by CJ Birch
I will find who did this.
* * *
“I won’t do it, Captain. I won’t. It’s unethical and dangerous.” You’d think I’d asked him to implant mind knots in each of the crew the way he’s going on about it.
“I get why you think it’s unethical, but telling the crew that we’re implanting trackers would create chaos. I couldn’t order them to do it without facing mutiny. But I can order them to be vaccinated.”
The doctor paces in front of my desk, his hands stuffed into his lab coat pockets. It’s been two days since we cut Ash down from the beam in the officer’s mess. Two days of knowing I have a serious problem on board, and that I have to solve it immediately. I’ve stressed over every possible solution and this is the best I can think of until Vasa gets back to me about the mess security footage. This whole thing screams Sarka. He might not be the one who acted, but he planted the thought.
I need another way to see who’s coming and going from Sarka’s cabin and who’s interacting with Ash. I don’t care if it’s unethical to invade my crew’s privacy if it will save a life.
If I don’t put a stop to the mutinous crew members, they’ll only get worse. And if no one but myself and the doctor knows about the trackers, no one can hack them.
While the majority of my rage is on behalf of Ash, a significant part is for myself. I can’t believe my own crew could hate so much they would turn to violence. This isn’t tearing up a mattress and ransacking a room. This is bodily harm. I’d like to say it’s the first time, but things have been getting worse. Someone has it in for Ash. And I have to discover who they are before they tear this ship and crew apart with their prejudice.
“I understand you have a ship to run, but I don’t want any part of this. Putting things in places they don’t belong is what got us into this mess.”
I’m almost left speechless by his comment. He’s so wrapped up in his world sometimes, he lives on a molecular level. Doesn’t he realize this is going to get so much worse if we don’t do something immediately? It’s going to spread like a disease.
“Having mutinous crew members on board is dangerous. For everyone.” I need to put it in a way he’ll understand and overlook the more than dubious methods. “Please sit down, your pacing is giving me a headache.” I motion for the chair across from me and wait until he sits before I continue. “This isn’t about being dishonest to the crew, which is how you’re choosing to look at it. I get that, I do, because in a way we are. But a crew isn’t about individuality, it’s not about one person, it’s a living, breathing whole. And right now, that whole has a disease. It’s attacking itself, and what do we do when organisms attack themselves?”
It takes him a moment before he realizes it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “Oh. We find the cause and treat it by removing the attacking cells.” Even though he’s stopped moving, his leg is still bobbing up and down.
“And that’s all we’re doing, we’re in that first stage, we’re finding the cause. Once we do, we’ll remove it.”
“You’re sure the individual doesn’t matter? It feels very much to me that you’re willing to break more than a few rules when it comes to Ash.” It’s not said with any malice, instead he speaks in the same reasonable tone as always. I can’t help but worry there’s more behind the statement. Then again, Len has never been one to play games, which is one of the reasons I appreciate him so much. And of course, he’s right. Even if I won’t admit it to him, I need to admit it to myself.
“In part. Yes. Ash is the symptom, but she’s only an indicator that the disease exists. If it wasn’t her, it could be someone else.”
I stand and move to the window. Staring out at the expanse. Nothing looks familiar. We’re millions of lightyears from our own galaxy, from our home, and yet our problems follow. Is this what makes us human? Our inclination toward conflict? Were we delusional to think if we found a new planet, a new home, we wouldn’t follow the same path as before? Or are we condemned to repeat the same cycle again and again?
“It’ll destroy us from within if we don’t stop it before it goes too far. If something happens to Ash, nothing we do can pull us back from that,” I say.
When he answers his voice is close. He has followed me to the window. The blackness beyond plays off his dark skin, making it darker. “I’ll concede that, in a way, this is like a vaccination. We are treating an underlying problem.”
“If it makes you feel better you can put a real vaccine in the serum.”
“It won’t. But if I’m going to inoculate the crew, then I might as well do some good.”
Even though it’s a victory, I don’t smile because I know how much it cost. “Thank you, Len.”
* * *
I’m sitting on the track, legs crossed, lost in thought. I’ve dimmed the lights which gives me an unparalleled panorama of stars. It’s been four days since the incident with Ash in the officer’s mess. The doctor has vaccinated most of the crew. He and I are the only ones who know about it and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll keep a tablet on me to watch and set my cabin computer to display the crew. Anyone who enters a one meter area around Ash will ping on the monitor. One meter doesn’t seem very far, but this is a small ship. Crew in the adjacent cabin can be less than a meter away from each other.
Once I’ve set it up, I have to wait it out. I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for. But I hope I know when I see it.
The intercom interrupts my thoughts. It’s Olczyk. I sigh and make my way to the bridge, prepared for the worst.
Chapter Eight
“What about Hades?” The table erupts at Hartley’s suggestion, most against the idea. Their voices echo in the empty crew mess.
Three days ago, we discovered a planet. It was the strangest thing, one minute empty space, the next, an entire planet. Hartley has yet to explain how an object the size of Mars could hide from our sensors. But here it is.
