The Conduit: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Even at sea, a smoke-filled room can be found wherever there are risk-takers. Beneath the low-hanging light over the center of the table, Max and his department heads were enjoying well-earned downtime. It was after nine o’clock when Max flipped through the hand of cards in front of him. He looked around the room, reading the faces of his friendly opponents. Picking two blue chips from the table, he tossed them into the pot.

He quietly announced, “I’m in.”

The rest of the table threw chips into the pot until it got to the Chief of Oceanic Security. Hanson thumbed his cards slowly, pondering what the others might have. He took his sweet time when it came to poker. Something about the tension made the game more exciting for him. To Hanson “Han” Morrow, there was no rushing in cards.

“Come on, Han,” insisted the doctor. “We aren’t getting any younger.”

Han looked at Susan Reimers, a sly grin spreading across his face. He thumbed his cards again before finally throwing two five-dollar chips into the pot. Looking back at the pair of tens he held; he waited for the flop. When the third card was laid, Han felt a surge of excitement. He was looking at two tens and the ace of hearts. It was enough to make him start playing with his chips.

Max looked at his cards. He was holding two aces and could tell the rest of the table was on the edge about staying in the game. As Susan folded, then Alex, and then Max was looking at a three-person game. Max bet ten dollars. Steve Johnson, the drilling foreman, threw in a ten-dollar chip. The bet was back to Han.

“So, what’s it going to be?” asked Max.

When one more card hit the table, Max smiled. He got the fourth ace. It was a hard hand to beat, but he knew Han was hard to read. Steve folded his cards, which wasn’t surprising considering he rarely stayed in the hand. There was tension building at the table as everybody waited to see what Han would do. As the tension boiled to a fever pitch, Han placed his last bet.

The ten of hearts was the final card and Max could barely contain himself. His face gave him away and Han folded his cards before things got any pricier. Max smiled as he reached across the table and pulled the pot of chips toward him. It was a good hand, and Max knew he’d gotten lucky, but as cocky as Han would get when he won, Max thoroughly enjoyed beating the man out of a few bucks.

“I guess it’s good that you make the big bucks,” laughed Max, gloating as he counted the chips.

After some friendly back-and-forth banter, Max started to deal a new round. As he dealt the cards, he asked everybody how things were going with their respective sections. It was his normal routine. The card game was a safe space for the division heads to unload on the station boss. Max was always amazed by how much he could learn that wasn’t in the daily activity logs or monthly reports. The occasional card game was where he picked up on the gossip, and with a group of men and women stuck at sea, there was plenty of gossip to share.

As he finished dealing, a knock at the door changed his demeanor. The only person that would interrupt their game was Shelly. And if she was interrupting their card game, it was almost always important.

“Enter!” he yelled.

Shelly entered the room and handed Max a note. She stood by as he read the message. She could tell he wasn’t happy with the news.

“Seriously?” he questioned.

“Yes sir,” answered Shelly.

The note was for Max to report to the group. It meant his night was about to change. Max looked at the rest of the players and excused himself. He ignored Han’s chiding and followed Shelly out onto the deck.

“Is everything alright, boss?”

“Not tonight it’s not,” answered Max as he split off from his assistant and went to his quarters.

Max made it to his quarters several minutes later and signed into the security channel. There was a complete forum awaiting him. Much like the rest of the meetings he was summoned to, only one of the group members ever spoke.

“Sorry to interrupt your off time, Captain. We need an update on Level VI.”

Max rubbed the scruff on his chin. He told them that the project was complete and all the testing successful. The Oceanic Station now had the first detention center with an electromagnetically charged field capable of stopping a stampeding bull. The thing could take down a fully grown, rampaging grizzly if there were one at the bottom of the ocean.

“That’s good to hear,” announced Number One.

Number One was all Max knew about the chairman of the group. He knew the group was comprised of politicians, billionaires, and players with private interests, but not who any of them were. They signed the checks, and their checks never bounced, so that was all he cared about.

“We have news on our end,” announced Number One. “The special projects target we informed you about has been caught. A team is transporting your first houseguest to your location. They should be there in a few days.”

