by Ralph Prince
“I know,” Don replied half-heartedly, crossing the airlock to the intercom controls. “Still, we were careless and it cost us two good men. I had better tell Schmidt to get the engines powered up. We’re not out of this yet.”
Victor watched helplessly as his friend leaned against the bulkhead for support. Don was the first friend he had made after leaving the academy, and in the time since, they had become as close as any brothers had ever been.
“Schmidt,” Don called into the intercom, “do you read me? Schmidt! Damn, she’s not on the bridge. We should never have left a rookie on board alone.”
The inner lock slid open, startling both men. Don looked toward it, then toward Victor and the captain.
“B’y,” Victor said, sensing his indecision, “you have to get the ship out of here. You’re the best pilot in the Space Force, and the Quillans will have an entire armada in the air before long.”
“What about the captain?” Don asked. Captain Turner was the closest thing he had ever known to a father. He couldn’t leave him now. On the other hand, Victor was right. The ship was in danger, and only he could save it.
“There’s nothing you can do for him now,” said Victor. “He’s dead. You’re in command now.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Suddenly, he was jolted from his slumber, his body drenched in cold sweat; the nightmares had returned. Drawing deep breaths, Don leaned forward in the armchair, feeling only a slight spasm of pain from his rapidly healing ribs. Glancing at the chronometer on his desk, he realized he had slept for nearly three hours. Though the room was dim, it wasn’t yet night simulation mode. Trying to shake the cobwebs from his head, he stood and gazed down upon the woman sleeping in his bed. With a low moan, she stirred.
He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand lightly upon her shoulder. Her slender young body lay curled beneath the thin sheet, with only her head uncovered. Jackie had cleaned away most of the dirt while examining and treating her injuries. Her skin was smooth and tanned, not rough and weather-beaten as he would have expected of an inhabitant of the harsh world beyond the ship’s walls. Her tangled golden-brown hair framed her delicate features as her eyes slowly opened.
Hiding behind her eyelids were the brightest greenest eyes he had ever seen; eyes that met his, and widened in sheer terror as she tensed and attempted to escape his firm but gentle restraint.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said soothingly, careful not to hurt her as she struggled. “I’m not going to harm you. Just relax.”
Unable to break his hold, she relented and slumped back into the pillow. For several long seconds, she stared fearfully into his eyes. Then, finding no malice within them, she began to calm and the panic slowly gave way to confusion.
“I’m not going to harm you,” he repeated softly, releasing his hold upon her. “Just lie still.” He wasn’t sure if she understood his words, or just the tone of his voice, but it had the desired effect. She seemed content to lie still.
Her gaze wandered about the dimly lit room. From the low tables that flanked the bed, to the desk and chair in the corner near the foot of the bed, she seemed to be taking in her surroundings. Her eyes lingered on the hatch leading to the hallway before continuing along the wall to his glass-faced bookcase; her expression hinted at familiarity. She continued the visual journey around the chamber to the closet door, past the full-length wall mirror, to the bathroom door, and the armchair he had been napping in. Her eyes once again met his, and her lips trembled and parted, as though to speak, but no words issued from them.
“You’re safe here,” he assured. “Can you understand me?”
Again, her lips parted and she spoke a single word: “Where?”
“You can understand me,” he said excitedly. It supported their theory that she was from Earth. “You are on board the Earth-ship USSF Nova. I’m Captain Donald Benjamin Garris.”
“You?” she asked, bewilderment evident in her timbre.
“Donald,” he repeated slowly, realizing she was probably still groggy and somewhat overwhelmed by the circumstances surrounding her.
“Donald,” she echoed, attempting to sit up once again.
“Wait!” he cried out, placing his hand back on her shoulder to restrain her. The panic returned to her face.
“Sorry,” he explained, releasing her and raising his hands, palms toward her, in a non-threatening manner. “We had to remove your clothing to treat your wounds.”
Finally comprehending, she slid her arms from beneath the sheet and clutched the soft fabric to her chest, as she sat up to face him eye-to-eye.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologized with an embarrassed smile. “Do you have a name?”
“Karen,” she replied, returning the smile. Though still wary, she no longer seemed afraid. “My name is Karen.”
“Karen,” he repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”
He found himself instinctively following first-contact protocol. The first step was a two-way threat assessment to determine if either party posed an intentional or unintentional threat to the other. Jackie had examined Karen and found her physiology to be almost identical to theirs. That similarity, coupled with the decontamination procedure when she was brought onto the ship, ensured no diseases would be exchanged. The second step was to establish a means of communication. Her speaking Earth-tongue made that step unnecessary. Next came establishing the identities of both parties. That had been taken care of. Now came the hard part: fostering trust in one another.
“Are you in pain?” he asked. “You took quite a tumble down that ridge.”
“No,” she answered, slowly moving her head from side-to-side. Her attention focused on his hand, specifically, to the splint on the little finger of his right hand.
“It’s broken,” he explained, holding it up for her to examine. “The splint helps keep it from moving until the bone knits. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Do you remember what happened out there?”
