“Are you okay, Cutie?” Max asked, causing Morgan, who thought she was quite alone, to jump right up to her feet.
She whirled around to face him, leaning against the bulkhead of the conference room itself, and glared.
“Good form, solid delivery. One of your better glares,” he said with a laugh, pushing off the wall with his shoulder and walking over to her. “But something is still wrong, and you seem distracted.”
“Are you just stalking me now?” Morgan asked.
Max shrugged.
“We were going to be meeting up. I got your message, yes, but there wasn’t anything I wanted to do in the meantime, things as they are. So I decided to wait out here. I could have waited on my bunk, but I share that space with two other sergeants. Good men, terrible body odor. Besides, waiting here I’d be waiting less time overall, which you just proved.”
“I’m not done with the meeting yet, I need to get back in there.”
“Then you’re you here because…” he said, clearly fishing.
“You don’t want to know why I’m out here,” Morgan said with an amused sigh.
“I don’t?”
“No. You want to know what’s going on in there.”
Max just laughed, giving her his little shrug that said ‘you got me.’
“Before, sure, but can’t I be worried about my friend?”
“Got a bit lightheaded, that’s all. Contemplating the next big change made me rather uneasy.”
“Why did it do that?”
Morgan sighed again, but without the amusement this time.
“I hadn’t thought of this before, but I always sleep in an enclosed space. I have since I was very little. My ‘room’ back home was little more than a meter to a side, and there was a lot of times I spent in an even smaller space, to keep me safe.
“Once I,” Morgan almost said escaped, but she still didn’t want to talk about that with him, managing to change it at the last moment, “…came to Zion, I found I was most comfortable sleeping in a bed with a canopy. I didn’t think about why, that’s just how it was. Even then, the thicker the canopy the better. And once I hired on to Takiyama I’ve been sleeping in bunk alcoves, with the privacy screen closed.”
“Even now, that you have a private room?”
“Especially now. Especially since…” I was kidnapped. “Especially now,” Morgan finished instead.
“And whatever the captain is up to means you won’t be able to?”
“Still prying,” Morgan said, snorting.
“Well, yeah,” Max admitted, “But because I’m trying to figure out how to help you. If you can’t talk about it, you can’t. I can wait around for you to finish in that case, still give you at least a short sparring match. Near as I can tell, that always relaxes you.”
Morgan groaned.
“That’s even worse, since we won’t be able to do that either.”
“So, something is changing that we’ll be sleeping in the open, and can’t use the gym? What, is the captain cramming us all in a single room to try and fight the heat?”
Morgan froze, not daring to say anything and confirm his lucky guess. That of course was confirmation of its own, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. Really, she was being stupid about it. Unless he went around telling everyone before the meeting ended, it wasn’t going to change anything, and she was sure he’d keep it quiet if he just asked him.
“Wait, I’m right? Things are that bad?”
“Maybe. They’re discussing it. They don’t want anyone to know until the captain announces it. He’s been considering this for at least a few days, and didn’t even tell the lieutenants until just now.”
“That is rough,” Max said. He settled down on the bench next to her. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to fix that. I’m not an engineer or an officer. I’m just a grunt who has a little bit of experience in teaching. It’s also damn hard thinking with the constant heat.”
“I’m barely managing, and I come from a hot world,” Morgan admitted. “How are the people from cold planets managing?”
“Not well,” was Max’s short answer. “You know, there is one place we could still spar. I don’t know how, uh, permissible it would be, and we’d need your passwords to even get there, but if the choice is you going crazy with the heat and pent-up frustration or me risking a slap on the wrist, well, what are friends for?”
“What are you talking about? There isn’t anywhere we could use besides the gym, and we’re going to lose access to that too.”
“Not on the ship, no,” Max agreed.
Something about the way he said it, the emphasis, ‘tickled’ Morgan’s mind. There was something he was hinting at, something she should have thought of herself.
He leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially in her ear.
“There is one place we could go, someplace that still has working air conditioning. They’re all just sitting there, unused and forgotten, in the sealed off part of the ship.”
He leaned back, looking expectantly at Morgan. She was wracking her brain, trying to dredge forth the half-formed thought he was poking at, but it didn’t come.
He shrugged and leaned back in.
“The cargo shuttles, Cutie. They’re big enough for a lot of things, as long as we’re careful.”
Morgan shot to her feet, almost smashing her head into his.
“That’s it!” she shouted. “Max, you’re a genius!”
“Of course I am. But keep it quiet, we don’t want everyone to find out,” he said, standing up himself.
Morgan couldn’t help herself, she grabbed him in a hug, smashing herself up against him.
“Never mind that! You’ve just solved a very big problem. I have to go,” Morgan said, squeezing him a little tighter. “The captain needs to hear this.”
“The captain!” Max yelled. “Cutie, are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said, already a few steps toward the conference room. “Just stay here, this will help a ton, but probably not enough to save our gym times. Just in case, I still want one last session with you before that.”
“O…okay,” Max said, running one hand through his hair and looking towards her, obviously very confused.
