Chaya knew that in his emotional state, Nisanta would never be able to let his senses track her. He risked inhaling deeper, and turned his head to the right wall a few feet in front of them. Reaching a muscular arm towards the metal surface, he felt the curve of a soft breast and quickly gripped around her throat. “Open your damn eyes,” he growled.
A lavender gaze met his, filled with mischief. “This is not amusing, Ayana. I am certain your mates did not give you permission to leave their quarters.”
Tian called out, “She’s over here, Nisanta.”
Relief washed over the worried man’s features. “Thank you, Tian.” He approached Chaya, jealousy seething through him that another man should so outwardly dominate his mate. Nisanta looped the leash around Ayana’s neck and latched it.
Chaya’s dark eyes met the light twin’s stare, and he released his grip on the woman’s neck. “You should at least collar her. Some of the other brothers have done this prior to bonding ritual.”
The twins discovered that unless the women opened their eyes or mouths, they were almost impossible to find. They looked forward to their playful nature to be amusing in bed, but not when they chose to escape quarters and hide all over the ship. “We have tried this,” Nisanta replied defensively, looking at Tian for understanding. “But she withdraws into such a depressed state.”
Chaya had suspected this, though Nisanta was the first to allude to the fact that he and his dark brother might have made a hasty decision. Most twins who had accepted the species carried a slightly arrogant undertone to their demeanor, suggesting that they felt confident that at least they had found and accepted a mate.
‘Found’ was an accurate depiction of the weeklong chase through the alien spacecraft trying to locate the women. They blended in with walls, furniture, and this one, Ayana, who Chaya found attached to the viewport window with her chameleon ability an entire galaxy and their spaceship shown over her torso. Only when Chaya spied her, did her playful nature force her to shimmer and move to continue the hunting game.
Chaya took his position to study the star maps, while Tian sat in the Captain’s chair looking through the viewport at endless space of stars and galaxies. They were rounding the eastern quadrant and would soon be turning towards home.
Chaya’s dark eyes narrowed on the holographic display, following the speck mixed in among distant stars and planets with the intensity of a hunter tracking its prey. It had appeared less than an hour ago, and although it moved slowly, he was now certain it was another ship. He lifted his wrist without dropping his gaze from the chart. “Commander Danilo, please come to the bridge.”
Tian had been manning the helm, but at the sound of his brother’s voice he rose and walked over to him. “Where?” To call their father to the bridge during his recuperative shift meant Chaya had found something of great interest. Tian’s blue eyes lit with excitement at his brother’s discovery. “It is a ship,” he whispered, wishing he could pull the sighting in closer.
Chapter III
After two years in space the Manerea was faltering, though only a select few were aware of the fact. The ‘select few’ were the Commander, the Division Officers, and the members of the Elite Decision Board.
“Supply report?” Jerome requested.
“We have tiered the plants through two sections, but the soil is depleting. Synthetic nutrients are not sustaining the vegetables to full size. We tried an attempt at hydroponics with dismal results.” Dr. Terar scanned his finger across his tablet. “Even if our population remains consistent, at the rate our food is decreasing we will be forced to cut back portions within three months.”
“Water is still no problem,” the man next to him replied. “Only one of the condensers shut down, and we have been utilizing its parts to repair the other four.”
“Engine report?”
“Nothing has changed.” The Engine Officer sounded more bored than upset. Hell, and why not? I’ve been giving the same damn report for two years. “We have neither the materials nor fuel to re-ignite the fusion engine. The propellant for our backup engine is running low, though we have worked with Supply to alter some withered food waste for fuel.” The Officer shrugged. “It gums up the engine, but so far it has kept us moving.” Albeit at a snail’s pace. The landing engine is not designed to propel this monster except for launch and landing.
A tick irritated the corner of Jerome’s eye. “Navigation report?” Shit, someone please give me some bit of good news.
“We are still more than two light-years from Adam One. There are no sightings of an aclimatable planet that can support us. They either lack atmosphere, water, or the ability to sustain plant-life. We have seen no ships, friendly or otherwise.” Joseph was bored replying the same information. The only situation that had changed over the past two years was the depressing news about their impending food shortage.
“So basically, we’re fucked,” Jerome summed up.
“We could try sending shuttles searching again,” Joseph suggested.
“If there is nothing visible through the viewport, it would waste what little fuel we have.” Jerome ran his fingers through his gray hair. It was no longer threaded with black, though he refused to admit the concerns over the mission had aged him. He did not have to. The Board members could see it.
One potential advantage on Adam One was that the planet lacked pollutants. According to tests, the atmosphere would enhance longevity, and Jerome counted on his lifespan doubling. The fusion engine was supposed to transport them to Adam One within a year, and now Jerome was scrambling for any solution to get out of the overcrowded tin can that had become his home.
The engines lasted long enough to propel them far enough from Earth and not close enough to Adam One to make either destination feasible. They continued on their original course to save the fuel required for turning. The Engine Officer doubted they had enough left to land anywhere, so what the hell did it matter?
