Dremiks

by Cassandra Davis

  ***

  “So how many bruises did you have to patch up, Doctor?” Maggie leaned back in her chair and winked at her roommate. Beside her, Lieutenant Guttmann groaned with equal measures exasperation and pain. Price, sporting an impressive black eye, glared at her. She grinned right back.

  “Swede I don’t know why you are moaning, the pain killer I gave you should have alleviated any tenderness in that shoulder.” Cassie piled lettuce, radishes, carrots, and cauliflower on her plate before returning to the table. “I’m pleasantly surprised at the lack of serious injury done to any of you. How was your flight, Mags?”

  Captain Hill, sitting at the head of the table in the officer’s mess, ducked his head to hide his smirk. O’Connell hated it when Swede or Cassie forgot and used her nickname in wider company. He personally found the diminutive very fitting. Not that he would ever tell her.

  “Is it true you were doing barrel rolls around the ship?”

  This, the captain did respond to. He raised one eyebrow and stared down the table at Ensign Robertson. “Senior pilots of the ISA, or the US Navy, do not engage in cheap theatrical tricks while performing their duties, Ensign. I can assure you that Commander O’Connell did not behave in such a juvenile manner while flying an incalculably expensive piece of equipment light years from the nearest repair facility.”

  O’Connell sipped her water and studiously avoided looking at Price—who knew damned well that she would break into “cheap theatrical tricks” given the opportunity—and the captain.

  Robertson suitably chastised, Captain Hill reminded the assembled officers that they were expecting guests that evening. He rose as Chancellor Trell, Vice Chancellor Ryan Hill, and Doctor Fortunas entered the room. “Good evening, gentlemen. Dinner will be served shortly, but if you wish for some light refreshment before our meal, a generous salad bar has been laid out.”

  Fortunas, salad plate in hand, took a spot beside doctor Ruger. Chancellor Trell picked a seat near the middle of the table while Ryan chose a position beside O’Connell. She ignored the two chancellors but her brow creased ever so slightly as she watched Fortunas and Ruger bicker quietly, their heads bent close together. Captain Hill saw her focus her attention on the pair. He hadn’t, until that moment, noticed anything strange about the two doctors’ behavior, but now similar questions began to germinate in his head. When O’Connell made eye contact with him a moment later he silently communicated his thoughts. She shrugged in reply.

  Ryan Hill missed the by-play between his brother and Maggie. He looked around the room and counted the empty chairs. “Brother, Dwax is not joining us?”

  “No, Vice Chancellor, Dwax will not be joining us this evening. He declined my invitation.”

  “And you aren’t… concerned… by that refusal?”

  “I’ve learned to accept rejection, brother.” He barely resisted the urge to punctuate his remark with a rude gesture. “Chancellors, Doctors, my officers and I wish to welcome you to dinner this evening and thank-you for the successful partnership we’ve forged over these past six months. Tomorrow we will complete our fourteenth jump cycle and arrive in the Santalas system. I know that for you, and your respective departments, the true work of our journey will begin in earnest once we reach the planet Dremiks. I wanted to take this opportunity for one last meal before our duties pull us in different directions.”

  More than one person at the table wondered if there was a deeper meaning to that last sentence. Chancellor Trell either had no such suspicious or simply hid his better than others. He nodded his head in vehement agreement. “Hear, hear, Captain. Commendable sentiments. Indeed, you are all to be congratulated for getting us here so efficiently. A whole month ahead of schedule! Remarkable! Of course, there were a few hiccups along the way, but I’m sure with time and further training you’ll make the next run between Earth and Dremiks with no trouble at all.”

  Once again, O’Connell found herself judiciously sipping water and keeping her eyes downcast. She noted the captain’s slightly blank expression.

  He’s either completely tuned-out while that blowhard speaks or he’s doing an impressive job of controlling his temper. Sad, either way. If he really is bottling up his rage he’s going to explode one day. Probably at me, knowing my luck.

  Swede’s foot impacting her shin brought O’Connell around with a start. “Pardon?”

