Tanager's Fledglings (The Tanager Book 1)

by Cedar Sanderson

  Jennings raised his eyebrows. “You have air?”

  Jem pointed. “We can put the plates right on top of the case. I’ve got straps to get the load stable, but I think I’d better go with you. It’s going to take two of us over anything less smooth than decking.”

  Jennings just nodded. He seemed to have accepted that Jem didn’t want to make small talk. Jem wasn’t entirely sure why, himself. Other than he disliked being praised for what he was doing. And, really, other than when it came to selling stuff, he didn’t do social. Oh, sure, Mags and MacTavish. That was different.

  They headed for the outer hold. They found the four men who’d come in uninjured lying or lounging on cots. The man that had been asleep still was. Jem helped guide the pallet load into the lock, then grabbed his suit.

  “I’m right behind you, Jennings. We can’t fit two men and the pallet, so you’ll go out onto the ramp, then I’ll exit.”

  “Wha..?” The other man looked down. “Oh. This isn’t my suit. Mine was destroyed, and they gave me this one.”

  “I thought you were one of Barnes’ crew?” Jem asked.

  Not-Jennings shook his head.

  “You should have gone to see the doctor!” Jem protested. The other man looked stubbornly at him.

  “I can do this.” He pointed out. “And you can’t alone, you said so.”

  Jem shook his head. “Go to sick bay and send Sykes to me. No... tell him I’ll be waiting outside.”

  Jem scrambled into his suit. He knew there was a good reason for him to stay safely inside the ship, but this wasn’t exactly dangerous, hauling cargo to the tent. Then he’d come back inside. They needed the hands, and the comms were at his fingertips. One of the men got up from his cot and walked slowly over.

  “I’ll check you.” He spoke with a hoarse voice, and Jem could see that his face was covered with petechiae, the tiny burst blood vessels being a sure sign of exposure to vacuum.

  “Thanks.” Jem turned slowly, feeling the man’s gaze like a physical touch. At the nod from the miner, he put his helmet on. The other man gave him a thumb’s up, which Jem returned gravely before he got into the lock.

  Jem was on the outside slowly taking the pallet down the ramp when his suit-to-suit channel comm beeped. He toggled it with his chin.

  “Sykes.” He knew who it was, the channel didn’t have the range to communicate with the tent yet.

  “Captain, you really should get back in the ship.”

  Sykes didn’t sound upset at him. Jem started to shake his head, then remembered that wouldn’t show on the outside of the suit. “We need to get this to the tent quickly, and we don’t have time to wait for men to finish up there and get back here. Help me, please.”

  Jem didn’t hear anything from Sykes’ comm. The other man moved to the back of the pallet where he could steady it if they had to go over small obstacles, and Jem started walking toward the tent with his unwieldy load in tow. He wanted to hurry, but if he let it pick up speed, even in the low gravity, it could get away from him. Momentum was both his friend and his enemy. He didn’t look back at Sykes. He’d just trust the big man to be there if he was needed.

  Chapter 12: Making Haste Slowly

  The tent smelled of death. Jem was intimately familiar with it, and he tried not to take a deep breath while fighting his memories. Moskvin came out of the inner partition and reached out. Jem clasped his hand.

  “You brought air.” Moskvin was looking at the crate with an expression of rapture.

  “Yes, and stasis boxes for the badly injured.” Jem started to undo the straps. Sykes laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “We’ll take it from here. You get back to the ship.”

  Jem looked from him to Moskvin and back again. “I am not a child.”

  Sykes shook his head. “No, Captain,” he stressed the title, “you are an indispensable cog in a cobbled-together machine. Men will die if you are not at your station.”

  Jem straightened his shoulders. “There are others who could fly her.”

  “You’d give up your ship?” Moskvin asked incredulously. “Ki... Captain, we have enough hands on the ground. Sure, we could use more. You can bring them back from the hab. There might be,” and he stressed the last two words, “someone who can fly that rattletrap. But you’re the best man for that job.”

