Personal Log 133: 12th - 15th September, 3302
18 Nov 2016Jemine Caesar
12th - 15th September, 3302 Officer Treadway's information proved to be correct. At exactly 19:30 GST on September the 12th, a Faulcon DeLacy Python glided into Coney Enterprise and set down on landing pad 12. The Python was followed in seconds later by an Asp, with Sam and Alice in her cockpit.
"Sam?" I said, speaking into my dataslate. "I'm in position outside Hangar 12."
"Roger, Jem," came the reply. "We're touching down on pad 16. Be with you as soon as we can."
"10-4"
I didn't have to wait long before the bay door opened and three men walked out; Baker, Chubb and Forrest. They looked happy and confident, unaware that they were being watched.
"Sam, they're on the move."
"OK. Keep them in sight."
I followed the gang of gun-runners to the starport's main shopping mall. There they stopped, apparently waiting for someone else to arrive. As I watched, my dataslate beeped.
"Jem, Alice and I are in position on the opposite side of the mall. We have the gang in sight. The task force is nearby, waiting on our command."
"All right," I said. "I wonder how— wait! A fourth man has appeared. See him?"
"Yes. He must be their client. Hello, they're on the move. Follow at a safe distance."
"Understood."
The gang returned with the fourth man to Hangar 12. My dataslate beeped again.
"Treadway here. They're going to make the exchange in space. We have to go in now!"
Sam calmly walked up to the gang. "Hello, Officer Baker," he called out. "Something up?"
Baker swung round in surprise. "Wha—? No, nothing. Who are you?"
"It's just that you seem a little distracted by something," Sam continued, ignoring the question. "Perhaps the exchange isn't going according to plan?"
"Exchange?" said Baker. "What are you talking about?"
The fourth man became very agitated. "You idiot, Baker," he yelled. "This is a bust!"
All at once the scene descended into pandemonium. The hangar was stormed by Admiral Remi's task force, six men in combat armour and carrying pulse carbine rifles. Alice Treadway's voice rang out across the hangar, "GUN GUN GUN!" Shots were fired, and men were running in all directions. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the commotion ended. But not quite.
"Man down!" shouted Sam. "Call a medic!"
I turned to see Officer Treadway lying on the deck, bleeding from her stomach, with Sam at her side. "It's OK, Alice," he said, cradling her in his arms. "Medics are on their way."
"What about Baker and the others?" she asked, struggling to her feet.
"We've got them," said Sam. "Stay still, Alice, you've got a nasty wound. Don't move."
"What, and miss making the collar?" she replied. Wincing with pain, Officer Treadway stepped gingerly over to where Baker and his men were being held by the task force soldiers. Squaring up to the gang and their luckless client as best she could, the policewoman spoke:
"Grant Baker, Trevor Chubb, Lucas Forrest, and you... whoever you are— you're nicked!"
And then she fainted.
*****
"Jem," said Sam later as we lay in bed. "About Alice and me. Let me explain."
"No," I replied. "There's nothing to explain. I'm hardly in any position to object, after all, given my past."
"Jem," he said, quietly. "Do you still love me?"
I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What kind of a question is that?"
"One that begs an answer. Do you still love me?"
"Of course I do," I replied. "You know I do. You are the best thing that ever happened to me."
Sam's mouth curled into a half-smile. "But— ?" he asked. I lowered my eyes, unable to hold his gaze, and blinked away the beginnings of a tear.
"I don't know," I said, pathetically. "I'm not the same woman I was when I left home eighteen months ago. So much has happened to me since then and, in all honesty, I'm not sure who or what I am now. I just feel there's something... missing. Something I'm still searching for."
"Like what?"
"Again, I don't know! I suppose I'll recognise it when I find it. If 'it' even exists." I looked back into Sam's eyes. "I'm making no sense whatsoever, am I?"
"No," agreed Sam. "But it's hard to plot a course when you don't know the final destination. Just remember that I love you, Jem, and I always will."
*****
Elite And Real's boom state continued unabated, which meant more rich payouts for traders. Myself included.
On returning to Coney Enterprise following a cargo run to Gliese 506.2, I received the long awaited call from Miriyan Thiessen.
"Hi, Jemine! I am so sorry I haven't been in touch before now, but the thing is I've been away on Valentina! business. Could you come see me September 15th at 1300 GST? Lunch is on me! "
I had begun to think Miriyan Thiessen had forgotten about asking me or to Bactrimpox to see her. In another twenty four hours I would finally learn what her mysterious proposal entailed.
"Perhaps," said Sam, "it'll turn out to be the 'something missing' in your life."
"If it were only that simple," I replied. "Still, you never know."
The next day, at precisely 1300 GST, I was ushered into the sumptuous office of Miriyan Thiessen. I had seen a picture of her in Elite And Real's reception area, but meeting the businesswoman in person was unexpectedly intimidating.
She had a slim, graceful figure. Her face was narrow, with thin lips and pale blue 'cross-me-if-you-dare' eyes. Her short black hair and flawless makeup gave her the air of a woman to be reckoned with. She exuded an easy confidence that I had never possessed.
"Take a seat, Miss Caesar," she said. "There's someone here who wishes to meet you."
"Oh?" I said, suddenly aware of a third person in the room.
It was a man, about my age, tall and athletically built. Facially he was a male version of Miriyan, with short black hair, piercing pale blue eyes and a thin, cruel mouth.
"This," said Miriyan, "is my brother, Elian. I'll leave you to talk."
I watched as Miriyan Thiessen left the room, then turned to look up into the commanding gaze of Elian.
"What's going on?" I asked, suddenly feeling tense.
By way of reply, Elian activated a holo- projector on the desk in front of me. The image it played was of Sam and myself, seated in an alcove of a bar, talking...
"The Gettysburg," Elian said. "Abe Lincoln starport, July 12th 3301. In case you need reminding."
I gasped in instant realisation. Mesmerised, I watched the scene play out before me. I listened in horror to the sound of my own voice telling Sam the gory details of how I had murdered John Graham the previous day.
My heart pounded with fright. "Where did you get this?"
"Doesn't matter," replied Elian. "The important thing is I've got it. And now," he added, smiling, "I've got you."
"Blackmail?"
"Sure. Why not? Yeah, let's call it that."
"Why? I've nothing you could possibly want."
"Oh, you underestimate yourself, Jemine. Besides, what I want from you is really very simple. All you have to do is deliver a message for me. I know how good you are at delivering messages."
"And that's it?" I asked. Elian smiled thinly.
"For now."
The holo-recording of my murder confession came to an abrupt end.
"I suppose I have no choice," I said. "Who is the message for?"
Elian's smile broadened. "Ah, now there we come to the reason why you, my dear Miss Caesar, are such an ideal candidate for this particular little task. The recipient is John Graham, CEO of JG Industries and father of the man you murdered. Kinda poignant, don't you think?"
I felt physically sick. "You bastard..."
"Sticks and stones, Jem Jem. Sticks and stones. Now, an appointment with Graham has already been made in your name for tomorrow at 14.30 GST. I guess you know your way around New York City by now. Deliver the message to Graham, in person, and then come back to me with his reply."
Shaking with rage and fear, I glared at the face of the man who held my life in his hands.
"All right," I said. "What's the message?"
"The message is simple," Elian replied. "It's just one word: 'Exotica'."