It seemed her system had already adapted to being on the Belle. When you’re hungry, eat. When you’re tired, sleep.
But she was getting claustrophobic.
“Belle, can you show me the layout of the ship? I’d like to take a walk.”
The picture on the wall vanished to show a basic blueprint.
She wrinkled her nose at the size of the ship.
The Belle was built for functionality; that much was obvious by the way the blueprints laid out the ship in short, effective squares.
She was in one of six quarters, all running off the single hallway that made up the main body of the ship. The landing bay she’d arrived in was down at one end with the galley at the other and it was as far as she’d be able to go. The cockpit and captain’s quarters split off the galley. The undercarriage holding the majority of the Belle’s systems lay under all of it, a series of shafts and tubes accessible only by the mechanic—the same format as the majority of ships she’d seen and traveled on.
She traced the blueprints with a finger, running the length and width of the Guild vessel.
For some reason she’d thought a Mercy ship would be bigger, but the Bonnie Belle was less than a quarter the size of the ship shot out from under her.
“Not much room to stretch my legs.” She felt silly announcing this to the AI but it seemed something she should do. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“Affirmative. The landing bay is the largest area on the ship—it should suffice for your needs. The courtesans use it often for exercise, usually jogging or basic aerobics. The galley is not recommended for exercise due to the size of the room and the primary function being that of providing an eating space,” Belle continued. “The cockpit is off limits to unauthorized personnel, as is the corridor leading to it and the captain’s quarters as well.”
She exited her suite and padded down the corridor in bare feet. The steel plates under her toes were cool, reminding her that in zero G she’d either be pulling herself along by the leather straps set near the ceiling or stomping along in mag-boots.
The idea of zero gravity had her stomach lurching. She’d never been a fan of space travel and had worked hard to avoid off-planet deals whenever possible. When she had to go into space she’d either pay extra for the full gravity no matter the length of the trip or drink her way through the experience if she couldn’t get a doctor to sign off on some serious tranqs.
Whatever it was going to cost her to have full gravity on the Belle it was worth it.
She paused before turning around and heading for the opposite end of the corridor.
The landing bay would be her final destination but she’d visit the galley first and get a coffee. Belle could have easily delivered it to her inside her room but she’d be damned if Catherine Rogers was going to hide in bed for the majority of this trip.
It was a change of scenery. Not a lot, but better than staring at Diego.
When looking at a gorgeous man gets boring something is very, very wrong.
There was no one in the galley. The courtesans’ suites were large but she couldn’t see spending all of her time locked up inside and subsiding on snacks and the occasional delivered meal. She’d expected the small kitchen to be a hotbed of activity, a meeting place for the women and men on the Belle.
The whiteness of the walls gave the galley an antiseptic look even though there was a faint smell of flowers courtesy of an air freshener stuck on one wall. Everything was hidden from sight, accessible by touch. She couldn’t fault the design—with eight crew members space was at a premium if they all showed up at the same time for a meal. The single table in the room could only hold four if they didn’t mind rubbing elbows.
The drink dispenser was visible and easy to use, allowing her to get a tube of coffee without any problem. Two folding chairs sat around the table she’d sat at earlier when Sean had treated her wounds.
She leaned on the table and sipped her coffee. It was a nice light roast. “Belle?”
“Yes?” The computer AI’s voice came through one of the speakers set in the ceiling.
“May I see the captain?”
There was a pause, long enough for Catherine to reconsider her question.
“The captain is awake and willing to meet with you. Please enter the cockpit at your convenience. And please be aware the captain has chosen to keep zero G in the cockpit,” Belle warned.
It took her another few minutes to finish off the coffee. She wasn’t going to try moving in zero gravity without both hands free.
She knew her limitations.
The first step into the short corridor had her stomach lurching and threatening to return the coffee.
She grabbed at the first leather strap nearby, set into the ceiling to her right. A look down the short hall showed a series of straps on each side at spaced intervals arranged to allow someone to travel without floundering around for a foot or handhold. Standard equipment for zero-G environments.
It didn’t help as much as she thought it would.
She was halfway to the front of the ship when the command chair swiveled around to show Sam Keller, strapped in and stifling a yawn.
“Can I help you?” She held her hand over her mouth again as a second yawn pulled her face into a grimace.
“I—” Catherine scrabbled for the next strap in line and missed it. The momentum carried her forward toward the captain in a possible collision course, her feet swinging out in front of her as she flailed for a footrest.
Sam smiled and put out her booted foot in time to knock against Catherine’s bare feet. The resistance was enough to bring Catherine to a standstill as she snagged another strap.
“Sorry.” Catherine swallowed hard.
“Happens to the best of us.” Sam rubbed her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe the number of rookies who forget their basic training and crash into each other the first time we hit zero G. It’s like a crazed ball of arms and legs flailing around. Lots of inappropriate grabbing of body parts.” She snickered at the memory. “Quite amusing.” The redhead waved at the screens in front of her. “I know you paid for full grav on the whole ship but I find it easier to get around this small space when I’m weightless. Sorry ’bout that.”
