by A. Rhea King
“I saw you on the docket,” she told him. She cozied up to him as soon as he was seated. “How’s the elbow? I heard you disgraced your opponent with the score.”
Q’al smiled. “The chess game was a joke, Aris. My opponent couldn’t have beaten a toddler of any species!”
Aris laughed, leaning in. “You know, I put in a request to be on this stint with you.”
He leaned close, murmuring, “Does that mean we get to pick up where we left off?”
She laughed, linking her arm with his. “Of course!”
He smiled, looking at the faces around them. It appeared that all of the crew had arrived; so where was their captain?
Aris leaned in, and her warm breath brushed his ear as she said, “I know something that will shock you!”
‘ I doubt it, but…’ he thought as he turned his head to looked into her eyes. “I’m waiting with baited breath, my dear.”
“I… Coerced a certain board member into telling me who our captain is. Do you want to know who it is?” A soft, alluring giggle escaped her.
The idle chatter around them died off as the crewmen around them turned their attention to her. If a crewman found out who the captain was before the briefing began, and had connections among the high ranks, that crewman could make a quick transfer request without receiving a mark against them in their service record. However, it was rare to find out who the captain was before a briefing because crew dossiers were released only minutes before a launch briefing began. In fact, it was usually only the captain and one or two admirals who knew which crewman was assigned to which ship. Although most of the time the information the board had received was intentional misinformation.
“Enlighten me, my dear.”
“He has only been a captain for a week, but he is the most sought after xeno-psychiatrist in perhaps the universe: Doctor Truman Barnett. Do you think that if a human has a doctorate, he’s better in bed than the rest of them?”
Aris was right; he was surprised.
“Doctor Truman Barnett? Aris, someone was toying with you.”
She leaned in until her lips lightly touched his. She said with their lips wafting across his, “When has my information ever been wrong, Q’al?”
Q’al’s stomach trembled with sexual excitement as her tongue flutter against his lips. She did know how to use every part of her body to entice a male. But then he remembered what she’d just told him, and it had the effectiveness of a cold shower.
“Doctor Barnett cannot possibly be our captain. Why would he leave a lucrative and fruitful practice to become a cargo captain? That is a suicidal jump from the highly decorated career he had, and completely illogical.”
Aris shrugged. “I dunno what his reason was to become a captain. But since I’ve never served under him…” Her lips twisted into a devilish smile. “Literally, the prospects of this stint have become very tantalizing.”
Q’al began to shake his head. She grabbed his chin in her hand, looking him the eye and adding, “I am telling you is the truth, Q’al. The xeno-psychiatrist you clearly have a thing for is our captain.”
The door at the bottom of the briefing hall opened, and the room seemed to hold its breath. A man almost two meters tall walked in. He filled out his uniform with a well-toned, healthy body. His light brown hair was trimmed neatly, and even from this distance, Q’al could see how blue his eyes were. A clean shave showed off the man’s strong chin and defined cheekbones. Q’al guessed he was perhaps in his mid-thirties. But most importantly, Q’al knew from the many lectures he’d attended that Tru had facilitated, that his new captain was renowned xeno-psychiatrist, Doctor Truman Barnett.
“He is easy on the eyes, isn’t he Q’al?” Aris asked.
Q’al smiled. Yes. He was very easy on the eyes. Following behind him was XO officer, Amanda Wrigley. She was one of Q’al’s few human friends, and he was perhaps her only friend. Wrigley looked frazzled as she tried to put a doc-slip back in her shoulder bag. He guessed she hadn’t had her medications checked recently, or she was experiencing a severe anxiety attack; he always pitied her when she was in this state. She nearly ran into Tru when he stopped at the podium. He didn’t seem to notice; his attention was on the crew before him.
Q’al sat back, politely giving this highly respected doctor, and new captain, his undivided attention. If nothing else, perhaps he would find out what had possessed a renowned doctor to abandon his lucrative and prestigious career as a xeno-psychiatrist for that of a low paying and piteous career as a Merchant Raitor captain.
