“O’Connell, the bridge is yours. Proceed with post launch procedures and diagnostics. Senior staff briefing in one hour.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” She waited until the vacuum tube doors snapped shut behind the captain before announcing, “Bridge crew will proceed to designated post launch stations and commence stage one diagnostics on necessary life support, habitat, and engineering systems.” Maggie shifted in her chair. “Lieutenant Price, let’s test gravitational control.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.” Hudson created her own artificial gravity by projecting a dense matter field beneath the ship. The lieutenant moved his hand from the keypad before him to the stick and directional controls on his armrest. He checked the system lights to his left and the X, Y, Z axes status board. “Ready for 40 degree dive with 360 degree roll. System parameter diagnostics ready for test monitor.”
“I’ll take her this time, Lieutenant. Be ready for return roll.”
The lieutenant turned his head in surprise. “Synchronized reversed rolls, ma’am?” His voice was rock solid; his surprise was shown only by his turned head and slightly questioning tone.
“Concerns, Lieutenant?” O’Connell’s tone was calm.
“No ma’am. Ready for reverse roll.”
The senior pilot contained her grin and checked her own status board. Another flex of her fingers on the stick, and she let her grin escape. “Let’s hope no one is looking out the portholes.” She rolled the stick forward and to her left at the same time. The images on the view screen broke into puzzle-piece-like pixels before adjusting to show stars streaking away. When the mounting numbers on the red heads-up display showed a full forty degree dive with 360 degree roll, O’Connell snapped the stick back to neutral just as Lieutenant Price engaged his controls and sent the shuttle spinning in the opposite direction. The commander’s head turned sideways when a red warning light began flashing. Determining that it was the auto-correction function for the view screen, she switched it off and the screen visible to the bridge became the red and green-screen heads-up messaging for the pilots. Proximity displays changed rapidly, but everything was far enough off that the pilots concentrated on the plotting axis and engine controls.
“Bring her back to original heading and course and let’s cut the right engine to half.” Price’s fingers typed the speed corrections in on his arm pad to notify engineering of the impending test while he brought the ship back to true course. As soon as he had corrected the ship, Maggie took over and rolled the ship 180 degrees one way and then back 360 degrees, all the while monitoring the engine status. Her lips parted in a satisfied smile and she nodded to her co-pilot. “Nice work.”
***
Dr. Ben Fortunas, chief civilian scientist, looked up from the hovering tablet in front of him. The science deck of the Hudson shared space with the medical deck. It was a more companionable set-up than what he initially expected. Most of the science experiments on the mission were designed to jump-start the life support and food continuation systems of the new colony. Elephant ear plants, bamboo, corn stalks, and a myriad assortment of other plants grew upward from beds of rich black earth. Irrigation lines ran overhead. At random intervals, long clear tubes of plastic sheeting descended downward to contain the mist being sprayed on the plants. Across the tiled deck, an invisible line divided the medical space from his domain. The pristine hospital surfaces contrasted sharply with green space. Dr. Fortunas was a biologist by training. He preferred what he called the “ordered chaos” of nature to the stark cold lines of the medical bay.
“Doctor?”
He turned to answer the petite assistant behind him. “Yes, my dear?”
Clara, her mousy brown hair pushed back by her glasses, spoke in a lilting Cockney accent. “Some of the top soil has sifted out of the containers. The air filters are pulling it in.”
“Very well, make sure the filters themselves do not clog.” He glanced at the porthole and shook his head. “I will work on the gravitational controls.”
Fortunas crossed the line into the medical spaces. Dr. Ruger held a centrifuge-separated vial of human blood up to an ultraviolet lens. Some of the plasma was clouded with red blood cells. “Your roommate gave us a nice little ride.”
Dr. Ruger pushed her dark brown bangs out of her eyes. She shot a glance at the white haired man beside her before replacing the tube in its holder. “Have you reported the failure to the bridge?” She straightened her lab coat and turned to fully face the scientist.
He nodded. “I’ve notified engineering as well. I think we can lock it down fairly easily. They mentioned that none of the other spaces had any failures.” His thin lips moved fractionally. “I thought we had everything fixed.”
“Yes, well, better that we found the problems now. How are you feeling today?”
Fortunas chuckled. Dr. Ruger was nothing if not persistent. She stopped just short of nagging with her constant inquiries into his health. “I’m feeling better now that we are away from all the bright lights and publicity. I’m sure it was just a touch of food poisoning.”
She gave him another assessing look. “I’ve never encountered food poisoning that caused a violent heart arrhythmia, but since your vitals have been stable for forty-eight hours, I’ll accept your hypothesis.” She turned back to her notes, written in a precise and miniscule hand. “And you’ll feel even better, I’m sure, when we reach our destination and your true experiments begin.” She paused her conversation long enough to push her bangs out of her eyes again and lift another vial from the centrifuge. “I am probably the only one on this ship who is dismayed at the speeds by which we will be traveling.”
Fortunas returned to his work space and picked up a small tablet computer. “Your experiments on how the speed will affect the human body will be most helpful. I’m sure you will rise to the task.” He tapped a few keys on the tablet and glanced up when Dwax floated by the open door. “Let us hope it is a peacefully fast flight.”
