by Dennis Young
Murphy rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me this crap again, Doc. I have a temper. I also have pretty good leadership ability. I just get…”
Melinkov set down her cup. “Frustrated? Angry? Enraged?”
Murphy sighed. “Let’s leave it at frustrated. Yes, I get very frustrated because I can’t… control everything. I can’t… help.”
“Would it help if you gave the control to those who can help? Or would this make you feel as though you are… quitting?”
Murphy shrugged and said nothing.
“Tell me why you are in Earthfleet.”
“Working up your psyche report, Doc?”
“Possibly. What would you say regarding your last thirty-day performance?” Melinkov drank and refilled her cup. She drew a second and set it in front of Murphy.
“I’d say about a D-plus.”
“That high?” Melinkov watched Murphy for a moment. “Can you tell me what is frustrating you, specifically?”
Murphy waved a hand. “Well, how about the ship falling apart around us for starters? Then we’ve had only one assignment in the last, what, sixty days? Then we almost crash on a planet I still haven’t found on the charts. Now we have a Qoearc who might be tracking us.” She drank, nearly draining her cup. “Shall I go on?”
“So… you are bored?”
Murphy looked away. “This is a scout. That’s all we do, scout. We don’t have any scientific equipment for exploring, there are no recreational areas on board, unless you count the bunks, and our library is a year out of date.” She huffed a breath. “And on top of that, there’s been nothing to scout! Yeah, I’m bored. The crew is bored, you’re bored, the whole damn ship is bored.”
She finished her cup. “This ship hasn’t had a refit in nearly two years. We haven’t had R&R in almost eight months, unless you count our crash-landing. There are only fourteen people on this ship. You know how tough it is to have a social life when your entire crew is fourteen people, most of whom want off this ship as much as I do?”
“So this is Earthfleet’s fault, your assignment?”
Murphy stared. “When, exactly, did I say that?”
“Over the last few minutes, you have certainly pointed fingers at everyone but yourself… Captain.”
“So, I’m to blame for all this?”
Melinkov shrugged and nodded at the same time. “It would seem the captain is to be the first to accept responsibility for the ship. Does it not say so in Earthfleet Regulations?”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” Murphy mumbled.
“This is certainly not the first time we have spoken of this, yes? Every time, you say the same things. You are not happy in Earthfleet? You do not want the responsibility of being the captain?” Melinkov paused. “Perhaps, if you are unable to perform duties of the captaincy, you should relieve yourself and turn over command to your executive.”
Murphy swallowed, growing angrier by the minute. “Is that a threat, Doctor?”
“An observation, Captain. One you should take to heart. It is time, is it not?” She drank again. “In my opinion, you are looking at that D-plus and wondering how to raise it, while not wanting to do the necessary things to do so. You cannot transfer off the ship, you cannot control the Qoearc, you cannot change the nature of your orders. What, then, can you do? Where is your control? If you are the captain, it should be obvious.”
“Is that a medical evaluation?”
Melinkov pursed her lips. “Call it what you will. How long until we reach wherever it is we are going?”
Murphy thought for a moment. “About five days, why?”
“Then my suggestion, as your doctor, would be to focus your energies on positive steps until time for our scouting to be done. What can you accomplish in five days with a ship you say is falling apart and a crew who is bored?”
Murphy toyed with her cup. “Maybe we should throw a party. A ‘we didn’t crash and die’ party.” She gave a self-depreciating laugh.
“An excellent idea. And perhaps an opportunity to make Pheidippides… what is the term… ‘ship-shape’ again?”
“Work, to give everyone something else to gripe about?”
Melinkov raised her face. “Work to give a sense of purpose, and of being in Earthfleet together.”
She collected the cups and set them in the recycler, then turned to Murphy. “I am glad we had this opportunity to talk, Captain. Your ideas are worthy, and I will be proud to be part of your coming plans.”
