Installment #1

Site 209
By Michael D. Scott

Chapter 1

Adrian Masters was sleeping off a well-earned night of binge drinking. After eight months on Perseus 3, he deserved some serious R & R. The warm, soft body lying next to him felt good, as did the cushy bed – a major change from the bunk bed he was used to. He had no reason to wake up early, or at all. So he was more than a little pissed off when the visiphone started to buzz.

He tried to ignore it, knowing that it would eventually cut over to voicemail. But his companion was apparently a light sleeper. She started pushing him in the small of his back. "Get the 'phone, Adrian. Please, it's hurting my head." Adrian tried to ignore her, but she wouldn't stop. Finally, to shut her up, he tapped the "Connect" button on the 'phone. The face on the screen was the last person in the galaxy he wanted to see staring at him.

"Adrian. Adrian Masters? Is that you?" Adrian realized that he was too low for the camera to pick up his face. All the camera could see was his companion's naked ass. He laughed. "Yeah, Captain, it's me," Adrian croaked. His throat was afire. Too much booze, too much sex, not enough food or sleep. He could barely talk.

He could barely move, too. He was able to raise his arm high enough to bring it within the range of the camera, and waved at the camera. "I'm here Captain, just a little under the weather."

"So what's new?" Captain Terwilliger said, somewhat sympathetic to his employee's condition. Twill, as he was known to his friends, could understand Adrian's need to recharge his batteries. Wildcatters worked hard, and played hard. Most of them burned out after a few years unless they had a certain temperament. Adrian had lasted for over 10 years. He knew how to make it work for him. The crazy life style, both on and off duty. Twill had to give him credit. Adrian seemed invincible. And even after all of these years, Adrian's rugged good looks still made him irresistible to women – of all ages. From what he had seen, his bedmate was not a day over 25 – young enough to be Adrian's daughter.

Normally Twill wouldn't interrupt Adrian on his time off. It was an unwritten rule. Do your job and follow orders while you are on an assignment, anything goes once the job was done. Twill couldn't even count the number of times he had had to bail Adrian out of jail, or pay off a woman who threatened to sue Adrian for who knows what. But despite all of that, Adrian was still the best damned employee he had. And as a result, he did what he had to do to keep him happy. And Adrian was not happy to be interrupted when he was on his own time.

But this was important. No, not just important, imperative. Juno Mining was one of their biggest clients. And when Matt Campbell, CEO of Juno calls Twill directly, he knew it was important. And this was a problem that only Adrian could be trusted to deal with correctly.

"Adrian? I really need to talk to you now. Clear your head, clear your throat and listen." Twill waited. He heard nothing at the other end of the 'phone but breathing. "Adrian"? Still nothing. Twill decided to take a different tack. "Miss? Miss, are you awake?" He saw her turn over, cover herself with a sheet, and raise up on her left elbow so her face was now visible. "Yes," she said, sleepily. "Miss . . . uh, what's your first name?"

"It's Eileen."

"Well, Eileen, I need to talk to Adrian. Do you think you could help him sit up so that I can see him?" She disappeared from the screen for a few seconds and then reappeared.

"I think he's passed out."

"OK," Twill said, as calmly as possible. "Could you please splash some water on his face? It's really important that I talk to him right now."

She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Twill got a great view of her beautiful body. He was jealous. He was even more jealous has she walked back to the bed with the glass of water in her hand. He couldn't remember the last time he had been with a woman that was that beautiful. In fact, he knew that he had never been with a woman that was that gorgeous.

He saw her empty the glass. The silence was broken by Adrian's swearing. At least he was awake. Eileen disappeared from view again. Finally, Adrian's face filled the video screen. He looked like crap.

Twill knew this was a delicate situation. Under union rules, Adrian was entitled to a paid vacation of at least 25% of the time he has been on his last job. That meant that he was within his rights to take two full months off before starting his next job. And it had only been two weeks. Twill was not the type of boss that would ignore the union rules. Otherwise, he could find his business shut down for weeks, while the union demanded a "mediation." That would mean that every employee would be placed on paid leave while the grievance was heard. And that would be disastrous to the company. So, he had to be very diplomatic.

"Adrian. You know how I feel about you. You are the best employee I've got. You are my friend. And you are an invaluable asset to the company. . . ."

"Cut the crap, Twill," Adrian cut him off. "You know I'm entitled to two months' R &R. I still got six weeks left. Leave me alone." Adrian hit the "connect" button again, and the screen went black.

