7. Trouble
The cuffs were too tight, Dice thought, but he knew that telling Amick as much would only serve to please her, not bring about any relief for his wrists.
Still, he did have questions for her.
Why, for instance, were they not on the way to the detention center? Why had Amick not called for more assistance? Certainly, a deserter as well known as Dice Quaid deserved a more fitting escort than two soldiers?
The jab of a rifle butt into his shoulder informed Dice to turn left; down yet another corridor after having rode an elevator and otherwise seemingly walked from one end of the Military Station to the other.
Amick herself had disappeared not long after creating a big red mark on Dice's cheek. After that slap, she had eyed him with that same look he used to see in her eyes that told him she was crafting a plan of some sort. No doubt a devious plan.
She had then whispered something in a guard's ear and that's when his trek across the station had began.
During the walk, Dice had time to think about what had gone wrong.
Bypassing the door lock had been his only chance at getting inside. However, he had bypassed the wrong door on the first try. He guessed that Amick had been a part of that crowd at the end of the hallway and that whatever door he had accidentally opened had also been down at that end of the hallway.
Just my luck.
So Amick had gone off searching for the reason and found the disturbed wall panel.
"Okay, in here," one of the escorts ordered.
The door opened and they pushed Dice inside.
The soldiers un-cuffed one of his hands then locked one of the manacles around a pipe that ran floor to ceiling in the dark chamber.
"Sit tight. Don't do anything stupid, we're right outside."
"Oh, yeah, hey, sure, no problem."
Dice expected to be in some kind of holding cell. Instead, he found himself in someone's quarters. The size of the place—a bed, a desk, and even a private bathroom—suggested the quarters were set aside for someone of importance. However, he saw no personal items and the place looked too neat, making him think the room to be more of Second Earth's equivalent of a hotel room.
Dice sat and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He fell asleep on the cold floor; it offered the best rest he had known in days. That rest was disturbed with a swift kick in the butt.
"Huh? What?"
He sat up on the floor.
Amick Hendar glared down at him. She held the container he sought in her arms.
"Dice Quaid, well, I'm quite pleased to see you again after so long."
The 'pleased' part didn't sound like she was going to throw him a welcome home party.
"Oh, hey, Amick. You're not still pissed off about that whole thing with me, you, and that girl from Fifth Infantry, are you? I told you, that was an—"
"Enough! I did not bring you here to discuss the past. Our previous…our previous entanglements are not the issue here. Nor is your desertion from the Second Earth military."
Dice stood, causing a grating screech as the cuffs rubbed against the metal pole he was chained to.
"Oh, now, that's great. Let bygones be bygones, that's what I say."
She strolled over to the desk and placed the container on top, then opened the lid.
"It seems you have undertaken new ventures. I see you've decided to become a participant in smuggling drugs onboard Second Earth."
Dice's eyes widened.
"No, no you've got it all wrong, see? It's all a big misunderstanding."
"I see."
Amick pulled the two vials from the container and held them aloft.
She said, "A friend of mine in chemical analysis informs me that this vial contains a new type of designer drug; a very potent form of heroine. This one vial alone could supply enough doses for a hundred people, no doubt turning them quickly into addicts. The second vial is more puzzling. Genetically engineered corn seed. This one sample could fertilize an entire field of corn. I'm assuming, of course, that this corn is here as a cover for your true intentions."
She was not asking a question but, rather, stating the conclusion she had reached.
"No! No, hey, not at all. This is all one big mix up. You don't understand at all."
Amick returned the vials to the container and closed the lid.
"I see. Please, tell me where I am wrong. You deserted the Second Earth military several years ago and are a wanted man. You came aboard this station either as a stowaway or as a passenger with smugglers. At some point, this container with your valuable vials was separated from you and you came to retrieve it, illegally breaking into a secured storage facility. Where, Dice, is the misunderstanding? Where am I wrong?"
Dice ran his free hand over the back of his neck and mumbled, "Hey, well, yeah you seem to pretty much have hit the nail on the head."
Amick smiled. Her smiled dissipated when the communications console on the desk beeped to signal an incoming transmission.
