Here Be Dragons

by Alan, Craig

  “Questions?”

  Demyan spoke again.

  “Have we been compromised?”

  Gabriel’s approach had been timed so that the Galilean moons—fiery Io, icy Europa, pockmarked Callisto, and gigantic Ganymede, the solar system’s largest—would be on the other side of the Jupiter. The gas giant itself was uninhabitable, and the rest of its moons were oversized boulders in space. The outsiders had almost certainly colonized at least one of these four worlds, probably deep underground. The battle at the border had been fought behind Jupiter, entirely out of their sight—but that didn’t mean that no one else had been watching.

  “Hassoun, bring up the record again.”

  The tiny holographic Gabriel hovered serenely between the four stations. A red line appeared from nowhere and lanced it, and Elena nearly winced.

  “Run it again, timeframe minus twelve hours to the attack, one hour per second.”

  The image reversed itself, and the red line spooled itself into nothingness and disappeared into thin black air. Here and there tiny red points of light appeared near Gabriel, but one by one they turned white and vanished. These flecks were ghosts, false positives. They were mostly tiny asteroids, absolutely frigid by human standards, but warm enough to stand out against the absolute zero of deep space. Some of the other false readings were the result of miscalibrated instruments, or quirks of electromagnetism. And some were genuine phenomena produced by Jupiter’s magnetosphere, yet to be properly identified. Gabriel was collecting so many gigabytes of astronomical data each day that she was now the scientific equivalent of a treasure ship, worth nearly her weight in gold.

  The watch station automatically tagged and tracked each ghost, and eventually eliminated it as a possible threat. Elena had Hassoun pin the missile’s starting location in three-dimensional space, and then ran the projected trajectory of each recorded ghost, assuming that they were physical objects with momentum. None of them came close to being a suspect.

  “No drones or ships anywhere in the vicinity,” Vijay said. “It was a mine. They have probably seeded the entire region between Jupiter and the border.”

  “But how did it find us?” Demyan asked. “Did they pick up our trail after we crossed?”

  She glanced at his hands on the control sticks. The helmsmen had strict orders not to fire the rockets and maneuver unless given the order. Otherwise, they had to trust to the ship’s defenses and maintain course. It must have been the purest torture to watch the knife approach and remain completely still beneath the blade’s touch.

  “We’ve been shifting trajectory every few hours, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Demyan said.

  He projected their course for her to see. Before the border, it was a perfectly straight line, but the second Gabriel had passed the lagrange point it became wobbly and irregular, and curved towards Jupiter.

  “Vijay, could you track a target on a course like that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Nobody could.”

  Ikenna spoke up from the watch station.

  “It’s ready, Captain.”

  He reset the projector for ten seconds before the missile ignited. This time a ghostly white sphere emerged from its position and expanded, growing fainter as it did so. Its leading edge struck Gabriel and bounced back on itself, and returned to its point of origin. The missile started its burn a moment later.

  “There. Active radar, wide band, low power. Second Officer Okoye’s been digging it out of the static for the last ten minutes.”

  “They use the magnetic storms to disguise their signals,” Vijay said. “Right clever bastards.”

  Elena nodded. She had expected this. Jupiter was the second noisiest object in the solar system, after the Sun itself. Its magnetosphere was so large and tumultuous that radio communication was difficult under the best of circumstances, and its upper atmosphere was a dead zone, impossible to transmit in or out. The sulfurous orbit of its tiny moon Io—little more than one giant volcano in constant eruption—was even worse, a literal ring of fire in space, intensely hot and radioactive.

  “Looks just like noise at first glance, and they’re so close to Jupiter that we never see it all the way from the Belt. It’s one reason why we’ve never been able to eavesdrop on them. We always thought they used optic communication, but this would work just as well.”

  “At least now we know what we’re looking for,” Hassoun said.

  Those were his first words since Elena had entered the bridge and asked for the status report. His eyes were locked on the radar pulse, the unfelt finger tapping Gabriel on the shoulder.

  “The problem with a trick like that is that it only works the first time. Mr. Okoye?”

  “Captain?”

  “I want a new threat-warning routine written and ready in time for my next shift.”

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Masri can assist. I want eyes on the radio band in the meantime. If you see anything, assume we’re being shot at. Are we clear?”

  There was a chorus of ayes around the bridge. Elena rose from her chair.

  “Chief Nishtha has the bridge.”

  Eduardo Suarez and Makarim were already awake when Elena got to the medical office. Her two wounded were the only patients and they had been loosely tied down to beds in separate cubicles so that they wouldn’t drift away in their sleep. Both tried to come to attention and salute, and she waved them down. Suarez’s head was wrapped in a bandage, and Makarim still wore an oxygen mask. Elena saluted them instead, and nodded to Rivkah, who had turned at her desk.

  “How are my crew?”

  “My patients are doing fine,” Rivkah said. There was a slight but unmistakable emphasis on the second word. “One minor concussion and one case of smoke inhalation, nothing serious. They’ll both stay here tonight for observation.”

  “And then return to duty?”

  Rivkah eyed the captain over the charts in her hand.