Twill was pissed, but not surprised. If you were with such a beautiful nymph, would you want to talk about work? If he had any alternatives, he would take it. But he didn't. Adrian was the only one who has the brains, guts and fearlessness for this job. So he punched the number into the 'phone and waited. On the fourth ring, Eileen's face filled the screen.

"Is Adrian there?" Twill asked, not wanting to show his growing irritation.

"He said you'd call back," she said. "He's in the shower. He says to call him back in an hour. He also said some other things I don't want to repeat. . . . If you know what I mean."

Twill did. "Yes, indeed I do," he said. "Please tell him, I look forward to talking to him. And, please tell him it's very important or I wouldn't have interrupted his vacation. Thank you." Twill ended the call. He hated to be jerked around by anyone. But he was between a rock and a hard place. And he hated being placed in that situation even more. But there was nothing he could do about it. So he just swallowed his pride, and decided to go out for breakfast.

Chapter 2

The hot water felt like needles pricking his skin. But Adrian knew from experience that the only way to clear the cobwebs from his mind was to take a long, hot shower. And so he stood there, feeling like he was a pincushion. Gradually, the pain gave way to a feeling of warmth. The water soothed his sore muscles and he began to be able to think again.

He realized that Twill was not the kind of boss that would break union rules without a very good reason. Twill was tough, but fair. He had been a wildcatter once. Indeed, he was a legend. His exploits were discussed in whispered tones by young wildcatters, who felt both admiration and dread at the stories that they heard about him. It was unclear after all of these years how much of the stories were actually true. But that didn't stop everyone from telling them again and again. Despite the exaggerations that had certainly snuck into the stories through endless retelling, the stories clearly were based upon true events. And Twill's exploits took place at a time that the galaxy was a much more dangerous place than it is today.

Sometimes Adrian wished that he had been around at that time. It was like the Wild West on earth in the 19th Century (under the old date-assignment system). You made your own law at the barrel of a gun. Things happened, and you did what you had to do. Today if you fire your gun you have to spend hours filling out reports. God, how he hated the bureaucracy! Of course, he didn't envy Twill the fact that wildcatters died and were maimed at an incredible rate at that time. Exotic diseases often ran rampant through work camps. And pirates were a constant threat. Today seemed downright dull in comparison.

His walk down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of the shower door opening. Eileen stepped under the shower spray, and the water matted down her natural blonde hair. The water shimmered as it cascaded down her body. She picked up the soap and began lathering up Adrian's back. He stopped thinking about Twill's adventures and focused his complete attention on his shower companion. He was glad he had told Twill to call back in an hour. That should be plenty of time. If not, he can always set the 'phone to go to voicemail. Some things just should not be rushed.

Chapter 3

Twill enjoyed breakfast. It was the one meal that he hated to skip. Not because of its nutritional importance, since he could get the same benefits from a couple of tablets. No, he liked breakfast because it was a ritual. There were some things that you had for breakfast that seemed weird to have at any other meal. How many had a glass of orange juice for lunch or dinner? How about a ham, onion and cheese omelet? Or grits? Those were properly breakfast foods. Even if someone decided to have them at another time of day, they would still refer to the meal as breakfast. Restaurant menus seemed to confirm this fact. They would say "Breakfast served all day." That meant, that these foods that we associated with breakfast could be ordered at any time. Menus never said "Lunch served all day." Or "Dinner served all day." Only breakfast.

And there were restaurants that were categorized as "breakfast" places. Sure they served food all day (and some times all night). But even those people that frequented them for non-breakfast fare would refer to them as a "breakfast place." And they all emulated the classic 20th Century diner décor. There was nothing like sliding into a faux leather unholstered booth, and putting your elbows on the faux linoleum table top. The serving dishes were invariably thick white porcelain-like plastic, and an empty coffee cup was automatically refilled by a roving waiter or waitress without asking you whether you wanted more or not.

Twill had a special booth at "Joe's Diner" that he always occupied. He would call ahead to make sure that booth would be kept open for him, regardless of the time of day or how busy the diner was. But the owner knew that he was a good customer, and referred many others to the establishment. They also knew that he was a good tipper.

So Twill was sitting there enjoying the ambience, and the food, when his wrist phone vibrated. He immediately knew who it was before he even read the name on the screen. He tapped his earpiece and said, "Hello, Matt, do you have more information for me on Site 209?"

[Word count this installment = 1,972]
[Total word count = 1,972]