Colonel Bridgeford was extremely happy to personally be escorting the drug dealer to the Admiral’s office. As he stood beside the man he wondered what kind of punishment Hallis was going to give him. Despite the fact that the Admiral had frequently demonstrated an ability to be ruthless, the Colonel felt that regardless of how severe, anything would most likely be a slap on the wrists. But as the commanding officer of the Argus walked out from behind his desk and stood face to face with the Alchemist, a sudden chill and fear ran down the marine’s spine. Admiral Hallis then unholstered his gun and pointed it at the head of the Private. Without saying a word he pulled the trigger and the man who was the catalyst to lieutenant Cain’s death, fell to the floor.
The gun was unloaded, but a point was effectively made. Sitting back down at his desk, Hallis opened a drawer and replaced the bullets. “Next time you decide to push crap on my ship, the gun will be loaded. I don’t frak around. Don’t ever forget it.” The Private stood up with terror and sweat running across his face. He struggled to control his breathing and his mind searched for some sort of angle he could play to gain a measure of influence in this struggle.
“We have food, fuel and water. Your importance is pretty much over. Only reason I don’t execute you right now is due to your aid and the doctor’s insistence that your skills are still useful in replenishing the medicinal supplies.”
The Colonel focused on the admiral and found himself with mixed emotions about the man. He knew admiral Hallis could have a temper but what he had just done could be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Glancing at the Alchemist, he saw a familiar darting of his eyes. Something he had long since learned the man did when he was trying to figure a way to weasel out of a situation. It became clear to him the bastard, had learned nothing from this brush with death, and would deal again given the chance. Angrily he thought, perhaps he should have been shot and put out his misery.
“You gave Ford the weed, helped cause the death of young woman and ruined a man’s career.” Private Parts mind suddenly felt it had found a card to play and he blurted with defiance about reasonable doubt. The Admiral slammed his fist on the desk. “During a time of war my orders are, when in doubt… Kill! You also gave more of your dope to lieutenant Lapointe and put at risk the lives of many. And it won’t happen again.”
Looking at the old marine he made his orders clear. “Shave his damn tie-dyed red hair off and make him wear that uniform properly. Then I want a guard on him 24-7. He will eat his meals, bathe and sleep under guard; he is to interface with no one. If he goes to the head, someone is in there with him. In the morning and each night he and his quarters will be searched and choose someone who doesn’t make it enjoyable for him.” Looking at his side arm again, he removed one bullet and tossed it to the Alchemist. “If even an aspirin is found in your possession. I’m going to personally put that in your head.” Looking at the Colonel, too angry to continue talking, he made a motion of dismissal with his hand.
Bridgeford took the man and exited the room, then CIC and slowly disappeared down the hall. As the two walked down a corridor the red haired pusher began to sing, wave his arms about and skip. The colonel mumbled to himself again that the right thing to do would have been to execute him because there was no saving grace in this kid. “Oh what’s the matter soldier boy? Did the Admiral’s big pointy weapon scare you?” Despite power being fully restored to the ship, there were still some areas in that were not always well lit. In one such area, in the distance and at a juncture in the hallway, stood three waiting men. Lurking in the shadows were two marines and the civilian, believed to be some sort of secret agent, nick named by the crew Mr. Creepy.
As Bridgeford and the Alchemist approached, a shiver ran through the private and it became obvious that they were there for him “Frak, ok Mr. big tough marine colonel sir. Get it over with and beat me up.” The creepy civilian folded his arms, smiling and telling his protectors that he would be fine under the Colonel’s care and they could return in about 10 minutes or so.
The two men turned and walked down the corridor. “My official designation is…” The civilian paused for a moment in order to smirk. “Well I really don’t have anything official. Let’s just say I’m the kind of guy that gets to do things most can’t or won’t.” The Alchemist was now confused about what was going on. In the past he had dealt with pimps, other drug dealers and even a rapist. But this individual was something different and he had to shrug off the feeling that he might have been better off taking his chances with the Admiral.
With a hand gesture from Mr. Creepy, chief Forester emerged from the adjacent hallway and stood among the 3 men. Bridgeford nodded his head and said, “Show him.” The man who everyone was certain was a spy, produced a small hand held media player from his pants pocket and turned it on. The screen flickered to life and on it was a video recording of the drug deal made with the former major Ford. The transaction that eventually led to the death of the chief’s wife. Forester’s eyes and nostrils flared with intense anger and he moved to strike the dealer but the Colonel caught him. “You hit him and it’s problems.”
