Redshirts

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three hours and thirty minutes later, Dahl knocked on the door of Lieutenant Kerensky’s private berth. Hester and Hanson were behind him, storage crate and cargo cart in tow.

The berth door slid open and Duvall was inside. “For God’s sake, get in here,” she said.

Dahl looked into the berth. “We’re not all going to fit in there,” he said.

“Then you get in here,” she said. “And bring the crate.” She looked at Hester and Hanson. “You two try to look like you’re not doing something that will get us shot.”

“Swell,” Hester said. Dahl pushed the storage crate into the berth, followed it and then closed the door behind him.

Inside was Lieutenant Kerensky, pantless and passed out.

“You couldn’t put his pants back on him?” Dahl asked.

“Andy, the next time you want to drug into unconsciousness the person you’re screwing, you can do it the way you want to,” Duvall said. “Which reminds me to reiterate that this is definitely a ‘you owe me a fuck’ level of favor.”

“That’s ironic, considering,” Dahl said, nodding in the direction of Kerensky.

“Very funny,” Duvall said.

“How long has he been out?” Dahl asked.

“Not even five minutes,” Duvall said. “It was completely unbelievable. I tried to get him to have a drink with me first—I put that little pill in his tumbler—but he just wanted to get at it. I could tell you what I had to do to get him to take a drink, but that’s more about me than I think you want to know.”

“I’m trying to imagine what that could even mean and I have to tell you I’m drawing a blank,” Dahl said.

“It’s better that way,” Duvall said. “Anyway. He’s out now and if I’m any indication of how effective these little pills are, he’ll be down for several hours at least.”

“Good,” Dahl said. “Let’s get to work.” Duvall nodded and stripped Kerensky’s bunk, lining the bottom of the crate with the sheets and blanket.

“Will he have enough air?” she asked.

“It’s not airtight,” Dahl said. “But maybe you should put his pants back on him now.”

“Not yet,” Duvall said.

“I’m not sure where this is leading,” Dahl said.

“Shut up and let’s get him into this thing,” Duvall said.

Five minutes later, Dahl and Duvall had contorted Kerensky into the storage crate. Duvall took Kerensky’s pants and jacket and stuffed them into a duffel bag.

“Where’s his phone?” Dahl asked. Duvall grabbed it off Kerensky’s desk and tossed it to Dahl, who opened up the text messaging function, typed a note and sent it. “There,” he said. “Kerensky just sent a note that he is on sick leave for his next shift. It’ll be twelve hours at least before anyone comes looking for him.”

“Poor bastard,” Duvall said, looking at the crate. “I do feel bad about this. He’s dim and self-centered, but he’s not really a bad guy. And he’s decent enough in the cot.”

“Don’t need to know,” Dahl said.

“Prude,” Duvall said.

“You can make it up to him later,” Dahl said, and opened the door, on the other side of which stood Hester.

“Thought you guys had started up a game of Parcheesi in there,” he said.

“Don’t you start,” Duvall said. “Let’s get him up on that cart.”

A few minutes later, the four of them and their unconscious cargo were at the door of the shuttle bay.

“Get the shuttle ready,” Dahl said to Hester, then turned to Hanson and Duvall. “And get the cargo into the shuttle as quietly as possible, please.”

“Look who’s all authoritative now,” Duvall said.

“For now let’s just pretend you actually respect my authority,” Dahl said.

“Where are you going?” Hanson asked.

“I have one more quick stop to make,” Dahl said. “Have to pick up some extra supplies.” Hanson nodded and backed the cargo cart into the shuttle bay, Duvall and Hester following. Dahl walked until he found a quiet cargo tunnel and quietly opened the access door to it.

Jenkins was on the other side.

“You know that’s creepy,” Dahl said.

“I’m trying not to waste your time,” Jenkins said. He held up a briefcase. “The leftovers from that mission Abernathy, Q’eeng and Hartnell went on,” he said. “Phones and money. The phones will work with that era’s communication and information networks. Those networks will be slow and rudimentary. Be patient with them. The money is physical money, which they still use where you’re going.”

“Will they be able to tell it’s not real?” Dahl asked.

“They couldn’t last time,” Jenkins said.

“How much is in there?” Dahl asked.

“About ninety-three thousand dollars,” Jenkins said.

“Is that a lot?” Dahl asked.

“It’ll be enough to get you through six days,” Jenkins said. Dahl took the suitcase and turned to go.

“One other thing,” Jenkins said, and then handed him a small box.

Dahl took it. “You really want me to do this,” he said.

“I’m not going with you,” Jenkins said. “So you have to do it for me.”

“I may not have time,” Dahl said.

“I know,” Jenkins said. “If you have time.”

“And it won’t last,” Dahl said. “You know it won’t.”

“It doesn’t have to last,” Jenkins said. “It just has to last long enough.”

“All right,” Dahl said.

“Thanks,” Jenkins said. “And now I think you better get off the ship as soon as you can. Leaving that note from Kerensky was smart, but don’t tempt fate any more than you have to. You’re already tempting it enough.”

* * *

“You can’t do this to me,” Kerensky said, in a muffled fashion, from inside the crate. He had woken up five minutes earlier, after sleeping more than ten hours. Hester had been taunting him since.

“That’s a funny thing to say,” Hester said, “considering where you are.”

“Let me out,” Kerensky said. “That’s an order.”

“You keep saying funny things,” Hester said. “From inside a crate. Which you can’t escape from.”

There was a moment of silence at that.

“Where are my pants?” Kerensky asked, plaintively.

Hester glanced over at Duvall. “I’m going to let you field that one,” he said. Duvall rolled her eyes.

“I really have to pee,” Kerensky said. “Really bad.”

Duvall sighed. “Anatoly,” she said. “It’s me.”

“Maia?” Kerensky said. “They got you too. Don’t worry. I won’t let these bastards do anything to you. Do you hear me, you sons of bitches?”

Hester looked over to Dahl disbelievingly. Dahl shrugged.

“Anatoly,” Maia said, more forcefully. “They didn’t get me too.”

“What?” Kerensky said. Then, after a minute, “Oh.”

“‘Oh,’” Duvall agreed. “Now, listen, Anatoly. I’m going to open up the crate and you can come out, but I really need you not to be stupid or to panic. Do you think you can do that?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” Kerensky said.