Escort Duty

by Lisa Timpf

Though I heard the patter of paws against the durable vinyl flooring of Space Station Three, I didn’t give Pepper, my Galactic Space Services canine colleague, the satisfaction of acknowledging that I’d noticed her arrival, forcing her to speak first.

“Hey, Quicksilver,” she said. The Mutt’s accelerated pace caused her to pant as she talked.

“Hey, Pepper,” I replied, pretending to be surprised by the AI-enhanced border collie’s sudden appearance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Shore leave’s being cut short,” Pepper said.

I stopped in my tracks and shot her a stern glare. “If this is your idea of a joke—”

Pepper, too, halted her progress so she could meet my eye. “No joke. Straight from Minna.”

I sat on my haunches, curling my tail around my forefeet as I thought with regret about the marks I would no longer be able to fleece in the daily poker game I’d struck up. The tendency of humans to underestimate AI-enhanced animals such as myself never ceased to amaze me. They had no hesitation trying to take money from a cat.

Not that they succeeded all that often. I needed to look no further than the collar-chip that kept a record of my financial status to find gratifying evidence of that fact. Although we’d been on Space Station Three for a week, I had more money, not less, to my credit than I’d had when I first set foot within its confines. More than I could say for Pepper, whose affinity for playing herding games in the station’s many VR arcades had significantly lessened her net value.

I shrugged. When I signed up with the Galactic Space Service two years ago, I’d known that surrendering my independence in the name of duty came with the territory. “What’s our new gig?” I asked. “I hope it’s more exciting than the last one.”

“Not sure about that.” Pepper grimaced, and for a moment I felt a surge of empathy for The Mutt, knowing how much she, too, liked to be busy. “We’re to help a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police escort the Neighgal Ambassador to Theta Prime. Apparently the speed shuttle carrying the Ambassador blew an engine, and barely limped into the Space Station for repairs. They can’t afford to wait for those to be completed.”

“Are we rejoining the Meech Lake?” I missed the familiar comforts of the Galactic Space Service vessel we’d served on together for the past two years.

“No. She’s still four days out. We’ll be back aboard the passenger liner Frederika. She’s spent the past week re-stocking for a new voyage, and leaves tonight.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Until the Ambassador signs the treaty formally aligning their people with the Galactic Alliance, they’re not entitled to military support. And rumor has it Syndicate operatives are speeding toward the sector, salivating at the thought of a new planet to exploit.”

“Escort duty, huh?” I snorted. “Well, I suppose we need to do as ordered. Where is Minna?”

“Managing our luggage. She said to wait for her at the checkpoint.”

“Fine.” I rose to my feet and proceeded toward the Frederika’s entry point for priority passengers. “I wonder what the Ambassador looks like? It’d be nice to work with a feline-based species for a change.”

“Um—I don’t think that’s going to pan out for you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Take a look for yourself.” With a quick movement of her snout, Pepper gestured toward the checkpoint. I spotted the Frederika’s steward Lawrence Comeau, tablet in hand, validating priority class passengers for access to the shuttle that would whisk them to the passenger liner.

I squinted, making sure I’d seen correctly. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Then I moved closer, the better to witness the interchange between the steward and the odd trio clustered around him.

“Allie Bindon, Royal Canadian Mounted Police.” A blonde woman clad in a form-fitting scarlet jacket, broad-brimmed brown hat, and dark blue pants with a yellow stripe down the outside of each leg stood with her feet shoulder width apart.

“Paperwork showing destination, please,” Lawrence said.

Allie handed him a comm-tablet, which he scrutinized, swiping the screen a couple of times to extract additional confirmation data.

While she waited, Allie remained ramrod-straight. I’d thought our handler Minna Henderssen was tall, but this woman must have had three inches on her. That made the contrast to her travelling companions even more incongruous.

Beside her was a squat, dark brown container on wheels. In height, it reached slightly lower than Allie’s waist, excluding the silver handle, which shot up another two feet. I estimated the container to be around two feet wide, and two feet deep. Covered in stickers saying, “Caution! Controlled habitat! Do not open!” in a variety of languages, it had to be the Ambassador’s dwelling unit.

