Outcasts of Gideon

Dewey Buck : Part 2

Around him, the machinery of the shuttle Aion was alive with lights and dials. Over the years, he'd forgotten the meaning of many of them. He knew about the few switches and meters which kept him on course and aware of space debris. Beyond that, how this small vessel kept running had increasingly become a mystery to him.

He flipped a switch near his left pinkie and spoke toward the screen. "Eleven nineteen XVF prepared for departure," he said.

"Departing through course three seven," came a woman's voice.

"Dawn, you don't have to pretend you don't know me." Dewey's left arm twitched from the extension.

The vid screen blinked, filling with Dawn's face. "Dewey, we have to keep a clear channel here. Grant doesn't like it when we socialize. And the empty isn't free."

Dewey shook his head and frowned. "We ain't socializin' if we're just sayin' whose comin' back to Pyroeis."

It wasn't the first time Dewey had made this very same argument. From her expression, he could tell Dawn wasn't having any of it. "Eleven nineteen XVF, you are cleared for launch through course three seven." When she extinguished her video feed, the screen switched back to the passenger cabin.

"Damn it, Dawn. The least you could say is goodbye." He sounded a little more whiny than he cared to.

With his left middle finger, Dewey flipped another switch. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have clearance to depart for Pyroeis. Please ensure you have stowed all personal belongin's and are secured to your seat. The Lackey Shuttle Service cannot be held liable for injuries or property damage due to unsecured personal items."

He flipped the switch again and stared at the vid before him, counting to ten. Taking a deep breath, he reached his right index finger toward another button. Before he could press it, he saw a person burst into view in the passenger cabin below. He pulled back his hand.

Two other people rushed into the room. They wore LSS uniforms. The man they were chasing was tall and thin, covered in the chocolate brown dust of Phaethon. Dewey flipped a switch to activate the comm.

"I have to be on this shuttle," shouted the thin man. Dewey recognized his voice. He didn't recognize the man.

"Sir, you are not authorized to be on this shuttle," said one of the men in uniform.

Dewey unstrapped himself and turned toward the hatch. He jumped down the ladder into the passenger cabin. There he found the thin man cornered in the back row of seats. "What is goin' on here?"

The thin man looked his way and smiled. "Dewey, tell these people I have to be on this shuttle."

Being in the room made it easier for Dewey to place the voice. It sounded like someone he knew, Bobby Ray Elliot. The person standing before him looked nothing like his friend. "Bobby?"

The thin man raised his arms, presenting himself. In one hand was a battered messenger pouch. Even from this distance, Dewey could tell his friend did not smell good. Being covered in dust didn't help, but Bobby looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks.

Dewey tried to remember when he last saw Bobby. It was on a standard run to Phaethon. That was better than a month prior. It might have been two. The man who stood before him now barely resembled his friend. This man had a haunted stare and skin stretched too tight across his face. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Do you know this guy?" asked one of the men in uniform.

"Yeah, I know him."

"He hasn't covered passage."

Dewey stared at them. There was too much going on for him to think straight. "Yeah, I knew he was comin'. I should have let you guys know."

"We'll have to file a report."