She walked around the desk but before opening the channel she locked her eyes on Dice Quaid.
"You will be silent if you know what is best for you."
If I knew what was best for me, I would never have gotten into this mess.
Amick activated the communicator. Dice could not see who called, but he heard a voice. A man's voice.
"Ahhh, Amick, I trust you find your temporary quarters comfortable. They're the best I could do on such short notice."
"Yes, thank you Doug," although Dice could see little in the way of sincere gratitude on Amick's face. "These will do, for the time."
"I understand you have already escorted our newest recruits to the Sleeper brigade. How did they're first day of training go?"
"They're training is still in progress."
The man on the other end of the communication laughed. It sounded more like a snake hissing.
"Ha! I have already heard that Tony Frost made quick work of them. You lost our bet and now owe me ten credits, Amick. I plan to collect."
Amick growled.
The man on the other end did not let up.
"Then again, you already owe me for not highlighting your failures to the council in regards to 2-8-0-5. Had they heard of your incompetence you might have suffered greater indignities than a temporary transfer to the Military Station to oversee the Sleeper Brigade development. I trust your recruits back on the Training Station will miss you. In the meantime, I'm sure you will enjoy working on my facility. As long as you remember who is in charge, of course."
Dice had no idea who 2-8-0-5 was, but that person had caused Amick Hendar a great deal of trouble. He began to realize that Amick had suffered a blow to her reputation. That made her all the more dangerous.
"I'm sure this pleases you to no end, Doug. Rest assured that I will reclaim my position of prominence soon enough."
Amick punched the communicator switch, essentially hanging up on the caller.
Her eyes immediately darted over to Dice.
He smiled and said, "Gee, hate to see that you're having so much trouble. You know, I always said you were—"
"Silence! My troubles are not of your concern. However, you will be of assistance to me, Dice."
He shrugged.
"Of course. Hey, you and me go waaayy back."
"I'm trying to forget that."
She walked closer to him. Her eyes narrowed.
"We have a growing drug problem on Second Earth. Trafficking in such contraband is an offense punishable by firing squad. However, I realize you lack the intelligence and ambition to run an operation of this kind. You are reporting to someone. You will tell me who your contact is."
"I see," Dice bit his lip. "Would that be the same firing squad that's going to shoot me for desertion?"
Amick growled. Literally growled.
Dice had more to say.
"The way I see it, Amick-baby, you've got some problems up here. Yessir, I may lack intelligence but even I'm smart enough to see that, um…what's his name? Oh yeah, this 'Doug' has you over a barrel."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I don't? Well, stop me when I'm wrong. You messed up on something. Actually, hehe, someone with the number 2-8-0-5. Now your pretty little ass is on the line. That's why you're sitting here in this crappy little VIP state room when you'd rather be back at your home on the Training Station."
Amick raised her hand as if to deliver another slap to Dice's already red cheek.
Dice hurried his explanation. His words halted her swing.
"That's why I'm not in the detention center. Yep, you haven't reported my capture yet. You're hoping to use me to break the drug ring so that you can, well, get back your reputation and all. So you, Amick-baby, need me."
She growled again.
He mocked her with his own growl.
She leaned in and growled louder.
He made a very tiger-like growl.
"Oh God, Dice."
She grabbed his head and thrust her lips on to his. She kissed him deep and hard. He ran one hand up her back and pulled her close.
They came up for air.
"Just like old times, baby."
Clothes came off.
---
During the course of their heated embrace, Dice convinced Amick that he could better perform his duties if his hands were released from the cuffs. She obliged and found that, yes, he was right; he could do things a little better with more maneuverability.
As he neared the end of the performance, Dice began thinking about the future (which was nearly as helpful as thinking about baseball). In order to secure that future, Dice managed to slip Amick's wrist into one of the cuffs. She was so busy enjoying the moment, that she did not notice.
Dice did Amick the courtesy of helping her get most of her clothes on. Most.
Then, amidst her angry growls, he explained.
"Gee, I'm really sorry about this, baby. But I really don't want to go in front of a firing squad. Besides, there are a lot of people down there on Earth that are counting on me to come through."
