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THE DOG IN THE NIGHT


This story first appeared online at Galaxy ezine and later reprinted on Rocket Stories!
Philip MacKenzie, captain of the Space Transport Jimmy Carter, had been mostly dead for seventy-eight days -- that's what his heads-up display showed, anyway. But seventy-eight days? His first scheduled wake-up was Jupiter, where he'd guide his ship in a slingshot maneuver around the gas giant, and that was still over two years out.

His neck protested and his head swam dizzily as he rolled his head for a better view of the cabin: There was his crew, asleep in their tubes. So why was he awake? Something was definitely wrong; Mother never woke him unless there was a problem with the ship.

He unhooked himself from the damnable machine that had kept him hovering just this side of death for the past seventy-eight days, wincing as he pulled out tubes and unhooked wires from sensitive parts of his anatomy. When he was finally free, he unbuckled his harness and gently nudged himself off the tube bed.

The room was dimly lit and smelled of stale, stagnant air. He could hear oxygen generators hissing softly to themselves behind hidden panels.

"Mother," he croaked, "what happened? Why did you wake me so soon?"

"THERE HAS BEEN A FATALITY IN POD ONE," the computer replied.

"A colonist is dead? Are you sure?"

"CONFIRMED."

"How? What cause?"

"UNKNOWN AT THIS TIME."

"Mother, activate life support and emergency lighting in Pod One and the main corridor," he ordered.

He removed his diaper and pulled his uniform from his locker. He didn't need to dress -- there was no one to see him -- but he felt better, more official, in uniform, and he hated diapers. When he finished, he opened the hatch and made his way through the dimly lit corridor to Pod One at the rear of the ship. Cool air hissed as he opened the hatch. Dim fluorescent lights blinked the length of the long cylindrical room. Every available inch of hull was covered with stasis tubes: Tube after tube, end to end, side by side. There were two hundred and fifty of them in this pod and there were four pods on the ship.

Mackenzie pulled himself along the pole that ran down the center of the pod, looking at the faces of the sleepers as he floated past their tubes; men, women and children -- all in diapers. He didn't look too closely at the women, not out of prudishness -- the sight of a woman’s breasts didn't bother him in the least -- but each female form, each woman’s face, reminded him of Victoria and that hurt.

He was half-way down the pod before he found it: a small red light, blinking in the half-light from its perch atop a tube. He coasted over and looked in.

The man inside was in his late forties, maybe early fifties, with black skin, deep set eyes and a high forehead topped off with a shock of gray, almost white hair. He looked so peaceful, Mac had to remind himself this was a corpse, not a sleeper.

Mac ordered a cursory medical summary from the tube: Heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity, all zero, but the reported time of death was fifteen mission days, sixty-seven minutes. This was day seventy-eight, so why had Mother just now revived him?

Mac studied the dead man's face. There were a thousand colonists on board and he'd met only a few of them before leaving Earth orbit -- so why did this man seem so familiar?

He left the corpse and went to Command and Control, the brains of the ship, where Mother lived. He floated to the holo-tube in the far corner of the room.

"Mother," he ordered, "access the passenger manifest and give me a personal summary on the holo for Pod One, tube one twenty-three."

He watched as the processor rendered the dead man's likeness in the mist of the holo-tube.

"Hello," the smiling man said. "I'm Dr. Samuel R. Goodwin. I'm fifty-three years old. Born in Arvada, Colorado, USA, September 10, 2047. I'm the Director of Habitat Four...."

"Stop!" Mac commanded. The image froze.

Now Mac remembered him. Sam Goodwin was more than just the director of Habitat Four -- he'd designed the thing himself.

Habitat Four, better known as Sagan's World, was a ten kilometer long cylinder spinning just beyond the edge of the solar system. Sagan was Goodwin's brainchild; it was his concept, his design. It wasn't just another space habitat; it was a generation ship, built to traverse light years of empty space, and Mac's sleepers were to be its crew.

And now he was dead on Mac's ship.

Mac left Mother and flew back to the crew's chamber. He needed help, and protocol required him to revive his second in command.

Lieutenant Carlton Reeves was young, no more than a boy, with high, fuzzy cheeks and a dimpled chin: Not a typical spacer by any means. Mac figured this to be the kid's first real mission. Reeves was a last minute replacement and Mac had met him only briefly before they left Earth orbit. Reeves wasn't Mac's choice for First Officer, but he had no say in the matter; the kid's orders came down from the highest echelons of Command. Someone had pushed very hard to get Carlton Reeves assigned to this mission.