The large hall was able to hold a thousand, but today there was only sixty-seven spread across the lower rows. Tru walked across the stage to the lectern. He had given thousands of speeches and lectures, but never as a captain. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Did any of them know his stomach was tensed with butterflies? He was sure the telepaths or empaths did, but none were reacting to his nervousness.
Tru pulled his hands behind his back and cleared his throat as he looked over the crews’ faces. He didn’t recognize any of them, and that was a slight disappointment. He had hoped he would have gotten at least one crewman he’d served or trained with.
“I am Captain Barnett. For this stint, you will be serving aboard my ship, Prosperous. And when I say my ship, I do not mean one assigned to me by Merchant Raitor, I mean my ship. Her central processor is named Gracie. The computer and security droids, along with our security team, will be keeping order, so please stick to the areas you are designated and authorized to be in. Because Prosperous is dual registered as a science vessel, some of you are assigned as long-term science crew and should have been notified before the briefing. Look for a meeting request from me after this briefing. Our first stint is—”
Everyone looked at the door at the top of the hall when it opened. A young woman with blood red hair and large freckles across her pale skin hurried down the stairs to take a seat at the very end of the bottom row and a dozen seats away from anyone else. She sat a small duffle bag on her lap, and when she laid her hands on it, the bag deflated to almost flat. Tru recognized her from the doc-slip.
“That’s Ensign Rhoades,” Amanda whispered over his shoulder.
Tru returned to his speech. “First we have a cargo run to Righel Prime, and then we’ll be assisting with an archeology dig on Achillian Zeta. The roster says this will be nine months, but it may be longer due to the significance of the Astandi dig. They have five months to recover as many artifacts as they can before the Drasken begin mining their purchase. For my short-term crewman, once we reach Righel Prime, you will be allowed to request a new stint once the cargo has been unloaded. As we’ll need less crewman for the expedition, if you do wish to remain on board, you may enter your raffle number before we get to Righel Prime. The pay will be less. However, I do not handle salaries so be sure to check with your agents before you enter your number.”
Tru paused, expecting to hear groans, but apparently, that wasn’t bad news to this crew. They didn’t even look impressed. Tru mentally shrugged and continued.
“Before we depart, I have to reassign bunks, so—”
“You mean I won’t have sleep with a particle gun in hand?” someone asked.
Tru smiled. “No. There was a misunderstanding with the arrangements, and I don’t want any of you to be uncomfortable with your bunkmates.”
Everyone clapped. Tru nodded, motioning them to quiet down. He continued once it was quiet again.
“I want everyone to begin assembling outside my chambers at oh-five-hundred tomorrow for reassignment. We will depart in two days at thirteen hundred, on the dot. If you’re late, you will be left and reprimanded. Understood?”
Amanda was the only one to utter any objection. “That will put us three days behind schedule, Captain Barnett!”
Tru addressed the crew instead of Amanda. “Crew, I am the only one that has to answer for late cargo, not any of you.”
“Lotta of captains say that, and then w
e get docked in pay,” an angry voice snarled from the faces before Tru.
Tru decided to ignore the remark. “Any other questions or complaints?”
No one had either.
“I look forward to meeting all of you tomorrow morning. Dismissed, crew. Ensign Rhoades, a word?”
The crew quickly cleared out of the hall. Tru turned to Amanda but watched Jackie skulk up to them.
“You’re late, Jackie!” Amanda snapped. “And—”
“I will meet you outside of my office on Prosperous, Wrigley,” Tru said, stopping her.
Before he could continue, she snapped, “She’s late, Captain Barnett! You are obligated to—”
Tru looked Amanda in the eyes and firmly said, “You are dismissed XO.”
“But, sir, she—”
“Executive Officer Wrigley, I would like to speak with Ensign Rhoades in private. You are dismissed.”