  “Twenty four hour stand down, and if they’re symptom free they can go back to work. But they are to come in for evaluation every day for seven days, and if they experience any lightheadedness, nausea, headaches, they are to leave their post and report here immediately. No excuses.”

  Elena nodded—there were few things she was willing to do battle with the doctor over, and this wasn’t one of them. Meanwhile Ikenna would have to redo the watchbill he had finished a few hours earlier, not that she would hear a complaint out of him.

  “Can they take a few minutes to speak with me?”

  “Yes, but they’re going to need to get some rest soon.”

  Elena floated to Makarim first. She was part of Ikenna’s ballista team, what would have been called a gunner’s mate back in the day. The younger woman smiled through her mask, but the first words out of her mouth was a rasped apology.

  “There’s no need for that,” Elena said. “It’s hard enough getting around in this ship without having to do it in the dark.”

  Makarim turned away and spoke softly in Malay. She had inhaled the fumes, and the words could barely escape her scorched throat.

  “Pardon me, Officer?”

  Makarim raised her eyes and switched back to English.

  “You seemed to do just fine in the dark, Captain.”

  “I built Gabriel, Officer. You just work here.” Elena rose slightly, and put her hand on Makarim’s. “Don’t talk anymore. Just try to get some sleep. Dr. Golus won’t let me have you back if you don’t. And I promise you the next time we’re in a fight, it will be you doing the shooting.”

  “Thank you, Captain. And thank Officer Okoye for me as well.”

  Elena promised that she would, though she had no idea what he would say to such a thing. She moved on to Eduardo Suarez, the deckhand she’d found in the breached compartment next to Arnaud. Beneath his bandage he was wearing
dark glasses that minimized his exposure to light, and as she got close Elena could see plastic hearing guards molded in both ears. They could communicate by bracelet, but Elena put one finger to her lips and the other to her ear. Suarez smiled and removed the guards.

  “Are you here to put me back on active duty, Captain?”

  “I’m pushing my luck with Dr. Golus about as far as it will stretch already. Soon. In the meantime, can you tell me a little bit about what happened? For the report?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry, Captain. Chief Montessori sent Pascal—Officer Arnaud—and me to P-10 for routine life-support maintenance. I was to teach him how to do it so that he could fill in on the deck gang if…if one of us could not do it. I remember checking in with the bridge, and that’s it.” Suarez frowned. “Seems like that was just ten minutes ago. I woke up in here with a migraine. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” Elena said again.

  “They tell me Pascal is dead.”

  “Yes, Eduardo,” she said. “Anoxia and decompression. I’m sorry.”

  Suarez swallowed and looked away for a moment, and out of courtesy, Elena did as well. She did not mention the helmet. He’d find out eventually, but it didn’t need to be now. When Suarez spoke again, Elena could see him peering around her shoulder at Rivkah, working at the other end of the room.

  “I know she says I have to stay here for twenty four hours. But I want to come to the service.”

  Elena put one hand to his shoulder.

  “You will, I promise. Now put those things back in your ear, before you get me into trouble.”

  She left his bedside and craned her head towards the rear of the office. Rivkah was still working at her desk, and didn’t turn to look. Elena twisted again, towards the opposite wall, and slowly made her way to the surgical suite at the far end of the medical bay.

  The wide circular door was covered by plastic strips that ran from the outer rim to the center, like an iris. They slid aside easily when Elena pushed through them—the plastic was meant to stop blood, not people. Only one of the three operating tables was occupied, by a figure that had been tied down and wrapped securely in surgical sheets. She couldn’t even see his face.

  Elena heard the rustling of the plastic strips, but didn’t take her eyes from Arnaud’s body as Rivkah entered the room.

  “He’s ready, Captain,” the doctor said. “Whenever you are.”

  Elena heard her own words in her head. It could have been worse. The last time, she hadn’t even had a body to bury. When she turned to leave, she barely felt Rivkah’s hand on her shoulder.

  Elena was in her hammock reviewing the sensor records three hours later when the first shift ended. Vijay entered her stateroom and sat down at her desk.

  “I want to thank you, Captain, for not assuming my post.”

  “The alert was over,” Elena said. “I had no right to relieve you. And no reason.”

  Vijay nodded his head to her, once. Then he nodded to the pad she held in her hands.

  “You would not have done anything differently?”

  “You did exactly what I would have done. What you’re really asking is, should Hassoun have done anything differently?”

  “Would you have seen it coming?” Vijay asked

  She shrugged, and wrapped her bracelet back around her wrist.

  “After the missile ignited, he reacted about as quickly as I could have hoped for. As for before…if the watch officer issued a threat warning for every bit of radio noise, we’d spend the rest of the mission on alert. The crew have to sleep sometime.”

  “Nevertheless, you did give a standing order to do just that.”

  Elena ran her rand over the metal bulkhead beside her hammock—thick, sturdy metal that would be sliced apart in an instant if she failed.

  “I have to remind myself that Gabriel launched eighteen months early. A little more time, and we would have been ready for this. Hopefully Ikenna and Hassoun can get it done soon.”