Jerome rested his hands on the table. “I think we need to seriously consider evaluation.”
“We still might be able to fix the engine.”
“And I have the new crew working on methods to enhance the food supply.” Dr. Terar despised acknowledging it was his division delivering the news that hammered the last nail in the coffin. He had designed his program for efficiency in the small space allotted to him, and for a crew of one hundred. With a one-year journey, he had increased production requirements to a year and a half to allow them time to replant on planet.
For some reason, the board elected not to tell him the crew number would be two thousand. His scientists’ amazing production kept food supplied for the massive increase. The original plants continued to feed the crew for an additional six months passed his projection. All this, and still his division was the ultimate reason for failure. If he could find out which asshole screwed up their estimation on fuel, he would personally feed the bastard to the damn fusion engine.
Now, Dr. Terar made adjustments to train new workers transferred from other divisions with no research background. It was based on the outrageous and unlikely hope that new eyes might recognize an obvious failure his researchers overlooked.
“You’ve been giving me the same reports for two years, with the exception that plants are not producing as well.” Jerome stared at the botanist’s weary, defeated expression. “I detect no more feigned excitement that synthetics are remotely close to discovery, and if we wait too long there will not be enough food left to support an evaluated crew.” Jerome sat back with a measure of relief at finally announcing his decision. It might save the remaining passengers until they found a habitable planet, and he was confident it was the only course left to them. The bonus to the plan was that everyone at the table automatically passed.
“Form preliminary lists for your divisions, and then hand them to Manny. We’ll weed them down to the one hundred this tank was meant to hold.” Jerome stood. “We’ll meet again in two weeks.”
No one needed to be told the secrecy
. To cut back the crew on board to one hundred people meant disposing of almost two thousand. The threat of automatic evaluation for causing panic sealed gossiping lips. Manny could work out the psychological profile necessary for those remaining onboard. Jerome was damned if he would spend the rest of his life in space with a bunch of self-recriminating morons he had saved.
Jerome walked to his quarters, acknowledging the salutes and inquiries to the meeting. Less frequently than the weeks following launch, he caught a glimpse of a single finger salute or a whispered curse. He watched young workers slide down the chutes to the lab level. Ninety percent of them would be sacrificed. He was almost sixty years old, but he would survive to continue with the necessary strength and experience to rule.
“Janella, wait up.” A tall young woman brushed by him. “Good evening, Chairman.” King Poopah looks worried. Eyes and ears open, girl.
The woman’s voice dripped ice and Jerome realized it was the pretty girl he considered trading Nika in for. Sharell, something. Even at the lure of accepting her transfer to Navigation, she had turned him down. He stuck her in plant research.
Janella had one foot in the chute. “Hurry, Sharell, we’ve got three minutes to get to shift.”
Sharell turned to look at the Chairman while she climbed into the chute. “Something’s going on.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks and I’m not hearing any rumors.”
Sharell gripped the tail of her black braid and folded her arms under her breasts. After a quick ride, she slid onto the lower deck. She and Janella were both tall, and they used every inch of their long stride to move down the corridor and make it to the lab with a few seconds to spare.
“Did you really put in for Navigation again?” Janella asked.
“Yes, they were presenting it two days ago, but I haven’t heard anything.” Sharell was bored with the test tubes and constant failures of her attempts in the lab. She was not alone. No one seemed to be having success with new variants of nutrients, and the plants in second tier looked pathetic. Dr. Terar hinted that first tier was doing well. They were banned from the experienced scientists’ nursery, or they would have seen that the brainiacks’ plants were almost as pitiful.
After shift, they walked back to their room. It was originally two large closets for the cabins on each side, but with the extra crew Sharell removed the wall, sealed the doors, and made an entrance to the corridor. They knew they were lucky. Most of the ‘extra payload’ had to live in dorms built in the cafeteria, meeting rooms, and extra supply rooms popping up as they ran out of things.
Janella dropped onto her mattress. They each had a thin pad on the floor on opposite sides of the space, and other than an original closet rod they were the only furnishings. For two years, this had been their private world. They had to use the communal women’s showers and facilities at the end of the corridor.
Bitching was non-existent, or at least not spoken out loud. Security clearly defined no allowances for any hearing or higher power to complain to. Few people screwed up, and the rest learned it resulted in demotion to worse living circumstances. There were also crewmembers that went sort of nuts and were confined in a room off the shuttlebay. One had been there for over a year, and Manny had given up his weekly meetings with them.
One thing was damn sure: they were not going home again. The two women tried to make the best of the situation and hoped they would find a planet or something soon. Anything to get off the ship.
“Matt was caught in a supply closet with Tammy.”
Sharell winced with the burst of memory. He had been the last man she had been with the night before the launch. She continued to stare blankly at her reading tablet. “And?” She felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach and an automatic spasm through regions below.
“He was demoted out of Maintenance to Textile Supply, and Tammy was sent to the other side of the ship. She’s not allowed to cross over without an escort, and her Medic pass was pulled. I heard she was demoted to Cleaning.”
“No shit?”
