“Aye, aye, Captain. Helm, yaw one-twenty.”
“Yaw one-twenty, aye.”
“Mr. Reed, do we have an outgoing track?” Al asked.
“Outgoing track sent to helm,” Mr. Reed said.
“Helm, confirm track.”
“Track confirmed, Ms. Ross. We are on the beam.”
“Ahead five percent.”
“Ahead five percent, aye.”
The station fell behind us as we angled away toward the Deep Dark. The magic of the math told us which way to turn, how fast to go in order to move away from the station.
“Doesn’t this ship go any faster?” Snake asked.
“Most certainly, Mr. Snake. It takes us a while to reach that speed and we probably won’t be going all that fast for a while. Ms. Ross, how long to the safety margin?”
“About a stan, Captain. Dark Knight Local advises ballistic to Burleson limit.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ross. Mr. Reed?”
“We’ve a short exit jump in approximately two stans on the current plot, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.” I swiveled to look at Snake. “There you have it. We’ll be another two stans outbound before our first jump. Luckily we’re in a system where the station is on the outer edge. We won’t be traveling very fast when we jump compared to our top speed, but it’s fast enough to get us where we’re going.”
“How long to get to the destination?” he asked.
“Mr. Reed? Mr. Snake would like to know our ETA.”
“Could be as little as a day, Captain, but probably closer to two, maybe three, depending on what kind of jump errors we get.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.” I looked at Snake.
He shrugged and looked around the bridge then over his shoulder at the receding station.
I turned the chair to face front and smiled into my mug.
Chapter 33
Deep Dark: 2376, March 12
The stars barely seemed to shift at all when we jumped. “Jump complete, Captain. Verifying position.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ross.”
“Next jump in approximately two stans, Captain. The vector’s off a bit.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed. Let me know when the burn is programmed.”
“Aye, aye, Cap.”
“Position verified, Captain.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ross.”
“The burn is programmed, Captain.”
“Initiate program, Mr. Reed.”
“Initiate program, aye, Captain.”
The ship twisted in space and the space frame rumbled when the heavy thrusters along the keel fired.
“Time to burn, Mr. Reed?”
“A hundred and ten ticks, Skipper.”
“Ms. Ross, please notify the chief of the burn time.”
“Notify the chief, aye, Captain.”
I settled back in my chair. My coffee was cold. A glance at the chrono showed it to be nearly time for evening mess. I could wait that long. I turned to look at Snake. “So, Mr. Snake. Your first time in deep space?”
He scowled. “I’ve been in space before.”
“Well, technically, you’re always in space,” I said. “Even planetside. It’s just the perception isn’t as clear when you’re on a planet. I find it easy to forget even when I’m on a station.” I looked around. “Up here, with the armorglass all around? It’s hard to overlook.”
Snake swallowed hard as he looked out, his weapon hanging loosely from his hand. “What happens if we break down?” he asked.
“Depends on the nature of the breakdown,” I said. “Almost all the systems aboard have redundancy built in. If one part dies, the redundant part takes up the slack. We can fix most things—at least well enough to get back to a station.”
He nodded but he didn’t look comforted by the information. “How soon before we’re there?”
“Hasn’t changed, Mr. Snake,” I said. “This course adjustment is small and gives us a chance to recharge the capacitors. The next jump will be much longer and the jump error could be larger or smaller. The jump after that will be another long one with the same chance of error. By then we’ll be out of juice and we’ll need to wait until we can recharge. When we get in-system on that end, we’ll need some time to match orbit. Depending on how close we get, how fast we’re going, and our entry vector relative to the destination, it could take a while. Maybe as much as a week.”
He stared at me. “A week?”
“Most jumps in the High Line take weeks on each end,” I said. “Dark Knight is easy to get out of, but it’ll take us at least a few days to dock up there when we go back.” I let that sink in for a moment. “If I’m not violating any confidences, Mr. Snake, should I plan on you and your party returning with us?”
“Yeah,” he said, not looking at me.
Something about his demeanor, his posture set off alarm bells in my head. I expected him to lie, but something about his lie didn’t sit well with me. I turned to face front again, sipping at the cold coffee. My old mantra surfaced. The first symptom of not understanding your situation is you’re sure that it’s under control.
I pondered my assumptions and looked around for the proverbial other shoe.
We made the last big jump before our destination late in the morning. The chief joined us on the bridge, leaving her crew under the watchful eyes of our guests.
“How are we, Mr. Reed?” I asked.
“A little long and well off vector. I’m calculating the course correction now, Skipper.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed. Chief? How much time do you need before we can make the last jump?”
She looked over at me, casting a glance at Snake lurking over my shoulder. “I’ll need at least twelve stans, Skipper.”
“That long enough to adjust course, Mr. Reed?”
“Should be. I’m running optimizations to get the best cost-time ratio, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.”
“Why so long?” Snake asked. “It didn’t take that long the last time.”
