Dremiks

by Cassandra Davis

  Tony glanced at the trump cards. A nine of spades indicated that the greater suite trump would be spades. A queen on a card with a teardrop as its marker indicated that the water suite was the lesser trump. With that configuration, a straight flush of spades was the ultimate winning hand and any cards from the water suite could be used as substitutes for spades. Cards of the air, earth, and fire suites, the other three “lesser suites” in the game, were “throw-off” cards that did not help a player’s hand at all. Tony had a four of spades, a six of spades, and a jack of earth in his hand.

  Swede dealt another card to each man, face up. A complete hand consisted of six cards and players had to make the best hand of five out of those six. Tony stared down at a jack of water. The card could be used as a wild card in his hand. He upped his bet, hoping to complete his straight flush of spades. Chi folded, but Nate had an ace of spades showing as his up card. He matched Tony’s bet. Swede glanced at them both, matched the bet, and dealt the next series of cards.

  Ensign Chi leaned back in his chair to watch. He was not a poor player of the game, but he did not kid himself about his abilities. Swede and Tony had both been playing for many more years on many more long Orion station patrols and deployments to Mars station. Officers were forbidden to fraternize with enlisted personnel and that, as a general rule, included gambling. There were similar rules for officers of greater and lesser ranks associating with each other, but that rule was never enforced on so small a ship as the Hudson. No one, however, wanted to test the captain’s patience with gambling, so the game was kept a secret.

  “Are you sure Commander O’Connell wouldn’t like to be invited occasionally?”

  Swede checked his bet and then his cards before replying to Nate. “I am not sure, because I have not asked her. She’s the XO. Inviting her would put her in an uncomfortable situation of either having to reprimand us, but keep our secret, or report us to the captain and break up the game.” He upped his bet, sure that Tony was trying to draw an inside straight.

  Tony was trying for the straight, and he was still on track to get it. While Nate bet, Price chuckled at the idea of O’Connell playing cards with them. “If I remember the rumors from the academy correctly, she was a devil at cards anyway. I prefer my cards without being bloody flogged by a mere woman.” He winked at Nate and grinned as the kid looked shocked.

  “Ignore him, Nate.” Swede glared at his roommate. “He’s just trying to throw off your concentration.”

  Tony laughed and glanced at the cards in front of the younger man. “Yes, ignore me, Ensign. Best to match my bet and call my bluff, what with that winning hand you’ve got there.”

  Chi groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Here we go, again.” The rest of the men laughed.

  “Up, newbie, and fetch us something to drink. Not like you’re actually participating in the game... again.”

  Well used to Tony’s verbal prodding, Chi ignored the taunt and refilled everyone’s glass. “It’s a pity we couldn’t have your father provide us with some good bourbon, Nate.”

  Nate was frowning at Tony and didn’t hear his friend. “I think you’re bluffing, sir. I raise you twenty credits.”

  A low whistle escaped Swede’s lips. “A high bet for the first hand of the game, and too rich for me.” He folded his cards and nodded his thanks to Chi for the fresh cup of tea. “Chi’s right, some good alcohol would make this much better. I’d prefer vodka over your murky whiskey, though.”

  That comment did register with Nate. “It’s called bourbon, sir. Mere whiskey and fine Kentucky bourbon are two entirely different things.”

  “Whatever it is, show your stuff kid. I call your bet. Let’s see how badly you’ve lost.” Tony nonchalantly sipped his ice-water and waited.

  Nate flipped over his hole cards. A queen, king, and ten of various greater suites joined his ace of spades and his eight of water. “Royal straight, sir.”

  Price’s handsome feature clouded for an instant and before he guffawed. “Well kid, you win this round. I had a minor straight.” He flipped his cards to prove his point.

  While Swede collected the cards and passed them to Chi for his deal, the betting indicators near each man’s side blinked and tallied Ensign Robertson’s winnings for that round. They’d agreed on friendly betting limits and a maximum amount that each man could lose. It was going to be a long journey, and no one wanted a bitter and poor shipmate.