“What do we know about the target?” asked Max.

“We have sent you a file. Truthfully, there’s still much to be learned about this subject. Don’t underestimate the prisoner.”

“Yes sir,” answered Max. “I’ll get myself up to speed.”

Number One stopped Max and told him there was one more thing. The houseguest, as he’d called the prisoner, would also be the responsibility of Lt. Jensen Shaw. They wanted Max to prepare a living quarter for the lieutenant with an encrypted communications system.

Max grumbled under his breath. He promised to have everything ready but didn’t revel in having the extra visitor to attend to. The detention center operations were supposed to be his responsibility. He was annoyed by the idea that somebody else was going to be involved, especially Jensen Shaw.

Max knew the young lieutenant from years gone by. He thought of Shaw as being a bit rebellious, unorthodox, and someone who found it too easy to cross the lines. When they served together in Afghanistan, Shaw was one of those who shot first and asked questions later. To Max, the only way Jensen Shaw was still on active duty was because his father was a United States Senator.

“Yes sir, I’ll see to it that his quarters are ready,” responded Max. “Shepherd out.”

Max clicked his mouse and killed the connection to the channel. He walked over to the kitchen area and poured a drink. Standing at the counter, Max felt the tension rising in his neck. After finishing the first glass of whiskey, he poured a second and returned to his desk. After clicking through a couple of screens and typing in a password, Max was able to access the file the group sent him.

As Max read the file, he developed more questions than he got answers. Scrolling slowly down the pages, their incoming guest had a storied history. After scrolling through the file, Max’s eyes started to tire.

The room filled with an eerie mist as Max opened his tired eyes. What now, thought Max, as he looked for the source of the strange, sickeningly sweet smokiness. As he searched his quarters, sweat rolling down his well-formed physique, the sensations he felt were oddly familiar.

Max was exhausted, and the smokiness was dissipating. He crawled into his bunk, surprised to hear a voice behind him. Her arms wrapped around his chest and Max felt the pleasurable feeling of a young and taught body pressed against his. Rolling over, he could see her in the shadows of the dim light from outside his room. The exterior lighting scattered around the level cast enough light on them to enhance her attractiveness.

Max’s visitor put her lips against his. She kissed him softly at first, her tongue parting his lips. As Max’s arousal grew, he fervently returned the affection as his hands found their way to her cheeks. He caressed her face as the two became lost in the moment of wild abandonment. Max had no idea who his middle-of-the-night visitor was, but as the heat between them built, he couldn’t muster the strength to care.

Was it Shelly, he wondered. No, this woman was more athletically built than Shelly. He wondered if it was the doctor. She was attractive, and the two had become friends. But the doctor didn’t strike him as the type to make such an aggressive move on a man. It had to be one of the girls from staff and services, thought Max. But which one?

As their embrace grew stronger, his mystery lover yanked at his shorts. He felt her warm hand pushing down his thigh, then her warmth. As he started to breathe heavily, he was distracted by the buzzing sound of someone at his door.

Max felt his lover crawling off him. The buzzing at the door continued incessantly so Max pulled his shorts up and went to see who it was. He hurried, anxious to return to his middle-of-the-night visitor. When he put his hand on the palm scanner at the door it disappeared. There was nobody there.

He returned to his empty bunk. Max looked aimlessly around the room and the rest of the suite. Whoever she was, she was gone. He stood in the center of the suite scratching his head. Was it all a dream?

A loud alarm sounded, and Max opened his eyes. He looked at the ceiling above his bed, realizing he had dreamt the entire thing. Reaching out to his nightstand, Max pressed the intercom button.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Sir,” sighed Shelly, “There’s a Nautilus Class transport enroute to the station. They claim to have a delivery for the station. It sounds like more than another resupply run.”

“Do they have an eta?” asked Max, still confused by his dream.

“Twelve noon our time, but they’re not on the schedule. This is off the books,” she explained.

“It’s fine Shelly. Send the transport an authorization. We’ll be ready.”

Max deactivated the intercom system and rolled over. He reached into his drawer, getting a cigarette and a lighter. After lighting up, he looked at his watch. It was already four o’clock. As late as it was, he told himself to get up and get to work. It was going to be a busy day.