If Dwax heard the scientist’s comment he made no indication of it as he hurried along the corridor. His elongated torso narrowed before flaring out into twenty-five thin tentacles. Supple and flexible, the tentacles were strong enough to support his body and gave the impression that he was drifting along above a swirling cloud of jelly-fish-like legs. Dremikians did not wear clothes, but if they had, Dwax would have pulled his tighter around him. He felt as if every crewman’s eye was on him—more so than usual. He’d just finished sending a light-burst transmission to his home world, notifying them that the Hudson had launched successfully. Dwax was betting on the humans in the communications section of the crew not noticing the transmission, hidden as it was among the solar flare activity and the clutter of launch traffic. His people were gambling that the humans would make the journey quickly and without learning anything more about the true nature of Dremiks than what they had been told. The risky wagers kept piling up on the mental tab that Dwax was keeping, and the stakes were high enough to make him shudder and wish for a human coat to cover himself in.
Chapter 2
Commander O’Connell retired to her quarters, which she shared with Dr. Ruger, in order to catch a few minutes of relaxation before dinner. Captain Hill preferred to dine with his officers at least once a week. He expected excellent table manners and stimulating conversation. With a considering frown in the mirror, Maggie stripped out of her wrinkled flight suit. The captain also had strange rules about appropriate dinner dress. He did not demand dress uniforms, but flight suits were forbidden at his table. Maggie did not protest to the spirit of the rule as much as the fact of it. After three months of preparing a tub of a ship as a transport to a far away galaxy, her weight had dropped alarmingly. A frenetic worker and perfectionist, Maggie ate whatever was readily available. When she had the time to sit down and eat a “real” meal, she had the voracious appetite of a healthy athlete, but food usually took the form of protein bars and vitamin supplements. Her days were so full that she often had to multi-task and listen to dictat
ion while she worked-out. All of this meant that her clothing, except for the all-concealing jumpsuits, hung unattractively on her.
Growling at stubborn curls that sprang into instantaneous knots the moment she unbraided her hair, Maggie twisted the red mass back up into a chignon and brutally stabbed pins into the knot. She didn’t bother spending time applying cosmetics or fretting over her appearance. Her face was still—and she had to admit that the numerous corrective treatments had not helped—freckled. Her nose was too narrow and her chin too pointed. Beauty was something only her father found in her, and then only when it suited his mood. Tugging her butternut brown uniform blouse into place and hoping that her slacks did not hang very noticeably around her waist, she hit the systems panel and left the room.
Pachabel’s Canon in D wafted from the wall speakers in the officers’ mess. Located across the hall from the bridge ready room, the mess was not a large space, but it accommodated the eight officers and senior crew rather well. Dwax and Cassie Ruger were already present in the room. From the high color on the doctor’s face, Maggie guessed that Dwax was telling another of his colorful stories. The Dremikian had a way of portraying events to fit his audience and have them in stitches before his story was complete.
“Good evening, Honored Commander.” The soft addition of clicks to the end of Dwax’s words was hardly noticeable now after six weeks with the crew. Maggie suspected that some of the younger crew had been assisting the alien with his language skills. He was of an age with ensigns Robertson and Chi and the two young men were perfectly incorrigible in teaching him lewd phrases and social quirks. The previous evening he had unwittingly insulted the captain’s mother by calling her a “bow-legged woman”. Whatever context the two ensigns had used the phrase in, it had not translated well when used by Dwax.
“A pleasant evening to you, Honored One.” She used the abbreviated greeting, since the formal title for Dwax was considerably longer and more complex. Dremikians were an exceedingly polite species. “Doctor.” Maggie nodded to Cassie. The two were slowly becoming friends. Maggie wasn’t used to being close with other women, and the doctor was even more dedicated to her work than Maggie was to her duties. They rarely saw each other outside of the quarters they shared, but the time they did spend together fostered a feeling of comfortable ease.
“Evening, Commander. I thought you had bridge watch?”
Maggie shook her head as she poured herself a glass of water. “The captain wanted all senior staff here for dinner. Chief Turner has the con.” She glanced at the time display. “Launch plus seven hours. We’ll be passing Mars soon. Thirteen days to Neptune orbit.” She raised an eyebrow at Dwax. “Then we’ll see just how well this blowsy cog achieves jumpspace, again.”
Dwax clicked several times. “And how will you be judging this? Good or poor, how will you be knowing?” He laughed at his own joke in his own peculiar wheezing chuckle. “Flying saucer or blowsy clog, the vessel will go. You will see.” He blinked and grinned at her.
“We shall see indeed, Honored One. Or, as you have often told us, we shall see nothing at all if we fail and go spinning off into the unknown.” Captain Hill’s voice came from so close behind Maggie that she jumped slightly. There was a touch of humor in his voice as he said, “Your pardon, Commander. I did not intend to startle you. In fact, I would not have believed until this moment that you could be startled.”
“Pardon, sir. I didn’t hear you come in. Perhaps the captain is learning tricks of floating from Dwax?”
