by Colin Weldon
She bit her lip to stop herself from snapping at Tosh. She was the one who received the complaints first. The air of formality that existed in the conference rooms did not exist for her on the lower decks. The crew needed a sounding board and she was it.
“Charly, you above anyone else know the risks of channelling this much power through the engines. I really can’t stress to you what will happen if one of those coolant tanks ruptures,” said Tosh.
She looked up at the large fifty-meter barrel of the alien designed cannon. Coiling rolls of lights wrapped themselves around its exterior. A low pulsating hum came from its power core and was making the exterior lighting dim and brighten every few seconds. Boyett had to admit it did look like the damn thing was about to explode at any minute.
“Tosh, I promise you I will personally blow the bolts on the cannon and eject it off the ship at the first sign of trouble. I am going to keep a careful eye on the power levels from the bridge and if it red lines, even for a second, then kiss it goodbye,” Boyett said crossing her arms.
Tosh sighed and went back to looking at a control panel mounted on his hovering chair.
“We may not have seconds,” Tosh replied.
Boyett reciprocated his sigh and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“You worry too much, you know that? You need to have a little faith. These things could save our lives. You’ve seen what’s out here, Tosh. If we can’t protect ourselves, it won’t really matter if we blow ourselves up or not, now will it?” Boyett said.
“That’s easy for you to say, the Betty will be the first thing to go if we get this wrong, while you’re sitting cosy on the flight deck,” Tosh said muttering and looking at his readings on his computer.
“How long before we’re ready to shoot?” asked Boyett.
“Give me two more hours to just lock down the last of the triggering sensors,” Tosh said.
Boyett rubbed the bridge of her nose to try and wake up the blood vessels of her eyes.
“Why don’t you take a nap, Charly, you look like shit,” said Tosh, “Sir.”
Boyett laughed.
“Thanks a bunch, Tosh, you really know how to sweet talk a girl,” she said, “and besides, if you think I have more than thirty seconds to rest right now, you’re delusional.”
“First rule of command, Lieutenant? Delegate,” Tosh said, “You need to shift some work on the heart breaker.”
Boyett laughed again.
“The who?” she replied staring down at Tosh.
“That’s what my crew call him, Lieutenant Chavel, I mean. Seems he’s a big hit with the ladies down in the engine room,” replied Tosh.
“Well, that’s a lost cause I’m afraid,” said Boyett slapping his shoulder.
He grimaced slightly. Boyett suddenly realised it was where he had sustained his injury from the attack by the machine masquerading as Amanda Llewellyn. He looked at her and raised a hand indicating for her not to worry. It suddenly brought back memories of Landon Emerson. They had probably been the closest two crew members to the young Irish engineer.
“Can I ask you something?” Boyett said.
“Go,” replied Tosh.
“Landon told me once that he won the New York marathon three times in a row. Was that true?” she said smiling.
Tosh suddenly laughed and shook his head.
“He really was a cheeky bastard, wasn’t he?” he said, “I wouldn’t have put it past him.”
Boyett smiled and nodded.
“I miss him,” Tosh said, “I miss them both. I’ve lost two good friends, not to mention countless others back on Earth. I sometimes don’t know what we’re fighting for at all anymore.”
“Well, now you have a new friend, you grumpy old man,” she said laughing and placing a hand on his, “let me know when you’re ready to go and let’s blow something up. Might make us feel better.”
Tosh laughed and nodded. Boyett turned and began walking away from him, still thinking of Landon’s boyish smile as she did so. She made her way out of the hangar bay and into the main corridor of the ship. She didn’t get far before she was stopped by Sam Reynolds, a stocky engineer from Texas.
“Charly,” he said to her as their eyes met.
“What’s up, Sam,” she said clearing her throat.
“Did Tosh tell you about the power linkups yet?” he said to her as they stopped to talk in the hall.
“Yes, Sam, we’re on top of it,” she replied.
“Okay, well, I need the captain to sign off on the conversion of med lab five into an extra power distribution control unit. Brubaker is up my ass about it and she’s refusing to let us near it, something about her wanting it for genome analysis or some bullshit. We need this to happen before we can attempt any type of firing sequence,” said Reynolds.
“The captain has already signed off on this, Sam. I’ll go speak to her now, but in the mean time, you have my permission to start converting it now. This should have been taken care of three hours ago. Why the delay?” Boyett said trying to keep her frustration from showing.
“You sure? She was pretty insistent on speaking to the captain,” Reynolds replied.
Boyett was aware that the chief medical officer was friendly with Barrington, but her job was to keep these sorts of routine decisions off his desk. He was under enough pressure as it was and there were far bigger decisions to be made. As first officer, it was important that she stamp her authority on the daily ship operations quickly. She needed to nip this in the bud.
“Sam, just do it. That’s an order,” she replied raising her voice just high enough to let him know that she was in charge.