* * *
“Duty Log, Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Murphy, 121017.08. Four days ago, we held a “We Didn’t Crash and Die” dinner, after our forced landing on an unnamed planet. With excellent foresight, my First Officer’s quick survey during our planetside stay, and subsequent system study, showed it to be a suitable, if marginal, Class M world worth further investigation. He has sent a subspace squirt back to Fleet Base Twenty-three with the information.
“Further, in the five days travel to our assignment destination, the crew has been busy with repairs, refurbishments, and what upgrading we can do with our meager onboard supplies. But I’m happy to report, Pheidippides is in much better shape than she was before our emergency event. I’m thinking about another party to celebrate.”
* * *
“Assignment coordinates in thirty seconds, Captain.” Ch’rehrin turned to his panel, then once more to the main viewer as Murphy waited in her command seat. “Benchmark… now.”
“Disengage hyperlight, Mr. O’Brien, bring us to rest relative to the anomaly position. Thrusters to station-keeping.” Murphy pressed the intercom button. “Engineering, Bridge. Status, Taylor?”
“Captain, Chief Taylor is off duty, this is Lieutenant Ball. Engineering systems are nominal, phase coils decoupled and cooling normally.”
“Stand down from hyperlight, but be prepared to go at a moment’s notice if we pick up any perimeter ships.” Murphy clicked off and looked around the cramped Bridge. Everyone and everything seemed orderly. “Mr. Ch’rehrin, where are we?”
“Less than one-quarter light year from the established Qoearc Interdiction Zone, Captain. The closest star is a red dwarf in Qoearc space, approximately two light years to galactic north. The star has four planets, none habitable, and a Qoearc surveillance base known to have at least three scout-class craft that patrol the border regularly.”
Murphy looked to Hatu Gil at Tactical. “Scan long and short range, look for anything stealthed, Mr. Gil. Karen, what’s on the Nav scanners?”
“There’s a free-floater about a half light year on the Qoearc side of the border, with a trailing tail of asteroids. It’s floating slowly parallel to the demarcation area. Other than that, next to nothing.”
“Likely the Qoearc are mining the trailing asteroids, Captain,” said Ch’rehrin. “Much easier than the planet itself.”
“Doesn’t Fleet have this info? If they do, why are we here?”
Ch’rehrin stepped from his post to Murphy’s side. “I suggest it is time to open the sealed orders, Captain.”
She gave him a look. “I did that already. Let’s meet in the conference niche to review yours.” She rose. “Jules, you have the Conn, call your second to the Bridge. I don’t want any stations unmanned for a while.”
Murphy led Ch’rehrin through the doors to the sound of O’Brien’s voice on the comm to his relief.
* * *
Ch’rehrin passed his PADD to Murphy as they entered the tiny office and sealed the door. She tapped in her authentication code and handed it back, then sat, waiting as he decrypted the orders and read the message.
“The Qoearc are suspected of using the asteroids as monitoring stations themselves, rather than bringing more ships into the area, which would raise the concerns of Earthfleet,” Ch’rehrin began. “Any sizeable collection of ships in this remote area might then be construed as a threat, possibly even a prelude to incursion.”
Murphy shook her head. “Why the big deal then? If Fleet knows this, w
hy is it worth an encrypted message labeled Level Ten, Eyes Only? Yes, it’s our job to be sneaky, but this…”
Ch’rehrin considered, his near-black eyes unreadable, as all Arneci were. “We become the monitoring station, therefore. We will likely receive additional orders once we have reported our current findings. We may be required to follow the free-floating planet and report on Qoearc activity.”
Murphy rose from her chair and poured tea for both of them, then sat again. She drank, musing. “No, there’s something more. Something they’re not telling us, even in a fully encrypted ‘if you look at this, we’ll have to kill you’ message. They want us in the area for another reason. What?”
She pressed the intercom switch. “Tactical, Captain. Hatu, slave your sensors to Nav and work with Karen to look for anything within…” She paused, looking to Ch’rehrin. He showed three fingers. “Three light years on this side of the border.”
“Three light years, aye. What are we looking for, Captain?”
“Anything at all out of the ordinary. Signals, unusual masses, space junk…” She paused again, thinking. “Or nothing at all. Maybe a void, like a stealthed ship. Nothing where there should be something.”
