nodded. Nothing like making nice with a suspected bomber. “So, what happened to the major?”
“He’s had a relapse.”
“He’s an alcoholic?”
“No. He suffers PTSD. You do know what he does for a living, don’t you?”
“Not exactly. Like I said, he was an uncooperative drunk and being uncooperative, he didn’t say much.”
“He is among the best, the elite, when it comes to disarming bombs.”
Marlee spun her eye lenses open before dialing them back to normal to punctuate her, “Really?”
Woodridge nodded.
“I would never have guessed.”
“Marlene?”
“Ma’am?”
“Deacon said he slept off the liquor here, in your quarters.” She looked about the unfurnished room.
If Deacon had revealed that to Woodridge, he still trusted her. Yet, every instinct she had screamed not to trust Woodridge.
Marlee cleared her throat. “Yeah, I hauled him here and let him snore away on the deck.”
“You also exchanged one of your med vials for his.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“I was feeling groggy because of the liquor I had consumed, and fatigue was settling in. Sickbay was way too far away to go, and his condition, at least to me, didn’t seem like an emergency-emergency. Besides, the man wasn’t cooperating. I had no idea where he lived. If I had, I would have hauled his ass to his place and dumped him there.” She shrugged. “It just seemed prudent to go home and worry about things come the morrow. Which is today.”
“And you’ve slept the day through?”
“Don’t I wish.” Now why had she said that?
The look on Woodridge’s face and the tilt of her head said she was eager to know what lay behind the comment.
“Ma’am, Deacon woke around 0600 and made a racket. He had to piss and didn’t know where the head was. Then he wanted to know where he was and how he got here. I filled him in, even told him about his arm and how I gave him one of my partly-used vials, which he needed to replace in a day or so.”
“When did he leave?”
“I have no idea. I went back to sleep. I didn’t hear him leave.”
“By any chance did he mention a bomb?”
Marlee flashed her lenses to mimic shock and concern. “No. Why?”
“It’s likely nothing, but in his current state, he imagines he’s found a bomb.”
Marlee schooled her voice. “Really?”
Woodridge nodded. “Commander Asuka, who is Deacon’s best friend, thinks Deacon may have made a bomb and planted it somewhere on the station so he could disarm it, but actually he would trigger it and kill himself.”
Marlee fought a wave of shock and took pains to school her voice. “Why would Deacon do that?”
“Because stress has addled his thinking. Look, Marlene, eighteen months ago he fell victim to a sadistic bomber named Yokovnin. That terrorist took perverse pleasure in sending Deacon bombs. Inside the bombs were clues to where Yokovnin would strike next. The stress and pressure took its toll.” More softly, she said, “Deacon has been reassigned, demoted to an instructor…”
Marlee picked up her mug, took a few swallows of her tepid coffee, which only settled her nerves a fraction, then set the mug down. All the while, she was aware of Woodridge studying her.
“Marlene?”
“Ma’am?”
Woodridge’s voice softened. “I was once in love with Deacon. It was a long time ago. We are friends. I hate seeing him like this.” She got to her feet. “To protect him from more scrutiny, I came here to return your ID pip. No one but you and I know about it. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The pip was in an inside pocket, not on the outside, of the hoodie Deacon wore, and which, I presumed from its size, he stole from you. Commander Asuka hasn’t realized the hoodie doesn’t belong to Deacon. I’m sure you don’t want to come under one of Asuka’s inquisitions, do you?”
“Certainly not!”
“Knowing Deacon as I do, well, I figured he kept the pip hidden to protect
“He’s had a relapse.”
“He’s an alcoholic?”
“No. He suffers PTSD. You do know what he does for a living, don’t you?”
“Not exactly. Like I said, he was an uncooperative drunk and being uncooperative, he didn’t say much.”
“He is among the best, the elite, when it comes to disarming bombs.”
Marlee spun her eye lenses open before dialing them back to normal to punctuate her, “Really?”
Woodridge nodded.
“I would never have guessed.”
“Marlene?”
“Ma’am?”
“Deacon said he slept off the liquor here, in your quarters.” She looked about the unfurnished room.
If Deacon had revealed that to Woodridge, he still trusted her. Yet, every instinct she had screamed not to trust Woodridge.
Marlee cleared her throat. “Yeah, I hauled him here and let him snore away on the deck.”
“You also exchanged one of your med vials for his.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“I was feeling groggy because of the liquor I had consumed, and fatigue was settling in. Sickbay was way too far away to go, and his condition, at least to me, didn’t seem like an emergency-emergency. Besides, the man wasn’t cooperating. I had no idea where he lived. If I had, I would have hauled his ass to his place and dumped him there.” She shrugged. “It just seemed prudent to go home and worry about things come the morrow. Which is today.”
“And you’ve slept the day through?”
“Don’t I wish.” Now why had she said that?
The look on Woodridge’s face and the tilt of her head said she was eager to know what lay behind the comment.
“Ma’am, Deacon woke around 0600 and made a racket. He had to piss and didn’t know where the head was. Then he wanted to know where he was and how he got here. I filled him in, even told him about his arm and how I gave him one of my partly-used vials, which he needed to replace in a day or so.”
“When did he leave?”
“I have no idea. I went back to sleep. I didn’t hear him leave.”
“By any chance did he mention a bomb?”
Marlee flashed her lenses to mimic shock and concern. “No. Why?”
“It’s likely nothing, but in his current state, he imagines he’s found a bomb.”
Marlee schooled her voice. “Really?”
Woodridge nodded. “Commander Asuka, who is Deacon’s best friend, thinks Deacon may have made a bomb and planted it somewhere on the station so he could disarm it, but actually he would trigger it and kill himself.”
Marlee fought a wave of shock and took pains to school her voice. “Why would Deacon do that?”
“Because stress has addled his thinking. Look, Marlene, eighteen months ago he fell victim to a sadistic bomber named Yokovnin. That terrorist took perverse pleasure in sending Deacon bombs. Inside the bombs were clues to where Yokovnin would strike next. The stress and pressure took its toll.” More softly, she said, “Deacon has been reassigned, demoted to an instructor…”
Marlee picked up her mug, took a few swallows of her tepid coffee, which only settled her nerves a fraction, then set the mug down. All the while, she was aware of Woodridge studying her.
“Marlene?”
“Ma’am?”
Woodridge’s voice softened. “I was once in love with Deacon. It was a long time ago. We are friends. I hate seeing him like this.” She got to her feet. “To protect him from more scrutiny, I came here to return your ID pip. No one but you and I know about it. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The pip was in an inside pocket, not on the outside, of the hoodie Deacon wore, and which, I presumed from its size, he stole from you. Commander Asuka hasn’t realized the hoodie doesn’t belong to Deacon. I’m sure you don’t want to come under one of Asuka’s inquisitions, do you?”
“Certainly not!”
“Knowing Deacon as I do, well, I figured he kept the pip hidden to protect
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