“Yes,” she answered, her eyes still focused on the wounded digit. In her mind, she tried to understand how she had gotten from the rock wall to wherever it was she now found herself. “I was out hunting for food when I saw a building flying through the air. I thought it landed in the Sands of Doom, so I climbed the rock wall to try to see it, but it wasn’t there. I’ve never seen a building fly before. I climbed down and circled the inner edge of the rock wall to see if it landed beyond. When I reached the top, I saw you. You startled me, and I slipped. Then I woke up here.”
“You hit your head in the fall,” he explained, filling in the gaps of her story. “You were unconscious, so I carried you back here to the ship. Jackie patched you up and says you’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“Jackie?” Karen asked, her gaze returning to meet his. “Is she your mate?”
“No,” he chuckled at the thought. “We’re just good friends. She’s a doctor.” The statement provoked a look of non-comprehension. “She helps people who are sick or hurt.”
“Oh,” Karen said. “She must be the one who fixed your finger.”
“Yes,” he answered, surprised and amused by her naiveté. “Is there anything I can get for you?” he asked. “Food? Water?”
“Water,” she replied, quickly adding, “If you have some.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said, rising from the bed and unsteadily circumventing the armchair to the door beside the mirror. The bio-mend’s effects still had him feeling groggy.
She watched intently as he touched the glowing blue rectangle on the door, causing it to slide to the side. He stepped from view into the room beyond. Her attention shot to a similar rectangle on the other door, and in a moment of renewed panic she considered making a break for it. Though Donald seemed friendly, she knew few things in this world were ever benign. Before she could make her decision, he reemerged from the smaller room.
The sheet still clutched to her bosom, she took the offered glass and stared at it as though it were something completely foreign to
her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, noting her bemused expression. “Drink all you want. It won’t hurt you.”
Her gaze shifted to him, back to the glass, then to him again.
“Here,” he said taking the glass from her and sipping the ice water to demonstrate it was safe to drink. Apparently, there were still some trust issues between them. He handed the glass back to her. “Go ahead.”
She poked at the ice cubes floating in the glass then hesitantly raised it to her lips and drank sparingly.
“It’s good,” she remarked. “And cold. Thank you.”
“It’s the ice,” he explained, absently reaching out with his right hand and striking the glass with his splinted finger. The blow jarred it from her gentle grip, spilling the ice and water on the bed.
“I’m sorry!” Karen shrieked, shrinking away from him to the far side of the bed, as though expecting to be struck. “I didn’t mean to spill it.”
Momentarily baffled by her reaction, Donald gaped incomprehensively. Suddenly, he realized what a rare and precious commodity water must be in the parched terrain beyond the vessel’s walls. He shook his head at his own stupidity and sat the glass on the table next to the bed.
“It’s okay,” he assured. “Don’t worry about it. We have plenty of water. I’ll get something to clean this up.”
Reassured by his gentleness, her tension fled as he passed once again through the doorway and out of sight. He returned seconds later with a towel in one hand and a blue bathrobe with white trim in the other.
“Here,” he said, offering her the robe. “You can wear this until we can get you something else to wear. I’ll turn my back while you slip it on.”
Taking the robe, she waited until his back was turned before sliding out of the bed and donning the garment. Pulling the belt tight around her slender waist, she turned her attention back to the spill.
“Donald,” she said, crawling across the bed and picking up one of the pieces of ice. “You can turn around now.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and began wiping up the spill while Karen held the piece she had taken in her fingers and watched it melt.
“This is hard water,” she realized, as though she had discovered something wondrous. “And it’s very cold.”
“It’s the cold that makes it solid,” he explained, realizing that the things he took for granted were astonishing to her. “It’s called Ice, and it’s what happens when water freezes.”
“This room,” she pondered. “You called it a ‘ship’. This is the building I saw flying through the air, isn’t it?”
“Sort of,” he clarified, realizing that she knew nothing about Earth or advanced technology. “It’s one room of many on our starship. I’m the commander, and we came here from a planet called Earth.”
“A starship,” she repeated, a broad smile crossing her face. “You can fly to the stars? Is that where planet Earth is?”
“Well,” he began, wondering what he had gotten himself into. “Pretty much, yes.”
“Can you take me to the stars?” she pleaded, grasping his arm. “And to planet Earth?”
“Our ship is damaged,” he explained, watching the smile melt from her face. “We can’t leave your planet until we get it fixed. That’s why we landed here.”
“When you get it fixed, will you take me to the stars?” she asked, a hint of the anticipation returning.
“We’ll see,” he answered, a bemused smile crossing his lips as she bounced on the bed in jubilation.
A quiet beep sounded from across the room, causing her to start. The door to the hallway slid aside and an auburn-haired woman poked her head in.
“Good,” Jackie said, cautiously stepping across the threshold, checking the readings transmitted to her medical computer from the bio-chips of her patients. “You’re both awake. The last time I checked on you, you were both fast asleep. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Jackie?” Karen asked quietly, tugging on the captain’s arm.
“Yes,” he affirmed, standing, straightening his stance, and clearing his throat. “Karen, this is Jackie. Jackie, Karen. She seems to be recovering nicely, no doubt due to your superb medical skills.”
