The Long Way Home

by Darrell Bain

  Laughter greeted her remark and he had to grin. “Astronomy 101 and a bunch of psychopathic Monkeyclaws destroying your ship,” he said.

  He knew it wasn't him they were laughing at. They were simply joking to dispel tension built up over hours of watching alertly for danger. The “jungle” was neither flora nor fauna. It was another kind of life entirely, unseen before. He had analyzed samples brought to him after another explorer determined that the microorganisms were no danger to humans. The basic chemistry appeared to depend upon converting sunlight to energy with organic catalysts, through a scheme much more complicated than the Krebs cycle, but which nevertheless produced oxygen and carbon dioxide in proportions similar to those on Earth. There was no discernible separation of the life forms other than from those byproducts—carbon dioxide produced by one sexual form and oxygen by another. He thought a variant of the organisms might be useful in agriculture when—or if, according to Fran—they got back, and if anyone wanted to return to this area.

  "Astronomy! Shit, and I took xenooceanography. That's about as far from a star as you can get!” Tiny said. “Can I go back and start over?"

  "You can have my place,” Jeremy joked. “All you have to know is how to cube the square root of negative matrix equations in your head."

  "What's a cubic squared negative matrix equation?"

  "See? You're lost already."

  "Wait a minute. I never heard of those. Jere's boosting you, Tiny,” Franica called out.

  "There's a cure for people like that,” Tiny said, flexing his biceps.

  "Who wants to be an Astrogator? I'd rather settle down on the first good planet we come to. Damn crazy Commander,” E3 Marshall Binglee said in a loud voice.

  Dead silence greeted that remark. He looked around but saw only bland faces avoiding his gaze. “Well, I would!” he repeated stubbornly. “I don't give a damn! It's better than being popped by the Monkeys or dying of old age before the fucking Captain gets us back home, if he ever does."

  "Maybe, but Brackett's the boss, not you."

  "I have a cure for idle explorers,” Casey Dugan said as she entered the dayroom.

  "Oh. Hello, Chief,” Franica said. She got to her feet.

  A few moments later the dayroom was empty.

  * * * *

  Lisa sat behind her desk in the tiny office adjacent to her cabin. Other than the Commander's, hers was the only other private office in the boat. Others had to share. She used it during those times when she needed quiet to catch up on the activities of the crew. Boat operations were shared by COB Shinzyki and Lieutenant Medford. Normally, she didn't interfere. They were both intelligent enough and imbued with enough navy tradition to know when and when not to bother her. Of course, she reviewed everything they did (that she knew of) and Commander Brackett was notified of anything that went into permanent record, so that he could officially approve or disapprove if he so desired. Ordinarily, a longboat ran smoothly, but she had to admit that theirs was not in an ordinary situation. There wasn't a single instance in history where a longboat had to function like an exploration starship and at the same time had to plan on somehow stopping a much larger and much more heavily armed alien ship from following them home.

  While pulling up files and approving or making recommendations, she wondered idly about the promotions the skipper had suggested. Would they be made permanent if—when, damn it—they got back home? Maybe, but she knew there would be other jumps in grade before it was over and possibly even some of a chief's being brevetted to Warrant Officer. That happened frequently enough, and usually, but not always, it came about by going from Master Chief Petty Officer to Warrant Officer. It occurred within the Navy rankings who hadn't been through the exploration academy nor gotten enough education to gain a commission. Shinzyki was a special case—a Chief who had more than earned a commission, but who refused to advance past Warrant. Would warrant officer be best when filling officer slots? Or if and when they did with an explorer, should the brevet rank be to Ensign? That was just one of the problems she wrestled with now in anticipation of their arising in the future. Always assuming they could defeat those damnable Monkeyclaws, of course.

