Closet Spaceship Part 3

I know it's been a while since I posted some fiction, so here you go.

(Okay, I'll admit it: I'm too busy to have much news right now. It's amazing how busy December can be, isn't it? I don't do all that much for Christmas but I still seem to be swamped. How did that happen? There is good news, though: I'm nearing the end of double-checking the proof copy of Another Shot. I have a few more corrections to make and then I'll resubmit it to CreateSpace. Then we'll see what happens!)

As promised, here’s my account of what happened when I was first spotted aboard Outsider.

Mac dropped me off right in the main corridor. I’d seen it before, of course, so I knew where I was: somewhere between the conference room and the dining room. I didn’t have my watch (it doesn’t work well when I’m traveling) so I had no idea what time it was there.

I didn’t see anyone at first, so I thought I’d check the clock in the dining room. As I turned to walk that way, though, a man appeared in the corridor. He’d just come from the dock area. I recognized him as Reggie Hawkins, the ship’s mechanic.

I resisted my impulse to say, “Hi, Reg!” I’m sure that would have really freaked him out. As it was, a stunned expression crossed his face when he saw me. Then his instincts kicked in: he drew his pistol and pointed it at me while yelling, “Hey, we’ve got an intruder here!”

Before I knew it, there were at least five guns pointed in my direction. It certainly wasn’t the reception I’d hoped to get. I raised my hands while I identified the gun wielders, who’d sprung from the dining room: Martinez, O’Connor, Blaine and Thompson, as well as Hawkins.

“Um, hi,” I said. Yeah, I’m a writer and I’m supposed to command the English language, but it kind of got away from me for a while there.

Hawkins pulled a radio from his belt and spoke calmly. “Intruder aboard. What do you want us to do?”

I heard a male voice say, “Wait a moment.”

Oh, boy, I thought. I get to meet the captain!

Sure enough, a minute or so later, I heard that same voice behind me say, “Who are you and how did you get aboard my ship?”

He had one of those voices that doesn’t need to be raised to make an impression. It sounded calm, confident and controlled. Forgive me the alliteration, but that’s how it sounded.

I turned around slowly and wasn’t surprised to see that he wasn’t holding any weapons. Of course he’d trust his crew to take care of that, and besides, he probably wanted to be courteous until he learned my motives.

Captain Lamont was tall, a little taller than me, with a nice face and blue eyes. He was in his late thirties, but he had silver-white hair. His expression was neutral, although I’m sure he must have been baffled about how I’d been able to get aboard.

 

Then I realized I had a problem: I wasn’t at all sure how to explain that.