So much for a feline species, I thought. No self-respecting cat would be caught dead in that.

I shook my head quickly. Don’t think like that. I frowned at the container. Given the inhabitant’s desire to join the Galactic Alliance, I’d expected to sense at least some emotion emanating from it—goodwill, curiosity, animosity. But it remained cryptically blank. As though the entity within felt nothing. Dreamed of nothing.

Like a black hole. Ready to swallow us up—

“Hope it doesn’t contain s-spiders,” Pepper whispered.

I experienced a twinge of annoyance at both her wussiness, and the fact that she so freely expressed it. Then again, I had to admit that my constant teasing, which included causing plastic spiders to pop up at unexpected times and places, did nothing to ease my working partner’s arachnophobia. “If it does, I doubt they’d fare well in Earth-normal habitat, given how they’re being transported.”

Slightly mollified, Pepper huffed to herself. I turned my attention to the third member of Allie’s small party.

Shorter at the shoulder than Pepper by a couple of inches, the creature might have been mistaken for a miniature—very miniature—horse, save for the fact that its legs terminated in three-toed paws in lieu of hooves. Its glossy coat gleamed, silver shading to blue, and it sported a dark blue bristle of a mane and a long, horse-like tail the same color. The eyes were the most striking aspect of its appearance, sapphire blue and keenly alert as the small creature turned its head this way and that.

Over its ribcage and back, the small horse sported a protective vest, much like the ones Pepper and I wore when facing combat duty. Only, instead of the deep blue of the Galactic Space Service, this vest was jet black with gold piping. In the vest’s bottom right corner, the letters “MP” were embossed in gold letters.

 “And you’re taking this—this—” To my surprise, Lawrence didn’t gesture toward the hab unit, but the tiny horse.

“This is Dancer,” the woman replied. “She’s a Royal Canadian Mounted Police operative.”

“You think that’s funny?” He took a step forward, scowling. “A little small, don’t you think?”

“A full-sized horse aboard a vessel like the Frederika would be—excessive,” Allie said. “Besides, she’s not a horse, exactly, though she doesn’t mind being referred to as such. Genetically, she resembles an eohippus. And she’s human-equivalent on the Mortimer Intelligence Scale.”

“Do you mind?” Curious in spite of himself, Lawrence decided on a closer look.

“Not at all.”

The small entity regarded the man warily. The man met her eye and stepped back. “So she’s really an operative?”

“Plays a similar role to sniffer dogs. Only her talents are—different.”

“In what regard?”

“Her species possesses an acute sense of danger. When something’s out of place. It’s—” The woman’s eyes glazed over slightly, as though she were pursuing other mental avenues. “It’s quite astonishing, really.”

“Perhaps we’ll see an exhibition of her abilities.”

“For all of our sakes, I hope not.” The ominous words hung between them for a moment, and I shivered.

“Welcome aboard, then, Officer Bindon,” Lawrence said, reaching out his hand.

“Thank you, sir.”

After Allie and her companions had made their way through the checkpoint and onto the shuttle that would whisk them to the Frederika, Minna ran up to join us.

“Ready?” she asked. Without waiting for a reply, she flashed her badge to Lawrence, who waved the three of us through.

We made our way through the hatch, currently irised open, and walked up the centre aisle of the sparsely-populated vessel. At the nose of the shuttle was a doorway leading to the sealed pilot’s chamber.

I spotted the RCMP officer and her entourage at the front of the passenger area. Minna sighted them about the same time as I did. “Hello,” she said, extending her hand toward the taller woman when she reached their position. “I’m—” The color drained from her face as Allie rose to face her. “It’s you.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Minna?” Despite her congenial tone, Allie’s expression remained wary. Perplexed, Pepper and I exchanged glances.

“I thought you didn’t like space,” Minna said, her eyes narrowed. “That’s why you didn’t enrol in the Galactic Space Service, after our stint in the military.”

“People change,” Allie said. “I—overcame my fear. Ended up in the Parston Sector. And when the Canadian Colonization Service ran across the Neighgals, they asked us to help them join the Alliance. So, here I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Minna said. “That was no way to greet an old friend.”