“It’s a stupid rule. Why don’t they just slip birth control into the food or something?” Janella suggested.
“They say they don’t know the long term affects with the artificial atmosphere, and they don’t want everyone sterilized. King Poopah won’t have anyone to rule when we land if no one can have kids.” Most of this was rumor, because none of her friends without fancy college degrees knew the difference between a real and an artificial atmosphere. As far as they were concerned, air was air… unless, as infrequently happened, a gas line broke or a lab bug escaped.
“We’re twenty five years old and about the youngest on this tank. If they don’t start letting us have babies, there’s going to be a bunch of old people left.”
Sharell thought of the Chairman’s expression again. “I’m telling you, Janella, something big is happening.” Everything inside of her warned her to run or hide. On the ship, it was impossible.
Two weeks later, Jerome perused the initial evaluation lists. It was a beginning, but they still needed to cut five hundred names. Janella and Sharell, as nursery researches with no glimpse of success at a breakthrough, did not pass the first evaluation.
Something big was happening. In less than a month, their dinner would be laced with a drug that would stop their hearts while they slept. Evaluees that passed would transport the expendable crew to the shuttlebay… and open the doors to space.
“Is it my imagination, or does Dr. Terar seem to be ignoring us?” Janella asked. She focused on dusting the leaves of her plant and collecting debris on slides to study later. Janella noticed her beans were not thriving, and most were small, hard marbles when they released from the stalks. There was some sort of problem with the size of the vein delivering water and nutrients, but she had yet to isolate the cause.
Sharell shrugged. “He’s ignoring everybody. After they promoted those five to first tier three weeks ago, we’ve even lost our other two scientists that used to hover over us.” She hoped it meant they were thinning the need for so many researchers in the nursery, and that her request to transfer to Navigation was under consideration. “They must have found whatever they were looking for to boost the food supplies.” Sharell was bored to tears working with vegetables. If she could not wear her tool belt, she wanted the excitement of working with the crew that found a new home.
Sharell made a pass by the promotion board on her way back to their quarters, and she noticed that within the divisions an unusual number of transfers had been moved up. It made no sense, as the average was one or two per month. She scanned the Navigation post for new names and noticed the list was the same one posted two months ago. You bastard, Jerome. Sharell was convinced he blocked her transfer after she refused his disgusting offer.
She spent the evening scanning her tablet, reading another romance. Thank god the two of them got in the habit of hiding the small devices in their uniform pockets to read on break, or they would not have had them when the ship launched. They had hidden them under the cushioned seat of the cart when they passed through Security.
As the only off-time distraction, both she and Janella loved the stories, the mushier the better. They quoted love passages and read descriptions of virile heroes rescuing women, wondering if they would ever experience the touch of a man again.
* * * * *
On the bridge of the Manerea, there was excited commotion. Jerome and most of the Decision Board were looking out the viewport at the spaceship. It was not from Earth, but did not attack. It was also the size of two city blocks, dwarfing the Manerea to the size of a dinghy.
The Communications Officer was trying to unscramble their advanced signal. Ultimately, it was the alien craft that managed to decode the beacon. The aliens’ clipped dialect was a bit difficult to decipher, but it was obvious they wanted a meeting. Manny detected no deception, so they were trying to negotiate which ship to use.
“I think we need to visit them,” Jerome decided. “
They might be trying to evaluate our supplies or weaknesses.” He tapped his fingertips on the console. “It is obvious we need to keep our Executive Officers on board in case there is a problem. Keep Security on high alert, and I’ll go with Bruce and Manny. Commander, you are in charge in my absence.”
The alien craft saved them fuel by sending a shuttle. Word spread quickly throughout the Manerea. There were few viewports along the sides of their ship, and Janella and Sharell stood behind three others for a turn to see the craft.
“God, look at the size of it,” Sharell whispered. “I sure as hell hope they’re friendly.”
“Move it, it’s my turn.”
Sharell and Janella moved back, but they continued to try to catch glimpses of the vessel.
On board the Cathisis, Jerome sat facing Danilo, the Commander of the ship. For the first time in years, Jerome was in his element, working out details of the trade agreement. There was no need to barter over the Actana’s request. They were fine-tuning what the Manerea would get in return, and Jerome was quite pleased with the negotiations.
“Chairman, what you refer to as Adam One will indeed support you,” Danilo replied. He did not mention it was referred to as Rashilla Three among the advanced worlds. The mere fact the alien vessel did not send their Commander to handle the trade, spoke volumes as to their sophistication. The few numbers of Earthlings landing would not cause interference with the Casiquas.
Chaya twin-spoke to Tian, Our dark father is turning Rashilla into a dumping ground for less evolved primitive species.
Tian studied the men. They looked small, weak, and old. Still, the physical characteristics were similar to the Actana. I wish they had brought a female.
Father will not agree until he views a sample.
Tian’s eyes deepened in angry sadness over the Chairman’s news. The man spoke as if his decision was made with intelligent consideration. What kind of species plans the annihilation of ninety percent of their crew?
Collateral Trade Page 6