“Because, Mr. Snake. The last time we did what we call back-to-back. We jumped twice in a row without recharging the system. Our course correction only took a few ticks because we hit our mark so we were able to take the next step quickly. Now we’re off course and there’s no juice to engage the Burleson drives that allow us to move through space. Now we stand down, wait for the course burn to put us on track and the fusactors to refill the bucket.”
He fidgeted a bit at that and frowned.
“Anxious to see friends and family, Mr. Snake?” I asked.
He nodded and flattened out his expression. “Yeah. It’s been a long time.”
His body language screamed what his words denied. I knew in my gut he lied. I knew without any question that we were sailing into a trap. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what direction the danger was coming from, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was coming.
I faced forward. Al and the chief both looked at me. I gave a small shrug.
“How are the sleeping arrangements, Mr. Snake?” I asked. I knew the arrangement was taking a toll on them. None of them looked like they’d had a decent night’s sleep since we left Dark Knight. I knew the chief was stretching out our transit, so quietly passed the word to make sure none of the guests got more than two stans of uninterrupted sleep. It was risky but it kept them from thinking too clearly about what was going on around them. I still hadn’t met the last member of his gang.
“How do you people do this all the time?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It’s our life. You get used to it after a few months. You’ll be home in your own bunks by this time tomorrow.”
“Not a moment too soon,” he said and sighed.
I raised an eyebrow in Al’s direction.
She nodded.
That’s when I knew they didn’t plan on letting us return, but I still had no idea how they planned to stop us.
“Burn calculated, Captain. Eleven stans brin
gs us on course by the time the capacitors top off.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed. Execute burn.”
“Execute burn, aye, aye, Captain.”
After the familiar twist and rumble, I said, “Secure from navigation stations, Ms. Ross. Set normal watch throughout the ship.”
“Secure from navigation stations and set normal watch, aye, aye, Captain.” She picked up the mic and made the announcements.
I stood up, stretched, and eyed the chrono. “Chief, Ms. Sharps should be serving the lunch mess at the top. Would you join me in the cabin, when you’re secured?”
She nodded. “Of course, Captain.”
“Mr. Snake? We need to leave the bridge now.” I led him down to the cabin where he took up residence on the sofa, cradling his weapon on his lap. The bottom of the weapon showed that he still hadn’t reloaded. The slot where the magazine would be gaped, an oblong mouth hungry for ammunition. I couldn’t decide if he was really stupid, just oblivious, or so over-confident that he didn’t believe anything could go wrong.
I had time to disabuse him of that belief.
The chief knocked on the door frame and entered when I looked up.
“Close it, if you please, Chief?”
She latched the door and took her customary seat.
“How’s the ship doing?” I asked, firing up the console and opening a comms channel to the chief’s tablet. I typed: “They don’t plan to let us go.”
“Well enough,” she said. “We’ve got enough in the tanks to make it to Telluride in a pinch. Should be plenty to go back to Dark Knight for Penna, Keehn, and Carstairs.” She pulled up her tablet and started keying.
“I’m concerned about scrubber cartridges,” I said. “It’s getting a bit whiffy. We got underway without Penna, too.”
My tablet bipped. Her message read: “I caught that, too. The question is how.”
“I’ll check the console when I get back. I haven’t noticed it, but you’ve got a better nose than I do,” she said.
I typed: “I still haven’t met the eighth person.”
“Did we get enough printer stock to run up some cartridges on our own?” I asked.
“We can print the filters but not the frames,” she said. “I have an order in for the machine that can print frames but it hasn’t caught up with us yet.” She typed on her screen.
“I don’t think we can expect replenishment this stop,” I said.
The message on my screen read: “He’s relieved to sleep but they bring him food. He never gets too far from environmental.”
I wrote: “If they don’t want the can to go back, what are they after?”
“No, I’m not planning on it. Depending on how long it takes us to match velocities and trade cans we may be a little short, but—like I said—we could always drop into Telluride.” She typed again.
The message read: “Something other than silence?”
I shrugged.
She nodded.
“Well, keep me informed, Chief. See you at lunch.”
She nodded, pocketed her tablet, and left the cabin.
“You people lead such boring lives,” Snake said. “How do you stand it?”
I looked at him. “Well, every so often the boredom is punctuated with short periods of sheer terror when we wonder whether we’ll live through the next tick. Compared to that? Boredom seems pretty good.”
His eyes narrowed and a flat smile grew on his lips.
The expression made me worry that he really didn’t understand the fresh hell he believed he was going to rain down on us. Or that we were all—literally—in the same boat.
Chapter 34
Deep Dark: 2376, March 14
The timer ticked down to the jump. “Ready about, Mr. Reed. Hard a-lee.”
The stars moved a bit but I probably only noticed because I was watching.
“Jump complete, Captain,” Al said “Verifying position.”
“We’re in the right neighborhood,” Mr. Reed said.
“I have the ship on long range,” Al said.
Snake stiffened and shifted his grip on the weapon. “How did you know it was a ship?”
Al looked at him. “What?”
“How did you know we were meeting a ship?”
“Mr. Snake,” I said. “We’re just inside the Oort cloud for the Telluride system. We’re barely anywhere at all. What did you think we were going to meet out here? A marching band?”