  Jem nodded, reluctant to leave. Slowly, he latched on his helmet and waited for Sykes’ thumbs up before going back into the lock. He felt very alone as he walked back to the Tanager. She loomed over the shattered landscape in front of him. His home... and right now, his cocoon he wanted to leave. Being honest with himself, he decided that it was the feeling trapped that was doing it. For ten standard years he’d been perfectly happy to be on the ship unless they were selling on a station or planet. And even then, he’d only wanted to be back on her.

  The comm clicked, and he answered it without thinking. “Tanager.”

  Barnes’ voice was much clearer at this distance. “Tanager, this is Barnes. We have ten men headed for the tent. Found another hold-out. I’ll let them know, but if they can walk all the way to the ship on their own power it’ll help the air supply. Over.”

  “Barnes, they have back-up air now, but I concur. We will prepare for them. Check with Moskvin about moving the badly injured, as well. Tanager, out.”

  Jem moved into a trot. He knew the ground here, and wasn’t worried about overexertion so close to the ship. Right now, he needed to be onboard, and he’d been caught out. So, they were right. He thumped the lock button in frustration. He’d been acting like an idiot.

  Back in the Tanager, he triggered the intercom while walking toward the sick bay. “More walkers, ETA around ten minutes.”

  As he reached the hold where the sick were, he looked and saw that the doc wasn’t busy, so he beckoned to him. “Doc,” Jem cleared his throat.

  “Yes?” Dr. Bouler’s face was lined with stress and fatigue.

  “They’ll be sending the badly wounded in stasis boxes. I’m not telling you your job, but we’ll use less air if they stay in them until we’re back at the hab. And, ah...” Jem hesitated again.

  “You’re right to be careful with the air.” The doctor nodded. “And when did you last sleep? Or eat?”

  “Um. What day is it?” Jem tried to smile and make a joke of it.

  “Right. I’m going to give you something. Normally I’d prescribe eight hours sleep and a big meal at both ends of that, but today we need you functional. We can only do this twice,” The doc warned, leading Jem into the hold. “After that, you will need sleep or risk permanent damage and possibly addiction.”

  Alarmed, Jem stopped moving. “Maybe I should just push through.”

  Dr. Bouler shook his head. “I won’t let you get to that point. Trust me?”

  “Yeah, I guess I have to.” Jem let the doc press a hypospray to his neck and felt the cool tingle of the injection.

  “Now, go get food in you. We can handle the walking wounded without you. I’ll comm you with a count, and when we reach what you calculate as the limit, we’ll shuttle to the hab.”

  Jem nodded at Dr. Bouler’s plan. “Got it. Eat, wait.”

  “Make haste slowly.” The doc smiled. “Now, git!”

  Jem got. He wasn’t feeling much different, but now that food had been mentioned, he was starving. The galley was empty, so he simply punched in directions for high-protein, and a dessert on the side. He didn’t feel like taking time to go see what was left in the garden. He ate quickly, and took the hand pie to the bridge with him. The filling was berry flavored. For some reason this made him think of Misha, and the reactions of the miners to the fresh fruit and veggies on the Tanager.

  He would like to bring her here, to set up a garden for the hab. He was eternally grateful she wasn’t here, now, not on this trip. He took the earbud out, and fired up the comms on the board. He checked the screens, noting that a small group of orange-and-yellow blobs were approaching on the infrared. Even as he watche
d, he heard Barnes’ voice on the comm channel.

  “Tanager, this is Barnes.”

  “Tanager here.” Jem responded. He couldn’t feel or hear the men entering the lock from the bridge, but he could see them vanish from the screen. “ETA on the injured? Over.”

  “We’re racking and stacking them now. Have you got a second float pallet? I’ll send a man for it. Over.”

  “I do, but only one. Tanager out.” Jem answered. He grabbed the earbud and started to stand up.

  “Hang on a sec.” Barnes’ voice stopped him. “Look, I know you want to help. You are helping. I’m sending a couple of guys to be your hands. Ok?”

  Jem sighed, then triggered the comm on. “Got it,” he ignored the lack of radio protocol. “I’ll make sure they get it back to you fast. How is the search going?”

  “Badly.” Barnes’ voice came across flat, emotionless. Jem wasn’t sure if that was a measure of the comm quality, or the way the other man felt. “There were probably 300 men in and around the split. We’ve located about a tenth of them. Not all of those alive.”