Sleepers wake from stasis in different ways; some wake up a piece at a time, others wake up with the shakes, vomiting and shivering violently, while still others wake up calm and collected, as if they’d just been roused from a good night’s sleep. Carlton Reeves woke with a start and a gasp and filled his diaper before he could regain control of his body.

"What?" he whispered.

"Quiet, kid," Mac ordered. "Don’t talk." He gave the boy a squeeze-bulb of electrolytes. "Suck on this while I unhook you."

Reeves drank slowly as Mac removed the tangle of wires and tubes from the boy's athletic looking body. Mac looked like that once; years of space travel wasted his body away so that now he weighed less than half what he did when he married Vicky.

"Do you know where you are?" Mac asked, trying not to gag at the smell.

Reeves nodded stiffly.

"Good. I’m going to undo your harness now," Mackenzie said as he removed the last of the wires. "Clean yourself up and get dressed. Report to me in Pod One in fifteen minutes. Do you understand?"

The young lieutenant nodded again and looked down at his soiled diaper. "Sorry," he croaked.

"Fifteen minutes," Mac repeated as he sailed out into the corridor.



Twenty minutes later Reeves floated into Pod One. "Sir?" he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry about what happened, my lack of control. I didn’t make a very good first impression, did I?"

Mac didn't look up from his work. "No, you sure didn't, Lieutenant. I hope your performance improves as the mission goes on."

Mac turned to face the boy. "Just how old are you, Lieutenant?"

"Twenty-three, Sir. I was the youngest cadet ever to graduate from the Academy." The boy puffed up like a Bantam rooster. "I was top of my class, Sir."

Mac smiled. "Twenty-three and the top of your class. And just how many deep-space missions have you flown, Lieutenant?"

The boy hesitated. "Well, to be honest, Sir, this is my first. But," he added quickly, "I spent six months as Second on the Luna run."

Mac laughed dryly. "You mean to tell me this is your first deep space mission?"

"Yes, Sir." The boy's face turned splotchy red.

Mac pinned the boy with his eyes. "How, Lieutenant Reeves," there was no humor in his voice now, "does a wet nosed rookie who craps his diaper end up being Number Two on my ship? Can you explain this to me please?"

"Sir," Reeves sputtered, "I know I'm not what you expected and I know I'm not as experienced as you'd like, but I assure you, I wouldn't be here if I didn't know what I was doing."

Mac ran a bony hand through his thinning hair. What was this kid doing here? It just didn't make sense.

"Sir," Reeve’s asked, changing the subject, "may I ask why you woke me?"

"I need you to run a diagnostic on this tube's processor and on Mother," Mac said, turning back to the dead man's tube. "I need to know why this man died and I want to know why Mother didn't inform me until just now."

"He’s dead?" The boy asked as he moved closer to the tube, looking in at the late Doctor Goodwin.

"As a doornail, Lieutenant," Mac said.

Reeves looked up, puzzled. "What's a doornail, Sir?"

"Never mind, Reeves. Get moving. Start with Mother while I finish checking the tube's mechanical systems. Report back when you've finished, then you can start on the tube's processor. I want a level-three diagnostic on Mother and this tube and I want a full communications check between the two systems."

"But a level-three will take hours for Mother alone!" Reeves protested.

"Do you have anything better to do, Lieutenant?" Mac snapped.

"No, Sir," Reeves gulped. "Sorry, Sir. I’ll get right on it."



Six hours passed by the time Reeves reported his findings. Mac was in Command and Control by then, logging Dr. Goodwin’s death into the ship’s record.

"Sir? I’ve finished," Reeves said.

"And?" Mackenzie asked without turning.

"I didn’t find anything, Sir. There's nothing wrong with the tube or Mother."

"What about communications? Any problems with com between the tube and Mother?" Mackenzie said.

"No, Sir. None at all."

Mackenzie turned to face the boy. Reeves squirmed under his captain's gaze. "Are you telling me Dr. Goodwin died in his sleep of old age?"

"No, Sir."

"Then tell me what killed him," Mac demanded.

"I can’t, Sir," the boy shrugged. "I ran a complete software diagnostic on the tube, from the smallest routine to the main life support program. There's nothing wrong. It has to be a mechanical failure."

"I may not be a computer whiz, Reeves, but I know hardware: There was no mechanical failure," Mac said.

