Chapter 20: Inciting Incident

Chapter 20: Inciting Incident

The Lord, by Moses, to Pharaoh said:
Oh! Let my people go!

If not, I'll smite your first-born dead,
Oh! Let my people go!

Oh! go down, Moses,
Away down to Egypt's land,

And tell King Pharaoh,
To Let my people go!

Oh! Let my people go!

Underground Railroad Song
Arranged by L.C. Lockwood
Published 1862 AD

“Not too bad,” Matthew said, feeling the power of the Sparrow’s freshly refurbished engines. “Who would have thought an army of mechanics on a corporate voucher could make her sing like new.” They were in an empty orbit around Jupiter, waiting on Benny to line up their next job. Matthew pulled back on the flight-yoke, and the Sparrow roared as it made a complete loop and leveled back into their orbital plane. He gestured to Yvonne. “Want to give her a run?”

“As if you had to ask,” she said. She immediately put power to the engines and then threw the Sparrow into a double aileron roll with the maneuvering thrusters. The Sparrow’s grav plates couldn’t quite neutralize the sudden gee forces placed on the interior, and Matthew felt himself pressed back into the seat.

“Hope no one was pouring a cup of coffee,” he said.

She straightened the second roll, a sheepish look on her face. “Right. She feels good, though. They weren’t kidding about that twenty-two percent power increase. Nice of them to tune up the one we didn’t burn out.”

Matthew glanced at the display showing the Sparrow’s orbit. He spun the ship around, gently this time, and burned the engines briefly to recircularize the orbit. Their testing had thrown it off by a fair amount. “That’s on Huygens’ ticket. They gave a blank check to fix our propulsion and engine compartments. The mechanics took them literally and gave us the royal service.”

“I think they knew what they were doing,” Yvonne said. “The value of the fuel on that supertanker was more than enough to justify the refit from a business perspective.” The computer chimed an incoming transmission. “Speaking of business, Benny sent a typed message.”

Matthew already had it up. “Cargo run from Freeport 50 to…” He frowned as he saw the destination. “Europa. I don’t like it.”

“That’s not a surprise. What are we hauling?” she asked.

“Assorted medical supplies for a hospital.”

“I don’t see any harm in that.”

“I don’t either, but there are risks involved anytime you go to Europa,” he said, idly wondering if Hueso Rojo had ID’d him months ago when he’d last been there. “Plus I’m always a little leery about taking on jobs that could benefit any of the cartels.”

“Keeping hospitals well stocked seems like the sort of thing that benefits the broader population to me. Are you looking for a way out of this?”

He looked at the display and tried to figure out what it was he wanted. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll check with Benny to make sure he vetted the buyer and seller properly and not worry about it. The delivery is to Nuevo Lima. There’ll be cartel presence there, but it’s one of the bigger cities, so it’s not completely owned by slavers. There has to be some honest economic activity on the moon. Otherwise, the whole place would go under.”

Yvonne gave him a good long stare. “You know, I thought you were going to bug out on us. We understand you’ve got a past there.”

“It’s just a delivery,” he said. “We’ll only be there a few hours.”

“Good.” She stood and turned to leave. “I’m going to grab some lunch. Want me to send a sandwich this way?”

“Please.” She left him alone, and he tapped out a quick message to Benny. Odds were he’d done his due diligence. He and the broker seemed to have finally come to an understanding of what they expected from each other.

It was nice actually, not having to constantly turn down jobs. Come to think of it, life was pretty good in general right now. The crew was a bit nontraditional, but they’d proven themselves several times over, even the young ones. He promised himself that he wasn’t going to make a habit of putting them in any more danger than he had to, but they weren’t defenseless when things got rough.

He pulled up the charts and set course for Freeport 50. It would only take a few hours for their orbits to intersect, so no need to use the frameshift. He picked his hat up off the console and scrutinized it. Much as he didn’t want to go back to Europa, maybe he’d get a chance to pick up a better hat on the surface. Someone in Nuevo Lima would know how to make an honest campero and not one of those cheap imitations or ridiculous curved Arizonan cowboy hats.

Venus would freeze over before he wore one of those things.

Grace watched from the corner of her eye as Matthew and Abigail loaded the shipping containers into the hold. She and Davey leaned against one of the side walls trying their hardest not to be bored. Since the Sparrow had been in the shop, there was absolutely no maintenance work. They’d finished their other chores days ago, and checkers and darts only lasted so long.

