Chapter 13

Deuce handed Molly a cup of freshly brewed coffee as she entered the galley. Guilty eyes could not meet his.

“Good morning,” he said with a casual shrug.

“Morning.” She mumbled and dared a glance at him. “How’s your ankle?”

“It may have set me back a few weeks’ recovery, but it’s all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I provoked you. I just didn’t know you were skilled in physical combat.” A half smile creased his face. “You learn that in LEP training? I thought that kind of defense was banned.”

“Yeah, well, I might have picked it up somewhere else.”

“Uh-huh.” Deuce sipped his coffee, peering over his cup.

“Yeah, a friend of mine, Dwayne Friedman, taught it to me.” Molly held his gaze at last.

His eyes widened. A huge grin split his lips apart. “Dee? Dwayne taught you that? Now I know you’re lying!”

“How do you know Dwayne?”

“Dee and I go waaaay back, Miss Jacobsen. How do you know him?”

Molly looked into her cup of coffee. The black liquid swirled but gave no hint of how to answer his pointed question. She considered how far to take her charade. “Okay, he didn’t teach me physical combat, but my partner, Sal, did. Dwayne is his stepbrother. That’s how I know—what I know.”

“I see.” Deuce studied Molly’s face.

Her full attention focused on sipping her coffee, avoiding his scrutiny. “So ... now we know. What are we going to do about it?”

The investigator was back on track.

“Well, I’m going to work on getting my ankle healed completely. Then, we will go into our hibernation pods and wake up on Omicron. Then—”

“Then?”

“We will find out what my father is really up to,” Deuce said as he limped out of the galley on one crutch and turned off the light.

Molly stood in the dark and watched him wobble down the narrow hall toward the observatory. Technically, her cover was blown. He knew she wasn’t going to Omicron for the missionary experience. But, then again, neither was he. She sighed and set her coffee down. She would help him with his physical therapy. It was the least she could do since her outburst had set him back. But, she still did not trust him. She couldn’t trust him. Not completely.

Molly entered a report in her Journal.

Zulu Date, 25.11.2214 Tonight Dr. Abraham will enter his hibernation pod. Once secured and at least six hours into his cryogenic stasis, I will enter mine. I do not want to leave anything to chance. Despite all I have been told, I fear for my own safety.

That entry gave her pause.

I have instructed the attendants to revive me first before all the others, further ensuring I am last to go under and first to revive. With these procedures in place, I feel confident my safety cannot be compromised. God help me if I’m wrong. It’s the best I can do to ensure no harm. I am reminded of the prayer Kita and I recited when we were little, “I pray the Lord my soul to keep.” Keep me, Lord, as I slip into unconscious vulnerability. Protect me from the evil one’s hands.

SIDE NOTE: Sorry, Chief, I’m sure you don’t want this in my report. Just understand that out here, alone with one person I gauge as my enemy, it’s difficult not to include a prayer in my report. I am a pastor’s daughter after all.

Dr. Abraham has divulged he is the one who made Kita’s medical film available to the technical source. Apparently, we have a mutual friend. That said, the information is known by both Dr. Abraham and myself. The medical file was altered, and the victim’s lab reports clearly indicate the lie. There is no physical evidence that the victim delivered anything other than a live baby.

What is the senior Abraham really doing? How far-reaching is his operation of piracy? I can only hope I find out. Soon, as far as my conscious mind is concerned, I will set foot on Omicron and begin my investigation. God help us all.

End report. Officer Molly Jacobsen, Send command 675342.J14.

Molly closed her iComm link and sat up. She accessed her biblical cheat sheet app. The familiar passage was pinned for quick access. Psalms 138:7 “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life. You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes, with your right hand you save me.”

“Let it be so, dear Lord, Amen,” Molly prayed. This had become routine, too.

Molly drew in a long slow breath. Today was the day. She swallowed the dry knot of fear in her throat. Deuce would be in the relief facility most of the day. Purge prep. She remembered the other twelve and their misery. Later would be her turn. Molly scrunched her nose and pressed her lips together at the thought. Her last few hours and she would be completely alone and miserable. That three-year-old within trembled. The adult turned a blind eye.

Molly met Deuce exiting the men’s facilities.

“You look pale.” She cringed at her own words. What a stupid thing to say!

A raised eyebrow was his only response. This was going to be a long twelve hours. Molly followed him into the Observatory.