"Sir, may I make a suggestion?" Reeves said. "Maybe this is a simple case of tube death. It’s not unheard of, you know."

"Goodwin spent the last twenty years of his life working in space," Mac said, "and you’re suggesting he died of tube death?"

The lieutenant swallowed hard. "Yes, Sir. We don’t know what causes tube death, but my instructor at the Academy said it still happens -- occasionally."

Mac studied the Lieutenant. "I don’t like it, Reeves," he said. "I don't like it at all. But it seems to be the only logical explanation that fits the facts as we know them."

Reeves looked pleased.

"Good work, Reeves. Now go back to your tube. I’ll be there shortly to tuck you in to bed."

"Aye, Sir." A frown flashed across the boy’s face as he took his leave.

But Mac was still troubled. Was it really a case if tube death? And why didn’t Mother wake him right away?



Mackenzie awoke with a scream to find himself strapped in his tube, wires and tubes stuck to his body. Vicky and Cassie were gone -- the nightmares vanquished once more. He was alone.

His tube was open and with great effort he managed to disconnect himself from the machine. His confusion faded as he returned to life.

He floated off his tube bed and looked around the chamber; once again he was the only one awake. A sick feeling of Deja Vu ate at his brain.

"Mother? What happened? Why am I awake?"

"THERE HAS BEEN A FATALITY IN POD TWO."

His blood ran cold. Dear God, what was happening?

He flew to Reeves's tube and began reviving the boy. He waited impatiently as the tube brought the young man back to life. He opened the tube the instant the boy's vitals were in the green and shook him awake.

"Reeves! Reeves, wake up!"

"Uhh-nn...Yes, Sir," the boy moaned. "Are we there?"

"No, Lieutenant, we are not. Get dressed. I need you in Pod Two. There's been another death." With that he flew from the chamber, leaving the boy alone.



The dead man was in tube forty-seven, Pod Two. His eyes were wide open, his mouth frozen in mid-scream, a look of terror etched on his face. Tubes and wires were ripped from his chest and neck. His fingers were bloodied and bruised. Streaks of blood smeared the inside of the plastic canopy.

Mackenzie felt sick. Such a horrible way to die, trapped in a tube, fully awake, for God only knew how long. Like being buried alive. How long had the poor guy lasted before he suffocated?

Mac bent double and retched. How could this happen? How could a sleeper wake mid-flight? How could Mother let this happen?

"Don’t bother coming over here, son," Mac called out as Reeves floated into the chamber. "It's pretty ugly."

The boy floated over to have a look despite the warning.

"What a mess, Sir," he said, unshaken by the horror in the tube. "How did it happen?"

Mac ran a shaky hand down his face.

"I don’t know, Lieutenant," he said as firmly as he could manage. "But as I see it, the facts are these: One," he counted out thin fingers, "this man woke mid-flight; two, Mother failed to discover and report his awakening, and three, he was unable to free himself even though there's a manual release lever in each tube.

"Now", he went on, "add to all that Dr. Goodwin's death and then you tell me, what do you think is happening?"

Reeves thought for a moment then, "I suppose it would be asking too much to assume all this was just a series of unfortunate coincidences?"

He laughed nervously. "Never mind, that was stupid. I suppose," he went on, "that if we rule out coincidence, the only explanation left is that these weren't accidents."

"Exactly!" Mac said. "When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the solution; and what remains is murder!"

"Murder! But why? Who would want to kill these men? What's the motive?"

"To cripple this mission," Mac said.

Reeves considered this. "But why not blow up the ship? That would do more than cripple the mission, it would destroy it."

"Think about it, Reeves," Mac said. "There are those on Earth who resent the money and effort invested in Sagan. They want to put an end to all space colonization.

"Let's assume for a moment," he went on, "that you're a member of an organization back on Earth that's opposed to the colonization effort. You want to end the program but you don’t want to jeopardize your political standing. The world deplores terrorists, so you can’t just blow up the ship, killing a thousand innocent people. You have to be subtler than that; you need to demonstrate to the world that colonization can’t work, that the dangers and risks are too great, the cost too high, the rewards too long term. So what do you do?"

The boy's face went pale.

"You sabotage the mission," Mac said. "You don’t destroy the ship, you stack the odds against success by eliminating the most important person, the one man whose death would be the severest blow to the success of Sagan’s World: You kill Samuel Goodwin."

Reeves pointed to the bloodied corpse. "But who would want to kill this guy? Is he important to the mission?"