“I guess we could offer to help,” Davey said to her as the lift came up with the third container.

“And get in the way? I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. Across the hold, Matthew rolled the fancy new hover lift over to the metal-walled container. Its arms widened and gripped the over two-meter wide container and gently lifted it off the floor. She wasn’t exactly sure how the thing worked, grav plates probably, but the way Matthew easily guided the machine across the hold was impressive.

“Think about this, though,” Davey said. “If we offer to help, we get credit for having offered, even if they say no.”

She eyed her brother. Maybe he wasn’t always as dumb as he let on. “That’s sneaky.”

He grinned. “Watch this.” He stood and casually strolled across the deck towards where Matthew had just set the container down. The gaucho wiped his brow as Davey walked up to him and asked, “Need any help with this?”

Grace was pretty sure Davey’s plan was sunk when Matthew nodded. “Sure. I’ll let you get the next one.”

So much for that. Davey glanced back at her and she smirked at him. His shoulders slumped a bit, but she didn’t think he would be too upset if Matthew let him use the new toy.

The lift came back up with Abigail and another container. “Oh, Davey’s helping now. No wonder it’s taking so long. Come on, gentlemen. We don’t have all day.”

“The more we train him to do, the less work we have,” Matthew suggested.

“Good point.” She turned on Davey. “Listen well then, kid.” It was the usual hard time she gave her brother, but Grace noticed a wink and a smile this time. She only hoped Davey didn’t miss the playful tone and take her too seriously. He’d worked hard to earn what respect he had, and Abigail was always the last to give it.

They finished the last three shipping containers and the hold was getting pretty crowded. They might have been able to get one, maybe two more in here, but there wouldn’t be any maneuvering room if they did.

“How long will it take us to get to Europa?” Davey asked as he finished stashing the hover lift.

“Not long,” Matthew said. “Europa is on the far side of Jupiter right now, so we’ll use the frameshift rather than just wait for an orbit.”

Grace leaped to her feet and followed them to the ladder. “It’ll be good to be on a surface again. What’s Europa like?”

Abigail froze in place as she had just begun the climb. “What? No. Matthew, you’re not letting them off the ship, are you?”

He shook his head emphatically. “Of course not. You’re both forbidden from getting off the ship while we’re on Europa.”

“That’s not fair,” Davey grumbled.

“Neither is it fair for the half of the moon’s population that lives in slavery working the fields,” Matthew said. “If you think I’m letting either of you so much as set foot on Europan soil, you’re kidding yourselves. Too dangerous. Decision is final.”

He followed Abigail up the ladder and Grace made a face at him as he disappeared up the shaft. “What a ripoff. What’s the good of being planetside if you don’t get to at least see it?”

Davey gave her a good long look. “I agree with him.”

“When did you start trying to play grownup?” she taunted.

“When my little hostage stunt failed. Come on, let’s at least go see it from the cockpit.” He climbed up the ladder.

She followed, muttering to herself about how no one was any fun. She’d almost reached the main deck when she heard a muffled thud behind them. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Davey reached a hand down to help pull her up.

She ignored it. “I don’t know. Heard something on the lower deck.”

“Probably just the cargo settling. Maybe they didn’t pack them very securely.”

That made sense. She pushed the matter aside and followed him to the cockpit.

Twenty-five minutes later, the pale white and yellow-brown moon of Europa hung beneath them. Grace leaned forward to get a look. Stark patches of green and gold stuck out in regular intervals. Probably farmland. Matthew had mentioned how much food Europa grew for the entire neighborhood. It was terrible that so many of the people were slaves. She and the other kids at the habitat knew that most of them would have ended up here someday when the Duke sold them.

“You know how much I hate it when people watch me fly,” Yvonne said threateningly.

“We’re watching the planet not you,” Davey said.

“Moon,” Grace corrected him. “Matthew said we can’t get off in port so we gotta see it somehow.”

“They’re not in the way,” Matthew said. “At least Abigail didn’t join us.”

“I can do that if you’d like,” she called from the hall.

“Don’t even think about it,” Yvonne said.

Grace watched as the surface of the moon came steadily closer. Yvonne flipped the Sparrow around towards space and the engines rumbled through the deck as she slowed them down. “Now we can’t see Europa,” Grace pouted.

“Easily fixed,” Yvonne said and rolled the ship so that it back came into view.

After a few minutes of shedding speed, Yvonne righted the Sparrow, just in time for them to enter an environmental shield. “Perfect deorbit,” she said proudly.

Green fields spread out beneath them and, in front of them, a low city perched on a hilltop. Something bright shone in the sky far above them. “What’s that?” Grace asked.

“Solar reflectors,” Matthew said. “Europa may have subsurface oceans to provide water after desalination, but it’s too far from the sun and its nights too long and dark for it to be able to grow much. There’s a fleet of satellites in orbit to fix that.”

Yvonne brought the Sparrow in over the outskirts of the city and lowered it onto a landing pad.

“Landing gear,” Matthew said, gently.

Yvonne reached over and hit a few switches. “Right. Got it.” There was a gentle bump as they settled down onto the pad.

“Did she almost crash?” Davey asked, a smile creeping across his face.

“No,” Yvonne declared. “It was just going to be a rougher than normal landing.”

Matthew stood from the pilot’s seat. “Gonna head out and meet up with the receivers. Abigail you coming with me?” He stepped past Grace into the hall.

“Right behind you,” Abigail said, emerging from her room. “Let’s get this over with.”

Grace followed them into the common room. They opened the portside airlock and lowered the ramp. She followed them to the door and peeked out. Just looked like another city out there as far as she was concerned, but less red than Mars.

Matthew pointed a finger at her. “Stay on the ship. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled as she turned away and wandered back to the common room. The worst part about being the youngest person on the Sparrow was not being treated seriously. She sat at the table and leaned forward on her elbows. With her bracelets, she was safer than anyone but Abigail. Maybe even safer, because she actually was bulletproof. The way they made her…

She heard a thump echo up from the the hold. Weird. That was the same sound she’d heard earlier. She walked across to the hall, gripped the ladder, and slid down into the hold.

It was quiet, as it should’ve been, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary that she could tell.

Bang.

She frowned. Definitely coming from one of the shipping containers. Up close it was less muffled, more metallic. She approached the offender and stood on her tiptoes to check its readouts. Green lights shined on the refrigeration unit. Medical supplies have to keep nice and cool, she guessed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

An evenly spaced rhythm. Her heart synced with the beat and she pulled out her comm. “Yvonne. Get down to the hold. Bring Davey.”

Matthew stood at the bottom of the ramp and looked around the deserted landing pad. In the distance, a pair of wheeled trucks turned down the road towards them. Their lights lit the empty side street, casting shadows in their direction.

“You’d think they would have had us drop hospital supplies at the hospital,” Abigail said. “Don’t they usually have their own pads?”

“Maybe it’s a small hospital with only a couple that they keep clear for emergencies,” he said, not taking his eyes off the trucks. To his eye, they didn’t look big enough to haul six shipping containers.

“Could be.” She crossed her arms. “This still seems a little middle-of-no-where to me. Surely there was a more public pad available.”

“Maybe this one was cheap. Benny vetted both the sender and receiver.”

“And yet both of us are suspicious.”

He nodded. “Keep your eyes open.”

The trucks pulled up to a stop and two men got out of each. One of the men walked right up to Matthew and offered his hand. “Matthew Cole?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. Here with a shipment for Hospital Misericordia.”

The man smiled in a way that Matthew found uncomfortable. “That’s us. Let’s get the paperwork out of the way so we can get out of here.”

Yvonne climbed down into the hold. She hated this ladder, hated how it made her bones creak.

It was worse when others were waiting on her. Sometimes she forgot just how much younger than her the rest of the crew was. Or else she forgot how old she was getting.

“Come on,” Grace called from beneath. “Over here.”

She finished the climb and ignored the mild ache in her right knee. “Which container is it?”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Never mind,” she said. What was in there, some kind of animal?

“Should we open it?” Davey asked, sliding down the ladder behind her.

She stared at the container for several long seconds. They might get in trouble with the client, but then again, they weren’t supposed to be shipping live cargo. Someone was lying, and it would be better to find out what was going on before they confronted anyone. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s open it.”

The three of them crept around to the end of the container. Her heart had started to hammer. “Grace. Be ready with those bracelets. Just in case. And Davey…?”

“I’m ready,” he said, brandishing his submachine gun.

“Good.” She inspected the latching mechanism. Of course, it was locked. “We’ll need to cut through this.”

“I’ll grab the torch,” Grace said and disappeared around the corner. She reappeared a moment later with the acetylene torch and a welding mask. Yvonne and Davey turned away as she lit it up. Shadows flickered wildly in the cramped hold as the torch did its work. It was taking longer than Yvonne wanted, but since she wasn’t ready to see what was inside, too little time as well.

“Got it,” Grace said. Yvonne turned back around as the girl pushed the mask up over her head and dropped the torch to the ground.

Here goes nothing. “I’ll open the door,” Yvonne said, trying to keep her voice steady. She reached forward and gave it a yank. The latch stuck a bit where Grace had cut through it, but gave way with a metallic groan, and the doors swung wide.

The stench hit them first. Yvonne peered into the twelve-meter container. It was bisected down the middle by an interior partition, and to both this and the outer walls, men and women were shackled. Dozens of them.

Slaves.

Yvonne’s hand trembled as she fumbled for her comm.

Abigail passively watched as Matthew and the client worked out a few of the details in the paperwork. The other three men did everything in their power not to make eye contact with her, which could have been either perfectly normal behavior or telling. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing which it was.

Matthew’s comm chimed and he answered it. “Do you have a minute?” Yvonne asked. Her voice seemed a bit flatter than usual to Abigail.

“Trying to get things finished out here so we can unload,” he said. “What do you need?”

“It’s about our next client.”

That didn’t add up at all, which meant something was up. Matthew glanced her way before turning back to the man. “I need to check on this. It’ll just be a minute.” Abigail followed him to one of the Sparrow’s landing struts. “We’re out of earshot, Yvonne. What’s going on?”

“Slaves, Matthew. The containers are filled with slaves.”

Abigail felt her jaw drop. “I thought Benny vetted this job, how did…?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” Yvonne hissed. Grace and Davey are still opening the containers. Three of the six have human cargo.”

Abigail raised her eyes to Matthew’s face. His jaw had set and his eyes stared into a different world. What was wrong with him? He always reacted with action and now he was going catatonic.

“You there, Matthew?” she asked. “We’ve got a bit of a problem here.”

His eyes focused and he looked up at her. There was something else in his eyes now. What was his history with this moon?

“Prep the Sparrow for launch,” he said, “but don’t start the engines. We have to deal with our friends first. Otherwise, they might call for help in orbit.”

“You sure they’re involved and not just dupes like us?” Yvonne asked.

“Absolutely. Those trucks can’t carry three containers apiece. They were going to offload the slaves and load them like cattle after we left. Abigail, follow my lead.”

He turned and strode back to where the four slavers waited. She followed, trying to walk as casually as she could but knew she was failing miserably. Slaves. They had slaves on the Sparrow.

“Gentlemen,” Matthew said. “I’m afraid there has been a change of plans.”

All four of them stiffened, their posture shifting to a ready position. There was all the proof Abigail needed. She pulled her shield from her back and deployed it. The faint hum of the grav plate gave her confidence. Someone was going to pay for this.

“Turns out I’ve been lied to,” Matthew said. His voice low and filled with venom. “I don’t like it when I’m lied to. I don’t like being tricked. But lucky for you, I don’t much care for killing folks. So either you four surrender now or you’re all dead men.”

They reacted in unison, hands reaching for their guns.

Matthew was faster than all of them. In a flash of movement, he drew his revolver and shot three of them dead. Abigail charged the last one, who abandoned the futile attempt at defense and threw himself to the ground hands covering his head.

“No, don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”

Matthew pointed his gun down at the man’s face. “And why shouldn’t we? Don’t you deserve this and more?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s…”

Matthew shot the ground in front of him. He reached down and disarmed the man. “Take him to the Sparrow. Bind him, gag him and put him somewhere where I don’t have to see him.”

She hoisted the slaver to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure they don’t already have slaves in the trucks.”

She threw the man over her shoulder. He struggled for a moment before realizing he would never break out of her iron grip. She carried him up the ramp but turned to look at Matthew before entering the Sparrow. He was exiting the second truck, alone at least. She almost didn’t recognize him, the way he moved, the way his face twisted into a grimace.

She turned away. There would be time to sort out the details later. For now, it was time to find some engine tape and a closet for her captive.

“Fire up the engines. I’m on my way.”

“Affirmative,” Yvonne said, flipping a series of switches. She’d been watching the scopes. It was quiet out there, and of what she could see of the sky above them, no ships had reacted to the action. She’d watched Matthew gun down the slavers. She’d never known anyone could move that fast.

The engines rumbled. Yvonne kept an eye on their readiness. Looks like the refit had done wonders on the warm-up time. They’d be able to pull out in just a couple minutes. “What’s it look like down there, Davey.”

“Looks like forty-eight per container. Three containers with people. All told that’s…” He paused, and she knew he was struggling with the math. “One hundred and fifty or so people?”

“Close enough.”

“What are we supposed to do? Let them go or leave them in the containers?”

She’d been pondering that question herself. “We’ll let Matthew decide. We don’t exactly have amenities for that many on board. I’ll be down after we lift off to see if anyone needs medical attention.”

Matthew came into the room, tossed his hat aside, and threw himself into his seat. His jaw was clenched and a vein stuck out on the side of his neck. His hands flew over the controls as he pulled up the Sparrow’s status.

“Matthew, what are…”

“Don’t want to talk right now.”

She bristled. “Now I don’t either. I was trying to ask what we’re going to do.”

He looked at her, then back at the controls. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Davey wants to know if we let them free from their…”

“No. We don’t know who they are. Most of them are probably innocent people, but it’s quite possible some are gang members that fell afoul of rivals and were sold off. We’ll get somewhere we can sort it out. Too dangerous to have that many strangers loose.”

As hard as that was to swallow, it did make sense. “And if someone needs medical attention?”

He waved her off. “You’re the doctor. I have no right to tell you can’t help someone.” The Sparrow was ready and he lifted it off the ground. To Yvonne’s surprise, he pulled up the controls for the chin gun.

“What are you doing?”

He fired two short bursts, shredding both trucks, and setting them on fire. “Not going to leave them anything of value.” With that, he pointed the Sparrow toward space and gunned the engines.

Yvonne slipped out of the cockpit. That last part had been entirely unnecessary, and downright foolish if they were trying to slip out without attracting attention. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He was running on emotion, and it was going to get them killed if they ran into trouble.

“Yvonne,” Abigail came over her comm, “We’ve got someone that’s unresponsive down here.”

“I’m on my way,” she said, grabbing her medical bag from the common room and jogging to the ladder.

The stench in the hold was now unbearable. Unwashed bodies and worse. How could anyone be so cruel? What led men to treat each other like animals and thus become animals themselves? Abigail, Davey, and Grace were huddled around a middle aged woman lying on the floor. She moaned faintly. “Give me some space,” she commanded, and the others backed away. “Abigail, you better keep an eye on our captain. I’m not sure he’s thinking clearly.”

Abigail nodded and ascended the ladder. Yvonne turned back to the woman, old habits clicking into place. “Ma’am, can you hear me?” Her eyes fluttered briefly, and she shifted weight. “No, don’t move.” Yvonne lifted her right wrist to take her pulse and then realized her arm was broken. She couldn’t imagine the pain of having a broken arm shackled to the wall of a shipping container.

A thousand curses coursed through Yvonne’s mind, none of which contained enough hate for the situation. She managed not to say them aloud, if only because Grace was watching.

She took a deep breath and, reaching for her bag, got to work.

Abigail sat silently as Matthew put the Sparrow back into orbit and frameshifted away. A few seconds later, he disengaged it and adjusted their course, setting the device to recharge.

She couldn’t take it any longer. “Hey. Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright,” he snapped.

“You’re not fooling me, Matthew.”

He looked at her for a moment with cold eyes before turning back to the controls. “There’s a lot of people that are worse off than me right now. We can worry about me later.”

“Or now.”

The frameshift signaled that it was charged and he reengaged it. “Later.”

“Why do you keep everything to yourself?” she asked. “We’re a crew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“My past isn’t causing any drama, is it?”

He didn’t answer. After just a handful of seconds, the frameshift disengaged and a moon hung in front of them. Ganymede. All things considered, it was probably the most civilized place out in the Jupiter neighborhood. There were any number of cities where they could land with police and medical services capable of dealing with this. She watched silently as they approached the moon. Matthew spun the Sparrow and burned the engines to slow their approach.

He reached a trembling hand to the comm. He glanced at her, and, for a moment, something like regret shadowed his face.

“Vatican, this is SPW5840 requesting emergency landing clearance.”

The Vatican, huh? Last she had heard Matthew wasn’t too interested in hanging out with Church types. They’d slipped out as the Archbishop’s shuttle arrived back over Titan. What had changed? Then she remembered that this was the second time he had turned to the Church with refugees.

“SPW5840, this is Vatican City Tower Control. You are not on schedule, nor do we have a record of your serial number having been here before. You are to redirect course to the city of Galileo immediately.”

“Vatican Tower Control, this is a humanitarian emergency. I have emancipated slaves aboard, possibly in need of medical assistance.” He cut the engines and spun the Sparrow back around. They were now low over Ganymede.

The speaker on the other side was silent for nearly half a minute. “SPW5840 we have no space in our hangars for you. We’re sending word to Galileo and will prep personnel to help coordinate with emergency…”

He cut off the speaker on the other side. “Vatican, this is Matthew Cole. Vatican ID number 4803IE9. It’s probably an inactive ID, most likely listed as dead or missing.”

Abigail felt her eyes go wide. Why the hell would Matthew have a Vatican ID? Just who and what was he? She opened her mouth to speak but then shut it again just as quickly. He was going to have a lot of questions to answer, and he wasn’t going to dodge them this time.

Tower control finally responded. “I’m sending coordinates to an open courtyard. You will be boarded by a security party immediately on landing.”

“Thanks,” Matthew mumbled. He turned to Abigail. “I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything, I promise, but there’s no time now.”

She crossed her arms, in frustration, in anger, in confusion. Right now, she wanted to wring his neck for being so stubborn. She thought she had known him. Thought he was a friend even.

She bit her lip. Answers would come. He’d already promised that. For now…

For now, they had a lot of people in need of help. The past could wait.

Matthew flipped on the shipwide intercom. “We’ll be coming in for a landing shortly at the Vatican. To those of you in the shipping containers, I’m sorry, just hang on for a few more minutes. We’ll get you out of there as soon as we safely can. When we touch down, we will be boarded by the Swiss Guard. No one do anything stupid. They’re on our side.”

Ahead of them, the dark stone walls of Vatican City came into view. A gentle parkland extended out a few kilometers to the environmental shield. They passed through the shield and then over the walls. Abigail couldn’t get a look at the buildings beneath her but in front of them rose a basilica of the same cold stone. She remembered having seen pictures of the ancient one on Earth in whose likeness this one was raised. Unlike that one, however, this one was not built with the help of indulgences sold by villainous pardoners. Where the first was adorned with gold and the finest things the Earth could provide, this was built and adorned with polished stone alone. She could appreciate the change in character between the old Vatican and new. Hard times had brought humility to one of Earth’s oldest institutions.

They settled down into the prescribed courtyard.

Matthew palmed his hat and mashed it onto his head. “Let’s go meet security.”

For the second time that day, they lowered the portside ramp. The first time had been to unwittingly meet a group of slavers. This time was even stranger. At least two dozen men in urban camouflage greeted them with weapons drawn. Behind them, the lights of a dozen ambulances flashed red across the stone courtyard.

Two men approached Matthew and disarmed him and then turned to Abigail.

“She doesn’t take the armor off,” Matthew said simply before she could even react. “I’ll take responsibility for anything that happens while my crew is here.” The guards didn’t look happy about that, but Matthew didn’t give them a lot of time to protest. “Tell me. Does Bishop Elias still serve?”

The guards looked at each other. “He still serves,” one said.

“Can you send for him? He’ll want to see me, I think.”

Davey tried to stay out of everyone’s way. The noise, commotion, and crowds all started to run together as armed men crawled over the Sparrow. One crate at a time, they freed the slaves and lowered them down the lift where they were met by emergency personnel. Many of them needed medical care. It would probably take weeks to figure out where they had all come from and how to get them back where they belonged. Then they dragged out the slaver that Abigail had shoved into a closet.

All of that was over Davey’s head. He and Grace sat to the side as the last group was lowered down the lift. “I’m going with them,” Yvonne said, as she left. She probably felt some responsibility as the doctor on board.

For a while, they sat alone in silence. What else was there to say after what had just happened?

After some time he nudged his sister. “I’m glad you heard that banging.”

“Me too. It makes me sick to think we almost helped slavers.”

“Makes you think about all the kids the Duke sold.”

“I can’t. It’s too awful. I’m just glad we got lucky. Then and now.”

Davey thought about that for a moment. There was something about getting lucky he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“Say. Just what was making that sound anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Grace said shrugging. “One of the slaves?”

“They were bound hand and foot,” Davey said, shaking his head.

“Well, what else would it have been?”

He jumped to his feet and walked over to the now empty container. “This was the one, right?” When she nodded, he poked his head into the dark opening. The manacles on the walls, air recyclers, and the limited climate control were operated by a single panel on the inside of the door. He saw a light shining in the dark further in and moved closer to investigate.

One manacle was different than the others. It had a built-in timer, with numbers still scrolling across it.

“Grace, come look at this.”

She appeared in the doorway and pinched her nose as she joined him. “What is that?”

“I don’t know. But it’s about to hit zero.”

“Umm, what if it’s a bomb?” she said backing away.

Davey shook his head. “Too thin, I think. Also I’ve got a good guess as to what it does.”

The timer bottomed out, and there was an audible click.

“Not a bomb at least,” she said creeping back to Davey’s side.

He tugged on the manacle, and it easily pulled away from the wall but remained connected to its plate by a thin steel cable. After a few seconds, the cable reeled back in and clicked back into place. The timer reset to two minutes.

“Wait,” Davey said. “Let’s watch it.”

They watched it tick to zero again. It released again for a few seconds and the timer reset, this time to five minutes.

“I guess that explains things, right down to the irregular intervals,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

They emerged from the container. Grace stared back into the dark maw of the open door. “So every few minutes, one of the prisoners was able to knock against the wall for a few seconds. That’s what I heard.”

The implication worked its way into Davey’s brain like a poison. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why was that manacle like that?”

Grace froze in place and slowly turned to look at him.

“That’s right,” he said. “Someone wanted us to find the slaves.”

“Am I going to need to move my ship?” Matthew asked, glancing behind him at the Sparrow.

“It will need to remain there overnight for security purposes,” the Swiss Guard Major said. “We’ll put your crew up in rooms for now, as well. Come with me.”

Matthew sighed inwardly and fell into step behind the Major. “We heading anywhere specific?”

“The Chapel of Saint Thomas Aquinas.”

He didn’t need an escort. He knew the paths through the tended garden well enough on his own. Heavy footsteps fell in behind, along with the familiar whine of servos. She was following them.

It didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it would be better once they knew. Guilt pooled in his gut from the way he had snapped at her. At Yvonne. For the slaves on his ship.

For Villa Maria.

The chapel was a narrow stone building, lit from within by golden light. The Major pushed open the door and glanced at Abigail. “Ma’am, you’re welcome to wait in the garden.”

Matthew waved him off. “She’s a friend. Where I go, she can follow.” He caught her eye briefly, and entered the building. Rows of short pews filled the nave leading to a simple altar of polished oak wood. Diffuse light filtered down from lamps in the clerestory and filled the chapel with a soft glow. A man in a simple red and black robe knelt praying at the altar. He stood when he heard their approach.

His hair had gone from gray to white in the years since Matthew had seen him, and his back stooped just a little lower. Cardinal Bishop Elias reached a trembling mahogany brown hand out to Matthew and pulled him into a warm embrace.

“Father Cole, I… I thought you were dead.”

Matthew couldn’t meet his eye. “Been ten years since I’ve heard that title. I may as well have been dead.”

“When we heard Villa Maria had been taken by the cartels…” The old man shook his head. “And here you are on our doorstep with a ship full of free men and women. Tell me. Were they of your own flock?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It was pure chance that I was in the right place.”

“I thank our Father in heaven that he arranged such chance,” Bishop Elias said with a sparkle in his eyes. “It is late and I am an old man, so I must return to bed, but I had to see you with my own eyes. Will you be here long? We have a decade to catch up on.”

Matthew didn’t know the answer to that question, but he couldn’t deny him some time after all these years. “We will speak at your leisure.”

Bishop Elias’s wrinkled face creased in a smile. “May the peace of Christ be upon you.”

He left Matthew alone. Alone with his thoughts and the weight of the years.

Except not alone. He turned to see Abigail sitting on the back pew. She’d crawled out of her suit, which sat kneeling in the aisle. Slowly, he walked down the length of the chapel and joined her. The few times he’d seen her out of her suit, it always surprised him how small she was. In his mind, she was a giant, and it was difficult to break from that perspective. He struggled for words, any words to break the silence. Mercifully, she seemed content to wait.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he mumbled. He was glad she was there. It had been good to not be alone these last few months.

“I imagine it is.”

“If you’d rather wait till tomorrow…”

“Matthew, if you think I followed you just to wait some more, you don’t know me very well.”

He paused, afraid she was upset but saw nothing of the sort on her face.

“Well, you already know a bit about my family,” he began. “I was always a bookish sort of kid…”