The Lost Stories: A Series of CoSmic Adventures

Lost Reward

When the last of my crew had left the ship, off to visit family and friends and mistresses, I made ready to pilot the DeVille myself. The Board could take all the time in the world to decide my punishment, I figured, but I wasn't fool enough to be around when they made up their minds. In a large universe such as ours, there are more than enough places to escape to, places where one can change one's name and appearance, places where one can live out a whole new life, a life that didn't include whatever punishment the Board had cooked up for one in their depraved minds.

It didn't even occur to me to wonder if my punishment would be worse if the Board caught me trying to escape . . . until the console on my chair's armrest beeped. I hadn't made it past Jupiter and already they'd caught me.

For an instant, I considered ignoring the beep. But whatever the Board already had in mind, I knew, it couldn't be worse than having hundreds of the Board's ships descend on me and turn my ship into a dust cloud of insubordination.

“Yes?” I said, touching the contact on my armrest and trying to make my voice sound casual.

Admiral Potrowski's face appeared on the main screen, looking nowhere near as angry as I expected.

“Captain,” he said, his voice mild and curious. “Didn't I give you strict orders to remain on Earth?”

“Yes, sir. But we were getting anomalous readings from the ship's engines; I wanted to run them around for a while, to discover the source of the problem.”

The admiral looked unconvinced for a moment, but then he shrugged it off. “Whatever, Kollins. Not even your regular defiance can make me angry with you right now. All thanks to your first officer.”

“Winston?”

“Do you have any other first officers you haven't told us about, Captain?” I'd never before heard the admiral make a joke. “Yes, of course, Winston. Put him on, will you?”

“I can't,” I said, cringing as the admiral's face clouded over. “Due to the dangerous nature of these tests I'm running on the ship's engines, I ordered my crew off the ship.”

“Well how do we reach him?” the admiral said, full of enough excitement and happiness to make anyone—even someone as equanimous as myself—want to burst with anger. “There's a celebration in his honor and a captainship waiting for him, his choice of any vessel in the fleet!”

“What? Why? What's happened?”

“What's happened is that the ship Winston captured and brought back to the Board—the ship that you would have returned to Other Side space—was not a research vessel at all.”

“No?” I said, gulping.

“No. Do you know who we found aboard the ship?”

“Who?” I closed my eyes and prayed that the admiral would say any name except “Dr. Evan.”

“Dr. Evan, that's who! He was disguised, of course: different skin color, different height, different build. But DNA isn't so easily disguised. And I think I can tell you, Captain, without offending my modesty, that it was my idea and my order to run everyone through the tests.”

“Evan!” I said, cursing. One of our top-ranking military scientists, Evan had gone missing a few weeks before. It was hoped that he'd been murdered and dumped into deep space; it was feared that he had defected to the Other Side. Too recently, another research scientist named Urth had tried to defect to the Other Side. I myself had entertained hopes of capturing Dr. Urth and bringing him back, but that honor went to my long-time friend—and once fellow captain—Ed, who for his efforts got an immediate promotion to a nice, cushy admiralty, where he could sit on his butt and watch episodes of Captain Courageousall day.

“We've already contacted the Other Side and they're disavowing all knowledge of the ship and its crew, sure confirmation that this mission to help Dr. Evan defect goes all the way to the top levels of the Other Side government.”

“Evan!” I said. His capture was a gold-find, an instant promotion—but now my witless first officer was getting the credit and the reward, even though both rightfully belonged to me.

“Get in touch with your first officer, Captain,” the admiral said. “You can tell him the good news yourself.”

“Admiral,” I said, forcing my voice to sound calm and steady. “There's something I have to tell you about my first officer Winston.”

“Yes?”

“He's dead, sir.”

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“By his own hand. Winston had many faults, one of which was a cowardly disposition. Unable to live like a man, to face the consequences of his actions as we all must, he chose instead to end his own life.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“What a tragedy.”

“Indeed, Admiral. Very tragic. But we need to keep this quiet, to protect his memory and his family. As luck would have it, Winston has a twin brother I can hire for the post of first officer; no one need know about Winston's—the dead Winston's—act of shameful cowardice.”

“Winston has a twin brother?”

“Yes.”

“A twin brother you're going to hire to be your new first officer?”

“Yes.” He stared at me for a very long time; I could almost hear his thoughts. Maybe Winston hadn't committed suicide—but maybe he had. Maybe Winston's suicide wouldn't be blamed on the admiral and his ominous threats—but maybe it would. In cases like this, it was best not to ask too many questions and just leave things nice and covered up.

He shrugged. “As you think best, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When the admiral's face disappeared from the screen, I sunk into my captain's chair with a sigh. It was close, but I had managed to save Winston's immortal soul. Had I allowed Winston to attend a celebration in his honor and receive a captaincy and his choice of ship in the fleet—all on false pretenses—I would have made out of him a liar and a thief of the credit that rightly belonged to me.

Yet I couldn't deny that I was disappointed. Once, I had missed my chance to be rewarded in Urth; now, I wouldn't be rewarded in Evan either.