“Got it, Lieutenant, I’m on it,” he said turning away and making his way down the hall.
Boyett always knew that with command came the burden of feeling isolated. She suddenly felt what the captain must be feeling all the time. She stood for a moment in the hallway and suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion push through her body from the legs up. She needed rest. She pushed the sensation away, took a deep breath, and stretched her face trying to keep her eyes open.
After a few minutes, she arrived at the entrance to the medical bay. She activated the door mechanism and stepped inside. It was quiet. All the bio beds were currently empty bar one. There was a young woman sitting with her bare legs dangling off as Doctor Michelle Brubaker was running a medical instrument over her right knee. Brubaker looked up from her patient and smiled at Boyett. She nodded a greeting and moved towards the bio bed.
“Hello, Charly,” Brubaker said looking up from her patient. Boyett recognised the young woman as a civilian scientist named Shannon Park. She was a slim plain looking woman in her late twenties with long black hair tied neatly in a ponytail.
“Hello Lieutenant,” said Park softly.
Boyett had met her a few times and considered her a typical scientist. She was a quiet soft-spoken woman with a weak handshake.
“Hello Shannon,” said Boyett, “you hurt?”
“It’s nothing. I was just running in the rec-room and I think I may have overdone it.”
Boyett smiled and nodded her head. She turned to Brubaker.
“Doctor, do you have a minute?” Boyett said looking at her in a way that let her know that it was not a request.
Brubaker responded by tightening her lips and looking back at Park.
“You’ll live, Shannon, stay off it for a day to let the muscle heal,” she said to the young woman.
Shannon nodded and slowly lowered herself to the ground and put back on her clothing as they waited in silence.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Shannon said as she left the medical bay.
Brubaker stood up and walked to one of her diagnosis tables.
“You’re here to give me a telling off?” Brubaker said arranging her medical equipment and looking up at Boyett smiling.
Boyett liked Brubaker. She was experienced, said what she meant, and took no nonsense. She blamed herself for not making more of an effort with her. The ice breaking comment made Boyett relax and secretly thanked her for recognising there was an issue.
“Doctor, it would be greatly appreciated if you placed any objections regarding the allocation of resources on board this ship with me, and not the captain. I know things were different on the Colony, but on board a ship like this one, all operations are handled by the first officer and not the captain,” Boyett said suddenly noticing that she had pulled her shoulders back and was standing rigidly.
Brubaker turned to face her and leaned against the diagnostic table crossing one foot over the other.
“I see,” she replied raising an eyebrow.
“The captain is under tremendous ... “
“Lieutenant, I am fully aware of the captain’s current mental state, as far as that is concerned, I outrank you. I do not need reminding of that. I brought my objection to the captain, as that was the protocol that was established on the Colony, but I can assure you that your point has been made. I will of course respect your chain of command for any future issues I have,” Brubaker said not letting Boyett finish her sentence.
Boyett suddenly realised that she was, of course, correct. The chief medical officer outranked her on all physical issues with the captain. Boyett could feel the tension between them rise and was suddenly overcome with a sense of anger that seemed to emerge from out of nowhere.
“See that you do, Doctor!” Boyett suddenly said snapping at her.
The sudden loss of control was strange. It was a relatively minor dispute. One that Boyett was used to dealing with on multiple occasions during the day, but she was suddenly furious. Brubaker frowned. Boyett realised that it was time to leave, so she turned quickly on her heals and began to walk towards the exit.
“Hold it, Lieutenant!” Brubaker said raising her voice.
Boyett stopped just before the door. She realised her hands were shaking. She turned and met Brubaker’s gaze. The doctor began walking slowly over to her. She stopped an arm’s-length away. Boyett took a deep breath, bit her bottom lip, and widened her eyes.
“When was the last time you slept?” Brubaker said quietly to her.
“What?” Boyett replied.
She knew exactly what she meant. This behaviour was totally out of character and the truth was that she honestly, at this very moment, couldn’t remember. Her anger subsided and she let her muscles relax.
“I’m sorry, doctor, I didn’t mean to shout at you,” Boyett said looking at the ground.
“Do you even remember the reason you came in here?” Brubaker asked.
“Something about the chain of command,” Boyett said smiling.
Brubaker laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Charly, when was the last time you slept?” she asked again.
“It’s been a busy few weeks, doctor, I don’t have the same luxuries as the rest of the crew,” Boyett said.
Brubaker waited for a response. Boyett sighed and looked at the ceiling.
“Maybe twenty hours,” Boyett said.
Brubaker nodded to herself and walked over to a computer console next to one of the bio beds. She typed in some commands as Boyett saw a photo of herself on the screen.
“Doctor, I really have to get back to ... “ she began to say.
“One moment, Lieutenant,” Brubaker said.
She continued to scroll through Boyett’s file.
“Hmm,” Brubaker finally said looking back up at her.
“What?” Boyett said.
