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Part 11

Scratching the back of his neck, Wes stared down at the large crate. The boxes delivered from Qawati's Cafeteria Supplies were about a meter wide, over a meter long, and not quite as high as his waist. They weren't enormously heavy -- with some effort, he could slide them awkwardly across the floor. But there was no way he could get all of them into the warehouse. One or two he could probably manage, but not all of them.

Wes turned his head to the side, looking again at the long, long row of pallets. It had taken four droids nearly three hours to get them in here. Droids with a full power charge, who didn't get tired or need breaks or food or sleep ... lovely, beautiful sleep ...

Sighing, Wes shook his head sharply in a futile attempt to regain alertness, and trudged back to his hated security post. Scanning the list of comm codes, he adjusted his comlink to the frequency for the watch officer in the warehouses and put through the call, wandering back up the hallway.

A jovial voice answered his comm summons. "Arpenau here, go ahead."

Wes hesitated in surprise. "This is Major Janson over at Gamma-8. I was calling for Major Frantloo, in charge of the warehouse section."

"The major went off duty at 0200. He's somewhere around here, trying to organize the last of his cargo so he can get back to quarters. This is Colonel Arpenau, watch officer for the next duty period. And you're the officer who got shot up trying to deal with Aruul Navik and his crew," Arpenau finished with a chuckle.

Wes groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "You know about that?" News apparently traveled very fast down here.

"I saw the security alert for Gamma-8. Major Frantloo briefed me about Navik's trucks when I came on duty, and I have a message from Colonel Heshen about some 'irresponsible pilot', to quote his words, at your post tonight. So yes, I've heard some things about you, Major." Wes could almost imagine the twinkle in the man's eye from the sound of his voice.

"Yes, sir. I was hoping to get some help in getting this cargo stowed, a couple of crewers or droids, whatever's available."

"You don't need to stow anything, son. Your cargo is better off where it is right now, and out of my way. We'll take care of it later today, after we get caught up over here."

"Not according to Colonel Heshen, it's not. If I don't get this stuff into the warehouse by morning, he's going to slap a reprimand on my record and hit me with punishment duty." Wes half-sat, half-leaned against one of the crates, crossing one arm over his chest and holding his comlink up in the other hand.

There was a pause from the other end of the connection. "Colonel Heshen said what?" Arpenau asked, his voice assuming a more serious tone.

"According to him, all Supply officers have to have all of their deliveries handled before they go off duty, and all Security officers have to leave their stations clear for the next officer." Wes's voice unconsciously took on some of Heshen's clipped, snotty tone as he talked. "So it's apparently now my responsibility to get all of this junk into the warehouse by 0600, or I'm in for it."

Colonel Arpenau paused again. "Well, it's true that Supply officers are responsible for all deliveries they accept during their period of duty, but you're not with Supply. That rule doesn't apply to you." Wes straightened, momentarily hoping that he was off the hook, but the feeling was short-lived. "Unfortunately you're under his command, so if he says you have to have the hallway cleared, I can't do anything about that. Even if my supplies are better off sitting there for the time being, I can't order him otherwise."

Wes slumped back against the box again. "Is there anyone you can send over to help with this mess? I can't move six transports' worth of cargo by myself in three hours."

"That's another problem. We're running very far behind schedule tonight, and have to make some space before the morning deliveries start coming in. Every available hand is pulling cargo off the loading docks. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't send anyone over to you right now."

Wes stifled a sigh. "I understand, sir."

"What I can send you, though, is a couple of manual hoverjacks. I don't have the people to run all of them tonight anyway, and you'll need them to lift those crates. Unless you're a Wookiee or a Trandoshan with a remarkably human-sounding voice."

Smiling in spite of himself, Wes answered, "No sir, I'm as human as I sound. Where do you want these crates stowed?"

"Where are you now, in the warehouse?"

Wes pushed off his box and walked the few steps to the closest warehouse entrance. "Now I am."

"There should be a couple of pretty empty shelving units close to your position, toward the back. Find one of them, and give me the number on the end of the unit."

Walking quickly up the broad row, Wes spotted an empty rack of shelves. "It looks like there's space on ... row RB-15," he reported, looking up at the sign attached to the end of the unit.

"That's fine, you start stacking your boxes on there. No promises, but as soon as I can cut anyone loose over here, I'll ship them over to you. Believe me, I'm on your side in this one. Colonel Heshen is good at what he does, but he doesn't have a right to punish you for circumstances out of your control."

"Thank you, sir, I truly appreciate the help."

"And I appreciate your help in moving the freight, Major. If you think six trucks' worth of crates is a lot, you should see what things look like over here tonight," he added with another chuckle.

Wes smiled again. The humor in Colonel Arpenau's voice was infectious. He was obviously not one to let pushy delivery drivers or hectic schedules get to him. Far from being upset over the crazed state of the warehouses, it sounded like he was enjoying the challenge. "I think I'll stick with my boxes here, sir. Janson out."

Tucking his comlink away in a pocket, Wes headed back for his hallway to wait for the hoverjacks. It was good to know that, in a universe inhabited by the Naviks and Heshens, there were also Arpenaus willing to look on the bright side and lend a hand. With the promise of help on the way, and the reminder that things could be worse, even shifting his endless line of crates didn't look quite so impossible.

Continued in Part 12...