Then looking at the spooky man he made it clear that if he hits him and there was nothing anyone could do. The chief attempted to argue that they needed to take this video to the admiral. But Mr. Creepy looked at Bridgeford and inquired if he was certain this is what he wanted. No sooner had the Colonel replied yes then the spy quickly struck the Alchemist with a clenched fist in the throat and kicked him in the crotch. As the man buckled over he grabbed him, turned him around, twisted his arm behind his back and while simultaneously grabbing a handful of his hair. Then he ran with him several meters down the intersecting corridor, which terminated at an airlock. With an equally swift motion he opened the door, threw him in and sealed it shut.
He hit the intercom and in a calm matter of fact voice spoke. “This is similar to the type of locks they use on some freighters. It takes them about 3.5 minutes to decompress.” Having said that he began to turn the valve on the door and the hissing sound of air escaping could be heard. “Scumbags are some of my best friends. So I assure you it’s nothing personal. Ok, don’t worry too much about the 3.5 minutes thing. Because, around the 60 second mark your eyes, ears, nose and mouth will start to bleed blue-ish blood. Lack of oxygen to make it red, you know. At about 110 seconds your guts will start to heave out of your chest and after 125 your pretty much dead. Which means you have about 105 seconds left.”
The private was already banging on the door demanding to be let out. “The colonel, he felt it was important you confessed your crimes to the admiral. He figured it might help give Julian some closure. Also there is a remote chance it will help with your personality flaws. I like the old marine and the man is kind of noble in that sort of thing.” Inside the gasping man slammed his fist on the window and a streak of blood smeared it. “Neat, it’s already coming out of your pours. Now, I could show Hallis the tape but that means he would know I’ve bugged the entire ship. It’s a bad habit of mine and perhaps I should see a therapist for it. Almost forgot if you’re going to give in, you should do it soon because sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum. Oh and 70 seconds remaining.”
Pressing his lips against the glass for a kiss the spy commented he was a sucker for a blue face. “My, what a strong boy you are! Look at those pretty bulging eyes.” At last the bright red haired private screamed he would do it. At that point his assailant simply walked away from the area saying it was the chief’s decision.
Julian Forester didn’t immediately re-compress the airlock. Instead in morbid curiosity he permitted it to continue for a few more seconds before finally deciding his wife wouldn’t have wanted him to do this. As much as it bothered him, he began to reach out to turn the valves. But the colonel shoved him out of the way saying the Chief made his decision but he hadn’t yet. Forester began to freak demanding to know what Bridgeford was doing and when he lunged for the marine commander, he found the spy pointing a gun in his face. “You’re one of the good guys. You have your closure now just walk away.” The Chief glared into his eyes. “I know you miss your wife. But she would want you to keep living. At the very least not die meaninglessly like her.”
Chief Forester hesitated as the argument set in and then quickly left. The spy chuckled, “I’m sure he will have a good cry over this. Oh.. and there are about 20 seconds left. " Colonel Bridgeford shook with anger, walked away from the door as the man on inside of the airlock collapsed to the ground in a pool of blue non-oxygenated blood. Finally gritting his teeth he returned and began re-pressurizing the lock. Cussing at himself for making this choice. “Don’t worry, just give me a moment to drag his body into the open. Those two nice helpful marines will return and take him to medical.” This being done, the two men left the area walking together.
Bridgeford felt sickened about what they had just done and about 100 meters from the scene he finally spoke wanting to know the reason why the spy agreed to help him. It certainly had nothing to do with friendship or admiration. “The man was fraking with my mission. Like the Admiral, I tolerated him because he kept us alive. But now drug addicted soldiers on an obsolete battlestar put me at risk.” The Colonel nodded his understanding. “And I’ve done a lot of things in my life. I figured it had been a long time since I saw something interesting.”
Despite himself Colonel Bridgeford said, in disgust, that flushing a man out an airlock wasn’t what he considered interesting. “Oh no you misunderstood me. I’ve flushed a few people into space. It’s especially fun to see if you don’t decompress first and get to watch them twitching and floating away against the dark backdrop. What I thought was interesting was that I’ve never seen a father wrestle with the decision of doing it to his son before.”
The Colonel stopped dead in his tracks, with his eyes and a facial expression that could only be described as a deer in the headlight look. “Don’t worry, you taught your little boy a lesson. And I won’t say anything. After all, keeping secrets is what I do. Even if they are only little family ones.” As the old marine stood in the hallway sobbing in shame and sorrow, the spy began to sing the same song the private had moments ago as he sauntered back to his quarters.