CROSSFIRE - Atlantis DSV - New Cape Quest

T H E S U M O F T H EIR P A R T S
One hundred and fifty miles off the west coast of Africa, December 24 th , 2030...
Ryan Callaghan smiled broadly as he walked down the starboard C-deck corridor of
the Proteus on his way to the forward project facilities. He kept the flat, colourfully wrapped
box, adorned in indigo ribbon at just the right angle behind his back so as to keep it from the
prying, watchful eyes of the marines who patrolled the corridor, turning as he clear each
patrol with a slight smile, all the while keeping his back away from them.
Section 7 had a policy of „admonishing‟ its personnel on the subject of interpersonal
relationships. Over the years they had operated quietly from the Proteus, Ezard had become
notorious for upholding the institution, and more than one officer had been transferred from
the post for pushing the tolerances of that strict mandate. Where those officers wound up, no
one would dream of asking. It was the territory that came with such a post, and something
they had all come to simply accept. Callaghan had skirted the edge a few times, but even he
was not stupid enough to cross „that‟ line.
He broke step as he entered the main medical facility, striding past Doctor Ballard‟s
office and flashing a slight, knowing smile as he headed for the holding wing. Ballard looked
at him with disapproving, tired eyes and a curt shake of her head, but was unable to repress
a smile as she saw the little package behind the man‟s back.
Callaghan stopped at that, pulling up short to turn on his heel and knock lightly on the
frame of the Doctor‟s office. She rolled her eyes as he side stepped through the door, eyeing
the small package in his hands with a disapproving look of resignation.
“You know if Ezard saw that, he‟d put you on report,” she berated him lightly, still
unable to keep the hint of a slight smile from her face.
“Then lucky for me the Captain is busy... Did he tell you what it was that was so
important before he left?”
Ballard shook her head, rolling her eyes once more. “Do you goons ever tell me
anything to do with security?”
“Point,” he grinned.
Ballard looked skyward again before her eyes were drawn back to the brightly
coloured package in Callaghan‟s hand. Quizzically, her eyes interrogated his with a slight
turn at the corner of her lip, and she folded her arms across her chest tightly. “You got them,
didn‟t you.”
It was a statement more than a question and the Lieutenant nodded. “Took six
couriers and three transfer offices, but yes, I did.”
“Why?” she begged incredulously. “Is it that important to you?”
Callaghan‟s cold, calculating eyes warmed for a moment at the question, and his
shoulders appeared to slacken. “Anne, seriously, it‟s Christmas Eve.”
Her lips pursed. “Do you think any of them realise that?”
“I think they realise more than we know.”
Ballard paused, and pulled out a data slate from her desk that she slipped across the
bench to Callaghan. “This might interest you,” she said with another, surprisingly warm smile
creeping across her face again.
Callaghan picked up the slate and reviewed it quietly, his jaw widening slowly as he
read it, and his eyes gradually taking Ballard in with astonishment. “When did you get this?”
he asked.
“About ten minutes before you entered,” she said with a broad smile.
Callaghan‟s cathartic relief showed as he exhaled sharply, an open, almost boyish
smile meeting hers. “The stage seven catalyst?” he asked again, his eyes hopeful for the
first time in months – perhaps even years.
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