“Not a problem.” She managed to pull herself together long enough to brace her legs on one wall and arms on the other to achieve some sort of solid contact. She gritted her teeth, annoyed with herself for not managing to do something as simple as coming to a stop without needing help.
Sam watched her without comment.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” Catherine said, annoyed and embarrassed at the same time. “I was wondering if there were any updates.”
“I was napping,” Sam answered, almost too quickly, “and nothing as of yet. Dan—Marshal LeClair’s ship won’t be here for another day at least, maybe two. He was on the way and got detoured. There was an emergency on one of the other Mercy ships he had to deal with first.” She didn’t elaborate and Catherine assumed she wouldn’t even if asked. “But he’s been sending regular updates on his conversations with the authorities as far as your case went.”
“Anything in the way of reinforcements?” She tried to not sound too hopeful but failed, judging by Sam’s scowling.
“Nothing. The Guild and the UNS have decided to go to a communication blackout as far as calling for help goes. The more people who know where we are, the more likely we’ll have another attack.”
“Even if it could help us?” Catherine frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does in its own twisted, logical way.” Sam reached for her water bottle. “Especially if you trust no one.”
“You don’t trust the Guild?”
Sam coughed, releasing a handful of water drops into the air. With a curse she undid her harness and floated
up to suck them into her mouth.
“Please don’t say that when I’m drinking. Jenny hates it when water gets into the system. Everything’s sealed so it’s not going to short-circuit things, but it’s a bother to vacuum out.”
Catherine pulled herself closer, inching along the wall. “You don’t trust the Guild but you’re a captain on a Mercy ship under their control. Isn’t it illogical?”
Sam raised her hands and pushed against the ceiling to anchor herself back in the chair. “It’s a long story. Short version is that while the Guild does what they think is right, it’s not necessarily what the rest of us would consider right.”
Catherine studied the captain. “Do you trust Marshal LeClair?”
“With my life.” The answer came almost too quickly. The captain clearly had some sort of history with the marshal. “I’ve trusted him with my crew. I’d trust him with your life.” A wry smile appeared. “And I plan to.”
She resisted the urge to dig deeper into what was obviously some sort of relationship between the pair.
A Mercy captain and a UNS marshal. Catherine mentally shook her head. Who would have thought it?
The Bonnie Belle was turning out to be full of interesting people, people she never would have met in her other life.
People she was beginning to care about.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving my life. Thank you.”
Sam chuckled. “You’re welcome. Just speak well of us when you get to the Justice base. I suspect there’ll be plenty of coverage of the trial with your rise to celebrity status.” She patted the panel. “The Bonnie Belle is a good ship. She’ll get the job done.”
Catherine nodded. “I’ll be sending a letter to the Guild once this all gets settled.” She drew a shaky breath, trying to settle her stomach. “Now I think I better get some solid ground under my feet before Jenny has to worry about cleaning up more than just water.” She turned around as slowly as she could manage, holding tight to the straps.
“Sorry about the delay. All I can suggest is you rest up and get your strength back, maybe practice your testimony for your trial. I’ll let you know when the marshal’s ship is docking.” Sam’s voice followed her down the short hallway.
“Thank you.” Catherine swallowed back a chunky burp and raced for solid ground. She paused for a few minutes in the galley to get her full gravity legs back. The landing bay was next. After a short stroll down past her own suite and the others she opened the hatch.
She stepped into the landing bay and paused for a minute, hands on hips, to survey where she’d first come onto the Belle.
It smelt of sweat, smoke and dirty socks.
It reminded her of one of the dive bars she’d visited more than once during her younger years when climbing the business ladder often meant going out for drinks with business partners who believed in drinking their competition under the table. She’d been there for eye candy but had quickly parlayed her position and knowledge into promotion after promotion.
It also didn’t hurt that she could hold her liquor better than most men. And women.
“Oh, hey.”
Catherine turned to her right and saw the ship’s mechanic standing over the disabled life pod. A few short blonde curls poked out from the welder’s shield as she touched the edge of the cutter to the top of the protective shell.
“Let me finish this last one.” The metal gave way with a clang and dropped to the floor. The mechanic turned off the cutter and flipped up the mask.
“You didn’t want this back, did you?” The panic in her voice poured out in rapid words. “I mean, they’re sort of one-use only and if your company wanted to get picky about things—”
“No, I think not.” Catherine smiled. “As far as I’m concerned you can tear it to shreds.” She approached the remains of the pod. “What are you doing?”
“There’s some good straight pieces of metal here. Excellent for having on hand for reinforcing weak spots if there’s a micro-leak. I can weld it on and it’ll hold until we hit port.” The woman pulled off the mask and the leather gloves before wiping her hands on a dark red rag previously stuffed in a pocket of her jumpsuit. “Don’t think I got introduced before. I’m Jenny.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Catherine stared at the metal slices. “Does it happen often? I mean, the leaks?”
