The Goodall Manifest

By Gretchen Rix

The adventure continues for Lieutenant Joan Chikage of the USS Goodall.

Surely, after all she'd gone through, he couldn't mean to put her back in the same boring assignment.

Even if it was important in some way, she was done with that job. And ready for something else.

She'd commanded a small troop of men since then. Led the survivors to safety. Quelled the mutiny. Discovered the murderer. She'd even brought in Van der Ryn so he could pay for his crimes. Accidently or not, it didn't matter.

The captain must know all of this by now. She'd kept everyone alive when they probably should have died.

Except for Leichter. And Praetor. And Running Wolf.

She'd saved the cat, damn it!

The Goodall Manifest, book two in the Goodall series of science fiction mysteries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gretchen Rix
• Release date: Jul 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311529657

Gretchen Rix

Gretchen Rix--I write Texas cozy mysteries in the Boo Done It series set in Lockhart, the barbecue capital of Texas. Tag line: Where there's more than indigestion brewing.I've worked as a bookstore clerk, a newspaper writer, and a book reviewer. I've had jobs as a professional typist, a truck dispatcher and a health insurance claims processor. I learned a lot from these jobs. But my true inspiration for these mysteries was our family's stubborn, huge, skittish and always-hungry dog Boo Radley. This dog could drag anybody into an adventure.My sister and I created and ran an international ghost story writing contest. It lasted four years. Now I no longer ever desire to be a magazine editor. I go to science fiction conventions. I'm a member of RWA. Halloween is my favorite holiday and I take the motto "Keep Austin Weird" seriously even though I live 35 miles away."Talking to The Dead Guys" is the first in a series of murder mysteries about a dog, strong women, and small-town living (or is it dying?). Check out all my books at http://rixcafetexican.com and my blog at http://gretchenrix.com.

Book preview

DEDICATION

Thanks to Roxanne Rix, Billie Rix, Dianne Stevenson, Janece Hudson, and Ruth Bennett. For beta reading and proofreading this book.

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1

Lieutenant Joan Chikage of the USS Goodall shivered uncontrollably inside her borrowed spacesuit. Right under Captain Carmady’s unsympathetic gaze, and in full view of the handful of men she’d just saved.

Not from fear. No, she recognized the tractor beam after-effects for what they were. Worse would come next.

If she remembered correctly, raging hot flashes would follow before too long. Her face would turn beet red. Her brown bangs would drip salty tasting sweat onto her lips. She’d puff up like a popcorn kernel in a popping sack.

She had to get out of Yeoman Praetor’s former suit right away. Otherwise, she’d boil.

Having the dead twin’s pungent stink come wafting up out of the borrowed spacesuit and into her nostrils didn’t help her concentration even one little bit.

Chikage gagged. Managed to get the gloves off her hands.

The testosterone-laced cloud ended up in her lungs anyhow. She pulled ineffectively against the inflexible collar encircling her throat and shoulders before giving up. She cast her gaze about for someone to help her.

The captain turned away from her, and with his precious cat Tiberius finally in his arms, exited the cargo hold without a backward glance. He limped, as if his left leg were suddenly shorter than his right.

Clickety clack, clickety clack. Odd to be hearing the rhythmic clatter of heels on deck after the silence of deep space.

For a second, Lieutenant Joan Chikage imagined Carmady’s rolling gait keeping him steadfast on the pitching deck of a barely seaworthy pirate ship. One that plied the seven seas of Old Earth.

Might as well give him a peg leg while she was at it. A dram of rum. A bright star to steer by.

Stars they had aplenty, but not the right ones. This was no pirate ship. They were on the interstellar cargo ship USS Goodall. About as far away from a pirate ship as it could get.

At least what was left of it. The bottom five decks that she and her crew had just escaped, no longer existed. Dust debris. And maybe not even that by now.

Chikage noted the end to her shivering just in time to steel herself against the assault of heat immediately taking its place. She couldn’t get out of the suit by herself. She’d just have to ride it out.

Chikage swayed as the first wave of heat ran up to her face from her madly itching chest.

Captain Carmady had left her mutinous ensign Van der Ryn behind in the cargo hold with her. Something she didn’t understand. She and her rescued crew couldn’t have been unconscious all that long. The captain had to understand what that snake had done. That murderer. Mutineer. Smuggler.

Her old friend.

In between the waves of heat assaulting her body, Chikage noted the nearly empty cargo hold surrounding her. Heard the scuff of the captain’s boots outside in the hall as he abandoned her to his men. Her pulse raced at the implications. Then she was grabbed from behind.

She tried to wrench her way out of Van der Ryn’s grasp. Knew it was him. Only succeeded in dropping her spacesuit helmet to the deck with a loud thunk. Chikage didn’t realize she’d had it in her grasp. It clattered to a roll just past the traitor.

