Chapter 116: Chapter 28: Dressing Down

It had been some time since Dash stood in formation. Back straight, eyes forward, arms by his side. Even longer since he did it while bleeding from the nose, nursing an assortment of bruises and scratches, and trying not to throw up. In retrospect, eating that delicious meal prior to a full-on brawl had not been a wise decision.

All but three of the melee participants stood in a straight line on either side of him, also bruised, bloodied, and generally feeling terrible. Opposite them, a wall of SecForce officers and security bots watched over the detainees. The hard faces of the sentient officers matched the lifeless, unmoving stares of the bots, as if they were chiseled out of the stone lining the median gardens on the walkways. A single medbot worked the line of detainees, sealing up cuts and any leaking orifices.

The Port Authority Commander walked in between the lines of detainees and detainers. Dash peeked at her name tag on one of the passes—Severion. She looked each melee participant in the eyes with the disapproving scowl of a drill sergeant. Her movements were crisp, professional. A woman not to be messed with.

Severion reached the far end and swiveled her head to the transport lane. Dash followed her gaze to the detainment transport parked nearby. She nodded at the officer in the front seat. He punched in a destination, and the vehicle started off.

The detainees stared out the windows of their cells as it passed. One cell held the short, stocky man. Gagged and restrained, he fought his bonds with the groggy discombobulation of multiple stunner discharges. He sported an untreated cut on his head. It would have already been stitched had he not punched the medbot that had attempted to treat it. That earned him more stunners at the hands of SecForce. The other two in a cell behind him were the Nova-Red operatives, as confirmed by Milia. They, too, still recovered from their run-in with the stocky man’s stunner.

The Nova-Reds made a play, as Dash had suspected they might. They failed, but there was still the pair in the bay lurking by the Stardancer. The crew wasn’t safe yet.

That was where SecForce came in.

With the rowdiest of the detainees removed from the scene, Severion turned to those who remained.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Severion said as she resumed her slow march, “we’re going to resolve this situation so I can get back to doing my real job. Which, if you haven’t guessed, is not playing mommy to a bunch of altered morons soiling one of my docks with their bodily fluids.”

She paused to let the detainees squirm in the uncomfortable silence. “Let’s start at the beginning. Port Authority announced a lockdown for all crews to return to their ships and lodging.” She spun on her heels and reversed direction. “Yet, here you are, not on your ships or in your lodging, wandering my habitat all hopped up on Lords know what. Am I to believe that somehow you all were unaware of the lockdown?”

For all the shouting, cursing, and screaming that had occurred moments before, no one made a peep then. Dash knew better than to keep a person such as the commander waiting too long. “No, ma’am,” he said.

Her focus snapped to his voice. Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Hello again. I remember seeing you leaving that lounge over there not so long ago. Where I specifically asked if you were returning to your ship. And you said yes. Yet here you are. What excuse does that leave then?”

“Disobedience, ma’am,” he said. His nose itched from the gauze stuffed into his nostrils to stop the bleeding. The medbot hadn’t been gentle about it either. He wondered if there was some secret backdoor override afforded to the commanding officer on the scene.

“Correct. You all simply chose to ignore the lockdown directive. Why is that? I’ll tell you why. You’re a bunch of degenerates whose sole purpose in life is to make it to the next leave so you can get altered and forget about your miserable existence. Normally, dealing with your nonsense is just another day on the job for me. But tonight, I’ve got a major criminal investigation to support in addition to a protest to monitor. I don’t have the time to waste on processing all of you, nor the room in the brig to stockpile a bunch of drunks for the night. As a result, you’ll all be getting every fine I can think of that will stick. There will be no leniency. Then you’ll be deported as soon as possible.”

A nearby set of lift doors parted, revealing a pair of Slyvarkians chatting excitedly with each other. They noticed the wall of eyes—SecForce officers, bots, and haggard detainees—staring back at them. The pair froze in place, not daring to move a muscle. After what must’ve felt like an eternity to them, the lift doors mercifully closed.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” the commander said. “Your visitation permits are revoked. Those of you assigned to ships will return to them. The rest of you will be brought to Customs. In either case, a Port Authority officer will process your fines. Then you will remain in your ship, or terminal, until you depart the habitat. Is that understood?”

The line of sentients murmured a series of acknowledgments, with a possible curse or two slipped in. Severion slammed her boot heel against the ground. “I said, is that understood?”

The sincerity of the acknowledgment was as serious as the expanded riot batons held by the line of officers. Severion shifted her gaze down the line, her glare like a point defense targeting system blasting space debris. She approached Dash. “You the captain of some of these idiots?”

He maintained his parade stare into the distance. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And this is your docking bay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Line up there and wait to be processed. The rest of you will wait here for ground transports.”

