Ghosts of Ophidian Read Free

there? I’ve been in a dark cell for a few weeks,” Conner asked, “You’ll have to pardon my ignorance.”
    “It’s been doing absolutely positively nothing,” the Commander replied, “Nothing but maintaining a stable orbit and venting some gases periodically.”
    “But-”
    “Steele, we’ve got less than two days until we drop you off at Pearl Harbor. How about I let you get cleaned up and I’ll return in an hour or two when you stink a lot less,” he interrupted.
    . . . .
    Conner realized just how true it was that they intended to drown him in their healing lotions. He was now fully scrubbed; stitched just below his right eyebrow; stitched on the inside of his bottom lip; and bathed in aloe-infused rash lotions all courtesy of the US Navy. He now lay facedown on his bed thanks to an intense burning that came from the ointment on his sensitive backside.
    He’d already inhaled three glasses of water in spite of the fact that the IV was supposedly rehydrating him via a needle in his left arm. He’d also eaten a grilled cheese sandwich, a granola bar, and half a can of Planters cashews. He knew the salt from the cashews were counteracting his rehydration process, but something in his body craved whatever it was the cashews had to offer. Who was he to argue with his body?
    “I have your diamonds, Mr. Steele,” an attractive young lady stated as she entered the room.
    He lay facing the door at the foot of the bed, so he saw her as she entered his room. She was a Third Class Hospital Corpsman with unusually long black hair. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen a woman in weeks or perhaps she truly was as beautiful as he currently believed her to be. Either way, it wasn’t the diamonds that captured his attention when she placed them on the bed in front of him.
    “Please tell me that you didn’t have to clean them, Corpsman Jennings,” he said, reading the name stenciled on the breast of her dungarees.
    “No, sir,” she replied with a smile, “Are those really worth millions of dollars?”
    He finally looked down at the three light blue teardrops resting on the white sheet in front of him. Each one was as big as a large almond – easily five to six carats apiece. All appeared to be identical in cut and clarity to the naked eye.
    “Depending on the number of potential buyers and how educated they are on the history of these diamonds, I wouldn’t be surprised if the trio sold for several million. These were cut specifically for the great grandmother of King George,” he said, pondering the jewels before him, “They’re well over a hundred years old and most recently spent a few decades in a lockbox of a submarine beneath three hundred feet of water. Well, not ‘most recently’ . We’ll keep my intestines out of this little history if I have anything to say about it.”
    She chuckled , presenting him with a smile that lit up the room.
    “What will become of them?” she asked, “I mean, do you get to retire now as a millionaire?”
    He shook his head.
    “Believe it or not, I’m going to walk away from this little escapade with about ten thousand dollars for my typical fees plus a finder’s fee of twenty-two thousand dollars. I was going to be paid the ten thousand whether I accomplished my mission or not, but that would have only paid for me, my hired hands, and our fuel and equipment. The finder’s fee was quoted almost two decades ago by the United Kingdom and hasn’t increased in the years since.”
    “Well that’s not fair,” she said.
    “No, it’s really not. Granted, I never got into this line of work to become a millionaire, but considering the value of these gems plus the fact that both of my fellow workers were killed, I think I should be getting paid a lot more. But what’s the value of human life?”
    “I… well…”
    “Don’t worry, it was rhetorical,” he replied with a reassuring smile, “There’s no amount of money that would satisfy the loss of their