Mac looked down at the corpse. "I don’t know, Lieutenant, but I'll wager he was very important."

The two men were silent for a long moment, then Mac said, "It occurs to me that the killer is familiar with the layout of the ship and the operation of the stasis tubes."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this was an inside job, Reeves."

"I don't get it," Reeves said.

Mac turned to look at the boy. "Whoever did this is on the ship," he said flatly.

"But that’s not possible! Everyone's asleep!" the boy protested.

"Face it, Reeves," Mac said, "it's the only explanation that fits the facts."

"But if it's true, who did it? Someone from the crew? One of the passengers?"

"I don’t know, Lieutenant. But I'm going to find out. You know the drill; start a level-three diagnostic on Mother. I’m going to have a closer look at this tube."



The next eight hours were intense. Mother identified the second victim as Dr. David Pickering, Chief Technical Officer. The killer had chosen well; Pickering’s death was a severe blow to the mission.

Reeves ran multiple diagnostics on Mother -- checking every possibility, looking for anything that could explain Mother’s belated response to the deaths while Mac dissected the mechanics of the dead man's tube.

Mac was deep into his third unfruitful test, his head pounding and his frustration rising, when he remembered something he had read in a Sherlock Holmes story, "The Silver Blaze". Holmes always explained how he solved each case and in this story he said one of the biggest clues was a dog that didn't bark in the night. Mac thought this over. Mother had remained strangely quiet as two men died; there had been no warning, no alarm until it was too late to save either man. So why hadn’t the dog barked in the night? Why had Mother been silent?

Mac left the pod. He found Reeves in Command and Control, still hard at work on his diagnostics on Mother.

"Any luck, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"None, Sir." Reeves turned to face his captain. "Same as before -- everything checks out."

Mac frowned. "Whoever did this covered himself well," he said. "We're wasting our time given the resources we have. The only thing we can do now is wait 'til we get to Sagan and try to sort things out there."

Reeves shut down his diagnostics. Mac thought he saw the boy smile.

"Get back to your tube, Reeves," he ordered.



Mackenzie sealed Reeves in his tube then returned to Command and Control. He accessed Mother using the same diagnostic routines Reeves had used.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, poring over test results. His vision was blurred and he was having trouble concentrating. He was tired and frustrated; hours of work had passed with nothing to show for it when the numbers on the screen seemed to jump out at him. He looked closer: There it was, a simple, yet unmistakable, error in a small subroutine.

The diagnostic he was running performed a mathematical calculation on every file in main memory and compared the result with an original value from when the program was first written. If the numbers didn't match, it meant there was an error in the code -- or the program had been changed. These numbers didn't match.

The affected routine was in Mother’s tube-support program; its job was to revive the crew from stasis at various points throughout the mission so they could perform maintenance or make flight corrections.

Mac studied the program until he was certain: This subroutine had been intentionally changed sometime after the ship left Earth.

Whoever did this was clever but careless; he forgot to change the numbers, or maybe he was so cocky he didn’t see the need. Reeves should have found this; he had to have seen it.

The routine had been changed so that at random intervals during the mission, when no one else was awake, Mother would revive a single crew member, leaving no trace, no record of the event.

That crew member was Lieutenant Carlton Reeves.

Mac felt sick. It was so obvious to him now: The dog hadn't barked -- Mother hadn’t alerted him -- because Reeves was the killer. Reeves had modified Mother’s programming and she’d let him: As second in command he was allowed full access to all systems. The only reason Mac had been awakened at all was because Reeves didn't know Mother performed random checks on the tubes throughout the voyage.

But Mac had no proof, no hard evidence, no smoking gun. He needed hard evidence, but there was none.

He closed his tired eyes. What he needed was an eyewitness. It was too late to catch the killer in the act this time, but he could get him next time, assuming there was a next time. All Mac had to do was wait until Reeves struck again and catch him in the act. It sounded simple enough.

Mac added a quick and dirty little subroutine of his own, down deep inside the code, hopefully where Reeves would never think to look.

When he finished he returned to his tube, leaving Mother to look after the ship. If his little hack worked, he would wake the next time Carlton Reeves was revived.



He woke once more, lost and confused. Where was Victoria? Where was Cassie? Realization came slowly: He was Captain Phillip Mackenzie of the Space Transport Jimmy Carter and he was going to catch a killer.

He quickly unhooked himself from his tube. Reeves's tube was empty; there was no sign of the young lieutenant. How long had he lain in his tube, dreaming of his dead wife and child? Was he too late? Had Reeves's committed his crime while Mackenzie lay trapped in his nightmares?