The commander offered each detainee one last hard stare, then stepped away to confer with a pair of senior officers on the scene. A handful of officers and security bots directed the Stardancer crew toward their gate. Dash spotted Gaius’s followers swarming him before he could step away.

“Good luck, Commander,” the twins said, hugging him on either side.

The blond pushed in front of the group. She placed a hand on Gaius’s cheek. “Don’t let your captain get you down. You’re a star.”

“I know,” Gaius said, then was lifted off his feet by her. She planted a kiss before one of the officers separated them. The officers pulled Gaius out of the crowd and ushered him after his crew. He walked backward, holding a fist above his head. “I love you all. On to the next battle!”

His followers returned the gesture. “On to the next victory!” The blond tapped her PD and blew him a kiss. Gaius’s eyes popped as he viewed the contents of whatever she sent, and he grinned devilishly back at her.

“Move it, Commander,” one of the escorting officers mocked.

Gaius trotted over to join Dash and Wesley at the back of the line. Ahead, Brock stood by the scanner, waiting to process through the gate. Milia was next in line. She faced Dash, exposing her swollen cheek and fat lip.

“Are you okay?” Dash asked.

“You should let me examine that,” Wesley said.

“Don’t touch me,” Milia said, emphasizing each word. Her eyes shifted between Dash and Gaius, before settling on the captain. “Do I need to stay in between you two?”

“No. We said what needed to be said,” Dash said, hoping Gaius had caught on to the whole ruse.

“Is that true?” Milia asked Gaius.

“We’re good,” the pilot said without looking at Dash.

Milia’s gaze remained fixated on Dash. He could see the anger and frustration etched on her face, bubbling beneath the skin like water on the verge of boiling. He knew it was justified. He’d feel the same in her shoes. In a few hours, when they were safely underway, he could explain it all. “Why don’t you get the ops crew settled in. I’ll get us prepared for departure.”

Still, Milia remained in place. One of the escorting officers said, “Let’s keep it moving.”

With a final heavy blink, Milia turned away and stepped into the scanner.

Dash let Wesley and Gaius go ahead of him. As they processed through, he stared longingly at the lounge. He could use another round, even if the pour was lousy. Instead, he waited his turn to pass through the gate.

One way or another, it would all be over soon.

---

Dash cleared the scanner and joined Gaius and Wesley.

The trio followed the walkway through the bay. Dash kept his eyes forward. He imagined the two Nova-Red dockworkers watching from their station nearby, stewing at the sight of the officers escorting their targets.

Gaius peeked over his shoulder. The officers trailed a few meters behind them. They discussed the warehouse incident, their tone making clear their annoyance at missing out on the investigation. Gaius whispered to Dash, “This was all part of your brilliant plan to get us aboard safe, right?”

“Minus the brilliant part,” Dash whispered back.

“You had me convinced for a moment that you were actually angry with Gaius,” Wesley said.

“I knew all along,” Gaius said with a smirk.

“That’s a lie,” Dash said. “I saw it on your face. Just admit it.”

“I admit no such thing.”

“Next time, I’m going on the bus,” Dash said, and grinned at Gaius. “For the free food and drinks of course.”

Ahead, the ops crew and Milia waited by the Stardancer’s open port hatch. Dash noticed Henrik and Milia standing close to each other. Judging by the tense body language, they were in the midst of a muted argument.

“You should probably fill them in before we have another fight on our hands,” Gaius said.

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“I will, once we’re safe,” Dash said.

They passed the Stardancer’s bow and neared the crew. “Listen to me,” Milia said, her back to them. “I agree with you. But this is not the time or the place.”

“No. It needs to be said now,” Henrik countered.

“You want to be reprimanded?”

“They’re here,” Draug said. They all turned to face Dash and company. An awkward silence floated between the two groups in the cool bay air. Every person sported some form of minor injury. The crew’s rough state matched that of the ship—dings and scrapes abounded.

Rosalie stepped forward. “Henrik’s right. I’m saying it. Reprimand me if you want,” she said to Milia, then pointed at Dash. “What kind of a petty jerk are you?”

“That brawl is your fault,” Brock said.

Draug touched a stubby hand to its face. “My snout is swollen.”

Dash held his hands up. “You’re right. I was out of line, and I apologize,” he said, silencing the complaints mid-sentence. The ops crew stared at him, caught off guard.

“It’s okay now. We’re good,” Gaius added.

The confused silence continued. Brock and Rosalie’s scowls softened into blank expressions. Draug nodded appreciatively. Henrik shook his head in disgust.

Dash said, “I know it wasn’t a great ending to the night. And I know it got cut short with the whole lockdown deal. But don’t tell me you didn’t have a great time otherwise.”