She didn’t move, and he didn’t look away.
“Sir, she—”
“Wrigley, will I need to reprimand you for insubordination?”
Through gritted teeth, she snarled, “No, sir.” She walked off with brisk steps.
Tru turned his attention to the withdrawn ensign. “Ensign Jackie Rhoades, correct?”
The girl nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor.
“Why were you late?”
“There was a riot at the Mare Tranquillitatis spaceport.”
Tru took a step closer, and she looked up. Her wide, black eyes told him she was afraid of him and what was about to happen to her, but he was more concerned with something else. For a moment he thought her red hair and black eyes were cosmetic, but then he reminded himself Rhoades was a Silerium. It wasn’t that uncommon for them to find more discrimination when the bore physical signs of just how different they were from their human ancestors. Tru stared for several moments into her black eyes before nodding.
“The riot shook you up, didn’t it? What happened?”
She looked back down at the floor. “Some Sileriums brought weapons. They were all killed. Some unarmed Sileriums, they were just standing in the crowd, and they were killed too, but they were labeled as rioters. They incinerated them right there….” Under her breath, but in a voice still hot with disdain, she added, “In front of everyone. But no one cared. No one ever cares.”
“Some of us do care about Sileriums, Ensign Rhoades.”
She looked up at him.
He offered a slight smile and continued, “Judging from that duffel, I guess you don’t have enough qubits saved to get a room tonight, do you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Do you?”
She shook her head.
“Then let’s get you a bunk assignment, so you have some place to stay. Come with me.”
Tru walked around her, heading for the stage door. Ensign Rhoades followed him like an abused child.
Chapter 04
‘HE IS BRASH AND RECKLESS.’ AMANDA VENOMOUSLY THOUGHT AS SHE waited outside Tru’s office. ‘He’s going to get us all killed. How could the board promote a man like that to captain!? And on top of that, he’s actually defending that conniving, lying Silerium! We’re talking about this! I won’t have that lying bitch serve under me.’
Tru and Jackie came around the corner together, forcing Amanda to hold her tongue a little bit longer. True swiped his hand over the biometric pad outside his office door, and the door disappeared as he walked into it.
The women followed, both stopping just inside the door. The room looked like an office in a house rather than a captain’s office on a space ship. In the center of the room was an enclosed octagonal shaped copper fireplace with Earth sky constellations tooled into the metal. Directly opposite the door was a dark, cherry wood desk. It was an impressive piece of furniture and a centuries old family heirloom. A plush suede chair was behind it, and two matching wingback chairs sat before the desk. A small cherry wood table sat between them with glass inset on the top. The glass was etched with a planet map of the Sol system. Along four walls of the room were floor-to-ceiling cherry wood bookcases filled with books, mementos, and various models – some crudely constructed while others were perfect. The case closest to the desk was filled with photographs; most of the images were of the same three men, two women, and Tru.
On the left side of the desk was a wet bar and food sequencer. Inside the glass doors of the wet bar, replicated bottles glittered in dim light which made the liqueur look appetizing. On the far side of the room, a dark brown suede loveseat and two matching wingback chairs made a comfortable sitting area. A cherry wood coffee table and two side tables completed the area. The two viewports in the room took up most of the exterior wall and curtains softened the appearance of the hard metal that protected them from the cold vacuum of space. Outside the ship, space traffic bustled past, and the vast expanse of space was a sharp reminder to the occupants that they were indeed on a starship.
“Have a seat, ladies,” Tru said.
They turned their attention back to Tru. He was sitting behind the desk, looking at something on a terminal that hadn’t been there when they’d entered.
The two sat down in the wingback chairs.
“Who designed this room?” Amanda asked.
“My father was the ship architect, and my mother was the interior decorator. They designed every part of the ship, even the cargo holds.”
“I suppose the cargo hold viewports have curtains too,” she sarcastically bit.