"Mother!" he barked. "Where is Lieutenant Reeves?"

"Lieutenant Reeves is in Pod Two," the computer responded.

Mac flew down the corridor to Pod Two. He cautiously approached the open hatch. He couldn't afford to give himself away, but the sense of urgency was overwhelming. He peered in to the darkened chamber. Reeves hadn't activated the lights, but far off in the recesses of the pod Mac could see a moving beam of light from the boy's flash.

MacKenzie moved into the chamber, silently kicking off from the bulkhead, letting momentum carry him silently along the length of the pod. Surprise was his only weapon, and he dare not give it up.

He flew through the darkness, silent as a ghost, his stinger at his side. He was less than five meters from the boy before he chanced touching the pole to slow himself down. Reeves had not heard him, did not know he was there, hovering in the dark, watching his every move.

The boy was absorbed in his work, confident in his cleverness. His hands were deep inside a tube's electronics. Mac couldn't see what he was doing, so he slowly inched his way down the pole, hand over hand.

He was within a meter of the boy now, and had still not been noticed. Relief washed over him when he saw the tube's display; the occupant was still alive, he wasn't too late.

"Reeves!" MacKenzie's voice boomed in the stillness of the pod, echoing off the walls, swirling around the sleepers in their tubes.

Reeves jerked and turned, no more surprised than if he'd heard the voice of God Himself. He raised his flash, ready to strike, but Mackenzie had already moved to the right, between two tubes.

Reeves probed the darkness with his beam. "Captain? Is that you?" He laughed a high, nervous laugh.

Mac remained silent as the shaken lieutenant explored the darkness with his light.

"Mother woke me, Sir," he shouted into the gloom. "There was a malfunction in this tube. I was just trying to fix it."

"Don't lie to me, boy," Mackenzie said.

"Mother! Lights!" Mac commanded.

Reeves turned as Mackenzie floated out into the open.

The pod was flooded with light as cold fluorescent light sputtered to life. The boy cringed as the safety of darkness was ripped from him.

"Why did you do it, boy?" Mac said quietly.

"Do what, Sir? I'm repairing this tube." Reeves's voice cracked like a schoolboy's.

"It's over, Reeves," Mac said. "I know you killed Goodwin and Pickering so let's cut the crap, okay?"

Reeves seemed to relax, his face changed as if he'd removed a mask.

"Sure thing, Captain," he said. "I won't give you any trouble. Actually, I'm kind of glad it's over; I was growing tired of my little charade." He smiled, a twisted little smile, halfway between a smirk and a grin. There was no trace of humor or humanity in his expression.

"So," Reeves asked, "what's next? Are you going to arrest me or something?"

Mac studied the boy, amazed at the change. "Yeah," he said. "Does that bother you? Aren't you going to try to overpower me and escape?"

"Get real, Captain", the boy laughed. "Where would I go? What would I do? It's not like I can just hop off this crate and hitch a ride back home, and I can't fly this thing without you. Besides, I knew this was a possibility when I volunteered for this mission."

"Volunteered?"

"Sure. This was a plum assignment -- all I had to do was come along for the ride. You and Mother did all the real work, which made it easy for me to do my real job."

"Which was killing two innocent men."

"Innocent?" Reeves laughed. "No, Sir. Not innocent; in war there are no innocents."

"There's no war, Reeves," Mackenzie said.

"Sure there is, Cap. It's a holy war, a just war, as surely as any war that has ever been fought."

The boy's eyes were fever bright, his face flushed with holy zeal. He was over the edge.

"Of course," Mac said calmly, "you're a terrorist. Terrorists fool themselves into believing their causes are just, their wars 'holy'. That's how they can live with themselves, how they can sleep at night. But nothing can justify murdering two innocent men in their sleep."

"But I didn't murder anyone, Cap. Murder is personal and I had nothing against those guys; I'm a soldier, just doing my duty."

"Your 'duty'," Mackenzie hissed, "is in direct conflict with my duty. This is my ship, these are my passengers; I'm responsible for them, and that makes it very personal -- to me!"

Mackenzie drew himself closer to the boy. "Who are you working for, Reeves?"

"I suppose there's no harm in telling you," Reeves said. "After all, whether through luck or brilliance, you did manage to catch me. You deserve an explanation." He bowed mockingly to Mackenzie.

