Ramon arrived at Cory’s quarters ten minutes later. After a customary knock, he listened for permission to enter and slid back the smooth panel door. The station commander was the only person afforded private quarters, but even so, they were modest and not much larger than a walk-in closet. A writing table, media center, sleep hammock, and storage bins along one wall. A few magnetized pictures on the other wall sported a nautical theme, and a small plaque above the desk displayed a poem entitled “Crossing the Bar” atop the image of a schooner setting sail.
One oddity of the station was the frequent lack of alignment among the modules. Cory’s quarters were rotated 90 degrees from the main shaft, so Ramon spun himself a quarter turn as he entered to match its orientation. Cory sat strapped in a seat in front of his desk, holding an old mariner’s compass inherited from his grandfather. “What took so long, Ramon?”
He entered and slid the door shut behind him. “I radioed down to the prison, and this time I got through. I wanted to see what they could tell me about the shuttle, but those guys have their own problems right now.”
“So big that they couldn’t answer us for over half an hour?”
“Pretty big, yeah. Like they say, it’s the inmates that run the prisons, and now they’ve got nothing to lose. They pulled out their shanks about an hour ago and killed one of the bosses in a riot. The two that are left are holed up in the guard station.”
“At least we know why they weren’t answering us. I don’t suppose they were able to tell you what happened to the preacher.”
“No, he wasn’t with them when things busted loose, so they thought he was probably killed. They couldn’t figure how he even made it out of there. As for who might have snuck onto the shuttle with him, they don’t know and they really don’t care. Like I said, they got their own problems and ain’t about to call roll for us.”
“So what can they tell us, Ramon?”
“Just this: since all the cons know about the rescue transport, he’s probably armed with a crude weapon and plans to force his way onto it. Of course, he doesn’t know the last one’s already left. Once he finds out, there’s no telling what he'll do.”
Cory nodded. “It’s no secret that the inmates and miners have had bad blood between them for years. The inmates resent working occasional details under the miners, and the miners object to subsidizing the prison when it cuts into their profits. Add a few nasty skirmishes like we’ve had around here recently, and you’ve got the makings of a feud.”
“And now that we’ve got a con on board who’s got the chance, he’s probably gonna want to bust some heads. Maybe ours when we go out this door.”
Cory fingered the compass lightly. “So let me make sure I’ve got this straight. An hour ago, all we had to worry about was everybody dying suddenly. Now we may have to look forward to being picked off one by one without warning.”
“Ill luck seldom comes alone.”
Cory’s face entertained a glimmer of surprise. “What’s this? A little Shakespeare to confirm our tragic lot?”
Ramon shook his head. “Cervantes.”
Cory thought for a moment as Ramon’s eyes scanned the room. Then Cory’s features adopted a calm resolve.
“We need to find whoever’s on board. I know we don’t have much time left, but I believe it’s the right thing to do. First, it will give the men something to focus on instead of themselves. I think we’ve had enough introspection around here. Whatever they haven’t worked out internally the last few days won’t be resolved in the next few hours. Besides, their anxieties are erupting into too much violence.
“Second, most of them probably know what’s going on by now anyway, and there’s no doubt they’ll form a posse. It would be better to make this a sanctioned, organized hunt. Besides, my control over the crew has been waning the last week. Since I need to keep them working together, I may as well order them to do what they already want to do. At least I’ll make sure they do it the right way.”
“You’re right,” Ramon agreed. “Jackknife started talking big as soon as he found out, and he’s probably got half the crew stirred up by now. They might not be churchgoers, but they don’t like to see no holy man beat up either. Maybe they figure it would be a last good deed to find this dude. Or maybe they just want to beat up a con. Who knows.”
“Then let’s start the search.”
Ramon started to leave and then turned back to Cory. “One more thing. You know what’s gonna happen when these guys find him. And there’s no way to stop it when it starts.”
Cory stared at the compass in his hand for a moment, and then met Ramon’s eyes without a word.
“You gonna look the other way?” Ramon asked.
“Just start the search.”
Ramon nodded. “We'll do what needs to be done.” He unclipped the crucifix from his short necklace, slipped it into his pocket, and left.