Van der Ryn grunted in amusement. She saw it in his clear blue eyes just before he twisted her arms viciously behind her back. Then he turned her over to men she’d never seen before. Swarthy types.

And left. Taking what was left of her motley crew with him.

Chikage panicked. Barely noticed the waning of the hot flashes. Or the suddenly dripping bangs on her forehead.

Don’t worry, Joan, Van der Ryn told her, his voice low and calming, God damn him! Help is waiting on them in sick bay, he said. I promise.

Trust me, he mouthed.

Van der Ryn then turned away from her and shepherded what was left of Chikage’s crew past her towards the exit from the cargo hold.

Yeoman Nestor smiled slightly when he stumbled past her in Van der Ryn’s wake, all his vibrant tattoos hidden except for the pockmarks on his face. His spacesuit helmet dangled from his right hand.

Haidar saluted her. Bringing a lump to her throat she rather wished she didn’t feel.

The after-effects from the tractor beam continued dissipating. Chikage swallowed the salty moisture that had runnelled down into her mouth.

Mr. Salem and Mr. Baldhart had tried to salute her as well, she noted. Quickly giving it up as a lost cause when their arms wouldn’t cooperate. Chikage knew just how that felt.

Cloud Eater wouldn’t look at her as he passed.

No surprise there. He’d been as complicit in the Goodall mutiny as Van der Ryn. No friend of hers. Not anymore.

Micklewaithe courteously swung wide of her, but she could still smell his horrible perfumed hair gel. Fruity. Lifted her spirits unexpectedly. Left the taste of lime in her mouth.

Chikage absolutely despised his addiction to those stinking hair gels. But the affectation made him the man he was. Her men probably felt the same way about her teeth grinding.

And then they were gone. The exit door whooshing closed behind the last of them. No one turning back to give her another look.

Her men would be safe. She’d succeeded in that, at least. Sure, Van der Ryn could be lying to her. But her gut instinct said he wasn’t. Chikage’s panic dissipated like fog in sunlight.

The men she’d rescued from the derelict and now-destroyed sections of the Goodall were home. As was Tiberius, the captain’s cat.

She relaxed so suddenly that the two guards Van der Ryn turned her over to, lost their hold on her. Her legs had turned to rubber in the bulky spacesuit. Chikage collapsed onto the deck. Glad her men hadn’t been there to witness her further disgrace.

Chikage quickly found out she couldn’t get up by herself. Not in the damned suit. Kneading her thighs didn’t lessen the cramps, either. She felt like a grounded helium balloon.

It had been a lot of trouble just getting into this damned spacesuit. Who here was going to help her get out of it? There were only the two guards left. She didn’t want either one of them delving into her clothing.

With a big breath, Chikage calmed herself. Looked around her. Even from her position down on the floor, she could see how empty the cargo hold had become.

She spotted nothing she would have expected here. No boxed stores of dry goods, no spare parts for equipment, and none of the private possessions of the crew that were normally kept in this very hold.

She looked at empty space. Spic and span clean, empty space.

It didn’t seem to matter to her two new nursemaids that she saw how very bare the cupboards were. They both stood at ease, smiling down at her as if she were a child who’d performed some exceptional task they’d expected her to fail.

Good God, her mind was performing pinwheels! First pirates, then nursemaids. She’d be describing the ship’s automated food delivery system as some sort of gourmet cook next.

The guards watched her with expressions exactly like her parents had fondly used. Suddenly Chikage could taste the powder on the sugar cookie, the tart sourness of the hard candy her parents had habitually rewarded her with.

The recollection was strong. Unexpected. Dangerous. She needed to be very careful here. With great effort Chikage forced her mind back to reality.

Somehow she didn’t believe these two men had been thinking of candy.

What she smelled was the rank body odor of powerful men who hadn’t bathed recently. She took a closer look at the two.

The uniforms were wrong.

Although they’d never really formalized their clothing requirements aboard the Goodall, Captain Carmady had insisted on pressed trousers, unwrinkled tee-shirts, and one’s rank insignia clearly placed below the right collar bone.

These two stood in the same dark blue colored one-piece overalls she’d seen among the military ships they’d encountered. No insignia. No wrinkles, either. Just the same indigo blue from neck to wrist and down to ankles. Uniforms.

Attention! she suddenly commanded, projecting her voice up at the both of them. Just to see if they’d jump. Didn’t really expect the reaction she got.

They jumped.

The two young men morphed in seconds into the soldiers she figured they were. Theirs was not the kind of discipline the Goodall crew had ever had much truck with. These guys were military. Or at least military trained.

Chikage touched her fingers lightly to her forehead. A silent prayer that was her habit. Dried sweat pilled under her fingernails before turning powdery. She dusted it off on her suit’s rigid fabric.

Then she raised her arms out to the soldiers. She was tired of being sprawled at their feet on the cargo deck. If they were her only help down here, then she’d use them as best she could.