“No, not often at all. But it never hurts to have this sort of stuff on hand for emergencies.” Jenny kicked the small pile with her boot. “The Belle has a magnetic field repelling most pebbles and small stuff dinging against the hull. But every once in a while something gets through. Nothing major but enough to need repairs when we hit landfall. Belle releases special foam that hardens immediately to seal the leak but there’s nothing like a good solid piece of metal to make sure it holds true.”
Catherine eyed the pile of debris swept to the side of the bay. “Did all that come in with me?”
“Yep. All good for me.” Jenny stopped and looked at Catherine, her mouth open. “I mean—” Her face reddened and Catherine realized the mechanic was fumbling for a combination of an apology and explanation for her benefiting from the loss of a ship and crew.
She held up her hand before the young woman exploded from the effort. “I understand completely. I’m glad it’s going to some good use instead of becoming a navigational hazard.”
A flash of memory reminded her of the crew she’d lost. She didn’t know what they’d think but she knew she had no right to burden the mechanic with that weight.
She’d carry it alone.
The smile she gave Jenny was a sad one but honest. “I think they’d understand as well. Please continue.”
Jenny waved at the pile. “Some of these are parts I can modify to keep as backups for the Belle and others can be traded for something else when we hit landfall.”
“Like what?” Catherine circled the stack of jagged metal.
The mechanic shrugged. “Books, food, whatever the crew needs. There’s always something we can’t buy from the Guild but someone’s willing to trade for. You never know what someone’s going to offer.” She scratched the tip of her nose. “Got Kendra a set of moon rock sculptures once. April got a metal rack of some sort.” Jenny gave a nervous giggle. “I didn’t want to know what for.”
“Doesn’t the Guild give you enough money to keep flying?” Catherine nodded toward the metal sheets. “They should give you supplies and the like for free. After all, it’s to their benefit to keep the Belle going.”
Jenny plucked a screwdriver from her tool belt and began working on the opposite end of the pod. “Oh they do, but the minimum amount according to some paper pusher who’s never probably walked out from behind her desk and gotten on a ship. And they never pass up the chance to overcharge the courtesans for items deemed to be extras, which is pretty well everything. So if I can find it cheaper elsewhere it’s all for the better.” She waved the screwdriver in the air. “All sorts of surprises can happen out here and if you’re not ready to compromise you’re going to find yourself in a heap of trouble. I’d rather be prepared for the unexpected.” She smiled at Catherine. “Like you coming aboard.”
“Glad I could make your trip memorable.” Catherine looked at the remains of the life pod.
“Oh.” Jenny followed her gaze. “I’m sorry. I meant—”
“No, no. You do what you need to do,” Catherine forced a smile on her face. Jenny wasn’t the enemy.
Jenny nodded. “Thanks. I can’t imagine how you’re dealing with this.” She waved the screwdriver around, dangerously close to Catherine’s torso.
Catherine moved back a few feet.
“Oh. Right.” The mechanic put the tool back into her belt. “How are you settling in?”
“It’s—” Catherine rubbed her arms. “It’s a bit overwhelming. All this, I mean.
” She gestured at the landing bay. “I guess you don’t get many passengers who are just passengers.”
Jenny smiled. “You’re the first. Don’t worry about feeling kinda weirded out. When I got this gig I was sort of shell-shocked for the first month or so.” She giggled. “The things you hear them talking about, the things you see in their cabins—” She covered her mouth. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to talk ’bout that sort of stuff.”
Catherine nudged the pod with her foot. “I understand completely. The Guild’s confidentiality clauses and so forth.”
“Well, yeah. But I see where they’re coming from.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Everyone’s got needs, you know? And the places we go, the people we see, they need someone like the girls and guys here to help them deal with it.” She gestured at the wall. “It’s a sort of mental health thing, I figure. We keep them happy and healthy, and they keep working. Sort of therapy but a whole lot easier to get and a whole lot more fun.”
Catherine paused, taken aback by the mechanic’s simple analysis.
Talk about wisdom from the mouth of babes.
Jenny continued. “Now there’s always people who don’t like Mercy ships. I’ve seen the notes posted on the message boards for the bases we visit and seen them bitching and whining ’bout letting us land and do our job. What they don’t get is each and every base has a vote every year to decide if they want the Guild to visit or not. Majority rules, and from what I’ve seen, very few ever turn down a Mercy ship. Maybe a Charity ship, but never a Mercy ship. It’s a democratic vote and the people have their voice heard on what they want. Some want us, some don’t.” Jenny rolled the rag between her hands. “And they got a right to say they don’t want us touching down. Those who don’t, we wave to as we soar on by and move ass to the next stop. We don’t worry about it and I hope those people don’t let it get under their skin that others want what we got to offer. Because if you let it fester and let it burn you might go a little crazy.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “That’s how you get things like the Purge.”
In the Void Page 10