The Conduit: Chapter 6

Chapter 6

‘Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzz….’

The alarm in Max’s bedroom sounded. Max woke up, in a stunned state of cold sweat, screaming out as he jumped from his bed. He shook himself as he looked around, expecting to see the mysterious woman he’d been with. His right hand tightly gripped something large and weighted. The muscles in his hand were so shocked, they cramped around the pages of the book, his fingers lodged between pages 275 and 276.

Max’s heart raced as he looked at his bed, scared and confused. He took off running to the next compartment in his quarters, looking frantically for his late-night visitor. As he continued looking, his pulse subsiding, he looked down at himself. He was still wearing the black tee shirt and olive colored uniform pants. The only thing he was missing was his boots.

Panting as he stood in the center of the room, the bewildered station chief didn’t know what to believe. Was it all a dream? Was it some form of night terror, something coming back to haunt him from his childhood? Most of all, he questioned, what the hell was going on?

Finally, consciousness caught up with him fully, and Max’s tightly cramped hand dropped the book he was reading before he went to bed. He looked down at the floor, now realizing it had been with him the entire time he searched his quarters, like a madman as it happened to be, and smiled. He picked up the hardcopy novel, staring at the title. Nothing Max could recall had ever scared him or played tricks with his mind. But the horror master and ‘The Shining’ had done just that.

“Jesus Christ, Max,” he talked to himself, his slight bit of Irish accent slipping through the life he knew as an American and his American dialect. “Get a grip.”

Max threw the book onto his desk, shaking his head and laughing about what had just happened. Of course, it was all in his mind. That’s why he couldn’t find any evidence the woman in his quarters was a member of the crew. He had made her up. She was a figment of his imagination.

Max finally made it back to his bunk, killing the alarm that he woke to moments earlier. He sat on the edge of his bunk, still filled with anxiety from the experience and somewhat sweaty. Max tried to breathe deeply, hoping to calm his nerves. However, nothing was working this time. Dammit, he thought.

Max reached into his nightstand. There was a pack of Lucky’s sitting next to two pistols and a lighter. He grabbed for the Lucky’s and a lighter. It was the only way he was going to calm down enough that he wouldn’t end up biting off someone’s head. He stared at the cigarette butt sticking out of the pack. He stared for several moments.

“Fuck it,” he sighed.

Surely, he thought, if he could make it this long, he’d quit again and go even longer the next time. As he lit the fire to the end of the cigarette, Max took in a deep and joyful breath. How he’d missed the sensation of that first morning drag.

Max didn’t take long to start thinking about work. He dived back into the “Jane Doe” file, hoping he’d see something he could use now that he was looking through fresher eyes. The door chime alerted him to a visitor. Max went to see who was there, hoping it was the strange woman he dreamed of.

Max’s assistant was at the door with his itinerary for the day and a carryout sack from the Oceanic Cantina. She stood in the corridor, smiling as he opened the bulkhead door. Shelly was nice but far too cheery. Her efficiency was her strongest trait as an assistant. Her worst was how bubbly she was. She was always the consummate perky little white girl, and he didn’t see what there was to be so happy about.

He invited her in, resisting the urge to ask what she was doing. Max walked to his desk and flipped the “Jane Doe” file closed. He caught Shelly watching him as she set out breakfast sandwiches and coffee. It was their morning routine, but they weren’t in his office.

“To what do I owe this?” asked Max, scratching at the scruff on his chin.

“You’re an hour later than normal. I figured yesterday must have taken a toll on you,” she told him.

She wasn’t wrong. Looking at his watch, he was an hour past his usual time getting to the control center. After the intense night he went through, Max felt like he hadn’t slept a wink. Breakfast and coffee were a welcome sight.

Max sat across from Shelly, unwrapping the morning treat he enjoyed the most. He lifted back the toasted wheat bread, admiring the eggs, two pieces of ham, cheese, and bacon. If Shelly were right, this kind of breakfast would give him a heart attack someday, but as he took the first incredible bite, he told himself it would be worth it. He nodded at Shelly, his mouth filled with the savory tastes of pork, eggs, and melted cheddar.

“Damn,” he exclaimed. “That really hits the spot.’

Max sat back in his chair, enjoying the peaceful interaction with Shelly. As the two ate, he asked her how she was doing. Of course, she was excited to be there. It was the same answer she gave him every time he asked. Her childlike enthusiasm amazed him. At twenty-five, she hadn’t lost the zest for life most adults feel diminished by their first or second year in a career. Max still liked working at sea, but he’d been on the water so long, he was comfortable there. He didn’t remember what it was like to be excited to wake up.

“So,” Shelly hesitantly asked, “Does that file have anything to do with the houseguest?”

Max paused before answering. The crew was briefed on Level VI activities, including that there was a detention center. There was a naval submarine that docked with Level IV. He imagined the entire station was curious about who they were holding. He finally gave her a quiet nod, admitting what it was for.

“Can you tell me anything?”

“It’s classified,” he answered.

“I was just wondering how things were going?”

Max admitted to what she already knew that they were holding someone in the detainee area. He couldn’t overshare, other than to acknowledge there hadn’t been much progress.

“Is it true that it’s a young woman?”

Someone had seen more than they should have. Max wondered how. Was it the monitoring system? Had they missed one of the cameras when she was brought aboard? If so, the secretive transfer was compromised. Did security fail to clear Level IV during the transfer? If that were the case, then how did Shelly know the prisoner was female?

“What makes you think she’s a woman?”

I overheard it from one of the transfer team that came aboard. They ate in the cantina and the four that were there commented on how bizarre the girl was. Don’t worry, I cautioned them that it was a classified transfer, and they weren’t safe talking about it where they were. And I haven’t told anybody.

