Penance (RN: Book 2)

by David Gunner

  “Anytime now.”

  “Good.” The retrieval of the fluid gave an excellent excuse for returning to the Jeremiah for the accomplishment of other tasks and … Denz eyed Canthouse’s strapped arm. This injury would complicate the recovery of the unity device but that could be solved by placing Stavener in charge of the second launch. He could identify and return all of the required materials under the guise of retrieving bandit intelligence. “Chief, do what you’re able in the secure areas whilst the launches bring back the fluid. Malcolm, I’d like you take charge of immediate repairs. Mr Avery can go with the launches once he has…”

  To Avery, Denz’s voice had been little more than a distant lounge conversation as he lingered as far to the rear as he could, his body rigid with his arms crossed about his chest so as to grip opposite elbows. He did his best to appear attentive, but his worst nightmares were coming true and there was little he could do about it. Anytime now the best specialists on the ship would enter the secure zone where they were sure to find the cause in areas he had sole jurisdiction over. He could envision it now: he would be summoned to engineering where he would find an engineer talking to Denz or Canthouse, a hand would open to reveal the Judas bolts dripping red. They would stare at the incriminating threaded metal before slowly shifting their accusatory gaze to him.

  He would die for this. They would say he had sabotaged a King’s vessel during hostilities and they would condemn him. He would feel the hand on his shoulder and be led away to the sudden stop.

  Avery felt faint with his traitorous mind unrelenting in its Old Bailey vilification with the gavel ringing his guilt again and again. He felt as if he were bound to some great ratcheting device with every passing second an irresistible hand jarring him forward in tectonic imperative, step by incessant step to a suffocating benthic oblivion. He rubbed his eyes and attempted to control his erratic breathing, but the dizziness prevailed. And to think he had been in favour for the return of capital punishment.

  The second officer bit the white knuckle of a balled fist as he considered flight or reallocation of blame, but the ship was too small with insufficient opportunities and there was nothing he could do.

  In his wildest imaginings he had never envisioned his career ending with him executed as a traitor.

  Yet his fevered mind continued to dig and there could possibly be a way out of this. They still hadn’t found the other three, or the girl, and he was certain they had her in one of the secure areas. If he could somehow locate them, draw them into the LAW area and …and. And what? He had no idea, He’d have to wing it and see how it went. But he’d need to be alone to do it. Absolutely nobody else could be permitted to know what he was doing, but how to keep them away …how to keep them away?

  “Lieutenant!”

  The shout caught Avery by surprise and he snapped back from his reverie with a start, his hands automatically smoothing his overalls as he glanced about the curious faces. Someone had called him and he had no clue as to who or why. His gaze roamed about the silent but inquisitive faces wondering what action to take, when it came to him.

  “WHAT!” Avery cried; his eyes wide as he stared about them with the stupid incomprehension of a man who had stepped backwards into insanity.

  The people stared at him and each other in bewilderment.

  “Are you alright, Mr Avery?” Denz asked.

  Avery backed away from the group, his eyes wide and face set in complete alarm. “What’s going on! What’s happening around here!” He raised his hands as if in self-defence, his fingers forming claws as he bumped into and moved along the wall.

  “Christopher.” Denz said in a calm voice as he pushed between the other men. “It’s OK. There’s no problem here. Nothing to be worried about.”

  “No! It’s not alright. Nothing’s going right on this devil ship. Monsters try to eat us. Pirates try to kill us. People disappearing and equipment exploding. It’s not right. There’s something wrong. We’ve gone to Hell!” Avery backed against a tool chest near the door, his body tensed cat like with a countenance of feral insanity as his eyes darted from man to man.

  The commander stood at the front of the semi-circle of men, his hands raised in non-provocation. He caught the words one of the officers whispered to a neighbour, gate madness, and he couldn’t help but agree. He spoke in as a soothing voice as he could, and just hoped one of the others was on the comm to the surgery.

  “Christopher, I know things may seem a little odd right now, but it’ll all be OK. I promise. Star ships have equipment failures all the time. These things happen.” He took a half step forward with every passive nod of the head.

  Avery crouched, a fine mad smile filling his imp like face as he glanced at the door hoping to give the impression of making a break for it. “Stay away from me!” he raked his fingers at one man who attempted to circumvent him. The man stopped his advance and fell back on blocking the exit.

  With his eyes still on the encroaching group, the second officer ripped open a drawer of the tool chest, a hand searching blindly until it found the longest and sharpest toll there was. Avery brandished the slim pry bar at anyone who gave the impression of stepping forward. “No, you’re wrong, Sinner!” Avery wailed in a degenerate before god voice, stabbing the tool toward Denz. “This ship is cursed. It’s haunted and possessed. We’re all going straight to hell!”

  An arrival at the door distracted him and the man to his right sprung forward grabbing the makeshift weapon and forcing him down. Then they were on him. Restraining his thrashing limbs as he kicked, clawed and screamed for best drama. He fought as he believed a lunatic would, and it all ended when a white vested figure squeezed between the struggling men and he felt a burning sensation in his left thigh.

