by Kyle Pratt
Amy’s head shot up from the table. “Oh, sorry Chief, I must have dozed off.”
“Yeah, about an hour ago.”
“What!”
“Don’t launch,” he said holding his hand up. “The bridge just notified me the survey of the Chameleon is complete. Nothing unusual was found. Here’s what we talked about all nice and pretty.” He handed her a pad.
Amy scanned it.
“I’ve scheduled myself to go over with the first team to Chameleon,” the Chief said. “I was asleep when this all began so I’ve got a lot more rest than you. You’ll relieve me in twelve hours.”
As she stood she said, “Thank you Chief…”
“No problem XO.”
“…but I should go over first.”
The Chief rubbed his chin. “We need to talk.”
Standing before a mirror, she rubbed her eyes and checked her uniform. “I don’t really have time…”
“It’ll just take a moment.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Look, I know the Captain put you in charge of engineering and you still have environmental systems and you’re the XO, but you can’t do all of it alone.”
“What choice do I have Chief?” She said turning to leave.
“I didn’t say you can’t do it, I said you can’t do it—alone.”
She paused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve been working in engineering departments for almost as long as you’ve been alive.”
“You’re a good engineer Chief, but what has that got to do with my duties?”
He looked her in the eye. “I can do all the routine stuff, most personnel issues, the watch bill and other paperwork, and give it to you for review and signature. I can do the same for your old department, Environmental Systems, if you want. Anything out of the ordinary happens, I’ll let you know and,” he said firmly, “I can get an engineering crew warming spaces and restoring power on the derelict.”
She sighed. “I haven’t delegated a thing have I?”
“No,” he smiled, “but you’re not the first to make that mistake.”
“Okay Chief you go over first and for the admin duties I’ll write a memo…”
“I’ll write it,” the Chief said. “You sign it.”
They both smiled. She grabbed the pad and read the Chief’s report as she walked to the ready room.
* * *
“The survey is complete, sir. No problems or traps were found,” Amy reported. “However, Mumbai did find eight bodies and, uh, some parts.”
Once again, the captain gazed at her intently, but said nothing. “Thank you XO. Sit down,” he gestured toward the chair and sat the report on the bunk. “I need us to get aboard the Chameleon and see if we can do this quickly. What is your plan?”
Amy briefed him. The idea was to bring the Mirage just 300 meters off the Chameleon in a parallel orbit. Mumbai would then manually open the doors to the small cargo bay on the derelict ship. Both vessels were too small to have a shuttle but they did have escape pods and those pods had small maneuvering thrusters. In an emergency twenty people could cram into a pod. The plan was that crews of fourteen would ferry back and forth between ship cargo bays in the pods.
Power was the first priority. Five billion kilometers from the Altair star, sunlight did not provide much power but, engineering teams would push and pull Chameleon’s solar panels so they collected what little energy was available. When they had accomplished this, they would turn their attention to the fission reactor and other critical systems.
“Great,” the Captain said standing and walking to the door of the ready room, “I notice you’re not going over with the first crew.”
“Ah…”
“You were on the mid-watch correct?”
“Yes sir.”
The Captain nodded. “Good idea to have the chief get things started.
“Ah, yes sir. It was his idea.”
“I’m glad you took his suggestion. Implement the plan.”
Amy finished the mid-watch on an adrenalin high wondering if one of the bodies they found was her father and if his old ship might provide the parts needed to repair their vessel. When the first crew was safely onboard the Chameleon she went to her cabin.
* * *
Amy rubbed the sleep from her eyes trying to hold the memory of a dream about her father. But, as most dreams do, it slipped away. Pulling the cover back she dropped her feet to the cold deck. She had never told the captain about her father, she didn’t even know if his body had been found, but she wanted to at least retrieve some of his personal effects while she was onboard the Chameleon.
“Lieutenant Palmer to the captain’s quarters,” the voice over the commlink announced.