  Trell smiled at her like she was an absent minded child. “I was asking, my dear, if you were excited to meet our alien hosts?”

  “Oh, um, yes?” She shrugged. “I don’t expect they’ll be all that different from Dwax, and he’s practically one of the crew.”

  Apparently satisfied with her answer, Trell turned his pig-like face toward Ensign Robertson. “I do hope the Dremikians appreciate the sacrifice you young people have made on this noble quest.”

  “Sacrifice?” Doctor Ruger asked the question.

  At the same time, Doctor Fortunas asked “Noble quest?”

  Ryan Hill nodded sagely. “We colonists travel with our families and loved ones, or with the promise that they will be joining us when the Magellan arrives in a few months. You young officers are giving up more than a year of your lives that could have been spent making a life, and home, for yourselves. That’s a large sacrifice, though of course the idealism of youth might cloud your appreciation of that fact.”

  “I’m sure impending parenthood makes you acutely aware of such things,” Fortunas, archly, noted.

  Ryan didn’t rise to the bait. “Your sacrifice is made noble by our shared mission of saving a dying planet and establishing a human presence at this end of the universe. I ask you, if that is not nobility, what is?”

  They sat in silence, contemplating that statement.

  “So what do you think, Cap’n?”

  Brett sipped his water. When he glanced sideways at O’Connell his lids drooped slightly and his left eyebrow rose a fraction. A quirk of his lips, so fleeting it was possible the others never saw, let Maggie know that he’d noticed the shortened, more familiar, form of address she’d used.

  “Do I think it was inherent nobility that brought us out here?” He shook his head. “Maybe. I don’t call it nobility, though. I think it’s our innate human need to champion the underdog. We are constant optimists. We’re the emotional descendents of the caveman who stood defiant in the front of the wooly mammoth. We rebuild cities at the base of Vesuvius, get back on the bicycle when we fall off, whack that hornet’s nest every spring. Humans cheer for the couldn’t be, believe in the shouldn’t be. We love causes; the harder, the more lost they are, the more we love them. Is that nobility? Maybe. Maybe it’s a pernicious genetic defect that makes our species susceptible to shared delusion. Whatever it is, it keeps life interesting.”

  Chapter 16

  “Doctor? Ma’am?”

  Cassie blinked and turned her head to see Specialist Mangoda looking at her, perplexed.

  “The jump is complete, ma’am.”

  “Yes, thank you, Marty. I was just savoring the moment. I won’t have to do that again for a very long time!”

  Already unstrapped from his jump seat and ready to complete medical checks of the crew and colonists, Mangoda held out a hand to pull the doctor to her feet. “It’s not so bad, jumping in the Hudson. I swear the simulators are far worse, too much bumping.”

  Horrified, the doctor shook her head. “I’m thankful I was spared that bit of training.” She glanced at her tablet. “Damn, look at all of the elevated serotonin levels and heart rates. We’ll have a boisterous crew this evening, Marty.”

  “I’m sure they will find suitable outlets for their jubilation, ma’am.” He grinned when he caught her look of horrified skepticism. “Oh, ma’am, please tell me that our shipboard superstitions have not turned you into a believer in such un-scientific things as jinxes.”

  Cassie jerked her lab coat into place. “It didn’t take this insane bunch to make me a believer in superstition. I’m from the West Indies, remember?�
�

  “And we love that voodoo that you do, my dear.” Fortunas smoothly inserted himself into their conversation. “Check your messages. The captain wants to confirm who will be attending the official delegation reception when we reach Rhyse station.”

  “He will just have to wait.” Her chin jutted adorably when she was feeling stubborn. “Stop right there!” She grabbed Ben’s arm as he tried to walk away. “Since you are standing here, you can be the first of our random vital-checks.” Cassie took a bit of sadistic delight in his look of annoyance. “That’s what you get for interrupting my work.”

  “I wasn’t… never mind.” Looking over her bent head to where Mangoda stood, smirking and waiting, Fortunas glared. “Don’t you have work to do, Specialist?”

  “Oh, yes sir, but this promises to be far more entertaining.”