“You want to name the new planet after the Greek god of hell? Doesn’t that seem a bit negative?” This from Yakovich who’s spent most of the meeting glaring off into the distance like a sullen teenager.
It’s been three days and we’re still debating what to name it. Well, they’re debating names. I’m trying to decide whether we should land on the surface and investigate or report back.
“We should hold off naming it for now.” I try to steer the meeting back before Hartley takes us off course.
The probe we sent out to the planet came back with promising data, but even more so are the pictures. Not only does this planet have water and rock formations, but it has oxygen and plant life, in abundance. I’ve put us into a high orbit to observe until I can decide what to do.
“We can’t keep calling it LLB78596i.” Hartley looks around the table, hoping for some support. “We need to come up with something fitting for the occasion, you know.” His eyes are wide and excited as he takes an uncommon pause to think. “Something historic.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. The last thing I want is to waste time debating something so inconsequential. We haven’t even discussed whether it will be possible to land on the planet. Instead my department heads have spent the last forty-five minutes discussing shore leave, hunting, and what to name the damn thing.
I wish I could share my crew’s buoyant state, but all my thoughts have been on Ash. I’ve only seen her in passing, mostly on the track. Since she isn’t working a shift, her visits are sporadic. She’s changed, more subdued. It’s almost like the moment she woke up tied to that post, she boxed up who she is for safe keeping. Hartley said he hasn’t seen her either, which, from the way he said it, is unusual. I only understand about two thirds of what he’s saying. Either because it’s too fast or is so Hartley, it goes right over my head.
The room explodes in a philosophical debate about naming planets after gods.
“Enough.” I slam my hand down on the table. “It doesn’t matter what we call it. Let’s figure out if we can actually land on it first.”
Sometimes it’s like I’m looking after a bunch of children. The room becomes silent as six people turn toward me.
“Okay, that’s better. Hartley, are we going to have any issues landing on the planet?”
“The only advice I can give is to land on igneous or metamorphic rock formations, something like granite, basalt, gneiss or obsidian. That way we’re less likely to risk the ship being too heavy and sinking. Everything else is a bit up in the air, so to speak.” He smiles like he’s made a joke. When no one laughs, he continues, “We’ve had a chance to analyze the atmosphere. It appears similar to Earth, but there are a million other factors at play we won’t know even exist until we try to land.”
“So what you’re saying is we have to hope for the best?” asks Vasa, shaking his head. “That’s your advice?”
“Let’s plan for the worst, though. Hartley, come up with contingency plans in case anything goes wrong. I want to know at what altitude our point of no return is.” I scan through the agenda on my tablet. My palm still stings from slapping the table, but I resist the urge to rub it on my pant leg. “All right, so let’s say we do land, will we have enough power to break free of the planet’s gravitational pull when we take off again?”
“They designed the ships to exceed the escape velocity needed to launch from Jupiter—if it had a surface—so unless there’s something unique about this planet, my guess is it’ll have a lower gravity than Earth.”
“Is that a yes?” I ask.
“There is no definite answer to that question, Captain.” He strains, like he’s trying to understand what I’m asking. I’ve noticed he does this a lot, almost like our questions are too dumb for him to contemplate.
I try asking a different way. “In your opinion, if we land this ship, what are the chances of us taking off again?”
“I wouldn’t know the exact odds off the top of my head, but if you give me a day I can get those for you.”
Finally, Yakovich takes pity on me and leans toward Hartley. “She wants to know if we’ll end up stuck on the planet if we land.” I have no idea how that statement is any different than the last two I’ve asked. But somehow she breaks through the mantel of Hartley’s brain.
He perks ups. “Oh, no. We’ll make it off the planet, don’t worry, Captain.”
Christ.
I ask each department to submit two names for planetary teams. Then, I dismiss everyone except Hartley who I keep back to discuss a few side projects.
I decide to throw myself into planning our exploration of the planet. It would take too long to inform the Posterus and the Brimley of what we’ve discovered and wait for a response. If I’m being honest with myself, I know they’ll demand I wait for the Brimley. I don’t want Harrios to have any part of this discovery. So I’m taking a page out of Ash’s playbook. I’ll ask for forgiveness later.
Since none of us have ever been on a planet, it will take a lot of work and imagination to predict what supplies we’ll need. I’ve been working closely with the crew, building endless lists. Together we’ll assemble our kits. There’s a lot to consider. Owen Mani, our botanist, Hartley and Dan Foer, one of his engineers, have spent most of today debating whether we’ll need flashlights or not. I don’t plan on us being out there after it gets dark, but Mani makes a good case. The forests might be dark or, and Foer pipes up at this, there might be caves. He’s almost giddy at the thought.
We’ll be on foot so we don’t want our packs to be too heavy. We’ll weigh less on this planet than we do on the Persephone or the Belt—their artificial gravity is modeled after Earth’s gravity—but we still don’t want to bring too much.
Anything can happen. There could be hostile fauna on the planet so we don’t want to pack too light and be defenseless.
