Finally...
“Oh, no…” Jamie, half way up the stairs, glanced worriedly back towards where Leslie was. “It looked like he hit her pretty hard.”
“She’ll be fine.” Wes breathed, peering up and around the hallway. “I hope. Besides, if we don’t succeed here, there isn’t much we can hope for anyway. They’d probably just release us into space or something.”
“Thanks.”
Wes waved her away, muttering silently to himself as he did some thinking. The engine room was in sight and, as expected, looked to be completely empty. Fortunately, Wes kept a shiny hip-flask in the room at all times, set on top of a shelf along the back. In its polished sides, he could make out a figure relaxing just to one side. Judging by the compact bundle the figure cut, Wes figured he was sitting on the ground. A good idea, it was an unexpected place, most likely to be completely ignored if entering unawares-but they were not unawares. Slipping his compact weapon snugly into the cuff of his sleeve, the man stood himself to his full six foot three and strode down the hall without a sound.
Sitting back by the stairs where she was commanded to wait, Jamie watched nervously as Wes eased his rubber soles onto the wall support and lever himself upward. She restrained her nerves and kept her mouth tightly closed as he gripped the wall and leaned around, drawing his weapon and pointing down. “I’m thinking you should set your piece down nice and slowly. Yeah, yeah, just like that. Jamie-c’mon.”
“Coming, coming.”
“Grab those wires and tie this man, please.”
Jamie, well versed in crafts and many creative activities, easily bound the man, hands and feet, and then to a built-in wall shelf, with strange and very pretty knots. With a nod of approval, Wes sent her into the tunnel beneath the floor. He stationed himself comfortably on the floor next to his captive, gun lazily resting in his hand but aimed clearly at some important organs. “You know, friend, you interrupted a very important call. I can’t say I appreciated that.” He nudged the man with his elbow.
Beneath him, Jamie was too aware of the urgency of her mission to be disgusted at the state of the tunnel through which she crawled. To one side she heard Tom pacing in his bunk. He knew it was Tom because she heard the muffled sound of Katy asking him to come to bed. Shaking her head sadly at Cameron’s deception, the girl slithered silently through the dust, holding her breath as necessary to avoid any telling coughs or sneezes. After several tedious minutes, Jamie rolled onto her back and peered up through the grate above her. Through it she could see the obscured ceiling and the pilot and copilot chairs within a yard of her position. She braced herself and readied the tiny weapon in hand, praying for luck and accuracy as she pushed the heavy grate out of the way and jabbed the man with the tazer-like thing. The man fell noisily to the ground, twitching and drooling while he was quickly bound.
Meanwhile, Tom had left his bunk again. With Katy needing her sleep, he took his worried pacing to the rest of the ship, rounding unexpectedly and redoubling over his steps with no clear path. On the bridge, Jamie held her knife at the still unmoving man and wondered what she should do. Wes, also keeping close tabs on his prisoner, wondered the same thing. Tom managed to avoid looking into either the bridge or the engine room and continued his circuit. Katy had been right but he had not noticed it until that night. Something about Cameron was not on the level. Unwittingly heading for the man in question, Tom’s feet carried him to the common room. He was startled to find Leslie and Cam still there.
“Shouldn’t you guys have gone to bed?”
“I was just thinking that about you, kid.” Cameron rose, one hand still suspiciously in his pocket, and clapped Tom on the back. “You look like you’re having some troubles sleeping, but I tell you this-pacing won’t help. You should just lie in bed until your eyes just naturally ease their way shut.”
“Mmm…” not really paying attention, Tom allowed himself to be guided towards the exit by the seemingly friendly arm.
At the stairs, Cam left the boy to continue on his own and returned to keeping Leslie in line. She muttered something rude under her breath and, losing patience, he slapped her hard, across the face. The sound was enough to bring Tom back to reality and spin around on one heel to see the aftermath of the blow. Leslie held her face, snarling at the older man who towered over her threateningly. “What the hell is going on here?! Did you just hit her?”
Surprised by this confrontation, which he had been avoiding the entire time, the man held his hands up. “What? No! I mean, well, yes. But not hard.”