Allie’s face morphed into an expression of relief. “I understand. Though in some ways it would be easier—”

“What would be easier?”

“There are—aspects of this assignment that I can’t share with you. Confidentiality. It’d be easier with someone I didn’t know.” Allie offered an apologetic smile.

We’d been assigned to E Deck for the twenty-day journey to Theta Prime. The cabin Pepper, Minna and I shared with Allie and her companions felt more cramped than the one Minna had reserved for us on our previous assignment, when she’d been posing undercover as the daughter of a wealthy entrepreneur.

But the Galactic Alliance had to tread a fine ground between a perception they were wasting ratepayer money, and the desire to convey an appropriate solemnity to the voyage. E Deck seemed a reasonable compromise.

Like those on the topmost deck, our cabin held a small kitchenette, an entertainment area, two sleeping rooms, and a washroom. Minna, Pepper and I were sharing one bedroom, while Allie, Dancer, and the Ambassador bunked in the other.

Right now, all of us except the enigmatic Ambassador were engaged in a game of poker—being played, as usual, with a household version of the hack-proof computer tablets favored by the casinos. The need to cater to intelligent species of all shapes, sizes, and appendage arrangements meant the devices also accommodated entities like Pepper and Dancer. And, of course, me.

Much to my disappointment, our little games were being played without the exchange of money.

Dancer proved to be about as good a poker player as Pepper. Which is to say, not very—each of them had a tell when they had a good hand. Pepper couldn’t help wagging her tail ever so slightly when she had decent cards, and the small horse had a habit of twitching her ears forward in a certain way. Nonetheless, the games helped to pass the time.

“Four days out, now, from Theta Prime,” Allie said as she toggled a key to toss a virtual chip into the pot.

Pepper and Minna folded, while Dancer and I met Allie’s bet.

“No sign of trouble,” Minna said.

“That’s what worries me.”

“You always did look at the dark side of things.”

The game forgotten for the moment, Allie drummed her fingers on the table. “The realistic side. Look, based on the chatter, we figured for sure there’d be an attempt.”

“We’ve been super-cautious,” Minna protested. “Always someone on watch. Maybe they just haven’t seen their opportunity.”

“Maybe,” Allie said. She didn’t sound convinced.

The following night, Allie had already bunked in to catch some rest before her duty shift while Minna took first watch. Eyes slitted, I stared at Minna as she studied her persacomp device. How can she stay so calm? The closer we got to Theta Prime, the more I felt like an over-tightened spring. And if I didn’t find an outlet for my anxiety soon—

“It’s been more than two weeks and we’ve barely stirred out of the cabin,” I grumbled to Pepper. I glared at the border collie as though it were her fault.

“Our duty is clear.”

“Our duty is to help where needed. And Minna is quite capable of responding to the non-existent threats during this shift, as she has every other shift.” I lowered my voice and took a step closer to The Dog. “Besides, that thing in there—” I nodded toward Allie’s room.

“The Ambassador, you mean,” Pepper said stiffly.

“The—whatever it is. It gives me the creeps.”

Pepper cocked her head to the left and closed her eyes. After a moment, she sighed, regarding me with a sad expression in her brown eyes. “It’s true, it does not send out welcoming vibrations.” The fur on her shoulder rippled in a shudder. “But it’s not for us to say, is it?”

“I can’t spend another minute cooped in here with it. I think I’ll go check on Festus.” As a point of fact, I’d just contrived that destination on the spur of the moment. Now that I thought of it, though, a visit to the Frederika’s ship’s cat made sense. He’d traveled widely in his twelve years of duty. Perhaps, if I described the emanations, or lack thereof, from the hab unit, he’d recognize them as similar to something he’d run across.

“So, what’re you going to do? Ask Minna if it’s okay to leave?”

“Leave? Where to go?”

I cursed under my breath as I recognized Dancer’s voice. The notion of babysitting The Nag lacked appeal. There was nothing I’d enjoy less—

Actually, there was something I’d enjoy less. Staying cooped up in the cabin. I could always hope Dancer would find the prospect of leaving the security of our abode unappealing. “Nothing much. Just going to visit the ship’s cat. I’m sure you’ll find it—”

“More exciting than this. I’d love to come, thanks.” My spirits sank at the little horse’s eagerness.