  Denz swallowed hard as he watched the two medics and three of the attending officers ferry the limp Avery out the door to the surgery. Even sedated, his barbed condemnations echoed down the passageway, with a final “You’ve doomed us all!” choked off by the closing air tight door.

  He leant against the inner door frame, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose to clear the fatigue that dogged him and help clear his mind. It helped a little and he turned to face what remained of the section chiefs with every man in the room appearing shaken to some degree or another as they passed quiet remarks amongst themselves. Hewton and Canthouse stood near the handrail overlooking the engineering space, from where concerned crew members who on having heard the commotion, snatched glances at the gathered officers. Hewton’s face was an anxious red with both hands splayed vertically as he repeated “It will work” to a seemingly sceptical Canthouse, who shook his head in response to Hewton’s insistent comments.

  “Gentlemen,” Denz said to regain their interest. The men formed around him. “As concerned as we all are in regards to Mr Avery’s well being, any conjecture at this point does nothing to help us with our current situation. The surgery will keep us apprised of anything we need to know. So if we can leave the incident with Mr Avery aside for the moment, we need to continue our discussion in regards to the retrieval of the fluid and other items of use from the Jeremiah.” Denz turned to the chief engineer who stood by the main display with his arms crossed and bore a look of dour alienation. “Chief, you were telling us how many vats we needed.”

  The engineer’s cheeks hollowed with his mouth making the usual munching motion as he gave Denz a distant confused look. He had an air of severe disunity and after several seconds of apparent consideration, he spat onto the floor, gave a none committal sniff and said, “Well young man, what I think we should do is get on the radio to the nearest platform and request they send a truck to give us a tow.”

  Denz bit back his automatic remonstration of the senior engineer’s actions, as the man obviously had little idea as to who or where he was. He had never seen anyone’s mind transition to the B side quite as seamlessly as the chief engineer’s had, with this a clear cut case of displacement dementia as he had ever witnessed. The chief�
��s mind had the inability to process distances beyond a certain point, in his case beyond the Royal Navy’s operational limits within the SOL system, and no matter how much time they spent away from Earth or went without contacting any other RN resource, he believed that they were still within the solar system. The chief may have been a borderline case with the powers that be likely aware of his condition when he was assigned to the Bristol. Possibly believing that he would be fine on a bland tour of the stations if he were sufficiently distracted, and the Bristol with her dozens of unfinished systems would keep him occupied and ignorant to the fact he was no longer within the home disc. The Avery incident must have been the catalyst for him to realise there would be no immediate dropping off of injured personnel at the nearest Sol base.

  The countenances of the men around him ranged from knowing to incredulous, with those who had not quite figured out what had taken place leaning towards those who had whispering “How dare he?” and “Who does he think he is?”.

  It pleased the commander to note Canthouse working his tablet with the first officer giving him a nod as he finished. The medics were on their way.

  “Chief. I have something I need you to do,” Denz casually strode to the engineer’s side as he spoke. “We’ll be putting into Border-20 the day after tomorrow and I’m half expecting a surprise inspection by Admiral Shiori Murasami, and, well, you know how she is.” Den smiled knowingly at the engineer who raised his bushy eyebrows in appreciation of the admiral’s reputation for demanding perfection.

  The chief engineer chuckled to himself. “Yes, she’s an exacting one that one.”

  “I need you to spend a few days going over the surgery to make sure everything’s ship shape as, as diligent as the medics are, you know what they’re like for pushing things under a blanket. And I need everything perfect.”

  “Aye, sir. It’ll be my pleasure. I’ll show those bandaides a thing or two.”

  A single medic arrived at that moment. One of the two who had carried away Avery and he must have been wondering what the hell was happening in engineering, as every call appeared to be to retrieve a mad man. Canthouse cleared his throat to attract his attention and surreptitiously tapped his tablet and then his left forearm. The medics glanced at a smaller slimmer tablet attached above his left wrist, his head bobbing as he scanned the display. When finished he gave the first officer a curt nod to indicate understanding.

  “Chief, before you go,” Denz said in a chummy familiar way. “Who’s your best number two, as I don’t think we can leave engineering without a whip, can we?”

  “Young Penton, sir.” He walked to the guard rail and pointed into the main bay. “That’s him there.” His pointing finger indicated an attentive, but serious looking greasy blonde haired petty officer of a medium stocky build, who stood looking over a tablet with a junior engineer either side of him. “Penton!” the chief called, and made a c’mere gesture with a finger when the man looked toward him.

  Penton arrived on the deck within seconds, standing to informal attention with a perplexed expression as he looked about the many of the ship’s senior officers.

  “Penton knows this ship as well as me, sir. He’ll see everything gets done. And if there’s anything he can’t handle you know where to find me.” The chief smiled broadly so his moustache looked like a black bird landing as he congratulated himself on a job well done.

  “Thank you, chief,” Denz said with a nod.

  The chief engineer strode to the door saying to the medic, “Right you, with me.” as he turned into the corridor.

  Denz watched after him for a few seconds before turning to a thoroughly confused Penton.