“And she speaks Earth-tongue,” the med-tech observed, approaching slowly so as not to frighten the native woman. “I guess I should have expected that. Hello, Karen. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Hello,” Karen responded quietly, sliding from the bed and standing behind the captain. She scrutinized the lieutenant cautiously. “You are very pretty.”
“Why thank you,” Jackie said. “I seem to be getting a lot of compliments today. I think you’re pretty too. And, even though Don is not a doctor, he’s right: you do seem to be recovering nicely.”
“Jackie,” Don suggested, tossing the damp towel aside. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt trapped, and felt the need to get away. “Why don’t you finish cleaning Karen up and find her something to wear? I’ll go find Porter so we can start replacing the sensor panels before it gets too dark.”
“He’s already doing that,” Jackie said. “The wind let up about two and a half hours ago, and he’s been out there ever since. Nav-Tac said he was nearly finished when I last checked. Anyway, you’re supposed to be taking it easy on those ribs.”
“My ribs are fine,” Don insisted, turning back toward Karen. “Good as new.”
“That’s not what my med scanner says,” Jackie contended. “In fact, ...”
“Ouch!” the captain bellowed as the med-tech placed a medical device on his left buttock and activated it. He whirled toward her, ire burning in his eyes.
“Time for another bio-mend booster,” she concluded, grinning ear-to-ear.
“Are you okay, Donald,” Karen asked, lightly touching his arm in concern.
“You know I hate that stuff,” he said through clenched teeth, dismissing Karen’s question.
“Don’t be such a baby,” Jackie said disparagingly. “You just don’t like it because it lowers your inhibitions, and you might accidentally have a little fun. Now, take it easy on those ribs; doctor’s orders.”
“Okay,” he conceded, turning once again toward Karen. “I’ll just go to the bridge and make sure everything is going smoothly. Karen, I’m leaving you in Jackie’s more-than-capable hands. Just don’t turn your back on her.”
“Donald,” Karen asked softly, grasping his arm and pressing her body against his. “Do you have to go? I want you to stay.”
“I really have work that needs to be done,” he said, feeling suddenly tense and warm. Jackie’s amused expression did little to ease his discomfort.
“I’ll go see if I can find some clean clothing that’ll fit her,” Jackie said, backing toward the door and making a hasty exit. “I would fabricate something, but Porter has the printer tied up making circuit modules. Be back in a few.”
“I’ll stay until she returns,” Don conceded, as the hatch closed. “But then I really have to go.”
“Okay,” Karen responded impassively, her eyes downcast. “Donald, do you like me?”
“Of course I do,” he replied, prompting her gaze to return to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“No reason,” she said smiling halfheartedly. “Can you tell me about planet Earth? What’s it like?”
CHAPTER 12: Not of Our Earth
Porter wearily trudged down the ship’s central hallway toward the bridge. Though the storm and the coming night had cooled the air, it was still uncomfortably hot outside the ship, and replacing sensor panels, though not difficult, was more physically demanding than the lab work he was accustomed to. He had spent the past half-hour re-hydrating and showering off layers of grime and sweat; now all he wanted to do was get off his aching feet and relax.
The first thing he noticed as he entered the bridge was the captain, asleep in his chair, with his feet upon the instrument panel. Quietly, so as not to disturb the commander’s slumber, he crept to his station and sat facing t
he tactical control panel.
“Hello, Will,” greeted Nav-Tac, causing the captain to wake with a lurch. “I am pleased to report the sensors are now functioning at ninety-six point seven percent efficiency. I commend you on a job well done.”
“Don’t mention it,” Will responded, glancing toward the commander to see if he was upset at the sudden awakening.
“Ah, lieutenant,” Captain Garris said, becoming aware of his surroundings as his mind began to clear. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help with the repairs, but the bio-mend Jackie gave me has me pretty groggy.”
“I understand, sir,” he responded, somewhat amused by the first sign of frailty he had yet seen in the commander. “That stuff puts most people completely out for at least a day. I’ve replaced the sensor panels, but, like you said, there’s nothing I can do with the photon compilers. We just don’t have the necessary parts. They’re working well enough in the sunlight to charge the ship’s power cells, but even a short flight is going to deplete them faster than they’re recharging. I doubt we could even reach orbit in their current condition.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said the captain. “I’m sure we’ll think of something to do about it.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Will said. “It seems pretty hopeless to me.”
“The trick is never to give up hope,” he responded, “no matter how bad things look.”
“That isn’t always easy, sir,” Porter said, still distressed over their present predicament. “Especially when things look this bad. Do you think we’ll ever get back to Earth?”
“I like to think so,” the captain replied, though he wasn’t optimistic himself. “With the sensors working, maybe Nav-Tac can get a better idea of where we are. By the way, have you seen Jackie since returning to the ship?”
“No sir,” he replied, “but I assumed since you weren’t with our prisoner, that she was.”
“Lieutenant,” the captain said, adjusting himself in the chair. “First, Karen is not our prisoner; she’s more of a guest. Second, I never really did like being called ‘sir’. From now on, just call me Don.”