Dante Valderez was still holding onto the yellow sleeve ripped off from Leanna O’Regan’s yellow hoodie in his black-gloved hand. He looked over the edge of the railing of the massive battleship into the roiling water far below, not seeing Leanna or the rest of her yellow hoodie sinking below the foaming green ocean waves. Without hesitation he let go of the sleeve and turned away from the edge of the ship’s deck, not bothering to watch it fall and disappear. He strode purposefully back to the stairs heading up to the bridge, his all-black uniform absorbing all the light from the unsympathetic sun above him in cold blue, cloudless sky. The sunlight did glint faintly on the breather mask fitter over the lower part of his face, and the grey tubing that ran from it to the dark grey gas tank fitted to his back. His black eyes flashed in anger as he headed into the stairwell, ducking slightly so that his bald, scarred head cleared the round, metal rim of the door.

His boots hitting the metal spiral staircase steps announced his impending arrival to the bridge level, so when he stepped out of the stairwell, General Thompson was already facing him and walking towards him. The General’s chubby, middle-aged face wore an annoyed expression, and he pulled on the jacket of his black uniform, stretching it over his protruding belly. “I don’t need you to report the young woman’s demise. I only expect that you followed my orders,” he said, looking up at the tall, dark man bowed slightly in front of him.

Dante breathed steadily from behind his mask, and then said to the impatient General, “You requested that I bring back the prisoner for further questioning. She… escaped and fell overboard before I could return her to you.”

General Thompson contorted his flabby jowls in confusion, saying, “I never gave any such order. Only to… ah, remove her from this battlestation.”

Still breathing steadily from his ventilator mask, Dante gestured to an empty workstation beside them. “The Communications Officer that was here met us on the lower deck.. to mislead us, obviously,” Dante growled.

The skin on General Thompson’s florid face turned from pink to red, and he stomped over to the empty seat at the communications console. “Where is he?” he shouted, “Where’s Captain Angeljar-jar… something?!”

“Captain Angelus-Jardine?” a neighboring officer offered. “Lucky left soon after Sir Valderez took the prisoner away.”

General Thompson slammed the empty chair against the communications console in fury, and his face now purple, shouted, “Apprehend him immediately!” The General spun around to Dante and pointed his fat finger at him, shaking with fury and sputtering, “And when you find him…!”

Dante bowed slightly at the quivering pudgy man, saying calmly and re-assuringly, “I will find Captain Angelus-Jardine and discipline him accordingly. I will not tolerate subordination on this ship.”

General Thompson rubbed one of his small hands over his balding, greying head, regaining composure. “At least the Princess is no longer a concern,” he scowled, “Did we ever get her real name? It was clearly not Rosa whatever.”

Dante replied in a measured voice, muffled slightly by his mask, “No, we did not get that information from her before she was lost overboard.” 

Dante turned to leave the bridge, and General Thompson turned in the opposite direction to look out the window overlooking the multi-level decks of the ship. The late-afternoon sun showed the towers of the various bridges in contrast to the gun turrets studding the edges of the decks. “Find this treasonous officer and see if he is somehow affiliated with the California Independence Movement! He may know more about the CIM base we just hit. You! Take over the Communications console and find out what the PABs are reporting now.”

Dante left the bridge back down the stairwell, hearing the General bark out orders to turn the battlestation towards a new heading. “Reload the next guided missile for launch! Prepare for immediate hull reconfiguration!” As Dante exited the bridge stairwell, klaxons blared around the ship and men in light grey uniforms hurried across various decks. A voice shouted from mounted speakers around the ship, “Hull reconfiguration commencing in T-30 seconds!”

Dante ducked into a door that led down a deserted hall towards the centre of the ship, where the klaxons and shouted countdown faded as he went. He pulled a key out from his uniform pocket and put it into a concealed lock that opened a nondescript panel in the hall. He quickly stepped into the room behind it and closed the panel. He flipped a switch on the wall to light up a bare bulb protruding from the wall, lighting up the small, windowless and unfurnished room. On the floor were the two suitcases take from Leanna’s car overnight; Dante leaned down and flipped open one of the suitcases, revealing its glittering, golden contents. He pulled out a long cardboard box and slid out a plastic slide holder. He pulled out one of the slides and held it up to the bulb, staring at the translucent picture contained on it. His eyes softened for a moment in recognition of the scene depicted on it, and then hardened as he put the slide back into the tray. He whispered to himself as he put the slide tray back into the suitcase among the golden treasures, “Pray that I don’t find you, Rosa Jardine!”

*** This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ***