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measure. “Oh no, they’re not, and I’m going
to get out of here and prove it to the security committee, to the
station authorizes, to the whole universe!”
    Too far. Rister has
finally gone too far. I’m done with him. Grison was done with fear and trepidation in dealing with
Rister. Instead, he put on his most serious physician attitude.
More than anything, he wanted this ongoing madness with Rister to
end. He wanted him dead. “Oh no you won’t.” He too, leaned as close
to the security grid as safety allowed. “You’ll never get out of
that cell alive.”
    Ballantine gasped between two ruby red
lips. “Doctor?”
    Grison snapped his attention to the
silly girl. “Have you put in my request for Rister’s
termination?”
    “ Well, no, I-I…” She
blinked rapidly.
    He held out his hand. “Give me your
data pad.”
    She frowned cutely, her eyebrows knit
in confusion. “But doctor, we talked about that.
Protocols—”
    “ Won’t help us here. The
file notes, if you please, nurse.” He held her gaze, beat her down
until she broke. He quickly took over the pad and inserted his
instructions. Death for Rister. Death and destruction. Nothing less
would do.
    When he finished, he hit send, and
handed the gadget back to Ballantine. “There. I’ve taken care of
it. I’ve taken care of you, Rister,” he snarled at the
cage.
    A resounding hiss issued from the
inmate’s lips and echoed off the walls. “You sure about
that?”
    “ Absolutely.” He glared at
his nemesis, silently counting the days until Rister was gone from
his life forever and silently willing them to be blissfully short.
“We’re done here.”
    His work complete, he
ignored Ballantine’s surprised look and strode out the door. He
felt the first real sense of peace since that long, terrible trip
from the backwater colony. Being confined with Rister all that time
had stretched his patience and control too thin. But now, things
were back on track. The way they should be. Humming, he strode
through the corridor, matching his tune to the sounds of the
station. Vrooom. Vrooom.
A-vrooom.
     
    Forty five ships. That’s how many it
took to fully restock the station. Grison stared at the armada, jaw
dropped in amazement. How many different items did those ships need
to carry to keep the old relic from falling apart? Or were they
merely stocked with foodstuffs, wine and cheap girls? The idea of
an illicit tryst, combined with Rister’s imminent death, thrilled
him. He pressed his nose to the complexi-grade shield and exhaled,
fogging the area around his nostrils for a few seconds. So far he
hadn’t seen any women exit the ships, but that didn’t mean there
weren’t any.
    Human women.
    Alien women.
    Any kind of women would
do. Offer up a little excitement. If he wasn’t going to spend his
time on the station drinking fine wine, as least he could get laid.
Maybe even two women at a time. Rubbing his hands together, he
hurried to the loading docks hoping to catch a glimpse of
scantily-clad sex traders. But the long lines of customers buying
direct and the already large crowd of hangers-on made it impossible
for him to get very close. Huffing, he turned his attention instead
to the wall. There, the display listed the names, captains and
anticipated cargo of all the day’s arrivals. Scrunching up his
lips, he scanned the list for anything exciting. Stellar Harmoni ,
foodstuffs, clothing and hardware. Andromeda Calypso , medical
supplies. Fortunate
Brother , generator repair parts. Savvi Turdori ,
environmental scrubbers. The list went on and on. Grison yawned and
stopped reading. Surely there was something good to be had, but it
would obviously require more energy than he possessed to find it.
He hadn’t gotten much sleep after all. His stomach growled
reminding him he hadn’t eaten breakfast either, but now, with
Rister taken care of, his appetite had returned in
force.
    Still yawning, he slipped
down the hall toward the restaurants. One of the