“Er—ah—”

“Fine. It’s settled, then.” Knowing when she was outnumbered, and too nosy by half to let us go on our own, Pepper acquiesced. “Let’s pretend to bed down for the night, and when Minna goes to the bathroom, we’ll sneak out.”

She waited for two nods of agreement, then yawned, stretched, and sauntered toward our bunk room.

Since Dancer hadn’t seen much of the ship, Pepper and I agreed to take her up to the observation deck before heading to the hydroponics area where Festus could usually be found. Right now, we stood at the largest viewing window, looking out at a receding Theta Four. The gas giant, with its lurid stripes, was surrounded by moons.

“Must be hundreds of them,” the small horse said.

“A hundred and three, by the most recent count,” Pepper replied, nauseatingly eager, as usual, to play tour guide.

“Lots of places to hide.”

I snorted in disdain. Just like a horse, to think of running and hiding.

Pepper, however, paused, looking contemplative. “That’s true,” she said. She turned to face me. “If anyone was going to make a move, it’d be now, wouldn’t it? When they could jet off from the ship, head toward any one of the deserted moons, and rendezvous with their compatriots.”

“You’ve been watching too many action-adventure vids,” I said. I put my tail in the air and stepped forward, taking the lead. “But if you’re so nervous, run back to the cabin. I’m off to see Festus.”

The Dog muttered under her breath, but tagged along, as did the horse, which pranced nervously, her three-toed feet barely touching the floor before springing back up.

When we entered the hydroponics area, the first thing that hit, as usual, was the competing aromas of sage, rosemary, and other herbs that constituted a portion of the fresh seasonings used shipboard. I trotted over to the patch of catnip the techs had planted for Festus’ benefit, closing my eyes and taking a deep whiff.

“Festus?” Pepper woofed. “Festus!”

No reply. We’d given Dancer a thorough tour and were about to head back to the cabin when the big grey tabby popped out from behind a giant tomato plant, his eyes wide.

“I’ve been looking all over for you guys,” he said. “Where ya been?”

“Cooped up,” I said with a grimace. “Why you looking?”

“There’s trouble brewing,” he said. “And I think it’s heading your way.”

Self-congratulation warred with regret as I followed Pepper and Dancer in a desperate race toward our cabin to warn Minna about what Festus had shared. The big cat had overheard two early-wakened sleeper passengers discussing a plan that involved knockout gas and breathing masks. If I hadn’t insisted on visiting Festus, we wouldn’t have learned of the plot to kidnap the Ambassador. But what if we were too late to warn Minna? What if we could have prevented the kidnapping by staying in the cabin?

Maybe, I told myself as I skidded around a corner, we’ll be in time. Maybe Festus heard wrong.

A klaxon wailed over the ship’s intercom. A man clad in the dark blue pants and grey-blue shirt of the Security Team sped past us without a second glance, weapon drawn. As he passed, I heard his comm unit crackle the words “shuttle hangar” and “shots fired.”

Pepper stopped, turning to look in the direction the man had run.

“We need to get to the cabin. It may have nothing to do with us,”  I snapped. The last comment, I said out of hope. In my heart, I dreaded that the reverse might be true.

But we had to know . . .

We quickened our pace, with Dancer galloping in the lead and Pepper following with bounding strides.

“Minna!” Pepper shouted as we burst through the door. “Minna?” With a whimper, she scampered over to our handler, who sprawled on her back on the couch, left arm dangling over the side.

The little horse trotted into Allie’s room, and emerged seconds later with the RCMP woman behind her. Allie stumbled and reached her left hand toward the wall to steady herself. She held her other hand to her head and moaned.

I sniffed the air. A twinge of wooziness, quickly suppressed, ran through me. I shook my head to clear it. Festus had heard right, then. The attackers must have used some kind of quick-dissipating knockout gas, with the levels remaining being insufficient to have more than a mild effect. But if Minna and Allie weren’t harmed, what had they been after?