  Jem didn’t know what to say. Barnes had known many of them, some had been his friends. “I’ll be back quickly. Tanager out.”

  He dropped the earbud back into it’s cradle. It would charge until he needed it again, and right now that seemed like it could be a very long time. Jem heard hurrying footsteps coming toward the bridge. He swiveled around.

  “Sykes.” he greeted the big man. “Float pallet is where the first one was.”

  Sykes grinned and sketched a little salute before turning away. Jem toggled the intercom. “Dr. Bouler, please contact the bridge.”

  A few minutes later one of Barnes’ men, Jem thought, popped into the bridge and handed Jem a headset that had clearly been quickly removed from a suit. “Here’s the Doc.” He announced cheerfully, handing it to Jem.

  Jem, bemused, put it on, watching the man hurry away again. “Dr. Bouler?”

  “Ah, it works.”

  Jem could hear a little interference, but it was a clear channel. “Doctor, how many do we have aboard?”

  Having a private way to keep talking with the man on the front line, as it were, was a very good idea. Jem wished he’d thought of it sooner.

  “We’re up to 17, with our personnel, 21. What is capacity?”

  “Thirty. There is some leeway, but we should move now.” Jem checked the engines, and found that they were up to temp and ready. “We can move at your word.”

  “Right. I’ll give you the go ahead as soon as we clear it with Moskvin at the tent. I don’t want to leave men walking in.”

  There was a hesitation, then the doctor’s voice came back. “How much of a margin do we have?”

  Jem tapped up the air calculations he’d done before. “No more than 24 without a refresh cycle. I’ll check with the hab about air.”

  “Got it.”

  Now, Jem felt a sense of urgency. He needed to get these men to the safety of the hab... “Flinders, this is the Tanager.”

  “Go ahead, Tanager.” The reply was quick.

  “We will be lifting in moments. Do you have air to refresh us? Over.”

  “We’ll have it waiting. What else is needed?” The man at the habitat asked.

  Jem didn’t know the answer, but then the doctor’s voice sounded in the rigged headset. “Captain, we’re ready down here.”

  Jem didn’t even have to think. He’d done this sequence so many times he could probably do it in his sleep. Not that he felt sleepy right now, the doctor’s stuff was holding on. “Flinders, we are on the way. ETA two hours.” He toggled the headset. “Dr. Bouler, can you make a list of needs for me to send ahead to Flinders?”

  They were in the air now, and Jem felt like he was juggling verbally. Flying the ship was mostly automated, but he had to switch screens so he wasn’t looking at nothing on the infrared. He relayed the list to the hab, wondering if there was a way to patch the doctor into the main comm channels. He asked the hab that, too. They didn’t know, but said they would get back to him. It seemed like a long time before the comms stopped chattering at him, and silence fell.

  It took Jem a couple of minutes to adjust, relaxing his shoulders with a conscious effort. Then, slowly, he realized that although it was quiet, it wasn’t the silence of space he was used to. The ship’s little sounds of metal on metal with flexions and expansions were far in the background behind the soft murmur of voices, footsteps, and unidentifiable noises. Having people on board was a strange experience. Jem re-focused on the screens, watching for objects that would penetrate the screens and mean maneuvering.

  Later, Jem could never remember how many of the shuttle trips he’d made, from the Lode to Flinders and back again. After that first trip, when they’d set up the staging tent and gotten into gear, he’d land at the Lode, men would be put aboard, and he’d take off again. The doctor, good to his word, had appeared silently on the bridge with another stimulant for him at some point. After that, he made Jem lie down with a dose of something to make him sleep. There was never enough sleep, or food, since Jem couldn’t bring himself to leave the bridge for long.

  He was told that he’d made six trips in 50 hours, later. By that point he was in a fog, and the only thing he was thinking about was how low his tanks of reaction fuel were. He’d slowly offloaded all the back-up air bottles to the tent, as they needed them, and the Tanager was stale despite refreshes at the habitat. His stasis boxes were full of men who couldn’t be awakened outside an operating theater. Barnes was reporting that all they were finding in the split were dead men.