"I work for Earth First," he continued. "You've probably heard of us. What we do, we do for the betterment of mankind -- we're saving the world!"

"How?" Mackenzie asked. "By sabotaging this mission? How does murdering two men on my ship save the world?"

"We believe humanity's place is on Earth." Reeves said. "We weren't meant to travel in space, Captain. Earth is our Mother and we shouldn't abandon her -- we should spend our money and our energy solving her problems."

"In case you haven't noticed, Reeves," Mac said, "Earth's dying. Hell, it's practically dead already. Space is our only hope for survival as a species. Earth will be uninhabitable in less than two generations. Then where will you Earth First fanatics go? Tell me that, Lieutenant."

Reeves laughed. "You surprise me, Cap. I didn't expect this much energy from you; I was told you were washed up after your wife and kid croaked."

Mac's face flushed. "How do you know about Victoria and Cassie?"

"Take it easy, Mackenzie," Reeves said. "I know all about you. I was always good at homework." He cleared his throat and recited: "Captain Phillip Nathaniel Mackenzie. Born 2080. Graduated from the academy in 2102. Served as first officer on the Mandella from 2103 to 2108. Appointed captain of the Jimmy Carter in 2108. Married Victoria Cassidy, June 2104. Daughter Cassie born May 2105, died October 2106 during the first plague." He tilted his head, an evil, cancerous grin spread across his face. "You weren't with her when she died, were you, Captain?"

Mac jerked as if he'd been slapped.

"Your wife Victoria died just two months later, didn't she?" Reeves continued. "I like to think it was grief that killed her, not the plague. Just think," he said, "if you'd been there, at her side like a good husband, maybe she'd be alive today. But, I suppose it doesn't matter, 'cause you'd still be out here playing space cowboy and she'd still be all alone." He chuckled to himself, "I guess she's better off dead, after all."

Reeves's words stung. This vicious little animal was exposing Mackenzie's deepest doubts like nerves in a broken tooth. Mac had agonized over these questions for ten years. Would Vicky still be alive if he'd been there? Would he have left her again to return to his life in space?

Reeves laughed. "The truth hurts, doesn't it, Captain?"

"Shut up!" Mackenzie shouted. "This isn't about me, it's about you, and how you're going down for murder!"

Reeves laughed, full and deep. "You still don't get it, do you? You can take me back to Earth if you want -- you can make up all the charges you want -- but I'm a hero! I'll be immortalized as a living martyr for the cause. We have powerful friends in high places. I'll be out in no time, spreading the word, the holy truth, and you'll be booted out of the service at the very least. If you're lucky maybe you can captain a waste transport after your court martial."

"You're a cocky SOB, aren't you, Reeves," Mackenzie spat. "You have it all figured, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir, I do," Reeves smiled. "I really do. I know how the legal system works. I know the political climate back on Earth. And I have some very powerful friends. I'm sorry, Cap, but you can't touch me."

MacKenzie was silent for a long while. Finally he said, "Well, boy, you know what I have to do."

Reeves looked at Mackenzie with pity in his eyes. "Yes, Captain, I do. Go ahead, it's okay; I know it's not personal." He smiled his ugly, hateful smile.

"That's where you're wrong", Mac said under his breath. "Come on." With that he ushered the boy back to crew's tube chamber.



Reeves didn't struggle, didn't resist in any way as Mackenzie tied him to the tube bed.

"You don't have to restrain me, Cap."

"Just humor me, son," MacKenzie said as he finished the last of the restraints and started to seal the tube.

"No hard feelings, Mackenzie," Reeves said. "See you when we get back to Earth."

"No hard feelings, Reeves," Mackenzie said as the plastic canopy lowered over the boy. He bent down low so the boy could hear him through the narrowing opening. "Oh, by the way, you're not going back to Earth."

The canopy closed with a soft thud. Reeves was shouting something but his words were too muffled for Mac to hear.

He smiled and waved as the boy struggled against his restraints. Mac pushed the intercom button. "I guess I forgot to tell you; I'm exercising my authority as captain of this vessel: We're going on to Sagan, where I'm going to leave you to spend the rest of your days in space, far, far away from your friends and your political connections. Maybe the colonists will kill you: I don't know, and I don't really care -- that'll be up to them. All I know is, I can't think of a more fitting punishment: You'll never see Earth again."

He smiled. "I hope they'll keep you alive, Reeves," he whispered, "for a very, very long time."

He clicked off the switch, leaving the boy to struggle as the tube slowly put him to sleep.



The End