“I suppose these throbbing red stripes coming in on my face were from a love tap?” Leslie spat, her hand wandering discreetly into her pocket.
“You have to admit that you deserved it. If you would just keep your mouth shu-”
“Cam, she might have a big mouth, but that’s no reason to hit her.” Tom was offended by the idea of actually slapping her. Sure, he had landed a few less than gentle blows on the girl, but she had always started it and it was always in good fun. A day ending in three bruises and a broken game controller came to mind.
Suddenly and without warning, Leslie flipped out a knife from her pocket, standing up and pointing it; the time before Cam had his gun out and trained on her was almost unnoticeable. “Tom, bouya, I love you, and hate to say this, but Cameron is a scamming jaggoff who is aiming to take our ship and do…something.”
“Oh, come on, that’s weak, little one.” Keeping the gun aimed, the man pleaded with Tom. “She’s still drunk, Tom, can’t hold her liquor properly. Why would I want your ship? I’m just using you for transportation.”
“There, he said it! Using you! That’s it, Tom, he’s using you! He’s using all of us! Two of the crates had men in them, Tom, and now they’re somewhere on the ship, keeping us flying farther from help and closer to whatever twisted destination they have in mind!”
“If what she said before didn’t seem raving, surely that did! The crates had men? That’s just ridiculous. Tom, she’s unbalanced. I’m sure that if we just knock her out for a while she’ll go back to normal.”
“I bet you’d like that-knock me out with that pea shooter in your hand, eh? Knock me out permanently, you mean.” The captain risked a glance at the baffled man not far from them. “Tom, they’re all old brown coats who were captured for espionage or something, they just want to steal the ship to ride again, to relive their glory days. They’re going to get innocent people killed…well…more innocent people killed, I’m sure.”
“You think you’ve got all the answers, don’t you? C’mon, Tom. Who’re you going to believe? A drunk child or someone who has known you since before you could put one foot in front of the other? C’mon, boy. You’re like a son to me.” Cam scowled at Leslie, entirely focused as he cocked the gun to fire.
“No, I’m not.” Was the reply, stern and cold.
“What?”
“Look at me Cameron.” Tom was now standing, legs spread for a solid base, pointing a gun at Cameron’s head. “I don’t know what has happened to you, but you’re not the man I knew. The man I knew would not have struck anyone for stupid reasons, and would not ever point a gun at someone who can barely stand up.”
“She threatened me with the knife!”
“And she’s unbalanced, you could disarm her easily, but you chose to pull a gun. I’m not stupid, Cam. You didn’t even have a gun before you got on board and we don’t have any of that model here. Something is wrong Cam, and you need to drop that weapon so I can figure it out.” He took a step toward the pair, also cocking his gun. “Drop it.”
“You heard the man, drop the piece, punk!” Leslie urged, triumphantly. She was surprised to find herself suddenly falling to the ground with a hole in her shoulder. Cameron fell nanoseconds later with a much more severe wound.
A week and a half later, the crew were sprawled on a grassy knoll at a secluded port on the small moon where they had picked up Cameron. The three elderly spies had been returned to the alliance with their belongings, for which the crew received a rather substantial reward for the deed, something Tom refused to take a share in.
Despite having made the right decision, the young man had spent the entire time moping and being reclusive and was now fiddling with his guitar in a chair separate from the rest of his friends. Leslie, shoulder bandaged, rose from losing the game of Go Fish they were playing.
“I suppose it’s time to go buy some provisions!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I thought you weren’t allowed to shop anymore!” Katy said, standing as well. Nicole joined her.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we banned her from that.”
“Come on, I’m captain. You can’t ban me from jack.”
“Leslie-”
“Fine, I’ll be fair about it. Put your feet in.” standing together with their right feet touching at the toes, Leslie began the count off with Katy’s foot, followed by Nicole’s and then her own. “Eeny…meeny…mine! Looks like I win!”
“What?”
“Leslie!”
“C’mon, Tom. You and me have a meeting with a Winchester. My treat.”