The Jovian Run: Sol Space Book One

by James Wilks

  “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s the tube,” Staples conjectured. “I’ll have Dinah have a look at both of the stasis tubes once she’s finished with the engines.”

  “You know, Captain, Ms. Hazra is not a skeleton key for all of the ship’s problems.”

  Staples narrowed her eyes at the doctor briefly, but did not answer. After another few seconds of thought, she sighed deeply. “We’ve got over a week before we reach Saturn. Depending on the condition of the engines, that might increase. I’m tempted to keep you confined to Medical, Evelyn, for your own safety.” The woman’s expression ably conveyed that she was not amenable to that. “But you’re not a prisoner; you’re a passenger. In fact, you’re a guest. I’ll have some quarters prepared for you. You can come and go as you please. Actually, if you don’t mind, I have some work for you.”

  Evelyn’s face lit up.

  “The loss of our communications officer, Yegor Durin, has hurt us in more ways than one. He was in the middle of refitting the communications suite with one we salvaged from a derelict satellite. Coms and radar are down, and I suspect that you might be the best person to finish the job. Charis and Dinah could probably do it between the two of them, but they’re already busy, Dinah especially, and it’s hardly their area of expertise.” She shot a look at Iqbal, as if to say: see, Dinah doesn’t do everything.

  “Sure, I’d be happy to. Might help keep my mind off things.” She swung the sheet off of her legs, revealing a tantalizing view of one thigh, and made to jump down from the bed.

  Jabir put a hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “Just a minute, Doctor. I would like to dot a few more i’s and cross a few more t’s before you go gallivanting off around the ship.”

  Evelyn looked over her shoulder at him, and her eyes were large and plaintive. “Give it to me straight, Doctor. You’re just trying to keep me in bed, aren’t you?”

  It was exceedingly odd, Staples thought, to see Evelyn sitting in Yegor’s seat on the bridge. She was sure that she wasn’t the only one. Jabir had given the woman a clean bill of health to work, but he had restricted her to, by his definition, light duty. That meant no more than a few hours at a time, and certainly no more than six hours a day. She took to the work with a great deal of enthusiasm which seemed, as far as the captain could tell, to be how she took to most things. Staples found it difficult to pin her down exactly. She had a fun, flirtatious, sometimes irreverent manner, yet she was unquestionably intelligent and capable, and she addressed her work with a great deal of seriousness. Evelyn had been out of the stasis tube and moving about the ship for only a day and a half, but it seemed that more than a few members of the crew had taken an interest in her. Staples couldn’t blame them. The woman was lovely, and it was well known that grief and arousal were old friends.

  At the moment, she was wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a black tank top, much like the sort that Dinah preferred, and her red hair was twisted into two braids at the back of her skull to keep it out of her face. Her pale arms carried a smattering of freckles that increased in density as they fell to her hands, which were themselves strong and marked by dry skin. The majority of the time she had spent working was in the communications room, a small, chamber dense with computer equipment at the bow of the ship. It was tucked beneath the cockpit but above the cargo bay. There had been a learning curve, she explained to the captain, but her understanding of the communications hardware and software was growing rapidly. If everything went to plan, the hope was to have the coms and radar restored within another two days of work, though she had intimated that she might have to bend her physician’s orders to accomplish this feat. Some of her work required adjustments from the primary coms panel in the cockpit, and so here she was, bent over the surfaces in Yegor’s chair.

  Charis was working quietly at her station, and Bethany huddled in her chair, her eyes moving between the stars and the new woman on her right. Don, meanwhile, sat next to his captain, staring absently at Evelyn as well, though Staples was fairly sure it was Yegor’s chair and not the woman that was the source of his pensiveness. The loss of their crewmember had been difficult for the majority of the crew. John had searched as long as the captain had allowed him, and even a bit longer, but he was unable to find Yegor’s body in the wreckage of the pirate ship. They had decided to hold a funeral service for him, and Don had spoken; he had said some very touching words to the crew about the man. The entire thing had been awful and odd, and it all seemed to lack closure without his body. This was amplified by the tension that seemed to infect the crew. Fear of another attack hung heavy in the atmosphere. There were wild theories about where the missiles had come from. There were also, despite the first mate’s efforts to quash them when he encountered them, rumors that Yegor had been paid to disable the coms.