  Jem put his head on the board. The cool borosilicate glass felt good against his cheek. He’d started to have the headache a while back - he wasn’t sure how long - but he didn’t want to tell the doc, because then he might not be fit to fly. He needed to fly, men were dying and his was the only ship...

  Sykes’ hand on his shoulder made Jem jump. He hadn’t heard the big man coming, and Sykes didn’t walk quietly.

  “Wasn’t sleeping.” Jem sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his face, grimacing at the feel of the stubble on his cheeks.

  “Course not, Captain.” Sykes sat in the navigator’s chair. “Came to give you good news.”

  Jem wondered if he looked as bad as Sykes did, with sunken eyes that looked bruised, and a weary sag to his whole frame. “Good news?”

  Sykes nodded. “Ship’s inbound from Tas. Courier popped in and out last night...”

  “Night?” Jem had lost track. “Is it day?”

  Sykes grunted, a noise that might have been laughter. “Might be. Don’t matter much out here.”

  “True. When will it be in?” Jem tapped the board on. They were in dock at the hab, waiting on stasis boxes to make another run. The boxes were the bottleneck right now. Very few walking wounded were being found at the Lode.

  “’Bout four hours. Doc says we’ll make one more run if’n I think you’re up to it.”

  Jem met Sykes’ eyes. His body was screaming for rest, but it was nothing compared to the needs of the men dying in the airless crack of rock. Sykes grunted again. “You’ll do. Lift in fifteen.”

  Sykes heaved himself up and headed back out of the bridge. Jem didn’t watch him go. Swiveling the chair felt like too much work to bother with. He checked the engines, noting that this trip would bring them into redline with fuel reserves.

  “Flinders, this is Tanager.” He called over the comm.

  “Flinders, over.” The man’s voice didn’t sound tired. Then, Jem recognized it.

  “Mags?”

  “Yeh. You ok, kid?” Jem didn’t mind the word, for once. He could hear the worry in Mags’ voice.

  “I’m ok. Is there...” He hesitated, hating to ask. “Can a bit of fuel be spared?”

  “Hang on a sec.” Mags said.

  Jem waited for what seemed like an interminable time, but it was less than a minute by the clock on the board. Mags came back on the air. “Dam
mit, Jem, why didn’t you let us know you were low?”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d have it to spare.”

  “Well, we do. We’re getting a line to you now. We’ll give you some now, and a fill-up later when there’s time. Give us thirty.”

  Mags stopped talking, and Jem waited for a second, expecting the older man to finish with radio procedure and out, but realized he’d gone away from the comm on the other end. Jem fumbled the headset on - he’d been trying to get it charged back up - and called the doctor.

  “Dr. Bouler, we’ll leave in 30, not fifteen. We’re taking on some fuel.” Jem said.

  “Oh,” he heard the nurse’s voice. “I’ll let him know. This is good, we can get one more box on.”

  “Right. I’ll make an announcement when we take off.”

  Jem hoped the doctor was sleeping. The man had been inhumanly awake and functional, but everyone had their limits. Jem wondered just how close he was to his own limits. He’d never pushed himself this hard before, not even as a boy, before Walter. Maybe he wouldn’t make a ship-wide announcement. That would give them a couple more hours to rest before the last load was on.

  Jem didn’t get to nap, though. Other than an hour, more or less, on the ground at the Lode or Flinders, he had to be alert. Knowing that this was the last run, before a chance to rest, gave him a second wind. Or maybe, he mused, this was the third or fourth. It didn’t matter, but he had to think about something. This was safer than thinking about the men still left at the Lode.

  He was running through equations in his head, calculating the arc his headset would describe if he threw it at the wall, trying to stay awake, when the headset clicked, startling him. He toggled it on.

  “Doc?”

  Dr. Bouler’s voice sounded the same as always. Jem decided he really wasn’t human. “Jem, this is the last trip for you until you’ve had a chance to sleep.”

  “Yeah.” Jem knew that. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get them back to the habitat.

  “Once we have everyone on board, I’m sending someone to sit with you.” The doctor went on.