“I don’t understand, but we’ll do what we can. Tactical out.”
“You are becoming adept at saying something while saying nothing, Captain.” Ch’rehrin almost smiled.
Murphy shrugged. “Like our orders? There’s something they’re not telling us, so we have to find out what it is ourselves. Something so important, they couldn’t even put it in sealed orders, fearing it would be intercepted and decrypted. But they had to hide it in a real set of orders that made sense in case those were intercepted.”
“Double-think?”
Murphy shrugged. “Fleet paranoia, circular thinking. And since when is Fleet logical?”
Ch’rehrin considered, then nodded. “What then are our actual orders?”
Murphy emptied her cup, then looked up in realization. “Not Qoearc hanky-panky, not a new free-floater, and sure as hell not a Qoearc mining expedition. Something they wanted us to search for once we were in the neighborhood. The orders are a map. A treasure map.”
* * *
Murphy ordered the Tactical and Nav relief officers to organize a plan for monitoring the Qoearc as Pheidippides paced the planet. She told them it was part of their onboard training. Hatu Gil and Karen Connor were then given private instructions to work with Ch’rehrin and search for specifics in the vicinity, as ordered earlier.
“But more,” explained Murphy, meeting with the three in the conference niche again. Two were company; four were a crowd, with Gil and Ch’rehrin standing behind Conner, and Murphy seated at the desk. “I want to know what’s not right about this area. We have orders to monitor the Qoearc, which your relief is doing now. I want the three of you to find out what’s unusual on this side of the border while the Qoearc watch us watch them.”
Again, the door was sealed, and Murphy had showered, dressed in a fresh jumpsuit uniform, and actually put her hair into a semi-formal ponytail. Since her dressing-down by the doctor, she’d done her best to look the part of a ship captain. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but as pointed out by Melinkov, it was her job.
“So… what exactly are we looking for, Captain? Can you give us a hint?” Connor passed a look for support to Gil, who only shrugged.
“No, I can’t.” Murphy’s eyes met Ch’rehrin’s for an instant. “Think of it as a treasure hunt. Easter eggs. Christmas presents hidden in your parents’ closet.”
“I understood that reference,” said Gil. Connor, having been born and reared on Marsopolis in a totally different culture, only shook her head.
Murphy grinned. “Earth culture, Karen, religious holidays. I did a minor at Academy in Earth History. You might check them out some time.”
She looked back to Gil. “Continue to work with your seconds, because the Qoearc detail is the real thing as well. We need all the info we can get on their activities, and not just the mining. Have your relief watch for ships, unusual movement, possible incursions into Earth Alliance space, the typical close-watch stuff we do. Keep them busy while you and the first officer do the dirty work.”
Murphy looked to them both. “Questions? Okay, report to Lieutenant Ch’rehrin every four hours or as needed. Anything odd, let him know. Let’s get to it.”
Gil and Connor edged out of the tiny space and Ch’rehrin waited at the door, then closed and sealed it again. “What is next, Captain?”
Murphy shook her head. “You have no idea how uncomfortable I am with giving orders. I feel like I’m telling people who already know their jobs what to do.”
“As I understand,” said Ch’rehrin, as he sat, “part of a captain’s work is to remind others of theirs. Not to do it for them, but to see it done. I believe the Earth term is… ‘mother hen’.”
“Cripes, my first officer is a comedian.” Murphy chuckled as Ch’rehrin only watched. She sat back, quiet for a moment. “Thoughts? Maybe Qoearc poking around? Stiz, although I can’t imagine them being interested in a cold free-floater? Something else? Someone else?”
“We will know more within a day or two, perhaps. If nothing then, I suggest we expand our search or reposition the ship. However, we continue the charade of monitoring the Qoearc, regardless, correct?”
“I agree. Make them keep their eyes on us. What about the ship following us to the planet? Any further developments?”
Ch’rehrin looked up. “I will add that to the relief crew assignment. My apologies, I neglected to follow up, once we left orbit.”