  Brackett had ordered her to study the subject, and she had, knowing what he probably had in mind. She knew with almost certain clarity that Lieutenant Whistler was not going to complete the voyage home as the boat's astrogator. Whether he would die by suicide or be confined to quarters until he went mad (or after he went mad) or be devoured by some monster they hadn't met yet, she didn't know. The last is unlikely, she thought. He seldom ventured far from his cabin or the control room, much less set foot on a planet when opportunity presented. In his absence Joyce would be slotted into his position, but that would still leave a need for her relief. Transiting from star to star in a longboat was hard enough as it was, without having all the work loaded onto one person. The skipper had to be thinking of promoting Costa again, to Chief. She leaned back in her chair and thought of how Costa might handle that, should it come to pass.

  He should go to Petty Officer first, she thought. But then, Martinez had gone to chief, so perhaps not. Either way, it needed to come fairly quickly. Whistler was unstable enough that he might flip any day. So first, could Costa handle a PO's job with so little time in service? Well, sure, so long as it involved only astrogation. But as a PO he would have to supervise other duties in the boat. Could he? Be in charge over the men and women who were formerly his superiors?

  A smile slowly crept across her face. Had that sneaky, conniving Shinzyki had that in mind when he and Dugan set up that oh-so-unofficial little scrap between Costa and his two tormenters when he was sleeping with Juanita Martinez? Probably. It had his stamp all over it. The bout had certainly earned Costa a lot of respect. She thought she had a pretty good handle on every happening in the boat, including who was sleeping with whom, what personality conflicts were active at any given time, and all the other little details of that sort. Shinzyki beat her at it, though. No sense in trying to think otherwise. He had been around the navy for so many years he'd seen just about everything. Not only that, he appeared like magic whenever anything of importance was happening and he always thought in future terms.

  So Costa as Petty Officer, or Chief, then. He was holding the E5 position down acceptably. No, more than that. He was doing really well. When she'd examined his personnel file she'd found he was marked for fast promotion right out of the academy. He'd have to stay in the Coyote squad as PO, though. Or would he? The boat had a Chief's slot open, but that would be too big a jump just yet. Or would it? CPO spacer. Sure. That would be better. Recommend that to Brackett, and if he doesn't approve, we can still promote Costa to PO. He'd still wind up supervising some of his former superiors, but as a boat CPO non-commissioned officer he would carry more authority.

  How old was the boy, anyway? She pulled his records up again. Twenty-six. Hmm. Not too much of a boy. She'd thought him two or three years younger. He didn't look as old as he was. Handsome, too. Not that it should matter to a forty-seven-year-old executive officer, Everlife or not. Okay, that problem taken care of. She'd tell the skipper at their next conference and see if he agreed with her reasoning. On to the next item on her agenda—one she disliked intensely but which had to be done on occasion. Discipline.

  Having read through the report again to be certain she had all the relevant facts in her mind, she tapped her console.

  "COB Shinzyki here."

  "Rufus, I'm ready. Please bring Explorer Binglee to my cabin.” Make it short, she told herself.

  Shinzyki must have had Binglee waiting nearby. The hatchway opened only moments later. He entered and held the hatchway open. The explorer came in and stopped in front of her desk while Shinzyki closed the hatch behind him.

  "E3 Marshall Binglee reporting, ma'am."

  "Special Court is in session. Stand at ease. Explorer Binglee, you've been charged with sedition while Longboat Hurricane Jack was in a state of emergency and in a state of war
. Specifications of the charge are: one, making derogatory remarks in reference to the Commanding Officer, and two, incitement to mutiny in reference to advocating abandonment of the mission of Hurricane Jack. Conviction on either charge carries a maximum penalty of death.

  "How do you plead?"

  Binglee's mouth dropped open. He stood speechless, his eyes wild.

  "Best to plead guilty, son,” Shinzyki advised. “Commander Brackett hasn't ordered me to prepare a noose yet."

  "I ... can I have a lawyer?"

  "If you ask for someone to defend you, Commander Brackett has to call a General Court. In that case, the minimum penalty upon conviction is twenty years hard labor on one of the prison planets. You've heard of those, haven't you? And the maximum is still death. Best to let the XO handle it, son,” Shinzyki said. His voice was deep but gentle.

  "Do I have to decide now?"

  "Address the court."

  "Ma'am ... Lt. Commander Trammell ... do I have to decide now?"