“Did you get their names?”

They weren’t wearing name tags, but they weren’t hard to figure out, either. Shelly was a good listener and had a knack for details. The one that made the comment was a guy his pals called Marco. Shelly sat looking at the commander of the Oceanic, wondering what he’d do next.

“Do you think you impressed the need for discretion on them enough to keep them from being so loose lipped?” he asked her.

“Boss, I told them that spilling the beans on classified operations could send them to prison. They didn’t hang around for five more seconds after they apologized,” she described their hasty exit.

Max smiled widely, proud of his overly cheery assistant. She’d dropped the hammer on them and if they ran out that fast, they knew they screwed up. He was so impressed that he forgot how annoyingly perky the young woman could be. He started thinking he owed it to her to get her a promotion or at least a raise.

“I’m going to have to promote you,” he told her, clapping his hands and applauding her actions.

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him, her face slightly blushing from the praise. “So, is it a female?”

“Aye,” he admitted. “But that’s not for public knowledge.”

Max stood to get a refill, offering to get her one as well. He knew she didn’t need one, as energetic as she was, but he still felt sluggish. As he went to the kitchenette, Shelly noticed how fast he’d finished his.

“You alright, boss?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve been having weird dreams,” he admitted.

“I see,” she commented. “Is it anything you want to talk about?”

Max laughed at the suggestion. He’d offered to get her a promotion, but the Oceanic counselor was never on the radar. He looked back at her, smiling as he carried his cup. She was far too young and innocent to discuss the dreams he was having, particularly the one from last night. Max thanked her for offering but reassured her he’d be fine.

“Okay, boss. Well, I’m going to head up. Here’s your itinerary for today. If there’s anything you need me to attend to…”

“You’ll be the first person I call,” he promised.

Was she jockeying for a position? Not many kids her age were as aggressive as Shelly. Max respected the ambition, but as station chief, he knew things were going on down below that were far from her reach. If this was any other ocean rig operation, Shelly would have been smart enough and capable of running the show. He told himself he better be glad this wasn’t the typical ocean operation.

To Max, in many ways, Shelly was one of his kids. He looked at his crew like a proud father as they faced the challenges of running the Oceanic and performed above expectations. Even during the refit of the ocean floor level, Max had come to depend on each to deliver their best. Shelly rose above many, becoming his unofficial number two.

Max dressed and went to the security lift. He was again going to visit with Jane. The thought that he should invite the doctor crossed his mind, but he decided to wait for her input until the scheduled time. His early morning visit with the girl was unscheduled. Max wanted to try a different approach to see if she would be more responsive to him.

Getting off the lift, Max went through the routine at the security post. He made pleasantries with the men, who from their comments, knew he was there on unscheduled business. Max told them he wanted to check on their houseguest and moved down the corridor. He was excited at the prospect of getting to know their mysterious prisoner if he could get her to open up to him. It was a big hope, considering how elusive she’d been the day before.

He stopped in the observation center, chatting with the security team. When asked, they told him there’d been nothing out of the ordinary to report. Max nodded as he checked the monitors. Her vital signs were all within normal ranges. She was as calm as he could hope a prisoner would be, particularly one so young. As Max looked at her on the monitor, he noticed something peculiar.

“How often does she do that?”

The two men in stationed in observation looked at the screen Max focused on. They were all seeing the same thing, but for the past eleven hours, neither of them had seen her looking back at them. Jane was intensely focused on the camera, her eyes locking Max’s as he watched her on the screen.

She knows I’m here, he thought. But how? He went over his approach to the detention unit. There was no way the girl saw him enter the area, and the room he was in was designed to be soundproof. They could fire off handguns in the room, and if the doors were sealed, nobody was going to hear a thing.

“Who are you?” Max questioned aloud.

“Boss,” commented one of the men.

Max looked over his shoulder, realizing he’d spoken to himself. He shook his head and told them not to worry, using the lack of sleep from the night before as an excuse. It was flimsy, at best, but all he had to work with.

When he turned his head back to the screen, Jane was again staring at him. She reached up, putting out her hand as if asking for help. Then, she motioned for someone to come to her.

“Well, I guess she wants to see you, boss.”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it,” Max replied, wondering how she might have known he was there.

Max poured a cup of coffee and exited the room. He appeared in the detention unit moments later.

“Good morning, Jane.”

Jane turned to where he stood, edging close to the boundary of the E.M. field that held her captive. She looked up and down at the invisible walls of her prison, the back to Max, who was sipping from his cup. She cocked her head slightly, then inhaled deeply. As Max watched her, Jane seemed to enjoy something. An off-putting smile crept across her face as she took repeated breaths.

“Are you hungry, Jane?” he asked her.

She stared at him, only nodding slightly. Max called into observation, telling the men that one of them needed to go to the cantina and get the girl some breakfast. He returned his attention to Jane. There were many questions he wanted to ask her, but he was postponing them until he got her more comfortable with him. She was far too young and timid for the standard routine to work, and Max still didn’t know if she’d done anything wrong. If it wasn’t her handywork in the village, then Jane witnessed something horrific, and it had traumatized her.

He asked her if she was comfortable. It felt like a strange question to ask a prisoner, much less the timid, mousy young woman in front of him. The questions didn’t, however, matter, as he was only looking for any possible responses. As he took another sip, Jane looked at him.

“I’m quite comfortable, Commander Shepherd.”

Max’s heart leaped into his throat when he heard her voice. He felt the excitement inside him. The girl did speak and remembered who he was. But wait, he thought suddenly. As he started to question himself, one of the men returned with breakfast for the girl. Max shrugged it off and told his prisoner they’d speak later. As he exited the room, one question plagued him.

“How’d she know my last name?” he asked himself aloud.