  A muted debate on whether to hold a funeral for Herc Bauer had arisen as well. No one on the ship had really known him. Evelyn had met him a few days before Gringolet had arrived on Mars, though she had heard of him by reputation before that, and Staples had only spoken to him for about an hour. In the end, Don and Clea decided to postpone the funeral. Once coms were back up, assuming Evelyn’s work proceeded apace, they could find out where the Computer Engineer had family. They had every expectation that they would be stopping at Mars on the way back to the core planets, and perhaps he could be given a proper funeral by people who had known him there.

  “Captain, are you there?” Dinah’s voice came through the speaker on her watch. Staples shook her head to clear it of her reverie and tapped it to reply.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve completed my diagnostics of the engines, sir. They took minor damage from the debris in the explosion of the other ship. We can slow down, but I’m not comfortable pushing them above point four Gs.”

  Charis turned around with a grim look, blonde wisps of hair floating about her face. She needed to dye her roots, Staples thought absently. “That’s a bit of a problem, Captain. Our original flight plan was to turn around and start decelerating at point six Gs by now. At that speed, we won’t be able to stop in time; we’ll fly right past Cronos Station.”

  “But you’ve got another option for us, right?” Don asked.

  Charis thought for only a second. “We could take a contoured approach, curving out and then back in to generate more distance between us and the station. The greater distance will buy us more time to slow down.”

  Templeton nodded. “How much time would that add to our trip?”

  Her eyes flicked up as she thought. “About three days. We’d be late.”

  “Well, this job is already fairly well ruined,” Staples chimed in. Templeton opened his mouth to reply, but she pressed on. “I’m not saying it’s our fault. We’re a charter flight, not a military escort, but they may not care much about that. We’ll explain the situation to them when coms are back up.”

  Evelyn looked up over her shoulder and smiled, then went back to work.

  Staples pinged her watch again. “Okay, Dinah, let’s make our turn and prepare to decelerate.”

  “Copy that, sir. Engines ready on your command.”

  “Charis, plot our new course. Don, tell the crew that we’re going to start deceleration in forty minutes. Bethany, if you would be so kind as to give us a gentle over?”

  Bethany’s dark eyes appeared for a moment around the corner of her chair and she said, “Yes, sir,” then turned back around. Templeton cocked an eyebrow at his captain. She had noticed the Dinah-ism as well, but decided not to address it, at least not now. Charis was already working on their newly projected, roundabout course to Saturn, and as Templeton began his shipwide address to the crew, Gringolet began to turn end over end, facing towards the increasingly distant sun.

  The ship had been under the thrust of deceleration for five hours when Evelyn Schilling paid a visit to Medical. She made the odd transition from floor to wall as she entered, the gravity plating holding her solidly while the plating built into the wall on her ri
ght worked only half as hard to repel her. It was an unfortunate reality of ships that had invested in the new technology that they had to not only pay to install the panels in the floor to create gravity on which to stand, they also had to install them in the stern-ward wall. Otherwise, the people in the room would be subjected to two sources of gravity when the ship’s engines were firing. The stern-ward wall panels were working to repel her at point four Gs, just enough to cancel the gravity created by the thrust of the ship.

  After nearly two days of weightlessness, the Computer Scientist had decided to celebrate the reintroduction of gravity by literally letting her hair down. It flowed behind her luxuriously in the light gravity as she moved about the ship, but it fell as it would on Earth as she took a few steps into the Medical bay. Its usual denizen was not immediately visible, but the windows to his office were darkened. After a moment’s hesitation, she walked briskly down to the office and knocked on the door. It opened, and Jabir Iqbal stood in front of her. He wore a black collared shirt, a deep blue tie, and black slacks. A temporarily discarded surface rested on his chair behind him. His smile was broad and welcoming. The two faced each other in the doorway to the office.