  “Now,” Swede said, as he watched Chi shuffle, “having Dwax in the game could prove interesting.

  “How would you know when he was bluffing?”

  “Who says Dremikians can bluff?” Everyone laughed at Tony’s statement as he led off the betting for the next hand.

  The men played in silence for a few moments, each concentrating on his cards. Swede was a quiet, careful, player. He didn’t take big risks, and only occasionally bluffed. Nate and Chi played like mathematicians, each visibly figuring odds before every carefully placed bet. Tony played cards like he did everything else, with a mixture of skill and fearless whimsy. He would chase an inside straight for three hands running, and then fold a seemingly excellent hand out of cautious frustration.

  “So it was metal fatigue that caused the aft engine strut to fail?” Chi spoke into the silence.

  “No more work talk, please,” Tony grumbled.

  Nate chuckled. “Might as well let them talk about their engines, sir. It’s not as if we have women to gossip over.”

  The pilot straightened his shoulders and pretended to be stern. “I am an engaged man. I do not look at women anymore.”

  Swede coughed and muttered, “Bullshit!” He grinned at his fellow lieutenant. “While I would much rather chat about the lovely, and single,” he winked at Tony as he spoke, “Miss Dubois of the colonial contingent of engineers, Ensign Chi here asked a valid question. Why was there metal fatigue on a brand new ship?”

  “And a faulty processor on a nav panel—the main navigational panel.” Nate folded his hand, sure that Swede had him beaten already. “It took me over an hour to find the faulty algorithm and another thirty minutes to fix the sub processes.”

  “Good show getting it done that quickly, Nate. I’m not sure anyone else could have done it quicker.” Chi said.

  “Yeah, but the point is, it was a stupid and simple to avoid error, and one that is specifically outlined in all the latest texts that you and I studied at ISA fleet academy. So why did the programmers not catch it? I swear sometimes it feels like we’re flying around the universe in the biggest testament to group think and government waste that was ever invented.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause. Swede shot Tony a significant glance. “My apologies, sirs. I spoke out of place.”

  Swede shook his blonde head at the younger man. “No need for that. We are here together as shipmates and a bit of free speech is not out of line. You’ll want to be careful, however, who’s around when you express such disproval of our fine ship.” He winked at Nate to try to lighten the mood, but the cloud of dismay and unease hung over them for the rest of the game.

  Finally, Tony could not stomach beating the other officers anymore, and they all went their separate ways. Chi and Robertson said their good nights to the lieutenants and walked back to their quarters. Both were due for a bit of sleep before their next watch rotation.

  “You know, I was thinking. We’ve got an odd bunch crew to match our odd ship.”

  Nate snapped his head around to check the corridor behind them. “Shh,” he hissed. “Just forget I said anything ok? I was talking out my ass, trying to impress the others.”

  Chi stopped walking and reached out to grab the shorter man’s arm. “No you weren’t Nate and we both know it.” He lowered his voice again. “I’m telling you, I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I think the other officers have too.”

  Nate angrily shrugged off his friend’s restraining hand. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you later.”

  ***

  Eight
hours later Ensign Chi relieved Chief Turner of the bridge watch. Each officer had a particular routine while supervising the bridge crew. Commander O’Connell preferred to sit in her pilot’s chair and direct operations from there. Lieutenant Price preferred the main pilot’s seat over his usual co-pilot’s seat. Lieutenant Guttmann walked the bridge keeping an eye on the engineering station as much as possible. Robertson sat at the navigational station or paced back and forth. Chi preferred the same location and routine. None of the five officers sat in the captain’s chair. That was the sole province of the captain.

  As a junior officer, Chi was stuck with the dreaded “six on, six off” rotation for the day. For twenty-four hours, he would spend every six hours on duty and then six hours off duty. That kind of rotation didn’t leave much time for sleep or personal activities and was a feared occurrence. Chi was glad he only had the shift for two days before he went back to his usual twelve on, twelve off. He went down his officer-of-the-watch checklist, making sure that all of the enlisted and warrant officer personnel were at their stations and alert. He checked to make sure that they were on course, and that the engines were running normally. He then made a note in the log and took the chair at the navigational station.