  Dr. Ruger looked over her shoulder. “For that, Marty, you may make your way to the bridge and check both Lieutenant Price and Commander O’Connell.” To her annoyance, the specialist looked supremely unfazed by his daunting task. She jerked on Ben’s arm a second time. “Be still and I’ll be finished quicker.”

  Alone in a corner of the medical bay, Fortunas stepped closer to her and dropped his voice. “You do know I can pick you up and toss you over my shoulder rather than submit to this medical inquisition?”

  She snorted. “You think you can do it without my roommate finding out? Because I can assure you that she’s quite capable of beating your ass, old man.”

  He chuckled drily. “I can handle Margaret O’Connell. But you have a point. Someone would be sure to notice and spread rumors that would sully my good name.” He paused while she snorted, again. “Give me my arm back, liebchen. I’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

  She nodded. As he walked away, Cassie chewed at her lip. Ben Fortunas’ vital signs continued to be excellent for a man supposedly nearing seventy. She wanted to stop and consider the various dilemmas he presented, but her com chip was already beeping with requests. Mysterious Germans would have to wait.

  ***

  “Commander, confirm heading and speed with nav-computer settings.”

  O’Connell checked her readings, then, glanced at Price for further confirmation. He nodded in the affirmative. “Sir, I have a confirmed course and ETA for Rhyse Station. We will arrive at 1800 hours.”

  “Thank-you.” Captain Hill next addressed their Dremikian envoy. “Honored One, would you be so kind as to relay a message notifying your people of our arrival?”

  Dwax, on the bridge for their final jump, clicked in assent. He glided to the communications station, oblivious to the hard look Captain Hill was giving the back of his smooth, rust-colored, head. Hill knew for a fact that Dwax’s mysterious transmission had, once again, been sent right before their jump. He was sure the Dremikian High Council had already been notified of the Hudson’s movements. Unable to discern any outward signs of deception, Hill turned around to face his pilots. He, unseen, quirked an eyebrow at the pair of them.

  Commander O’Connell leaned over and extended her left hand to Lieutenant Price. He gripped it tightly. They exchanged nods as they shook.

  “You two are to be commended for getting us this far, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have plenty of work to do.”

  Maggie released Tony’s hand, but not before shocking him with a wink. “Aye, aye, sir. Price, please complete your bridge crew medical checks. You will then relieve me as pilot of the watch until 1200 hours.”

  Before Price could respond, the captain interjected: “Please recall, Lieutenant, that you will be flying the official delegation to Rhyse Station for the reception.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Price unstrapped from his seat and stood.

  “Commander, I’ll be in engineering if you need me.”

  “Very well, Captain.” She nestled more comfortably in her chair. For once, she was not in the least tempted to try a few flight aerobatics or test the ship’s maneuverability. They’d made it safely to Dremik’s solar system. That was enough excitement for one day. Just at the edge of visual range, a comet streaked by.

  ***

  Cassie checked her hair in the mirror. She glanced into a drawer, searching for the right shade of lipstick to compliment the soft tangerine color of her dress. She really liked the dress and hoped the confidence she normally felt while wearing it would sustain her through the evening ahead. While she applied her makeup, she caught a reflection of the green dress hanging in the open closet behind her.

  Maggie should have been in that dress or her dress uniform. She should be right there in the room, fussing over her hair and grumbling about having to wear heels. The commander’s absence from the official delegation confused the doctor. That O’Connell wasn’t livid over her exclusion downright flabbergasted the doctor.

  Two decks below her quarters, Maggie walked around Lander 3 for the second time. Lieutenant Price followed her, a look of long suffering patience fixed on his face.

  “I’ve checked the seals, ma’am. Twice.”

  She flicked her gaze over him before returning to the checklist. He was insane if he thought she’d let him take the captain, Guttmann, doctors Ruger and Fortunas, Ryan Hill, and Chancellor Trell off the ship in a lander she hadn’t personally verified was flight ready.