  "Yes."

  He looked from her to Shinzyki. The COB gave him a barely perceptible nod.

  "Uh, yes, ma'am. Do it now."

  "How do you plead?"

  "Guilty, ma'am.” His voice was barely audible. He closed his eyes as if waiting for an unavoidable collision.

  "Very well. Your plea is accepted. Punishment is as follows: Reduction to the rank of Explorer Two. Extra duty for a period of two months, times and places to be determined by Warrant Officer Shinzyki. Court dismissed."

  "You may leave, Binglee,” Shinzyki ordered. “Go to the hatchway of my cabin and wait for me there."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you sir. Thank you ma'am.” He saluted and left, shoulders slumped but heaving a huge sigh of apparent relief.

  Once he was gone, Lisa smiled at Shinzyki. “Well, Rufus, do you think that will stifle such talk in the future?"

  He didn't smile in return. “It will once I'm finished with him."

  "Don't be too hard on him, Rufus. I wanted to set an example, but I don't want to break the boy."

  "I'll handle it, ma'am. Trust me."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Let the body be cast forth."

  A mumble of “amens” and other barely audible words, acknowledging the end of another life, completed the ceremony. Tiger Kena Basalla had been killed, and Marshall Binglee, also a Tiger, had been grievously wounded a couple of months after leaving the Jungle Planet. Binglee had died shortly after liftoff. Both bodies would remain in the system; one in orbit, one in the ground.

  "Shit, it wasn't even a monster that got them,” Whiteside said to Danny Pronghorn as a group of Coyotes walked back to the big dayroom. There was pain in his expression. “It was a goddamn accident."

  "Dead is dead,” Pronghorn returned. “Binglee should have known better than to go out in a faulty environmental suit."

  "Is that what happened?” Jeremy asked. He hadn't heard the results of the formal inquiry board himself, even if he was in the control room oftener than any of the other explorers.

  "That's what I heard. I bet he was so damn glad to be shut of Mister Shinzyki he would have gone out of the ship naked to get away from him."

  "Well, fuck. If he wanted to kill himself with carelessness, he should have had the decency not to struggle when Kena tried to help him. Isn't that how she got it?"

  "So I hear,” Pronghorn repeated. “He pulled her hose loose while she was trying to help him and the atmosphere got into her suit, too. It was so fucking caustic it ruined her HUD and she got lost. By the time she realized it and called for help it was too late."

  Two more deaths, Jeremy thought. It made Franica's prediction and his own calculation of so many deaths all too real again. He was glad no one else had voiced similar opinions. Perhaps Binglee's punishment had served a purpose in that regard. Before these latest two explorers were lost, the crew had seemed to him to be settling down for the long haul. Even Franica had stopped the mild flirtation and appeared to be getting serious. In the meantime, he and Jana had tried it together, but gave up after a couple of weeks. It was a surprise to both of them. They worked so well together that he thought they would be equally good together in more intimate ways, but it hadn't turned out like that. The problem was that no sparks flew when they were together. By mutual agreement, they had decided to break it off.

  "Why so serious, Jere?” Franica asked. She gave him a mild hip bump to move him a little more to starboard.

  "Mmm. Just thinking. I'm going to ... check my suit soon as I get back to my cabin.” It wasn't much of a lie. He'd done that immediately after he heard the explorers had died from complications of suit failure. “I didn't know the whole story until now."

  "Got time for a drink?"

  "Yeah, I guess."

  "Such enthusiasm."

  "Oh. Sorry, Fran. Funerals always get to me."

  "Uh huh. Me, too. That's why I want the drink."

  Afterwards they walked back toward his cabin together. No words were spoken, as if she assumed they were going inside and he had already consented. Soon they were on the small bunk together, laughing at the contortions it took to remove each other's cammies without falling off the narrow bed. He had her top off and her bra unfastened and got one of her arms loose from it, revealing one nicely shaped breast, but she was so close it hung up at that point.

  "Here. Let me..."

  His com dinged. “Shit. It's the XO's code.” He tapped his wrist. “Jeremy Costa here."