Responding to Pepper’s urgent nudging, Minna regained consciousness. Moving slowly, as though every muscle screamed in protest, she rose to a sitting position, then turned her head inch by inch until she could read Allie’s expression through half-closed eyes. “The Ambassador?” she asked, her voice coming out as a croak.

Allie shook her head. “Gone.”

“I still say we should have given pursuit.” Minna tugged at her dress uniform tunic and scowled.

“We’ve discussed that. It’s in the hands of the Space Service now. They have a lead on the vessel, thanks to the secondary tracker on the hab unit. We, on the other hand, have been ordered to make our report directly to the Galactic Alliance Chairman.” Allie adjusted the broad-brimmed hat she’d been wearing when we first met her, then turned toward Minna. “How do I look?”

“Like someone going to a funeral,” Minna said. “Theirs.”

I cocked my head, studying the RCMP officer. To be honest, I didn’t get the funereal vibe. In fact, Allie seemed deadly calm. Unruffled.

Unlike myself. My stomach felt as though a dozen boisterous Tyrolean butterflies were playing tag inside it.

“The shuttle’s slowing,” Minna said.

“We’re almost on Theta Prime, then.” Allie smoothed the sleeves of her jacket one last time.

I closed my eyes, wishing for this moment to prolong itself. Not because I enjoyed the downcast atmosphere in the vessel, but because I didn’t want to face what was next.

But time waits for neither man nor AI-enhanced beast. All too soon, we found ourselves facing a silver door emblazoned with the sun-and-planets logo of the Galactic Alliance. Two black-clad guards, one Hybernian, one human, stood on either side of the entry-way. The Hybernian scanned Minna’s and Allie’s wrist-chips, then jerked his head toward the door.

His expression said, good luck.

Minna nodded. We’ll need it.

Despite the gravity of our situation, despite my self-recrimination at not being there in the cabin when the attackers hit, I couldn’t help pausing, awe-struck, to study the room we entered. Artifacts, some with an aura that suggested they had existed for unthinkable spans of years, rested on shelves. A massive desk of dark, strongly-scented living wood sat near a window overlooking a vast parkland. Near the wall opposite the door stood a smaller, shorter table with a document laid out on it. Walking closer, I could see that the document had ornate flourishes at the sides and top, and I could read the words, “Treaty Between the Galactic Alliance and the Neighgal Assembly.”

Seeing those words brought home with a hammer blow how deeply we had failed. There would be no treaty, now, or at least not in time to save the Neighgals, whatever they were and whatever they looked like, from incursion from the Syndicates and Combines, the commercial interests, the poachers, the miners.

I glanced at Minna, noting the way the color drained from her face as she, too, spotted the document. Then she frowned.

“How, exactly, was the Ambassador going to sign that? Were we going to change the atmosphere of the room, and come in wearing suits, or—”

Allie cleared her throat. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Behind us, the door swung open. “Greetings.” A tall man clad in a butter-colored robe that complemented his darkly tanned face stepped into the room. “I am Chairman Artem Feng.” Though the grey grizzling his jet-black hair marked the creeping of the years, his posture and robust stride suggested that he had retained a high level of physical fitness. I knew him to be a former Galactic Space Service operative. Would that make him harder on us? Or would he understand the difficulty that every assignment is fraught with—

You have no control of the outcome, now, I thought, lapsing into a dream-like state as I awaited the judgement that was sure to fall. Would we be disbarred? Tortured, perhaps? Publicly shamed?

Minna stood, slump-shouldered, and Pepper’s tail drooped so low it almost dragged on the ground. Allie, on the other hand, remained impassive, while Dancer stood with ears pricked forward. The way she did when she held a winning poker hand.

What is it that Allie didn’t tell us?

“So,” the Chairman said, smiling. “The mission was a success, then?”

Minna exchanged a startled look with Pepper.

“It was,” said Allie. “Allow me—”

And before she could finish her sentence, I knew.

“It’s you,” I whispered, turning to the little horse.

Who looked pointedly at me, her eyelid briefly concealing, then revealing, one of her sapphire eyes.

“ . . . to introduce Skydance Mistwalker, Ambassador for the Neighgal Assembly of Hector IV,” Allie continued, her voice solemn.