“I propose we modify the space packs to bring with us,” Mani says. His mop of curls falls forward, obscuring his baby face until he flips it back and continues. “They’re lightweight and we can bring sample cases with us to grab—”
“No. We leave what we find on site. I don’t want anyone picking up anything, no matter how innocent or pretty it looks. We have no idea how it’ll interact once it leaves the planet’s atmosphere. We are there to observe only.” I look around the table, locking on each person in turn until I end on Hartley. He gives me a thumbs up. I make a mental note to have everyone go through an inspection before coming back on board.
“It’s too bad we couldn’t send a smaller team ahead to get a feel for what it’s like on the surface. This is a little like building a house in the dark. I have no idea what we’re going to need.” Mani looks back down at the selection of tools in front of him.
Foer, one of the few engineers who breaks the scrawny nerd stereotype, grins. Two dimples appear on his cheeks. “Did you guys ever read those Choose Your Own Adventure, books growing up? They had a lot of safaris in them for some reason. But they always packed food rations and things to make a fire.”
“We don’t have anything on board that can make a fire. Not as its first intention.” Thank God. “But food rations are a good idea. I’ll have the kitchen figure out a way to make them lightweight and airtight.”
“Is Ash going to be well enough to join the mission?” Hartley looks around at everyone as he asks this, gauging their reaction. Mani and Foer are busy comparing lists. Foer leans on the table, supporting his considerable girth with his massive arms. Next to Mani—who can’t be much over five feet—Foer looks like a giant.
Yakovich is off in her own world, studying a list of onboard weapons. We don’t have a huge weapons locker, just enough to defend ourselves in case of a Burr attack. Nothing we have to worry about out here. But as Yakovich points out, any animals down there will be a hell of a lot scarier than a bunch of stinking space pirates.
“I’m not sure if the doctor will release Ash for that kind of mission. She did almost blow up after all.” As I say this, I start to wonder if Ash bribed Dr. Prashad. With all those injuries, I’m shocked he was so willing to let her resume her duties. I guess he knows a lost cause when he sees one. Trying to get Ash to take sick leave is like inviting a cat to take a bath. We haven’t released the information about Ash’s attack in the mess. I give it a day before the rumor mill is turning out scenarios.
“How many weapons can we bring?” Yakovich asks.
I’m thrown for a moment. “How many do you think we’ll need?”
She places her tablet on the table and leans back in her chair, giving it some thought. “Well, we should equip everyone with a handheld gun. Nothing too large. They should be able to draw fast if an animal approaches. Plus, at least one person should have a shoulder mounted rifle, in case of flying predators. Have you ever read about pterodactyls? And for hand-to-hand combat, or in case someone loses a weapon.” She gives us a look that says this is a crime worthy of death. “Everyone should have a good kni—”
“No.” I’m already shaking my head before she’s finished. I do not want a bunch of science nerds running around the forest, armed. The thought of it is giving me heart palpitations. “No. We do not need to be that heavily armed. No knives, and only the group leader and the security details have weapons.”
She’s about to protest when Hartley cuts her off. “Captain, I’ve been working on this awesome—”
“No.”
“But, Captain—”
“I don’t care if you’ve invented a giant bubble gun that carries the prey into the atmosphere. There will be only two guns per team.”
Yakovich nods, but even in that simple gesture she manages to convey her disapproval.
After the meeting breaks up, Yakovich sticks around. She hands me a stack of tablets. “You’ve seen the footage?”
“I did. Was Vasa able to see how they manipulated the recording?”
She rubs a knuckle along her bottom lip, thinking. “He did, though you’re not going to like it.”
“Nothing about this is likable. What did he say?”
She pauses, finding the be
st way to say her next sentence. I’m on edge. “He said someone shuffled the footage’s timestamp.” She uses her hands to explain, forming them into shapes and exclamations as she goes. “He explained it like an operation. Someone removed the time stamp from the real video and substituted it with another. So to find that footage, we’d have to search through all the footage.”
“And how long until we figure out where the footage is?”
There’s a long pause as she stares at her boots. I hope she’s calculating. She isn’t. “That’s the thing. This is an old ship, and we don’t delete anything, we archive it to a smaller format. There are millions of minutes of footage on our servers. It would take months, years to view all the footage, that’s if I had all my staff working on it day and night. The hack impressed Vasa, actually. He said he couldn’t have done better if he tried.”
My heart sinks. “So what you’re saying is…”
“That avenue of investigation won’t help us. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t others. We’ll find who did this, Captain.”
I can’t understand why someone would go to so much trouble. When I find the culprits they will spend the rest of their lives in the brig. Possibly shot out into space in an escape pod. “Why not erase it?”
“Because that would’ve alerted the system there was something missing. This way, everything appears in order, but isn’t.”
This is starting to feel more sophisticated than a hate crime toward a crew member. “Thanks. Keep me posted.”
Chapter Nine
Yakovich and Fossick are positioned outside Sarka’s door. Yakovich notices me first and I wave her over. “Has he given you any problems?” I ask. I’ve postponed this next visit long enough. I needed to get my emotions in check. I don’t want a repeat of last time.
She shakes her head. “He’s been quiet.”
“Who brings him his food?”