  "Costa, report to the XO's office ASAP.” The voice was that of Gerald Sparks, who sometimes served as either the Commander or the XO's yeoman.

  "On my way,” he said. He tapped off and sat up. “Sorry, Fran."

  "Damn it, so am I. As often as you're called to the XO's office, I'm beginning to think you two have something going."

  He had to laugh. The idea was ridiculous. “Hold it where we were. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  * * * *

  "Explorer Costa reporting, ma'am,” Jeremy said to the XO. He was surprised to see Justin Lake, the Explorer commander, in the tiny office with the XO.

  "Sit down, Costa. We're going to be here a while. Would you like some coffee?"

  "Uh, yes, ma'am, if you are, that is."

  "I'll pour.” She did so, topping off hers and Lake's cups as well.

  "Thank you ma'am,” he said and waited until he saw the two officers take a sip of coffee before he did. He was becoming used to seeing the XO, but Mister Lake made him nervous. He was the commanding officer of all the explorers, but Jeremy seldom interacted with him. Mostly, he stayed in officer country and planned each excursion by explorers with Mister Muser, the assistant commander, and the chiefs. During hyper he and Muser were seen working out and at inspections. One or the other was always outside with whatever squad had the duty but again, chiefs or squad officers usually gave the orders, not them.

  "Costa, the XO tells me you've done well at astrogation, and I've been pleased with your work as an explorer. Chief Casey thinks you've done well, too."

  "Uh, thank you, sir. I try hard."

  "Yes, from all reports, you do. XO?"

  "Costa, how would you feel about working as a spacer?"

  "A ... spacer, ma'am? Leave the Coyotes?” It was the last thing he would have thought the XO and Mister Lake had in mind for him.

  "You're so tied up with astrogation now that you're in the control room more than you're with the Coyotes,” Lake told him, his voice even, non-accusing.

  "More than that, it's where you're needed, Costa."

  You weren't supposed to argue against orders, but ... well, it wasn't quite that. Yet. “But there's already..."

  Trammell held up a hand, and he stopped in mid-sentence. “There are reasons, Costa. Commander Brackett has already approved the transfer. We want you to be a spacer. And an Astrogator."

  "Yes, ma'am.” There was no argument possible if it was what Commander Brackett
wanted.

  "Thank you for your service, Costa,” Mister Lake said, rising to his feet. “I'll take care of having the announcement made to the troops about your transfer. Keep your seat.” He nodded to the XO and departed.

  "Now then, Costa, we have other issues to cover. We have a Spacer PO position open, so that's where we'll slot you in, but as a Chief PO, since you're going to be holding down an extremely technical position. Again she raised her hand as he attempted to protest. “Yes, I know, we have other spacer ratings on board, but none of them have the education yet for a Chief's position, even in our present circumstances. You don't have to worry. You've been in the control room and in astrogation long enough that you'll be respected. In fact, I'd suspect that some of the ratings have wondered why it has taken us so long to make the decision, especially after Martinez was made Chief."

  "Yes, ma'am.” This voyage was certainly becoming a success so far as his career went. Now all he had to do was live through it. But ... “Would I stay a spacer after we get home, ma'am? Or go back to explorer?"

  For the first time since he'd entered the room, she smiled. “I suspect that when we return, all of us can pretty much have any position we want, wouldn't you think?"

  "Um, well, looking at it that way, I suppose what you said could be true. But I'm not familiar with decisions that far up the line, ma'am."

  "No, I wouldn't expect you to be. Now then, if you've accepted the fact of your promotion and transfer, and we'll get to the real business here."

  "Ma'am?"

  "Ma'am indeed. Are you prepared to carry out your new duties, Costa?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I always want to do what's best for the boat. I'll do anything you and Commander Brackett want me to."

  "That's a good attitude, because you may have a very important job. I suppose you've been wondering what we're going to do about the Monkeyclaw ship that's following us?” She raised an eyebrow.

  "Um, yes, ma'am, I guess I have. It's not like the Hurricane is a match for the Monkeyclaw starship, is it?"