  O’Connell was in her quarters sleeping, so Lieutenant Price was the pilot on duty. However, their current course and speed were automatically maintained; there was no reason for Price to be physically present on the bridge. Price’s communicator was turned on, and he was on call for the entire time that the commander was unavailable. As part of his duties, Ensign Chi contacted the lieutenant to let him know that everything was running normally on the bridge. Price acknowledged with a terse grunt and told the ensign to keep him updated on their progress.

  After completing his checklist and log entries, Chi relaxed into the fairly boring routine of watching the ship fly. He had heard the long hours of simply watching computer readouts compared to the piloting of the old passenger airplanes on Earth. The passage of time lent itself to daydreaming and wandering thoughts. Chi’s ran back to the conversation of the night before. He had meant what he said to Robertson. There was something to what Nate had been saying, and he was sure each of the officers had similar thoughts.

  Ensign Xuan Chi did not come from a prestigious family like Ensign Robertson. He hadn’t graduated at the top of his class like the captain or been considered the best pilot of his class, like Commander O’Connell. In fact, Chi had finished near the bottom of his class at the International Space Academy in Houston, Texas. He harbored no delusions about his fitness for space, and he had been beyond honored to have been chosen for the crew of the Hudson. Several of his more successful classmates were angry when Chi was chosen over them. Now, nearly three months into their journey, Chi was beginning to wonder if he had been chosen precisely because he was unremarkable.

  Young petty officer Anna Frescnia called “Attention on deck, Captain arriving” and jumped to her feet. The rest of the bridge crew imitated her actions. The captain nodded to Ensign Chi and sat down in his captain’s chair. “As you were,” he said. “Ensign, report.”

  “Sir, we are four days and six hours from the next jump point. We’re encountering a bit of residual radiation from a nearby supernova. Internal sensors indicate no change to internal radiation levels. Engines are running smoothly at just under maximum cruising speed. Lieutenant Price has been notified of our course and speed and is monitoring our progress from his quarters. He is due to relieve me as officer-of-the-watch in three point five hours, sir.”

  Hill nodded. “Very good, Ensign, carry on.” He turned his attention from the officer to the main view screen, which showed astronomical data and current systems status.

  Chi returned to his station; his stress level had just skyrocketed. Bridge watch could be excruciatingly boring, but never when the captain was around. Captain Hill was a stickler for rules, procedures, and schedules. He seemed to know everything that needed to occur on the ship and the precise hour at which it should occur. Chi would spend the next three hours in a constant state of panic, wondering what he had forgotten.

  He didn’t have long to wait before the captain spoke again. “Ensign, please plot a new course to move us further from that radiation source. The levels on the port shielding are increasing and I’d rather avoid any undue stress before the next jump.”

  “Sir? My calculations indicate that we should be well clear of the radiation field before our next jump.”

  The captain’s voice was icy. “I am aware of your calculations, Ensign. Please plot the new course as indicated and make a note in the log of my orders.”

  Feeling his self confidence shrivel, Chi responded with a quick, “Yes sir,” and executed the program to plot the new course. A minute later the new plot appeared on the main view screen. “Will that be satisfactory, sir?”

  Hill peered at the screen for a moment, figuring the distances and checking the data in his head. “Yes, Ensign, that should be sufficient. The added hour to our travel time can be easily replaced.”

  “Sir, shall I call Lieutenant Price to the bridge?”

  The captain stood, and to Chi’s great consternation, moved to the main pilot’s chair. “No, Ensign, I think I can handle a minor course correction without the lieutenant’s help.”

  Chi watched closely as the captain by-passed the automatic navigational system and gently maneuvered the Hudson towards the new coordinates. His actions were precise and fluid, and Hill paused at the appropriate intervals to record his actions for the log. After five minutes, he had guided the ship to the correct course and re-set the automatic navigational gear. The captain stood and favored Chi with a rare grin. “The bridge is yours, Ensign. I will be in the science bay if you should need me.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Chi stared after the captain, not entirely sure he understood what had just occurred.