“It was a good time,” Draug said cheerfully. Brock and Rosalie nodded in reluctant agreement. Henrik crossed his arms and looked away.

“You can have your group therapy session inside the ship,” a voice said from behind. Commander Severion marched along the walkway toward the ship. She stepped around the pair of officers, who stood at attention, and stopped short of the crew.

Dash said, “Commander, I thought one of your officers would handle processing for you.”

“I’m not done with you, since you’re the one who started it.” Severion’s sharp eyes snapped to Gaius and Wesley, then the rest of the crew. They returned to Dash with an intense focus. “Now, I want to know what this was all about.”

Dash collected himself. Even though it was staged, he still stung with real embarrassment. “My pilot neglected to invite me to his social event, and I acted poorly in response.”

Severion said to Gaius, “Is this true? That you didn’t invite your captain to your little party?”

“Uh, it’s true,” Gaius said. Her penetrating gaze remained fixed on him. Then he added, “Ma’am.”

She blinked heavily, then said to Dash, “That is probably the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a grown man. Act like it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Severion lifted a datapad from her belt. “Being sloppy drunks after a night on the town is one thing. But when your junker dumps a garbage load on one of my docks, I take that as a personal affront.”

“Wait, what? I didn’t dump anything.”

Severion held up her datapad. “The report from the bay’s cleaning bots says otherwise.”

Dash looked at the vid, speechless. How had that happened? “I don’t know what to say, other than as captain, I take full responsibility.”

Her eyes narrowed, as if she were channeling psychic powers to read his mind. He focused on relaxed breaths, knowing the discomfort was intended. “For being the idiot who started this whole thing, you appear to be level-headed all of the sudden. Normally I’d get pushback and excuses.”

“There’s no excuse. It’s on me. The crew’s safe return and a prospect of a good night’s sleep is my only concern now, ma’am.”

She finally broke eye contact, sweeping her focus to each of the crew behind him. She typed on her datapad, then looked to him again. “Here’s what happens now. Per new Administration protocols, your contract is revoked for noncompliance to the standard terms. You’ll have to apply for a new contract. I’ve compiled a list of all the misdemeanors I could think of. Technically, I could throw you in the brig for another day to ensure the payments are fully processed. But I need the pad open, and I want you gone.” She swiped her hand, sending the fine details to Dash’s PD. “Look it over, but the longer you take, the greater chance I have of thinking of another to tag you with.”

Dash nodded and scanned the list. The profit from the delivery of the package would be wiped out by the total of the fines. He could’ve argued about the validity of half of them, but knew it wasn’t worth it. “I’m ready to pay.” She held her datapad out. He looked at the total, clenched his jaw, and pressed his hand to the screen.

Severion refreshed the transaction records. “And there it is,” she said, returning her datapad to her belt.

“Am I dismissed now, ma’am?” he asked, and regretted it immediately. He knew if he had to ask, the answer was no.

Her eyes shifted to the cart. “Is your ship ready to depart?”

“We only need to complete our preflight checks.”

She stepped to the cart. “What’s all this?”

His stomach floated as he thought of Betsy and Milia’s gun in the backpack. “Just our gear and some vendor food.”

“Protest materials?” she said, waving a hand to cycle the holoflyer on the backpack. “Were you participating?”

“No. We were hired to bring over some materials in addition to our hauling contract.”

Severion’s gaze danced over the cart like it was a piece of evidence. Her hand reached out, thin fingers extending. Dash concentrated to keep himself from wincing. She clasped the bag, the paper crunching beneath her firm grip. She lifted it from the cart and held it in front of her. “What did you get?”

“The number one, with extra pickles.”

“You have good taste,” she said, and gently shook the bag. “Consider this part of your fine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level.

“Your crew may board. I’d like one final word.”

“Prepare for departure,” Dash said to the crew. The ops crew shuffled away, exchanging glances among themselves. Milia followed after them, Gaius and Wesley in the rear.

Severion waited until the crew had boarded the ship. “I marched down here with every intent of tearing you down to a pile of nuts and bolts. Somehow, my gut tells me you’re actually remorseful about what happened. It may seem like a kick in the groin, but none of this will prevent you from getting work here again. You understand the slack I am cutting you here?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Get yourself together, and if you do come back, don’t fuck up again.”

“Roger that, ma’am.”

“Now you’re dismissed, Captain,” she said. She spun on her heels and marched back toward the access gate, the pair of officers following in her wake.

Dash lifted the backpack from the cart. His stomach—apparently recovered enough from the brawl—growled a weak complaint at the loss of the meal. A problem he’d gladly suffer in lieu of everything else they had faced.

He climbed aboard the ship, eyes scanning the bay, until the hatch closed and locked tight.

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