Tru shot her a cool look. “That will be enough, Wrigley.”
Amanda looked down. She was far from having said enough, but she didn’t want to say it in Ensign Rhoades’s presence.
“Ensign, we don’t have anything poolside or off the atrium, but how about a cozy co-ed with a port view.” Tru joked, looking up at Jackie. “Will that do?”
She didn’t even crack a smile.
“I was joking, Ensign. The only pool or atrium is in the h-spheres.”
“Oh.” She forced a flash of a smile.
“Does it bother you to see space traveling by at impossible speeds?”
“No, sir.”
“All right.” Tru leaned back. “Gracie.”
Over an intercom hidden somewhere in the room décor, the ship’s computer replied, Yes?
“Put Ensign Rhoades on G deck in quarter twenty and bunk…” Tru looked at her. “Ensign, do you like the top or bottom bunk?”
“It doesn’t matter, sir.”
“It might if you have a drooler above you,” Tru joked again, smiling this time to emphasize it.
A faint but real smile came to her lips. “It really doesn’t matter, sir.”
“All right. Gracie put her in bunk A.”
Correction made. Next assignment?
“Captain, we don’t have to reassign everyone,” Amanda argued, “and especially not Jackie. She doesn’t care who she bunks with.”
“We’ll address this issue in a few minutes, XO.”
“Captain—”
“Wrigley, you will hold this matter until we are in private. Am I clear?”
Amanda glanced at Jackie. Jackie wore a faint smirk, and it made Amanda’s blood boil.
“We have you squared away, Ensign Rhoades. I’ll try not to give you bunkmates that are too rowdy, all right?”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No problem. All the sequencers work, so you can take your meal in the mess hall or your quarters. Dismissed.”
Amanda watched her leave. As soon as the door solidified, she turned a hot glare on Tru. His attention was on the terminal monitor.
“Is there anything else, Captain Barnett?” Amanda growled.
“Why don’t you like Jackie?”
“What?”
“Why don’t you like Jackie, Amanda?”
“Don’t use my first name!”
Tru leaned on his desk, holding her gaze. “I won’t use it again, Wrigley, and while it’s good to know my XO does have some emotion under that uni
form, the question still remains.”
“I never said I didn’t like her.”
“Your actions tell me otherwise.”
“She is a Silerium, and she operates one of the ships primary functions: communications. She has no social skills. You should see how she eats! She barely passed her etiquette and protocol classes. She reports everything that anyone does wrong and how she finds those things out suggests she uses her post to spy on people. She’s dangerous.”
“What were you doing when she spied on you?”
“Nothing!”
Tru inhaled and exhaled a long breath. “Oh. She spied on someone you’re close to, then?”
“That isn’t any of your business,” Amanda hissed.
“I could call Jackie back and ask her instead if you’d like.”
Amanda thinned her lips for a moment. “Someone I knew was having a relationship with a captain.”
“And that’s a secret because…?”
“She was a lieutenant.”
“That’s against regulations, so Jackie should have reported it.”
“They were so careful that no one knew, and the only way she could have found out was by abusing her position and spying on them while she was on duty.”
“If they were so careful, then how do you know about it?”
“My friend told me, not that any of this is your business.”
He grimaced and put his hand over his stomach. He inhaled deeply before he spoke again. “And you didn’t report it like you were supposed to?”
“She has also gotten past locked doors that she shouldn’t have been able to. She uses those mutant Silerium powers to hack them. She is a security risk!”
“She’s not a security risk, she’s psychic. Using her powers is common.” He held up his hand before the words came out of her open mouth. “I did not say using them was right, Wrigley, but it’s common. Most Sileriums don’t grasp why they can’t use their powers or when is the appropriate time to use them. And if she knows what people are doing she probably has heightened hearing, can see things when she touches people or objects they’ve touched, or she has premonitions. All of these things are normal, she just needs someone who is understanding to help her learn to use them appropriately.”