  An hour later, Lieutenant Price stormed onto the bridge. “Care to tell me why and how a course correction was made without my input, Ensign?”

  The other people on the bridge pretended to be suddenly very interested in the screens in front of them. Chi winced at the senior officer’s tone and volume and tried to sound conciliatory. “Sir, I apologize for not alerting you to our changed course. The captain himself gave the orders.”

  “And woke up O’Connell to make the changes when I was on watch?” Price sounded shocked and angry.

  “No, sir, the captain performed the maneuver himself.” Ensign Chi had to suppress a smile at the sight of Lieutenant Price’s shock. He watched the lieutenant open and shut his mouth twice before replying.

  “The captain took the helm? You’re telling me the captain ordered a new course and then piloted the ship himself?” Price didn’t wait for an answer. He brushed past the ensign to the pilot’s chair and sat down heavily. For the next few minutes he was sullenly silent as he checked the logs and the navigation systems. Chi wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught a whispered “I’ll be damned”.

  “Well, everything seems to be in order.” Price paused and seamed to consider what he had just said. “As, of course, it would be,” he snapped. He rose and moved towards the hatchway. “I’ll just go get some coffee before I relive you, Ensign. Carry on.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Chi sat back down and wondered what had happened to his quiet, boring, watch. When Price relieved him, he trudged to the officer’s mess and collapsed into a chair with a heavy sigh. He was sitting there absentmindedly stirring a long dissolved sugar cube in his coffee, when Ensign Robertson walked in.

  Nate looked as if he had recently showered. He was refreshed and ebullient. The hard feelings of the previous night forgotten, he slapped Chi on the shoulder and grinned.

  “Perk up buddy, only two more hours and you can go catch some more sleep.”

  “Yeah, sure. That next jump is coming up. You know, after the mess last time, the captain will have us jumping through hoops for days ahead of time. I’ll be lucky if I’m not doing sixes for the next
month.”

  “I like sixes.” Nate poured himself a cup of coffee. While he added powdered creamer, he leaned against the counter. “Anything longer than six hours on the bridge leaves me antsy.”

  The older ensign gave his roommate a sardonic look. “And sixes keep you from having to do extra duty rotations.”

  Nate laughed. “That too!

  ***

  Several decks below the two ensigns, Ryan Hill paced the floor of Chancellor Trell’s quarters. His agitation was subsiding, but not fast enough. As far as he could tell, the captain, O’Connell, and the senior engineer were keeping the true nature of the engine malfunction to themselves. They were the only people he was sure had an idea of the true cause of the shut-down. He suspected, based on their behavior and odd duty rotations, that at least one or two more crew members were in on the secret. Frustratingly, they were all tight lipped and not inclined to share confidences with him.

  He needed leverage.

  He stopped pacing to stare down at the Chancellor. “When does the next packet of diplomatic messages go out?”

  Chapter 11

  Dwax floated down a corridor, clicking quietly to himself as thoughts raced through his brain. His brain was twice the size of a human’s brain, something his elders at the Academy felt necessary to point out with every opportunity. Dwax wasn’t entirely sure it mattered how large his brain was if he couldn’t master the simple intricacies of a basic human interaction: lying. As a species, Dremikians were considered to be inherently truthful. Dwax knew far too much about his people to believe that common, human, assumption. He trilled a short laugh as he remembered a dry comment from Lieutenant Price regarding “assuming”.

  The engine malfunction and subsequent fluctuations in relative gravity had made Dwax ill. So ill, in fact, that he’d been confined to his bed until the gravity was restored. His vascular system did not respond well to even slight changes in pressure and gravity, and what the Hudson had experienced for that harrowing week was by no means slight. Now free to roam the ship again, Dwax headed to the medical and science bay to visit Dr. Fortunas.