supplies.”
“Here, let me help you.”
“Thanks, Ford. I appreciate it.” Ford, walking on Max’s far side, helped him navigate the large palette up to the cargo gangway. The security guard glanced at Max’s pass, didn’t look closely at Ford’s, and waved them in.
The Beyant cargo bay was deserted. Desperate, Ford looked around as he helped Max move the palette over to a glowing position beacon next to several other cargo stacks. “Is this the only one?” Ford asked.
Max glanced at his holo tag. “Two more besides this one.”
“Hey, look. Why don’t I grab one while you get the other? Get it done faster.” He forced a laugh. “Means you can get us loaded more quickly.”
Max smiled. “I wondered what was up. You in a hurry to blow this pop stand?”
“Yeah, you might say that.”
“Okay. I’ll get this one secured if you want to go grab the next one for me.” He handed Ford a holo tag key for the palette. “That one.”
On his way out of the cargo bay, Ford made sure his pass was lying backward against his shirt. He held up the holo tag key to show the guard as he walked out. “Gotta get another one.”
The guard nodded, unconcerned.
Ford quickly found the palette, passing Max on the way back to the ship. “I’ll go dump this one for you and then I need to get back to the Bight. I’ve gotta use the head really bad.”
“No problem. Thanks for the help, man. I appreciate it.”
Ford swallowed back his nerves. “No problem.”
The guard was busy talking with another guard and didn’t even look as Ford walked past him and into the cargo hold. Inside the cargo hold, Ford quickly positioned the palette, then ran for the far side of the cargo bay, near what he assumed was a bulkhead door leading to the rest of the ship. He tried it and found it open. No crew in sight, he spied a small hatch nearby in the interior hallway and found a storage locker. After confirming he wouldn’t get locked in, he crawled inside and buried himself behind a pile of what he guessed were spare air scrubber filters.
Then he turned off his personal com link and waited.
Aaron stared at the command console. Ford had been gone over four hours. This wasn’t like him.
He looked up as movement on the vid screen display caught his eye. The Beyant ship had been released from dock and was pulling out.
After briefly checking the ship’s scanners to make sure Ford wasn’t on board, Aaron paged Ford’s personal com link. “Aaron to Ford, over.”
Silence.
After a minute, he tried again. “Ford, this is Aaron. Where the hell are you? Over.”
Ten minutes later, and still no reply. Aaron paged the dockmaster’s office. “This is the Tamora Bight. Is my first officer there? Ford Caliban?”
“Sorry, Captain. Haven’t seen him.” Aaron heard muttering in the background. “Oh, wait, sorry. Max did see him. He said Ford helped him load a couple of palettes onto the Beyant ship, then said he was returning to the Bight.”
“Thanks.” He activated the ship’s scanners again. Still no Ford. Caph was taking a nap in their quarters, his exhaustion, grief, and copious amounts of antidepressants catching up with him.