A Fatal Blow
When Chrizla entered Parrott's, the first thing he did was glace
around to see if anyone he knew was there, and was mildly surprised
to spot Jessie Carter, a close friend who had once almost become his
sister-in-law, slumped in one corner, staring into a pint. The last
time she was in the bar she'd gotten drunk for the first time, an
experience she had made up her mind never to repeat.
"What's up?" he asked, sliding onto the seat next to her. Jessie
looked up at him, blearily. "She's dead," she said bleakly. "She
never woke up."
Chrizla was stunned into silence by this news. 'She' was the other
Jessie Carter, an accidental clone (they never did work out how that
happened) who had fallen into a coma after returning from an away
mission. After three months, there hadn't been much hope that she
would recover, but the original refused to believe that she wouldn't
wake up. The news of her other self's death had hit her hard.
He glanced at Jessie, who was staring into her pint again, as if she
had forgotten what it was. One look was all that Chrizla needed to
make up his mind.
"Come on," he said, pulling her to her feet. "You could do with some
time to yourself. Let's go."
Chrizla picked the Engineering decks, not because he wanted to be
alone with Jessie, but because... well... all right, he did want to
be alone with her.
When they got there, the deck was pretty much deserted. This didn't
worry Chrizla, as it was a pretty normal state for this part of the
ship. Jessie followed him out onto one of the catwalks that
criss-crossed the deck, unable to shake the feeling that they were
being watched. As it turned out, she was right.
Sandra Middleton, ex-First Officer of the SCS Achille, crept through
the darkness. Not that she needed to - you could probably let an
enraged bull elephant loose here and no-one would notice. Her blaster
had a full charge, although only one shot would be neccessary. It had
been surprisingly easy to get aboard; even the security officers were
on shore leave.
Jessie leaned on the rail, gazing out over the engineering deck.
Chrizla was talking to her, but she wasn't really listening, just
staring into the distance.
Sandra took careful aim, stepped sideways for a clearer shot, and
slipped on a patch of spilt oil. Her finger jerked involuntarily as
she fought to regain her balance and maintain her aim. A single shot rang out.
The shot hit the rail, which collapsed under Jessie's weight, and she
had just enough time to scream before she fell. Chrizla lunged for
her hand - but not fast enough, and Jessie vanished into the depths
of the ship.
Sandra swore, and Chrizla spun round, catching a brief glimpse of a
figure backing hastily into the shadows, too far away for him to
reach quickly enough to catch. But he knew that he would recognise
the nameless murderer if ever they met again.
<tag Chrizla and CK>
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