Amy’s stomach twisted in a knot. They’ve found his body.
She dressed quickly then walked to the captain’s cabin like a condemned prisoner headed to the gallows. Pausing at the door she sighed and accepted the news she was about to receive.
“I know you’re scheduled to relieve the Chief on the Chameleon in a couple of hours but I need you to head another team.
“To recover the bodies?”
“No,” he said. Looking her directly in the eye he paused, then said, “But I’ve been waiting for you to talk about your father.”
“Sir?”
He gestured toward a chair. “Commander Palmer was a good man.”
Sitting down she asked, “You knew him?”
“Gary and I were classmates at the academy.” He smiled at Amy. “I even held his only daughter just a couple of weeks after she was born.”
Her face flushed. Me? You held me as a baby and now I’m your XO. This is embarrassing.
“I was sorry to hear he didn’t come back from Altair and I plan on finding him, but I’m not going to send his daughter to recover his body. I’ve assigned someone else to take care of that.”
“I can do it. I even want too,” she said surprised at her own statement.
“It’s not a question of your ability,” he said shaking his head, “I wouldn’t send any son or daughter to do that. I need you over there as the Environment Systems officer.”
Amy was confused. The ship is a frozen derelict.
“The work is going slower than the Chief expected largely because the teams are working in suits on frozen equipment in zero gravity. We need to get the equipment from the Chameleon as quickly as possible so, at least in some parts of the ship, we’re going to need to warm it up, restore gravity and atmosphere.”
“Oh,” Amy said overwhelmed at the thought of bringing the Chameleon’s environmental systems back online after years of exposure to the cold and vacuum of space. Great, more work, less sleep. At least it gives me a reason to board the ship and a chance to get some of Dad’s personal effects. “Yes sir. I’ll get right on it.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smile.
She paused. “Sir, who is going to recover the bodies?”
“Corpsman Salazar is already retrieving them.”
* * *
Corpsman Salazar checked the list from the survey. Mumbai was heading back to the airlock with a cadaver. That left one. He headed forward from engineering with a body bag and tools to recover it. Two engineering teams were now working in and around the engineering spaces. The area was well lit and they were warming it but, he grumbled, I get the job of retrieving corpses from every cold, black, airless crevice of this ship. Choose your rate, choose your fate.
There was no gravity on the ship so he was careful to always keep at least one boot in magnetic contact with the deck. With each step, the clang echoed in his suit. Only the sound of his own breathing and footsteps now kept him company. Stopping at the junction of four passageways, his light revealed a hatch set in the deck of an alcove off the main passageway. One bulkhead had blown out, leaving conduit wires and other ruble strewn about. Probably due to decompression during the battle.
Soft static came over his suit radio as he looked over the debris. Was there a voice
in the static? He adjusted the volume and the RF gain on the radio. There it is again.
“Any person on this net, this is Corpsman Salazar. Radio check.” The weird static was his only reply. You have an over active imagination. Just get the last body and get off this ship. He switched his radio to standby and looked around trying to remember which passageway to take.
Sadness seemed to well up within him from nowhere. How many good people died on this ship? He could almost see the final moments of the crew as light and power died, bulkheads strained and metal twisted under the force of explosive decompression. The air pressure dropped to zero and ripped their last breath from their lungs. They tried to scream as their blood boiled and their skin turned to leather but, without air, no sound escaped their lips. It was agony, but only for a moment. The awareness of self in the cold, unchanging darkness and the memories of a life now gone are what brought deep, endless loneliness. That was the real pain, the pain that ate at the soul.
Oh, the dreams cut off that day, the love unrequited. Don’t leave me; bring me home.
Salazar felt a thud in his chest as his boots lost contact with the deck. Floating, he flailed his arms in alarm. Two arms thrust out of the darkness and grabbed his breastplate.
The corpsman screamed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.” Amy said smiling, “Did I scare you?”