An hour later, Max walked into the operations center. He checked the daily logs from yesterday, input the numbers from the drilling station into the database, reviewed the security reports, and prepared to head down to the detention center when he heard an alert. There was a vessel forty nautical miles from their location, and it wasn’t answering attempts to hail them.

Going into operations, Max looked at the screen. He asked for the speed and intercept points.

“Nobody is supposed to be out here,” he announced. “Get Han to the launch. Tell him I’ll meet him there.”

Max left operations and went to the armory. He retrieved a vest and a rifle with four magazines. From there, he rushed to the launch area, which was five levels down from the operations center. As he hit the bottom of the stairs, he saw Han standing aboard one of the launches.

“It took you long enough, old man,” smiled the head of security. “What’s the alert for?”

“It’s probably another drunken billionaire on his yacht, but they’re not answering hails. They’re at cruising speed, so we’ll be able to intercept them around the 30-mile marker.”

Han was disappointed. It was too early in the morning for another turn-away mission. He was desperate for some action. As he started the twin-engine attack boat, he complained about them interrupting his morning routine.

“You know, my day’s ruined if I don’t get my run in.”

“I’ll have something for you later that should be more interesting,” promised Max.

He hadn’t brought the security team on the Oceanic into the loop about their inbound guests. They still had six hours until they were going to be there. Max started telling his security chief about their inbound prisoner as they navigated their way to the mysterious signal headed for the Oceanic.

It took them twenty minutes to spot the craft heading in their direction. Han pulled the patches from his ready bag. He slapped one on Max’s back and Max did the same for him. Today, they were United States Navy. The two men grinned as they got closer, slowing the boat to half-speed.

Max put a megaphone to his mouth as his partner ran the spotlight. He called out, “United States Navy”, and told whoever might be listening that their course was heading them into restricted waters. Strangely, nobody answered.

“Do you think they’re all asleep?”

“Or passed out drunk,” laughed Max. “Look at that thing.”

Han steered the boat closer as Max barked orders into the megaphone.

“This is the United States Navy, identify yourself or prepare to be boarded!” he demanded.

When nobody responded, Max instructed his partner to take them to the boat’s stern. As they cruised to the rear of the ship, Max readied his weapon and prepared for whatever might happen.

“Still, no answer. What’s going on?” asked Han.

He brought the attack boat alongside the stern and Max tied them to the yacht. Max stepped aboard first and secured the stern. Han followed and the two made their way to the deck area. There were two tables with half-finished drinks. It looked like six to eight people were there, but had vanished.

As the two made their way into the center of the craft, they found evidence of a large gathering. The bar was nearly empty. More half-emptied drinks were inside, and a plate of snacks was on the center table and the bar. Somebody enjoyed a fun evening at sea.

“Where the hell is everybody?”

Max was ready to move on. He motioned for Han to follow him up to the bridge. The two cautiously worked their way up a flight of stairs, peaking into the room before entering. The yacht appeared to be devoid of passengers. Even the crew were missing at sea.

“What are you thinking, pirates?”

“When was the last time pirates were active in this part of the world?”

Han thought about it before shrugging his shoulders. He’d been at sea for a few years and didn’t remember any alerts being sent about pirate activity. They were a long way from the Caribbean, and they were too far south for any of the groups coming out of Southeast Asia.

“Radio it in,” ordered Max. “I’ll drop the anchor and hold them here. The real navy will have to investigate this.”

Han tried the radio aboard the craft. He dialed in the Oceanic and after a couple of attempts was successful. When he came back to Max, he had bad news.

“It’ll be two days until the Navy can have a boat here to tow her in. They want us to tow her to the Oceanic and drop her anchors at the perimeter,” he explained.

Max knew better than to think that was a good idea. Under normal conditions, he’d have thought of that solution, but with their first guest already inbound, it posed a security problem. He looked at his head of security, asking for his opinion. When his security chief told him that it wouldn’t pose a problem for the detention center detail, Max nodded his approval.

“I guess we’ll help the Navy.”