  “Doctor Schilling. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

  “What time is it, Doctor?” she countered quite quickly.

  Without looking at his watch, he answered, “About ten minutes after twenty. Why?”

  “I thought you were off duty at eighteen?” It was clear that she had planned this conversation, but he was more than willing to play his part.

  “I am, actually, but how would you know that?”

  “I asked.” Her manner was direct, and she stood not half a meter from the man and looked up into his eyes. “So what are you still doing here?”

  “I spend a great deal of time here. I find the gravity comforting. Why are you asking about my schedule, Doctor?”

  “Call me Evelyn. I asked because I wanted to know.” She moved closer to him, and he could feel her warm breath on his face. When her lips were a scant ten centimeters from his, she turned to her left and looked through one of the office windows at the rest of Medical. The windows were opaque from the outside, but transparent from the inside of the office. “You saw me enter, but didn’t come out to greet me.” A slightly mocking pout touched her lips as she looked back at him. “Why?”

  If he was thrown off by her teasing, he did not show it. His answer came quickly and easily. “It was an opportunity to observe your balance under the effects of altering gravity.”

  “I thought you said you were off duty?” she scolded.

  His reply was immediate. “I did. It was out of personal curiosity, not professional.” Their mouths were closer than ever, and their eyes were locked, but he did not incline so much as a centimeter to meet her.

  The moment stretched for several seconds, and suddenly she laughed, a throaty, rich sound, and turned away from him. She walked out into the Medical bay proper, then turned around and leaned against the wall. He took a step out of the office and faced her. “You’re good. Usually men are slobbering all over me by now.”

  “Please, do not misconstrue my lack of visible salivation as a lack of interest, Evelyn.” He stood easily, his hands in his pockets. “I usually attempt a bit more decorum, especially around impressive women such as you.”

  She laughed again. “Oh, I’ll bet you’ve seduced women all over this solar system, haven’t you Doctor? You seem about as used to getting your way as I am.”

  “Since I am off duty, as we have unequivocally established, I would prefer you call me Jabir. I would also prefer to not discuss the finer points of my sordid past. It is hardly the reason you came in here. Tell me, how do you like our little ship?”

  She moved away from him, just a bit, to see if he would follow as she spoke. “Oh, a subject change? You are mister cool. I like it. The ship I mean.” She turned and took a few steps away, then turned back around, her long hair flying around behind her and coming to rest against her shoulders. “Or I should say, I also like the ship. The captain gave me some quarters all my own, Piotr cooked me a fabulous meal, and Bethany gave me a plant for my room. It’s a lilac. She’s an odd one, that girl. Quiet.”

  “I believe she’s quite taken with you.” Jabir halved the distance between them, then stopped, hands still in his trouser pockets.

  “Am I her type?” She broke eye contact as she contemplated this for a second. “Huh. I hadn’t guessed.”

  “Doctor Schilling, I believe you may be in danger of being everyone’s type, as I am sure you know.”

  She shrugged lightly. “What’s the point of making lots of money as a Computer Scientist if you can’t enjoy the benefits of it?” Her face became serious for a moment. “Thank you, by the way, for not telling the captain about my surgeries. There’s nothing metal in me, but I’m sure the augmentations to my cheek bones and the like showed on your scan.”

  He inclined his head in a gracious nod. “Doctor-patient confidentiality is a watchword of the trade. There was no need to mention such things. Few of us are created as we would wish to be. Some exercise to modify their bodies, some pierce their ears, others have their faces altered. Should we not seek to become who we wish to be, both inside and out?”

  She stopped her dance away from him and closed the distance rapidly, smiling warmly. Again, she halted less than half a meter from him. “So, we’re both attractive, well educated, intelligent, and open minded people. Is there a reason we’re not having sex right now?” Her eyebrows raised dramatically.