With a start of surprise, Chikage noticed all the unpleasant after-effects of being in the tractor beam had dissipated. Her body temperature had returned to normal.

Without being ordered, the two men pulled her up from the floor. She didn’t come up easily. Looked like a downed parade balloon. Felt like that popped corn kernel.

Once on her feet, Chikage attempted an at ease posture. Found it didn’t work as well for her as full attention. She needed to straighten her spine before barking out more orders. The two men’s benign expressions were beginning to fade into consternation.

Explain yourself, she demanded. She kept her eyes locked on the man closest to her. Anything less assertive and she’d have exposed herself as the fraud she felt she was. Chikage knew she’d been promoted past her abilities as an officer. These guys were new. They didn’t need to know that. At least, not from her.

With Van der Ryn and Cloud Eater somehow back in the good graces of the captain, who knew what sort of stories they’d spread. Hopefully they’d be arrested the minute Captain Carmady heard her full report.

If the captain heard it.

2

The best she’d probably come out of this affair was tending the rhinoceros beetles again. She shuddered, and not from the cold. There were worse assignments she could inherit. But she hoped she’d grown beyond the beetles in her captain’s estimation.

Coming back to life in the cargo hold of the Goodall with the rest of her crewmen, tangled in their makeshift tethers like fish in a net, had put everything into perspective. Chikage thought it a perfect metaphor for her career as an officer so far.

She let her thoughts drift back to the catastrophe yesterday had become. Felt the burn of pepper from the pastrami she’d eaten. With all the vomiting she’d done, there should be nothing left of it.

One of the guards chose that moment to answer her.

Permission to speak freely, sir!

Chikage forced her attention back to the young man at her elbow. His melodious voice captivated her. Was he any older than she was? She didn’t think so. Chikage nodded, nervously sweeping her bangs out of her eyes, then turned to see what the other soldier was up to.

Still standing at attention. Like a statue. She motioned him at ease.

Very sorry for your loss, sir, the nearest of them said. Officer Leichter will be missed. With your permission, sir, the captain has designated me as her successor. I’m to be your personal aide.

Patricia Leichter had never been Chikage’s aide.

Mere lieutenants didn’t have aides.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Her nose detected the change in his scent. Chikage thought she smelled panic somewhere amongst the sweet and sour of his body odor. Panic had a more acidic smell.

Name? she asked. She could think of Leichter later. This personal aide of hers had black hair buzzed to a stubble. Had green eyes that distracted her. Was barely taller than she was and had to be age twenty-two at the most. Had the voice of an angel.

Ely Samp, sir.

Chikage puffed out her cheeks to keep the amused reaction off her face. Ely. Sounded like a girl’s name.

Chikage surprised herself with the huff she used to disguise her truncated giggle. How she could find anything funny in her situation was incomprehensible. Human beings were so very strange, she thought. Including her.

And you? Chikage pointed to the other young man standing silently watching them. Who are you?

Andrii Vorhees. This one answered with noncommittal ease. This was the one she’d have to watch out for. More devil than angel in his voice.

Damn! Another girl’s name. She abruptly ran her glance up and down his body. Nope, he was a guy all right.

Are you also assigned as my personal aide? she asked. This guy had blue eyes, but not the startling color of Van der Ryn’s. Sort of a tired and washed-out color. Also a buzz cut hairstyle. Not flattering to this soldier at all.

Bodyguard, sir.

Bodyguard? That was damn interesting. Chikage puffed out her cheeks with air and snorted.

Never mind, she told them when they started at her exhalation.

Silly bugger thought he could pass himself off as her bodyguard? Well, he was big enough for it. She had to look up at least a good foot to stare into his eyes.

Tell me, Mr. Samp, she said, turning her head back to Ely. Deliberately bypassing Vorhees. Why is this cargo bay so empty? If it were less orderly I’d suspect it had been looted. What’s going on here?

And why did Captain Carmady take all her men away and leave her here? Alone with these two soldiers?

Her new personal aide looked over her head at her new bodyguard and nodded. Chikage whipped her neck around and caught Vorhees nodding back at Samp. She didn’t like that sort of silent communication between strangers. Implied a connection she was missing.

Chikage kneaded her neck with one of her fists, annoyed by the popping, crackling noises she heard from her good ear. She’d be in serious trouble if her neck froze on her.

Captain said that would be the first thing you noticed, Samp told her.

Her neck? No, he must mean the empty hold.

Chikage bristled, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up with goosebumps. Quickly, she tried to rub them away, even though her suit interfered. The pads of her fingertips catching on the all the old and rough material, rasping against the less than pliant surface.

Still she fumed. Captain Carmady knew less than nothing about her. Why was she still down in the cargo hold?

The men exchanged those same looks, those same nods over her head. Before she could complain, Samp addressed her. He seemed worried. It showed in the slight quirk to his mouth