He shook his head and leaned back against the bulkhead behind me. He did not look like a man who had just jumped home—his gaze twitched around the bridge, his hands kept shifting on his weapon, and he shifted his weight back and forth like he had to take a leak but couldn’t find the head.
“How long before we match orbits, Mr. Reed?” I asked.
“Probably four days, Captain. We’re a long ways out and are still building our ephemeris data on it.”
“Four days?” Snake asked.
“That’s actually pretty good, Mr. Snake,” I said. “I wouldn’t have been surprised with four weeks.”
“It’s Snake. All right. Just Snake. Not mister anything. Snake.” The color blossomed across his face as he ranted. “Think you can remember that, Mister-high-and-mighty Captain?”
“Thank you for clearing that up, Snake. You should have said something earlier,” I said.
Benny came up the ladder to the bridge and crossed over to Snake. He asked Snake a question, but his voice was too low for me to hear.
Snake kept his voice down but not far enough. “Four more days.”
Benny frowned at the answer and shook his head. He glanced in my direction. “What are you lookin’ at?”
“I’m looking at you. What are you doing on my bridge?” I asked.
“I’m conferring with my colleague here. Mind your own business.” He edged around so his body blocked the view, his back toward me. He had a pouch slung over his shoulder. It looked familiar but I couldn’t place it.
I faced front and glanced at Al. I hadn’t noticed any of them carrying anything like it before.
“Any update on the ephemeris, Mr. Reed?”
He glanced at me and I made a stretching gesture with my fingers in front of my chest.
“Updates are still coming in. Looks like maybe seven days. I’ll know more when we get the last of the light speed data in.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.”
“Ms. Fortuner, any comms from the ship yet?”
“Nothing yet, Skipper. We’re still a long way out and it’ll take them time to notice us.”
“Ms. Ross, do we have any need to stay at navigation stations?”
“No, Captain. We’re here and have confirmed our position.”
“Very well, Ms. Ross. Mr. Reed do you have a preliminary course for helm?”
“I do, Captain. Passing preliminary course to helm.”
“Ms. Torkelson?”
“Preliminary course received, Captain. We are on the beam.”
“Thank you, Ms. Torkelson. Ms. Ross, if you’d secure from navigation stations and set normal watch, we’ll all get out of Mr. Reed’s hair while he works his magic for a final course.”
“Secure navigation stations and set normal watch. Aye, aye, Captain. Tom has the watch anyway.”
Reed snorted and didn’t look up.
Al picked up the mic and made the announcement. “Secured navigation stations, Captain. Logged.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ross.” I stood and stretched. The two hijackers stood huddled together at the back of the bridge. Snake appeared to be trying to see everything at once. Benny stared at me. It took me a moment to identify the sneer as contempt. I crossed to Reed’s position and leaned down. “More time is better, Tom.” I all but whispered it into his ear. “Thank you, Mr. Reed. Carry on.”
I dropped down the ladder off the bridge, Snake on my tail and Benny behind him. With the tension ratcheting up with our guests, I wondered if my decision to give them the run of the ship was the wisest. None of th
em seemed to realize they had the run of the ship only because I hadn’t taken any of the opportunities to corral them. I headed for the cabin, but dragged my feet a little to hear what Benny might say.
Snake followed me but Benny stopped at the foot of the ladder. I thought he said something about “Davie” but I couldn’t tell what the actual sentence was. I pressed into the cabin and took my usual seat behind the desk while Snake sprawled on the couch. I made a note to have it fumigated.
A quick survey of the reports left me no more informed than when I sat on the bridge. I stood and Snake shot to his feet. “Where are you going?”
“Right at the moment, the head. Why? You wanna watch?”
He gave me a disgusted look and plopped back down on the couch. “Unbelievable.”
I slipped into the head and pulled out my tablet, sending a quick note to the chief. “Are your guests carrying pouches on their backs?”
I left the head and beckoned Snake. “I’m going walkabout. Come on if you’re coming.”
He rolled his eyes and clambered to his feet.
I dropped down to the mess deck and took a quick survey. The woman, Ms. Grant, stood in a corner, her weapon holstered and her face slack. She looked like she might nod off given half a chance. I stuck my head into the galley. “Ms. Sharps? How are we doing?”
She glanced at the guard in the corner, and I recognized the face but couldn’t remember the name. “We’re all just peachy, Captain. Rumor is we’re only about a week out.”
“That’s what Mr. Reed said before I left the bridge. How are we fixed for stores?”
She shrugged. “We’re good.”
I looked at the guard. “What was your name again?”
“Jack.”
“Ah, thank you. I’m terrible with names and faces.”
I pulled out of the doorway and almost bumped into Snake. “What happened to Mr. Nunya?” I asked, walking off the mess deck and into the passageway.
“Nunya?” he asked. “Oh, Tim? He’s sleeping.”
“What about Frankie?” I asked.
Snake frowned. “I think he went aft. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
If there was ever anybody who needed firing for incompetence, it was Snake. None of his crew seemed to be a lot better. I wondered who had thought it a good idea to send them off unattended.
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