  “I must confess,” he adopted a slight look of mock regret, “I cannot think of a single one.” Finally he inclined his head towards her, and the dance ended in a kiss. The kiss increased in intensity, and they embraced tightly. Several passionate minutes progressed, and just as his hands found her hips, he felt her lean back from him. Her lips broke contact, and he thought for a moment that she was dancing away again, but the movement increased, and all of a sudden she was falling away and down from him. He clutched at her and managed to grab her round the small of her back. Her head tilted back and her eyelids fluttered fiercely. As her knees went out from under her, he shifted around to pick her up and place her on a nearby medical bed.

  “I… feel…” she muttered, “I… feel sick.”

  Jabir leaned her head gently back on the bed, pulling its back half up so that she was reclining rather than horizontal, and he put a hand on either side of her face. Her eyelids were continuing to flutter, and from what he could see, her pupils were dilated and her gaze was unfocused. She was flushed and shaky, and a light cold sweat had broken out on her brow.

  “Evelyn, can you hear me?”

  She moaned briefly, and her eyes opened and came into focus. She looked at him with a glazed expression, but there was recognition in her gaze. “Yes, I can hear you.” Then she leaned over the bed and vomited on his shoes.

  An hour later, Evelyn was back on her feet. Though the doctor had been reluctant to release her from Medical, she had convinced him that she was much recovered, and he could find nothing physically wrong with her. He had attributed her episode to the aftereffects of being in stasis, perhaps due in part to the damage the stasis tube had taken. He was, he admitted, no expert in cryogenics, and though he had read up on the subject, he could not also be sure that Stasis Solutions had done their job entirely well. They had, after all, failed to update the tube assignments in their computer system.

  For her part, Evelyn had been eager to get out of Jabir’s presence. Though the sickness had obviously been out of her control, the attendant embarrassment still made her cheeks burn. She had never had an intended seduction end with such mortification, and even once she had begun to feel better, there was an uneasiness that crept over her. The doctor’s strong, swarthy features and well-proportioned physique had seemed so alluring a few minutes before, but she now found herself uncomfortable around the man and desirous to leave his presence. So she had done her best to assuage h
im with many more “fines” and nearly ran out of the room. She intended to do some more work, late as it was.

  After stopping by her room to brush her teeth and pour some water on her already wilting lilac, she decided to go to the mess hall to refill her recently emptied stomach. She climbed up three decks, a task that strained her not at all given the near Martian gravity the engines were currently providing, and made her way down a hallway. She paused along the way to scan a ship schematic on the watch Don Templeton had given her. She turned right and a minute later saw the door to the mess hall in front of her. Inside, Piotr was finishing up some dishes. Several trays of food from the evening meal stood on the counter in sealed containers. It had been a pasta and shrimp concoction that she had enjoyed far more on the way down than on its return. The cook was a large man, bald-headed and darkly bearded, who looked up at her as she entered. She smiled at him, but he returned to his washing. Evelyn remembered Templeton saying that he had been quite upset at the man Yegor’s death, and so she decided not to take it personally. The other two occupants of the mess hall were the security men, Parsells and Quinn she thought their names were. They sat across from one another in quiet conversation, their dinners long finished and cleared, and they sipped from their magnetic cups.

  She was going to send a smile their way as well, but the way that Quinn leered at her made her uncomfortable, so instead she headed over to the refrigeration units. It was regrettable, she thought, that she had become somewhat used to the look; she had learned to ignore it the best she could.

  “You want I should fix something for you?” the man at the sink asked without looking up from his work.

  “Mmm.” She didn’t think she could handle the shrimp again, delicious as she had found it. “No, I’ll just get a snack if that’s okay.”

  “Sit.” He gestured to the table. “I make you something.”

  “Yeah, come join us,” Parsells said, and he waved a hand to her, his other hand gripping his cup. He patted the seat next to him. Quinn was looking at her quite wantonly, and she suddenly wanted to be there even less than she had wanted to be in Medical. When she didn’t respond, he cajoled her further. “Come on, come here.” His voice was projecting friendliness, but there was an edge behind it that she didn’t like, and she thought that she smelled alcohol in the air.