“Lieutenant, I am ordering you to bed,” Brubaker said.
Boyett suddenly laughed.
“Hilarious, Doc, I’ll see you later,” Boyett said as she turned to leave.
The door slid open.
“Charly, get your ass back here,” Brubaker said forcefully.
Boyett frowned as she turned.
“Remember that whole chain of command thing? Well, as it turns out, I’m more familiar with it than you think. As chief medical officer, I outrank YOU,” Brubaker said suddenly smirking.
Boyett was about to respond when she suddenly realized for the second time that she was right. She was beginning to regret coming into the medical bay, as she knew where this was headed.
“Doctor, I really don’t have time to play games,” Boyett said, “We are orbiting an alien planet and preparing to test fire alien weapons,” Boyett said.
Brubaker ignored her. The comms panel activated.
“Brubaker to bridge,” she said looking at Boyett.
Shit thought Boyett.
“Bridge here, go ahead,” came Barrington’s voice.
“Captain, I’m ordering Lieutenant Boyett off duty for two hours sleep,” Brubaker said forcefully into the comm system still looking at Boyett.
“Understood, Doctor,” Barrington replied without missing a beat.
“Medical bay out,” Brubaker said clicking off the comm system.
Boyett was still standing at the entrance way. She had to admit the thought of closing her eyes did sound appealing. She had been outmanoeuvred. She smiled at Brubaker.
“Easy as that?” Boyett said.
“Report to the bridge in two hours, Lieutenant,” Brubaker said smiling.
Boyett put her hands on her hips and looked at the ground then back up at Brubaker. She raised her hand and saluted Brubaker.
“Aye, aye, sir,” she said leaving the medical bay and walking into the corridor.
The door sealed shut behind her. She took a deep breath and began walking to her quarters.
Seven minutes later, she was fast asleep.
7:
THE SIENNA CLARK
Carrie stood on the transporter pod with Aron and India. The pair looked nervous. It would be the first time that they had used the alien device and even after explaining what the sensation would feel, like India looked twitchy. Carrie looked over at her as they lined up on the glowing circle.
“Relax, it’s totally fine. You won’t feel a thing,” said Carrie.
India looked at her.
“I am completely relaxed. What are you talking about?” India replied clearing her throat.
Aron smiled at Carrie. Carrie looked away. She was still trying to filter out the guilt at having kissed him. She couldn’t explain why it had happened but the urge had been overwhelming. She just wanted to do it. Her transformation had changed her somehow. She missed David, cared for him, but in that moment, she needed to feel that feeling. As if it was her last chance of real human contact. A situation she could control.
She placed her hand on the side of the curved wall. They were surrounded in a momentary flash of light as the familiar cold sensation swept over her body. The hallway vanished and was immediately replaced by the command centre of the ship. A cool wisp of air escaped from their lungs forming a momentary cloud of intermingling vapour around their bodies.
“Holy shit,” India suddenly said looking around at Carrie.
“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” Carrie replied.
Aron remained silent. Carrie could see him taking in the surroundings of the main control centre. Smooth convex curved walls surrounded them on all sides. There was an occasional flickering of lights as they lit up from inside the surfaces of the walls. The lights ran in semi-circular lines like water running down a drain. A large star field was visible from just up ahead. It ran from floor to ceiling. The stars zipped by in long streaks. She noted how differently hyperspace always looked from this ship as opposed to the grey haze that was visible when The Agathon entered the same velocities and put it down to the very different drive systems that ran both vessels. Jack was nowhere to been seen. She knew he was there, as she could sense his presence. Carrie stepped forward first
and led the trio off the transporter pods. India was last off the pad. Carrie made sure to open her mind to her two companions to make sure that they were both feeling okay. She sensed that India was already on the defensive. It seemed like she was always getting ready for a fight. She admired India’s strength and knew that her pain was not only from an unrequited love for Aron, a point which would probably become problematic if she were to find out what had happened in his quarters, but also from a childhood trauma that was haunting her, something about imprisonment and torture. Carrie had only seen glimpses of it. India would die for Aron, and for the colonists.
“Hello Carrie,” Tyrell said approaching the small group then turning to the others, “Mr Elstone, Ms Walder.”
Carrie sensed the usual reaction to Tyrell from both Aron and India, complete distrust bordering on aggression. Tyrell was not coming off well at all with those rescued from the space stations. Carrie reminded herself that she would have to deal with that quickly before something happened and they realised fully what Tyrell was. And what he was capable of.
“Hello Tyrell, what’s going on up here? Anything exciting?” Carrie said trying to lighten the mood.
Tyrell looked at her with his black eyes widening them.
“Exciting? Not really,” Tyrell replied dead pan.
“Right then,” Carrie said trying to break the awkward silence.
She looked past Tyrell into a seemingly empty part of the control centre.
“Come on, Jack. Let’s do this. Stop playing ghost,” Carrie said into the air.