Captain Hill chuckled; he was a tall and muscular man. “I do not think I can float no matter how well the Honored One teaches me.” He, too, glanced at the wall clock. “I see I’m early. Commander would you join me for a round of the deck, please?” It was phrased as a request only for the sake of politeness. Maggie, instantly alert and wondering about this new demand, nodded her assent. “Doctor, Dwax, we will rejoin you shortly.”
The ‘tween deck housed a small observation deck. Groups of colonists and two younger members of the enlisted crew stood peering out the view screens at the passing visage of Mars. At the current rate of speed, the red planet was more of a large pink haze than the recognizable landmark. The terra-forming station showed as a blot of green along the equator. O’Connell smiled at the gasps of surprise from the watching people. No matter how many briefings they received on the speed of the Hudson, it was never real until something went blurring past.
“The launch went very well, sir.” The commander was a bit nervous about this unexpected before-dinner conference. Captain Hill was quiet as they walked, returning the greetings of passers-by, but otherwise remaining mute.
“It did. You and the crew are to be commended for your performance. You’re wondering why I pulled you away from the others.”
The commander responded with a glance but said nothing.
“Representative Trell will be joining us in the officer’s mess this evening. He has announced that he wishes to be privy to the decisions made aboard this vessel.”
O’Connell was so shocked she stopped walking. The captain turned back and raised a black eyebrow at her. “Yes, I know,” he said as she resumed her pace beside him. “He is an annoying and cloying little man, but he insists that, as Dwax is present at our table, he should be as well.”
“But Dwax is—” Maggie clamped her mouth shut as her captain raised a hand to stop her.
“There will be no discussion of this matter, Commander. We have nothing to fear from allowing the people’s representative to dine with us. I trust you will relay my feelings on this matter to the officers.” He tried to soften his rebuke. “It is only eight months to Dremiks station, Commander. Not quite an eternity.”
“As you wish, sir.” Maggie loathed the oily representative. He could look at a woman and make her feel like a piece of meat. The fact that she couldn’t complain of this to her commanding officer, without appearing insubordinate and weak, was even more irritating.
Hill tried not to frown openly at Commander O’Connell’s stiffness. “That is all, Commander. I am going to quarters to grab something I forgot. I will see you back in the mess.”
“By your leave, sir.” She executed a smart about-face and marched off down the hall. He was still frowning at her back when he remembered that there had been another matter he’d been meaning to bring up. He pulled out a tablet and made a short note to remind himself.
O’Connell regained her composure just before she made it back to the mess. Lieutenants Price and Guttmann had joined Dwax and Dr. Ruger. They both came briefly to attention as she entered. She waved her hand in a gesture of acknowledgment and poured herself another glass of water.
“We will have an additional member for dinner, gentlemen, Doctor. Representative Trell will be joining us for dinner briefings to better improve relations between the civilian and command communities.” Her brusque tone left no room for comment. Dwax watched the emotions visible from the humans in the room. Dr. Ruger frowned, Commander O’Connell was tense to the point of formality, and there was an audible groan from Lieutenant Guttmann. Dwax was constantly trying to learn more about the emotional make-up of the human species. Representative Trell’s presence at dinner would, apparently, provide ample study opportunity.
When O’Connell moved to a corner by herself and started sipping her water, Dr. Ruger approached her and whispered softly, “You’re ok with this?”
Maggie replied in a similarly low whisper. “I had no choice. Perhaps he’ll be on his best behavior with the captain here.”
The doctor issued a most un-professional snort and rolled her grey eyes. “That’s a wishful fantasy.” She watched Trell step through the doorway. “I think we are about to find out. Good luck.”
“Thanks. Same to you. He’s sitting by you, after all.”
Captain Hill returned to the officers’ mess to find his officers extremely quiet. The conversation in the room could be described as forced at best. Upon his entry, all of the officers rose to atte
ntion. Dwax inclined his head slightly. Chancellor Trell grunted and made to sit down at the head of the table. O’Connell stepped up and politely indicated a chair to the right of the head position.
“It would be an honor if you would take my seat, Chancellor.” She pulled out the chair and stood aside. It was a deft piece of diplomacy to avoid having the man sit in the captain’s chair. When Hill caught her eye a second later, he inclined his head in approval. So as not to disturb everyone else’s seating arrangement, Maggie pulled an extra chair to the end of the table.
The officers and doctor remained standing and politely bowed their heads. It was a tradition in their small and newly formed fellowship to have a moment of silence before meals. Trell look confused, but before he could comment, the moment passed. The captain waited until Dr. Ruger and Dwax were seated. After he sat, O’Connell, Price, and Guttmann settled into their places. Ensigns Robertson and Chi refilled the water glasses, and then took their seats.
The captain cleared his throat. “We are in a firm orbit of Mars, then?” His question was directed at Ensign Robertson.
“Yes sir, the orbit is fixed and stable.”
“Engines? Any problems on the run?”
Lieutenant Guttmann swelled with pride. “Engines are running on idle currently, sir. Everything performed perfectly during the run, and we broke the Mar’s speed record for a craft of this size by an entire hour.”
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