Salazar quickly checked his radio. He was thankful it was on standby and the crew had been spared his moment of panic. Switching to voice activation he said breathlessly, “No, I was just distracted. You startled me at bit, that’s all.” Planting his feet back on the deck he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Collecting things…from my father’s cabin,” she replied.
“Oh, yes, the Captain mentioned your father served on the Chameleon. I…I’m sorry. I was heading back towards engineering,” he lied. “Is that where you are going?”
“Yes,” she smiled.
“I’ll walk back with you.”
“Okay.”
Over the radio Salazar called; “Mumbai retrieve the last body and meet me back at the airlock.” As they walked towards engineering, he turned to Amy and said, “I didn’t know you were working over here.”
“The captain wants me to restore some life support but I can’t do anything until we warm up the environmental plant. My people are connecting the heaters right now.”
“Oh,” he said, and then after a pause he stated, “It must be hard… I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, it’s okay. Being here has stirred up a lot of memories. That’s why I bumped into you just now; I was thinking about my dad as I came down the passageway and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” She paused, bit her lip, then asked, “Have you found him?”
“I can’t be sure yet.”
* * *
Later in sickbay, corpsman Salazar looked about as the robotic unit entered carrying the last body. He glanced about looking for a place to put it. Quickly he cleared the last open table and pointed. “Mumbai set the body here.” Turning away, he resumed his count. With this last one, he had eight largely intact bodies and 23 assorted parts. He nodded approvingly, that was all that had been discovered during the survey. “Mumbai,” he said, “return to your maintenance station.”
Mumbai nodded and left.
Salazar walked over to the commlink and reported to the Captain, “Sir recovery of cadavers is complete.”
“Thank you, corpsman, Captain Harris paused. “I need you to determine the identity of these individuals. I want to be able to tell Lieutenant Palmer if we have recovered the body of her father.”
“Yes, sir. The name badges and other uniform items indicate we don’t have Commander Palmer but I’ll scan the PICs and do DNA comparisons on all remains.”
“Good. And either way let me know first.”
Salazar collected his equipment and positioned the first corpse for scanning. As he began the automatic door at the entrance to sickbay opened.
“Hello Lieutenant, ah, XO. How can I help you?” He asked as Amy entered.
“I was wondering what you might have found out.” She said as she gazed at the body bags from the far side of sickbay.
“Nothing yet, but, well, it would be better if you waited somewhere else.”
“You’ll tell me when you know?”
“The Captain wants to know first, but yes, after that, of course.”
Amy nodded and left sickbay.
Salazar scanned the first corpse looking for the PIC implanted in the right thigh of every soldier, sailor and marine upon induction into the military. When he found it, he began downloading the personal, medical and dental information. As he expected it was not Commander Palmer. Finishing the scan, he moved on to the next body, bent over the table and adjusted the scanner.
The corpsman heard footsteps behind him as he worked. It was not unusual so he continued to work even as they came up behind him. He got the impression it was Amy, the XO. It seemed he could almost hear her slow even breathing just behind him.
“XO, I really think it would be better if you waited outside.” He paused still bent over the corpse. The breathing stopped but no one spoke or moved. “XO…” he spun around, but no one was behind him. He was alone. Heart pounding, he looked left and right and back again. He stood still and listened for any movement, but all he heard was the fan of the nearby vent. It was my imagination…just my overactive imagination. Convinced he was alone; he had no desire to be alone, and pressed the commlink. “Seaman Daniels, could I get you to help me in sickbay?”
* * *
After a twelve-hour shift, thawing, repairing and troubleshooting a dozen environmental systems, Amy wanted to relax and clear her mind before going to her bunk but as she pulled herself through the hatch back onboard the Mirage a petty officer waited for her.
“XO, the Captain would like to see you.”
She was sure she knew why and again attempted to prepare herself for the news as she walked to the captain’s cabin.
“Hello Amy,” he said as she came in. “I’m sorry to say your father is still missing in action.”