  “Penton, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The commander stared at the young second engineer for several seconds wondering how to phrase what he had to say, as simply saying “The chief has gone mad and now you’re in charge” seemed a bit abrupt.

  “It may not seem like it but the chief engineer has suffered a slight lapse and has temporarily been removed from duty. And until we can reach Trent station I’d like you to assume the chief’s duties. If you’re willing, that is?”

  “Lapse, sir?” Penton asked with something of an understanding countenance.

  “Yes.” Denz said a little irritated that he received no direct answer.

  “D’you mean the distance madness, sir?”

  Denz’s eyes flicked to Canthouse who raised his eyes brows in surprise. “If you referring to distance dementia, then yes. That’s what the chief has. Were you aware of it?”

  Penton shrugged matter of factly, “Yes, sir. Everyone in engineering knows he had it. Him and a few others.”

  The news left Denz momentarily speechless. He stood unblinking, his mouth agape as he stared at Penton. “You mean to say you knew the chief engineer to be incapable of his duty, the chief and several others apparently, and you never reported it?”

  Penton’s frame stiffened defensively, “But I did report it, sir. Both me and a few of the lads. Several times. Two of them officially.”

  “And who did you report it to?”

  “Mr Avery, sir. The last time not more than five days past.”

  “And what did Mr Avery say he would do?”

  “Said he would see it through, sir. But he never did. Not for the chief, nor for the others.”

  Denz couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He glanced about the other incredulous faces finishing on Canthouse who just slowly shook his head, his look one of extreme disappointment.

  “Thank you, Mr Penton, for that information.” Penton nodded. “To answer my original question, do you feel able to cover the chief’s duties for the foreseeable future?”

  “Easily, sir. I’ve been doing his job since two weeks out when he first started acting strange. He mostly spends his time making models on the engineering display. Me and the boys have been fixing everything.” He noted Denz’s despairing look, “Mr Avery was fully aware –“

  “Fully aware of the situation.” Denz said finishing the sentence with an understanding nod. He let out a deep sign and scratched his forehead as he considered the rogues den of circumstance he was oblivious to, and what else may be unknown to him. But this was no time for overt speculation, he needed to fix the ship.

  “Are you aware of the problems the ship has. More specifically those preventing us from gating out?” Denz’s look bore a glimmer of hope that the major problems the chief reported may all have been in his head and the repairs less than imagined.

  “Aye, sir. The reactors are OK, but the primary bus links are shot. Some sort of feedback blew the main couplers and they’ll take days to fix, but we’ve got men on it. We’ve got the emergency turbine for enviromentals, but that’s trickle feed only. No high energy systems. As for the gate engines, their power links are ok but two of the cells burst.. We’ve got people welding them over now and we’ll be ready for the fluid when it gets here.”

  “Do we have enough aboard? The chief said we didn’t,” the commander almost crossed his fingers on asking.

  “No, the chief was right about that. We don’t have any to spare. But that stuff will do.” Penton pointed at the scrolling display of the Jeremiah’s inventory. “I noticed it as you were talking to me,” the engineer offered by way of explanation.

  “The chief said we’d need four of those vats,” Canthouse said scrolling the screen of his tablet.

  “No, three’ll do. Two and a half at a pinch. But you’ll need the mag-lev to move them as they’re a good tonne apiece. You can leave them on the launch, too, as we can move the fluid using the refuelling lines. A little contamination won’t do it any harm.”

  Denz glanced at Canthouse who nodded, his face elongated in appreciative gesture of the man’s obvious knowledge, something he could only agree with. The reduced fluid requirements along with the ability to unload via the refuelling lines would significantly reduce the time needed to refill the capacitors allowing them to leave.

 
“Very well, Chief,” Denz said followed by an acknowledging grin, “Lieutenant-commander Canthouse will take a launch for the fluid, so if you can start the preparations for receiving the fluid so we can get out of here.”

  Penton nodded, “Aye, sir. I’ll get the lazy bleeders to it right now.” He left unceremoniously.

  With the affairs related to the loss of two senior officers having eaten up valuable time, a sense of urgency struck Denz who turned to Canthouse, “Malcolm, I gather you’ve selected your teams?”

  “Yes, sir.It’s a pity we need more than two vats as this means we need both launches. There’s myself in the Brunel and I’ve placed Stavener as officer responsible in charge of the Baden-Powell,” Canthouse continued to work his tablet as he spoke. “Both launches are refuelled and teams assembling.”

  “Stavener!” Denz asked with mock surprise.

  “He’s the only duty officer not currently occupied.”

  Denz nodded, “Very good. Then let’s not detain you.”

  Canthouse nodded and left.

  “What’s left?” Denz asked the remaining officers. “Bearing in mind that we only need the immediates to keep us alive until we reach Trent station.”

  “Primary life sciences are still offline,” said Stephenson from where he leant against the hand rail.“Power was severed to the primary electrolysis units so were using candles until they’re back. Individually they’re good for a week or so, and we’ve got six months of spares.”

  “CO2?”

  “The current scrubbers are good for another four days, and we’ve got plenty of spares which can also be recycled. Water filters are OK, but we’re reduced to vacuum packs until the galley has main bus power again.”