  “Commander.” Swede’s tone conveyed a great deal in a single word. Despite his obvious exasperation, the engineer waited patiently while O’Connell signed the pre-flight log on Price’s tablet. Then, with a nod to the other pilot, he took her arm and pulled her aside.

  She glanced down at her elbow, still held loosely in the lieutenant’s grasp. He squeezed his fingers gently before releasing her.

  “Would you please stop hovering? Tony is already a ball of nerves without you mother-henning us.”

  She snorted in response. With a critical look she stepped back and examined Swede. His dress whites were immaculate. The gold braid on his sleeves didn’t show a single loose thread. The high collar and tailored waist of the uniform jacket accentuated his excellent physique.

  “You never do get this medal straight.” She reached up to re-align the supposedly offending award. “Remind me again what it’s for?”

  “Putting up with you,” he muttered. She was being playful on purpose, he knew. Whenever he was tense, she would flirt or tease or otherwise distract him from his worries. She also played these games to distract herself. He grasped her hands, pulling them away from his chest. “It will be fine, Mags.” He dared one more squeeze of her hands before dropping them. Just as her green eyes were narrowing into slits and her mouth opening to rip him for his familiarity, another voice intruded into the conversation.

  “Is this parade review for all hands, Commander? Or does the Lieutenant still need his mother’s supervision of his clothing?” The captain’s typically well modulated voice morphed into a slow, sarcastic, drawl.

  Maggie could tell he was uncomfortably close behind her. She looked up at Swede, but he was doing his best statue imitation. Suppressing a sigh, she pivoted. Swede really did not wish to be part of the conversation that was sure to follow. Desperate to escape, he made eye contact with the captain.

  Captain Hill motioned with his head toward the lander. “You are excused, Lieutenant.” He waited until the other man left before speaking to the commander. She had been effectively sandwiched between the two taller officers and for one, brief, moment she looked panicked. Hill stored that information for later perusal.

  “Well, Commander? Do I pass muster?”

  Lips pinched together in irritation, O’Connell gave his uniform a cursory examination. Not a thread, decoration, button, or crease was out of place. The formal uniform was as impressive on the Hudson’s captain as it was on her chief engineer.

  He looks damn good, and he knows it, the arrogant ass.

  She tilted her chin up, wrinkled her nose and said, disdainfully, “You’ll do.”

  Her pert expression was unlike that of any drill inspector the c
aptain had ever encountered. She was wearing what he’d come to think of as her “I’d stick my tongue out at you if your back was turned” look. He surprised her, and himself, with a cheeky grin. He tipped his head forward to narrow the distance between them and asked, softly, “What’s worrying you?”

  “Me, sir? Not a thing. Not a care in the world—that’s me.”

  He looked down at her but she turned her head to watch Price herd the other passengers onto the lander. “Lying to your captain is a serious offense.”

  She cut him a glare before turning her head back to give Dr. Ruger a big smile. “She looks nice. Remind me again why you’re letting Price fly you over there?”

  “She does. You know very well why you aren’t going. Regulations state that the XO and the captain cannot both be absent from the ship during deployment.”

  “Uh, huh. Regulations. Being a political figure’s daughter and thus your ace in the hole has nothing at all to do with it, then?”

  He stared back at her, not even twitching his lips. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Commander.”

  She stared right back. “Remind me never to play cards with you, sir.”

  He flashed her another of his rare grins. “The ship is yours, Commander. Please resist the urge to perform barrel rolls.”

  “Have a lovely evening, sir.”

  ***

  The remnants of the Dremikian civilization lived out their lives on a space station that orbited the gas-giant planet of Tokria. They were so far from Dremiks that only advanced telescopes could capture pictures of their native planet. Rhyse station did not having docking facilities for a ship the size of the Hudson, but Lieutenant Price pulled the smaller lander into the dock with no trouble. He and the captain methodically completed their post-flight checklists before unlocking the hatches that would allow their passengers to disembark. Chancellor Trell and Vice Chancellor Hill stepped out first, where they were met by an honor guard of Dremikians. The captain followed with Dr. Ruger and Dr. Fortunas in his wake. The two lieutenants brought up the rear of the party.