She nodded. “Corpsman Sal identified all of them?”
“Yes. DNA tests and PICs confirmed that none are related to you.”
Is that good news or bad news? Should I be happy? She realized she was staring at the captain. “I…I understand.”
“What can you tell me about the environmental systems on the Chameleon?”
“Most of the systems were intact. We’ll have gravity and a breathable atmosphere in the critical areas of the ship within two days.”
“Good. I hope to retrieve the Chameleon’s log, get the parts we need, and be able to leave this system soon.”
“How is the food supply holding out, sir?” Amy asked.
“We’ll be okay for a couple of weeks but the cooks are already running out of menu options.” Captain Harris gave Amy a fatherly smile and said, “Why don’t you get some food before the cook serves up the freeze dried crap from the escape pods.”
“Yes, thank you sir,” she said and departed.
* * *
Amy set the pad down and looked up at the ship’s clock, uncertain what day of the week it was or how many days she had been working on the Chameleon. The entire crew of the Mirage was now on twelve-hour shifts so every day was much the same, cram twenty-four hours of work on two ships into one twelve hour shift. Eating and sleeping were on your own time.
Rubbing her eyes, she continued putting on her spacesuit in a warm and pressurized compartment next to the Chameleon cargo bay. Twelve hours from now, she knew she would be back here for the return to the Mirage, eat supper and sleep. Reaching for her helmet, she saw Marcus walk in carrying a large toolbox.
“Hi Marcus. Are you lost?” she said with a smile.
“Not yet, but which way is the auxiliary control room?”
Amy smiled still putting on
her suit, “Through the airlock there,” she said pointing. “I’m sorry but we don’t have life support up in that part of the ship.”
Marcus sighed and walked to one of the lockers where suits were stored.
Amy said, “I’d wait and show you the way, but the techs have reported a problem with some graviton emitters. I need to check them right away.”
“No problem. If I get lost I’ll leave bread crumbs.”
“Huh?”
“It’s from an old children’s story,” he said with a forced grin. “Go on and fix your emitters.”
Minutes later, Amy walked down the cold, airless, passageway forward from engineering. One bulkhead had buckled and someone had pushed debris out of the way down one unused corridor. Two emergency lights on either end of the long corridor provided only modest illumination. Why didn’t I have someone restore environmental systems to this area? Amy stopped at a junction of four passageways. A hatch was set in the deck of an alcove off the main walkway.
Soft static came over her suit radio. Was someone calling? She adjusted the volume and the RF gain on the radio.
“Last call this net. This is Lieutenant Palmer. Please repeat your call.”
Amy?
Was that static or did she hear her name. She repeated her call over the radio as thoughts of her father flowed through her mind. He walked this passageway and probably died near here. If he had lived, he might have been something like Marcus, kind and happy. Older but similar. Dad might have liked him. Suddenly chilled, she checked her suit temperature. It was fine. Goose bumps formed on her arms. She continued on, picking up her pace in a desire to be back with people.
Over her suit radio came an alarm and a voice, “Gravity failure, deck five.”
Unable to stop her forward momentum, she shot upward hitting her helmet hard on the overhead. Projected in a corner of her helmet visor was a display of the spacesuit system status. Instantly every warning light came on and faded to black as she floated aimlessly down a cold, dark and airless passageway.
“Suit failure, deck five, frame 192,” she called out. She knew the suit radio was dead, but she had to try. The suit was well insulted against the cold of space, but the temperature in it would soon rise as her body heat warmed the limited and now uncirculated air. Control your breathing. She had only a few minutes of good air in the suit. Pushing off the overhead she clumsily brought her feet into magnetic contact with the deck. She wanted to run, but she knew that would quickly consume her limited air supply. She forced herself to walk in a quick, but steady, pace back towards her crewmates in engineering. All suit visors were treated so they would not fog up, but Amy was wondering when this suit had last been treated as it began to fog right in front of her nose and mouth.