Morgan couldn’t do the complicated math in her head like some of the engineers could, but she was sure this would work, or at least help. Get the whole crew on the shuttles and they could shut down almost everything, except a tiny bit to keep the plants alive. It wouldn’t magically fix the coolant problem, but it could be enough to give what capacity they did have time to slowly cool off the ship before they reached their destination. They’d heat back up once they arrived, but it would still take time, and it would buy them enough time to finish and finally go home.
“I could kiss you, Max, seriously,” she called out over her shoulder just as she reached the hatch to the conference room.
“Really?” he called back to her. “I’m okay with that.”
She slipped into the conference room, the conversation within dying as she appeared. Turning back to Max one last time, she smiled.
“Don’t ruin the moment,” she said as she shut the hatch behind her. “Captain,” she said, turning to him. “I have an idea…”
Chapter 20
"Il meglio è l'inimico del bene." Those words are well over a thousand years old, in a language I don’t even speak, and yet they speak to me more profoundly than most of what the supposed wise spout on the regular down there in the public square. The perfect is the enemy of the good. Confused? That’s okay. The meaning took me some time to understand. Striving for perfection, to improve ourselves, understanding we will never get there in this life, that is a good thing. Giving up on good things because we want perfect things, which, again, we won’t get in this life? That is the height of folly.
- Mark ‘Muscles’ McGee, Three-time Galactic Olympic Gold Medalist in Wrestling, Philosopher Laureate, planet Marathon.
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Time to Destination: Five Hours
AS PLANS went, Morgan’s had been a good one. It was not, she reflected as she tried to stretch out and get the kinks out of her neck and back, perfect. On the one hand, she’d managed to claim one of the (enclosed) cockpits of a shuttle as a private space to sleep in… on the other she’d managed it not because she was an officer, but because no one else could sleep in the cramped space, and even she only persisted because the thought of sleeping out in the main hold with everyone else still made her uneasy.
Still, it was cool, cold even for the first couple days as the captain allowed them a bit of excess to recuperate from the heat, and thanks to STEVE’s much smaller crew in civilian hands not even particularly cramped for the rest of them. It was even less cramped for Morgan’s group still, as the women were split up into three shuttles at a lower density than the remainder shared by the men, thanks to the makeup of the crew. The smell was a bit overpowering, but the shuttles were designed for use in emergencies and there was enough toilet facilities and enough bathing capacity for everyone to get a quick shower twice a week.
And now it was time to see how the rest of it had worked. Morgan finished her stretching, standing naked in the cockpit, her freshly cleaned skinsuit draped over the pilot’s chair.
She hadn’t been out into the ship in almost three weeks. Less than a half-dozen of the officers had, and then for only short periods to check on things visually when the computer feed to the shuttle’s systems hadn’t been enough.
The temptation to check, to meddle, had been high, but the longer they could go without fiddling the longer the systems would have to purge the heat and make things livable again.
Was it enough? Morgan wondered. We’re going to have to power up to full now, retract the radiators and get the ship rotated for braking to make our rendezvous with the station. Even if it all worked, that’s going to start heating us up again frighteningly quickly. We’re also going to be slowed down getting the cargo transferred because we’re all still living in the shuttles.
Morgan took in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Yes, it was her plan they’d used in the end, but the captain had signed off on it and Matthews had triple-checked all the calculations. If it wasn’t enough, that wasn’t her fault, because nothing would have been enough.
“I hope I never see you again,” she said, glancing around the tiny cockpit around her, then stuffing the last of her things other than her suit in the tiny bag she’d brought with her.
Putting her skinsuit on proved to be an undignified affair, with the first few attempts ending in her hopping around the small space as she tried to pull it on. She admitted defeat and plopped her bare rear on the seat so she could pull it up over her legs.
They’ll clean everything. I’m sure they will. There’s no need to mention any of this to anyone.
Laughing nervously at her own insecurities, she couldn’t help but glance out the window, the one that, she reminded herself for the fortieth time or so, looked out on the bay doors and was so far off the ground no one could look inside anyway, even if there had been anyone outside to do so.
I’m sure if Aydin were here, she’d tell me, in her professional opinion, that I’m a mess.
Thoughts of her therapist’s disapproving look, so often directed at Morgan during their sessions, both in person and done via holo, actually brought a smile to Morgan’s face.
Is laughing at myself a good sign or a bad?
Morgan just shook her head and decided not to worry about it. Just then she needed to worry about getting her skinsuit on, and it was clear she was overdue to have it adjusted. It still fit well enough, but it was slightly off in just about every dimension.
At least getting the ship powered back up won’t take more than a few hours. Captain wants me on the bridge for the initial conversations with the station, see how it is done, and that means a more formal uniform, if I can find time to go down to my quarters and change.
Wait. When did I do the laundry last? We were in such a rush, I don’t remember.
That’d be just my luck, my first time talking with a client for a delivery as a representative of the House and I might have to do it with sweat-stained clothes.
Well, nothing I can do about it now.