"You treacherous bastard," Amick roared although her face remained slightly blush from the best half hour she'd had on Second Earth since Dice had gone AWOL. "You will not get away with this."
Dice nodded his head in agreement.
"I know. But let's see how far I get."
He walked over to the door, took a deep breath, then pushed the button and it slid open.
"Hey guys, look at this."
The two guards outside the door were taken by surprise. They swiveled about and peered inside the quarters, frozen in confusion by the sight of their boss with a fair portion of her clothes off.
Thunk.
"Ouch."
Thunk.
"Ouch again."
Dice had hurt his knuckles on the sturdy jaws of the guards. Both men lay on the ground unconscious.
"Dice! I will see you in front of a firing squad."
Dice shrugged his shoulders and complained, "And this is the thanks I get. I'm not doing any of this for me, see? No, no, that Vladimir guy wants me to do this and then those rednecks want me to do that. Now I give you a couple of good minutes and this is the thanks I get."
Amick growled.
Dice grabbed the container with the two vials and took a step toward the door.
He stopped and faced her.
"Listen, um, I'm not a drug dealer, okay. Just to show you how good a guy I am, let me tell you that a feller by the name of Captain Koal is the one you want. He's the guy smuggling all the goods up here. I just happened to be caught up in all this and believe you me, I want nothing to do with it. But, hell, I guess I gotta play the hand I've been dealt, right?"
"I don't believe you."
"Yes you do," he told her. "But you like being mad too much, so you won't let it go. Bye-bye, baby, it was fun. Just like old times. Hell yeah," Dice smiled and maybe—just maybe—she smiled a little, too. "We sure did a few good times. Seeya Amick, try and learn to relax a little, will ya'?"
Dice left the quarters, allowing the door to shut behind him.
---
It took Dice all of an hour to slip into the shuttle bay then slip into a vacant shuttle. During that hour, he did happen to lift a pack of smokes and some matches from a locker room.
So he enjoyed several long drags on a cigarette all while outside, around him in the hanger, technicians hurried with one task after another.
Unfortunately for Quaid, the only transport sitting unattended was one of the smaller ship-to-ship space buses, also used as cargo carriers. He knew how to fly it and he knew it had the capability of re-entering Earth's atmosphere, although it was not nearly as capable as the big birds.
Still, beggars can't be choosers, right?
He did not care. If it could get him off Second Earth and planetside, it would work. Nevertheless, he had one more problem. The hanger doors remained shut. He could not charge his way out of the ship. He had to wait for his chance. And he waited. And waited.
After another two hours of hiding in the shuttle and four more smokes, Dice finally got his chance.
Another ship-to-ship shuttle received take-off clearance and made for the big hanger doors. Those doors rolled open.
Dice activated his ship, hit the thrusters, and followed the other bus out.
"Shuttle 3-7, this is flight control, you do not have authorization to disembark."
Dice ignored the radio call. His shuttle exited the bay, nearly knocking the other bus aside in the process.
With a cigarette hanging from his mouth, he programmed in the course for the Resource Recovery Station near Vladimir's homestead. Or at least he thought he plotted a course for the Resource Recovery Station, he could not be sure for he had not flown a shuttle in years.
"Shuttle 3-7, pilot, identify yourself. What is your code number?"
Dice ignored yet another call from the monotone flight officer. His shuttled pulled further away from the Military Station.
"Shuttle 3-7, return to—"
A new voice stole the microphone from the flight officer. A woman's voice. A very angry woman's voice.
"Dice, this is Amick Hendar. I wanted you to know who it was who blew your shuttle out of the sky. Defense grid, open fire."
Dice closed his eyes but also pushed the accelerator, applying maximum thrust. He did not know the range of the Military Station's lasers but—
THWAP.
A streak of red light flashed past his craft. Then another. Then something hit the rear end and caused the whole thing to shutter.
"Oh crap."
Alarm bells rang. A computerized voice warned, "ANGLE OF RE-ENTRY TRAJECTORY DISRUPTED, IMMEDIATE COURSE CORRECTION REQUIRED."