“See to it. Maybe wherever they went might give us a clue or two as to what we’re really looking for.”
* * *
“Bridge to Captain. I think we’ve got something.”
Hatu Gil’s voice on the intercom broke into Murphy’s subconscious. She rolled over in her bunk and missed the intercom button twice before hitting it. “Sleeping, give me a minute.”
She sat up, head in her hands, and let her mind clear slowly. The dream had been as vivid as any she’d had in weeks, and she willed her emotions to ebb. She knew she needed to talk to the doctor about the recurring images, but simply hadn’t had the guts to do it.
She rubbed her eyes and shook hair out of her face. “Okay, I’m awake. What have you got?”
“Just an OC matter, but I thought we’d discuss when you’re due on the Bridge. It came in ten minutes ago.”
Cripes! OC! She took a deep breath before she replied. “In the conference room, fifteen minutes.” She clicked off and fell back into her bunk. OC! Ordo Capitellum, Capital Order from the Latin. Nothing in Earthfleet was higher!
She shed her oversized night shirt and ran the sonic cleaner over herself quickly, slid into her jumpsuit, and took thirty seconds to brush her hair and tie it back. Her mind raced. Treasure hunt, indeed.
“Melinkov to Captain Murphy. May we meet in my office when you have time?”
Murphy hit the intercom again. “Sure. What’s up?”
“A matter needing your attention soonest.”
That’s about as vague and scary as it gets. “I have a conference in ten minutes. When that’s done, I’ll come by Sickbay.”
“Very well. Thank you, Captain.”
Murphy knew when Melinkov became coldly formal, it wasn’t a good sign. Oh, well. One crisis at a time.
She took a final look in the mirror, decided she looked important enough, and headed out the door for the short walk to the conference niche.
* * *
If it was even possible, the room was more crowded than before. With Murphy at the desk, Ch’rehrin beside her, Gil and Connor, and now Martin Teng-Hey from Comm standing at the door, it was nearly impossible to move. She considered folding the desk up, but they needed the screen to project onto the wall behind her.
Murphy was on her second cup of tea. “All right, what have we found?”
“The OC was received and d
ecrypted immediately, providing new coordinates for investigation, nothing more”, replied Ch’rehrin. “Lieutenant Gil will explain, Captain. I received only a summary.”
Murphy’s eyes moved to the tactical officer. “You’re on, Lieutenant.”
The screen lit. “You asked for us to search for something, then you mentioned ‘nothing’, which stuck with me. We did a full sweep with HI sensors, particle assessment, mass analyzers, everything we could think of. Nothing out of the ordinary came up.”
“… And then?”
Gil adjusted the focus on the image and zoomed in on a smaller area, nearly smiling at Murphy’s sardonic tone. “We started looking for nothing. Dark energy, dark matter, dark anything at all, neutrino trails, anti-protons, negative mass, vacuum energy. And we found it.”
The screen changed to an asteroid, roughly oval, pocked with ancient strikes from others of its kind. “The rock is about two hundred kilometers long and a hundred fifty wide. Big thing, but it masses too much for its rocky content. Something else is there. Something big.”
“Estimates on the ancillary mass, Lieutenant?” asked Ch’rehrin.
“Three to five hundred thousand kilos, Commander. Hard to tell exactly at this distance, but something very substantial.”
Murphy turned from the image back to the crowd before her. “How far, Mr. Gil?”
“Half a light year, slightly more. I seriously doubt the Qoearc are aware of it because it’s simply not something anyone sane would look for.”
“Thank you for suggesting your captain is nuts,” said Murphy, showing a crooked grin. “Well done. Really, very well done. Okay, what else?”
“A very weak signal, Captain,” said Teng-Hey. “Once Mr. Gil and Ms. Connor pinpointed the location, we trained everything we had on the source.”
The room was quiet for a moment. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Lieutenant. What did you hear?”
Teng-Hey began to speak, then paused, took a breath, and continued. “Ancient code, several hundred years old. But confirmed as Earth origin. And so heavily encrypted, we can’t even imagine what it says.”