The little horse leaned her right foreleg forward, then bowed her head low, returning to her normal stance to look, with keenly intelligent eyes, at Chairman Feng. Dancer neighed, and seconds later, the Universal Translator kicked in. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Excellent,” said Chairman Feng. “I’d love to exchange pleasantries, but signing the treaty is a matter of some urgency. If you will—”

Though Dancer had demonstrated an understanding of English during the journey, protocol required that the Universal Translator convert the Chairman’s words into a Dancer’s language. A series of musical neighs emerged from the device. Dancer waited for the translation to conclude, then nodded. With the Chairman at her side, she made her way to the document.

It would take a few days before Minna, Pepper, and I could catch transport back to the GSS Meech Lake. In the interim, we’d been offered accommodation in the Galactic Alliance’s residence complex. With our assignment completed, I found time weighing heavily. Waiting was always the worst.

Perhaps Allie, who also had a layover before she could depart for the Parston Sector, found the same to be true. In any case, the first night of our stay, she came to visit.

Allie held her hat in her hand and twirled it nervously as Minna stood, arms crossed. “I couldn’t tell you. You understand that, don’t you?”

From Allie’s facial expression, Minna’s stony silence was not the response she’d hoped for.

“I was following orders.” Allie paused. “Besides, I—didn’t want to risk it.”

“I wouldn’t have blabbed,” Minna snapped.

“No, not willingly.” Allie sighed. “But we have reason to believe the Syndicate has acquired a Truth Drug of sorts.”

“Those are a myth,” Minna hissed.

“They are not.” Allie let that sink in for a few seconds, then continued. “This way, you could honestly say you believed the Ambassador to be in the hab unit. And they would not have had a need for further interrogation, because you’d have had nothing else to offer.”

Minna sat, shoulders hunched, for a moment longer. Then she shook her head. “I’ve never liked being mad at you. I’ll—try to get over it. But the hab—what was in it, then, if not the Ambassador?

“Nothing,” Allie replied. “Well, nothing alive. It was filled with a nerve gas, ironically—similar to the one that knocked us out. And it can be triggered to open remotely. Which, I would imagine, the capture team did, just before they collected the kidnappers.”

“So, no spiders,” Pepper said, turning to face me.

“Sadly, no,” I said. “Though it might have provided some entertainment, had the hab unit been jostled open while we were in charge of it.”

A glance at the humans told me they were engrossed in their own affairs. With a jerk of my head, I signalled Pepper to draw away, so we could have a chat.

“I knew it all along,” Pepper said airily. “I just went on about spiders to amuse you.”

“I doubt it.”

“Prove me wrong, then.”

We would likely have descended into one of our interminable arguments, had it not been for a knock at the door.

When Minna opened it, she found the Ambassador standing there, head cocked, as though asking permission. Smiling, Minna gestured for her to enter. Dancer nodded toward Allie, then, to my surprise, trotted up to Pepper and I.

“I’m—uh—sorry if we didn’t show you the proper respect, Your Excellency. Or—whatever,” I blurted. It was a clumsy apology, and I knew it. But I also felt it needed to be said.

“Don’t mention it,” the horse replied. “You couldn’t have known. Besides, I have an apology of my own to make. In fact, that’s why I’m here.”

“Do tell,” I said.

“I may have misled you about being just an average poker player.”

“Is that so.” I stared thoughtfully at the horse-entity. “Care to prove it?”

“Do you have access to the tablet devices?”

“Is the vacuum of space unbreathable? Of course we do.” I glanced at Pepper. “Are you in?”

The border collie wagged her tail, and nodded.

“Gluttons for punishment, all of you,” I said, rolling my eyes as I strolled over to Minna and conveyed my request. We set up at the table, and Minna and Allie, having sufficiently patched up their differences for the moment, joined us.

“Harsovian Hold ’Em. You sure you’re up for this?”

“Of course,” Dancer said. “Don’t hold back. I can handle it.”

I stared at her for a moment. At those sapphire blue, guileless eyes. At those up-pricked ears.

Should I pull my punches? She is an Ambassador, after all.

And I am a cat. “Oh, I won’t hold back. Don’t you worry.”

“Good,” she said. And grinned.

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