Dice did his best to comply with the computer's suggestion. The shuttle trembled again.
"WARNING. PORT SIDE PROPULSION UNITS DAMAGED."
"I got it…hang on baby…I got it…"
"ENTERING OUTER ATMOSPHERE. NAVIGATIONAL ERROR DETECTED."
The boxy shuttle glowed red-hot as it slipped into the highest bands of Earth's atmosphere, moving out of range of the Military Station's weapons but also careening off course.
"WARNING. NAVIGATION ERROR DETECTED. MANUAL CORRECTION NECESSARY."
Dice had his hands full keeping the blunt nose of the ship high enough so as to allow the heat shields to handle the brunt of the re-entry.
"WARNING. STARBOARD PROPULSION UNIT FAILURE."
The shuttle changed from a flying object headed toward the ground to a falling object headed to the ground. The difference lay in the fact that the former had the hope of stopping in a manner other than a splat.
"I don't care where we land," he grunted as he cursed the computer. "Just get me on the ground!"
The entire shuttle shook and shimmied side to side. The windows glowed with a bright haze as the tapestry of space was replaced with the light blue of the upper atmosphere.
Dice grappled with the controls, using bursts of stabilizer rockets to help right the ship's trajectory.
While he had been waiting in the hanger on Second Earth, Dice had found the coordinates for the Resource Recovery Center that Vladimir's men had taken him to. It made sense for all of Second Earth's official outposts to be stored in the nav computer. Dice's plan had been to land there so he might find his way to Pa's scavengers and hand over the corn seed in exchange for the power cells in exchange for Elena in exchange for some gas.
Now all Dice hoped for was a safe landing. As the ship fell toward the Earth with the aerodynamics of a brick, that seemed less likely.
The shuttle broke through the low-hanging clouds above a vast expanse of sandy wasteland.
He saw a massive mound of some type far below. It looked softer than the surrounding ground. Still, he had no way to maneuver the craft or slow descent.
Quaid, speaking to no one through clenched teeth as he battled the controls, promised, "God, just get me out of this thing and I'll…I'll…" he felt the cigarette between his lips. "I'll give up smoking."
"ATTENTION. STARBOARD PROPULSION UNIT BACK ON-LINE. PORT SIDE PROPULSION UNIT OPERATING AT 50 PERCENT."
Dice ran a hand over his sweaty head.
"Well I'll be damned. Hey, thanks big guy."
He brought the engines to life, trying desperately to slow the plunging vehicle. It worked…a little. Not enough.
"AAAHHHHHH."
The shuttle hit the building-sized mound in the middle of the wasteland, and pushed through. Dice heard violence smashes and crashes and crumbles as his ship penetrated the mass like a bullet going through plywood.
The windshield smashed, the walls dented, sparks flew, warning bells chimed, and Dice continued to scream.
Then it slowed. Slower.
CRASH.
Dice was tossed from his seat and thrown to the back of the ship.
He lay there, his eyes closed for three long seconds.
He opened one eye, cautiously, then the other.
Dice saw not some vision of the after life, but the ceiling of the shuttle.
He ran his hands over his belly and arms.
"Well, whatddya know. I'm in one piece."
He pulled himself to his feet and held up the pack of smokes he had stolen.
"Well," Dice said with a glance toward the ceiling. "I've never been a religious guy, hehe, but I guess a bargain is a bargain. I'll just go throw these out."
Dice opened the side door. It was dark out there and the air smelled bitter and moist. Nonetheless, plenty of new light shined in through the hole he had made in the roof.
He took a step outside the shuttle, stopped, ran a hand through his hair when he saw what was out there, and placed a smoke firmly in his lips. Dice then lit a match and lit the smoke.
He cast his eyes skyward.
"The deal was I'd give up the smokes if you got me out of this. Well, you landed me okay, but I sure as hell ain't out of this."
Dice took a long drag from his cigarette. It tasted good.
They watched him from the shadows, mustering their strength. No doubt they would charge forward in a moment or two and make quick work of the man.
Blue.
Dozens of them.
Dice had crashed into the middle of a Blue nest.