  Vijay cleared his throat, which she knew he did only when he was uncomfortable.

  “May we discuss that assignment, Captain?”

  “Is there something is wrong with Hassoun?”

  “Perhaps. I kept up a steady stream of tasks for him, and his work was methodical and attentive. He was just…quiet.”

  “So there is something wrong. Should I see to it?”

  “Not yet. Give it a few days.”

  “If it starts to affect his work, I have to pull him,” Elena said.

  “Honestly, Captain, it is not Hassoun I am worried about. It is Officer Okoye.”

  “We’ve been over this, Vijay.”

  “Yet the issues remain. He has been argumentative, stubborn, and borderline insubordinate.”

  “Is this about his missile idea?”

  A vein jumped on Vijay’s forehead, but his face remained smooth.

  “I see that ‘insubordinate’ was not so much of a stretch after all.”

  “He didn’t go over your head, Vijay. Tactics are his department, and a remote jammer or an e-bomb could come in handy.”

  “Perhaps it is a good idea. But we are on the outside now, Captain. This is neither the time nor the place to be tinkering with the weapons that stand between us and the enemy.”

  “Then again, there may be none better,” Elena said. “Que tal esto? Mr. Okoye may use the missile pods to research his idea during designated hours, but he is not to take them offline, and he is to report his findings directly to the executive officer. Sound good?”

  “Starboard pod only.”

  “Are you going to fight me all the way down the line here? Bueno—if you promise me that this has nothing to do with that conversation we had when he came aboard.”

  “I am concerned only with Mr. Okoye’s questionable manners, not his questionable loyalties.”

  “Jesucristo, I guess that will have to do. Starboard pod only, missiles stay online at all times, and he reports to you. Is that a fair compromise?”

  “Solomonic.”

  There was an edge to his voice that would have cut thinner skin than hers.

  “People said the same thing about me once, Vijay.”

  “Not where I could hear them.”

  Elena smiled and floated to the opposite corner of the room, and her coffee machine. She changed the subject.

  “How are the rest of the crew handling it?”

  “I will speak with the other department heads and get a sounding. But they knew to which ship they were signing on, Captain. They knew that not all of them would be coming back.”

  “No, they won’t.” She hit the hot water and squeezed down on the press. Scalding hot coffee flooded the pouch attached to the nozzle. “Want a cup?”

  “If you insist. How are Suarez and Makarim? Did you speak with Golus?”

  “I spoke with all of them.”

  Elena quickly updated Vijay on their condition as she handed him the pouch. He sipped carefully.

  “My thanks to Sra. Estrella. Does Suarez remember what happened?”

  “Not a thing. He does not remember the breach, or putting on his helmet. Arnaud must have done it for him. Carajo, he was probably already losing consciousness.”

  There would not have been enough time both to secure Suarez and retrieve an undamaged helmet from the other side of the compartment. Arnaud had made a choice.

  Vijay said nothing, but raised his coffee in the air. They drank the toast in silence.

  “Nobody leaves the core without a helmet,” Elena said. “I see anybody on deck without a cover and it’s a night in the brig.”

  “We have a brig?”

  “I’ll build one.”

  She drained the last of her coffee and felt it burn.

  “The memorial service will be today. Right after the n
ext shift change, so the crew can still get some sleep.”

  Vijay nodded. Gabriel was not equipped to store corpses. There was nothing remotely like a morgue on board, and nobody wanted to test the air filters with decomposition. And it wouldn’t do for morale to let the crew report to the medical office for muscle therapy, knowing that Arnaud was still lying inside the surgical suite, tied down with a plastic sheet. The sooner it were done, the better.

  “And someone will have to get Suarez and Makarim out of the medical office so they can attend.”

  “I’ll talk to Golus,” Vijay said. “God knows you have had enough trouble for one day.”

  Vijay got up to leave.

  “Wait,” Elena said.

  He turned again.

  “Sit back down.”

  Vijay floated back to his chair, eyebrows knitted.

  “It’s just that, speaking of Golus…chucha, don’t look at me right now.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  He turned to ostentatiously face the wall.

  “Earlier, when I was in therapy today. We joked about it. We joked about an attack.”

  Elena could see the muscles in Vijay’s neck tense as he told himself not to turn and look at her.

  “You did.” He wasn’t asking.

  “Yes. It’s stupid, I know. It’s just...hablando del Rey de Roma, por la puerta asoma.”

  “I never knew you to be superstitious,” Vijay said.

  “I’m not. I’m not religious either, but if I really did speak of the devil and he rang my doorbell, I’d take my vowsthe next chance I go.”

  Vijay rotated so that he was facing her once more.

  “Have I ever told you about old man Sanjay? From the camps?”

  Elena shook her head. They knew a lot about each other, but not everything.

  “I was maybe five or six years old when he first started coming around. No one knew where came from originally. It was certainly not Mumbai, to judge by his awful Marathi, but he spoke English as if he were lord of the manor. He sold little trinkets, things that he collected from the forbidden zone. He was a scavenger, of course.”

  Elena nodded, and wondered where this could be going.