Checking the last seals on her suit, Morgan slung her small bag over one shoulder and stepped out into the main hold of the shuttle.
It was technically a cargo tender, but that didn’t do the vessel justice. At almost forty meters long, fifteen wide and tall, it was larger than most of the buildings back home on Hillman or in the city she’d lived in on Zion, where the land hadn’t been sturdy enough to support the more modern towers that stretched two hundred stories or more into the sky.
Right now, the interior was a flurry of activity as the women with whom she’d been sharing the space got their own things packed up. They weren’t in their skinsuits – most of the crew was waiting until the ship was fully powered up and air pumped back into the crew spaces – but they were ready to work.
Lt. Marigold was standing at the ship’s side airlock waiting for Morgan, and she was wearing her skinsuit.
“I heard you’re headed up to the bridge with me?” Morgan asked, to which Marigold just nodded.
“Check me,” Marigold ordered, turning around and dropping her bag so Morgan could verify her suit was functioning properly.
Morgan had to reach up to tug on a bit that looked out of place – no, it was fine – and then slapped her shoulder to tell the woman to turn around. Repeating the process with the front, Morgan nodded, then set down her own bag, holding out her arms so Marigold could do the same for her.
The Lieutenant pulled on the emergency tube attached to the air tanks, the very one she’d used to feed oxygen into the damaged suit of the Dutchman what seemed like forever ago, but it too passed, and she slapped Morgan’s shoulder.
“All good. Let’s get this over with,” she said, then raising her voice so everyone could hear, “As much fun as it has been, ladies, I’d just as soon never bunk with any of you ever again.”
This got a laugh out of most of them, if a nervous one out of some of the group. Morgan didn’t blame them. Especially for the simple techs and other support crew who weren’t included in any of the discussions, this had to have been one unending course of fear at the unknown – was the ship okay, was the captain telling them everything, would anything else break – and so on.
It was scary for her at times, and she knew about as much about what was really going on as anyone, more than some of the other officers even, those that lacked the background in mechanics she had.
“We’ll get things up and running soon enough, we can dump the cargo and go home,” Morgan said to the group, which got a rather ragged cheer. “Just a bit longer, that’s all we need. I’m amazed at how well all of you have done.” She thought about adding that they’d handled it better than most, but if any of them knew this was only her second deployment, they’d assume she meant the crew of the Fate of Dawn, and that wasn’t fair to them. The Fate’s crew hadn’t handled things as well in their time of crisis, but they’d been dealing with a shot-up ship and a third of the crew dead or injured. That was a far more serious trauma than the heat, as bad as it had been.
Cycling through the airlock was as quick and painless as ever, and of course the docking frame included a ramp nestled up right next to it.
If she had any complaints about the shuttles – asides from the cramped cockpit, but that was hardly a normal concern – it was that the exits were all a good distance off the ground.
The why made sense, as the space under the deck was used for storage of all the emergency supplies like food, water, and oxygen, as well as the normal systems like the engines and reactor, but this also made getting cargo and people in and out harder. Had Morgan designed the things, she’d have turned the design on its side, and had the open cargo area all but flush with the bottom of the ship, and placed all the equipment and
storage on the sides.
Not that there was much point in talking about fixing them now, something like three hundred years since they’d been designed, and at least half that since these specific shuttles had been built.
They had them, and the shuttles had served their purpose as lifeboats for the crew admirably, even if while still docked.
Marigold said nothing at first, simply staying at Morgan’s side, her steps short to account for Morgan’s shorter legs.
It was unreal, walking through the ship, lights off, air dead and disturbed only by the passage of their own bodies, completely devoid of life.
Even at the most unlikely hours, there should have been a few other people in the corridors, but of course, there were none.
The muffled sound of their footsteps, the sound of Morgan’s breath in her helmet, grew more oppressive as they went. It was a large ship, and the lifts were still off. A long way to go from the part of the shuttle bay in which they’d been to the bridge.
“Have you ever been on a ship this quiet?” Morgan asked, linking in with Marigold’s suit comm. It was a stupid question, but even stupid questions were more bearable to Morgan in that moment than the eerie silence.
“Yes,” Marigold’s answer broke the silence like a bullet; the sound almost seemed to reverberate around Morgan’s head, though logically she knew it did no such thing.
Morgan paused, suppressing a shiver as they came to a darkened intersection, the blackness of the corridors stretching on in almost every direction as their helmet lights played across the nearby floor.
“This isn’t the most cheerful thing,” Marigold continued, halting her own progress, “Though there is one key difference. The last ship I was on in this state was dead, torn open to the ravages of the Black. She would never soar again under her own power. STEVE will do so, and do so in strength and power. This is thanks to the efforts of his crew, who did not give up.”
“You make it sound so romantic,” Morgan said with a snort of amusement.
Marigold just shrugged.
“What is traveling the stars, if not romantic? Man was not meant to live on the ocean. We built ships. Man was not meant to travel the sky. We built planes. Man was not meant to live in space, or reach for the distant stars. We built ships of a new, cleverer type, propelled by starlight itself, and dared the Black to stop us.”
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