Firmament: Reversal Zone

by Pennington,J. Grace

  I couldn't remember the last time things had been so uneventful.

  Uneventful for the Doctor and Olive and I, anyway. Things did not appear uneventful for the Captain and Guilders.

  The Captain sat ramrod straight in his chair on the little platform in the command pit, glowering at Crash. Crash ignored him, remaining draped over the back of August's chair.

  Normally the bridge was one of my favorite places to be, second only to sickbay. I loved the open space to the front and both sides, the view of the stars as they sped past, even the sober gray-blue color of the walls. I loved seeing how smoothly things ran, like the workings of the most intricate electronic device, and I loved the disciplined aura of the bridge team working together to get everything done.

  But today, it was different. The color was the same, and of course the stars hadn't changed much. The atmosphere, however, had something added to it, and that something was Crash. The room even felt smaller, as though it couldn't contain two big personalities at once.

  “When I left, they were still in Delta thirty-five-sixty-seven,” Crash explained, straightening up and facing the Captain. “That's as far as I can guide you for sure. Pretty soon after that they disappeared from the scopes.”

  The Captain frowned and leaned forward. “I'm still not clear as to why you left them.”

  Crash paced away from August, whose face relaxed slightly.

  I bit my lip. No matter how much I'd missed Crash, it was never long before he began to irritate me.

  “I told you. DeMille hired me to guide the Pigeon through some of the uncharted sectors to the rendezvous. But Captain Dooley is just a little too set in his ways, and didn't ever listen to me, even though DeMille said he had to.”

  “That doesn't surprise me,” Guilders said.

  I shifted in my chair, trying to quell the restlessness.

  “I saw I was doing no good, and Dooley obviously didn't like having me there, so I left. They were getting into territory even I hadn't explored, anyway.” Placing his hands on his hips and standing with legs apart, he faced the Captain. “Don't know if you know Dooley. A very... possibly the most serious and emotionless man I have ever met. Not a hint of fun or romance.” He wrinkled his face.

  The Captain sighed. “No, I don't know him.”

  “But he sounds like an entirely satisfactory person to me,” Guilders said without the slightest change of expression.

  I couldn't stop an amused snort, and Crash looked over his shoulder at the first officer. “What was that?”

  “Nothing, sir,” said Guilders. For a moment, I thought the “sir” carried a hint of sarcasm, but his face remained unchanged.

  “Mr. Crash,” the Captain questioned, “do you have any idea at all what could have happened to the Pigeon?”

  “No idea whatsoever.”

  The Captain cupped his clean-shaven chin in his hand and frowned. “This doesn't add up. A ship doesn't just... disappear.”

  “Well, this one did.”

  Silence hung over the bridge. I glanced at Mr. Yanendale, the comm marshall, and found him staring at the exchange from under his headset. A quick sweep of the room showed that the same was true of everyone else, with the exception of Guilders and August. Their stations kept them with their backs to the Captain's chair, and they didn't turn around.

  “Anything... unusual about the freighter, Mr. Crash?”

  Crash shook his head, and the bit of hair that fell over his forehead flopped from side to side. “Not unless you call being a dirty little barely-starworthy tub unusual.”

  The Captain's neck and jaw tensed. “Mr. Crash, I would appreciate it if you would merely answer the questions I ask.”

  Crash shrugged and turned away. “If all engines and thrusters are in good working order, we should be able to reach the point where I left them in another five or six hours.”

  The Captain's frown remained, as did Crash's subtle, smug smile.

  “Crash...” I started to speak up.

  My wristcom beeped. “Andi?”

  I pushed the button and spoke into it. “Yes sir?”

  “Can you feed the fish for me? These reports are taking longer than I thought.”

  “Yes sir. Be right there.” I ended the transmission and hopped out of the chair. Crash turned to me and grinned.

  “Uncle still obsessed with the fish?”

  “I wouldn't say obsessed...”

  He shrugged and turned to Guilders. “We'll head in on warp twenty, and slow to ten as we enter the sector.”

  “Hold on a moment.” The Captain stood up. “This is still my ship, Mr. Crash. I am in command, and I'd be grateful if you'd remember that.”

  “It may be your ship, but this is my mission.” Crash's tone mirrored the Captain's. “And you are under orders from Mr. DeMille to submit to my guidance, are you not?”

  “Insofar as you are guiding us to the correct location. But I am still in authority over my ship. I will be the one to decide what speeds are necessary to complete the mission most effectively while still being the best for the Surveyor and her crew.”

  Crash took a step toward the Captain and tilted his head. “Well that's part and parcel of guiding now, isn't it, Captain Trent?”

  “Crash...” I protested feebly.

  He turned towards me. “Aren't you supposed to be fish-feeding, And?”

  I bit my lip, slumped my shoulders, and looked back at him. He raised his eyebrows.

  I sighed and turned to leave. The Doctor would hear about this. Somebody was going to need to give Crash a good talking-to, and he clearly wasn't going to take it from me.

  Not that Crash had ever been particularly good at listening to anyone.

  I let myself relax as I exited the bridge, got into the elevator, and headed down to B-Deck. I did love my cousin. Really. He was one of my very favorite people in the entire world—the entire galaxy, for that matter. But I did wish sometimes that he would—well, grow up.

  And he'd have my twenty-one-year-old head for saying that, but it was the truth. Anybody would agree with me.

  When I reached B-Deck, I shuffled to the lounge and walked to the supply cabinet on the opposite side of the room. Pressing my hand to the lock, I said, “Lloyd, Andi, second medical officer.” It slid open, and I pulled the little plastic can of fish food down from the top shelf.

  I turned to my left, unscrewing the lid, still deep in thought as I stepped to the large, iridescent fish tank that stood against one wall.

  “You'd be a better pilot and a better man if you'd learn to give a little consideration to others, Eagle Crash,” I muttered, though my voice sounded loud in the empty room.

  I popped the yellow lid off the jar as I approached the acrylic tank, which was easily five times my size, and full of various bright-colored tropical fish.

  They were the Doctor's, bought one by one on visits to Earth and added to his collection. Crash wasn't the only one who thought it strange that a gruff, middle-aged starship doctor should care so much about tropical fish, but when asked about it, he only insisted, “A man needs a hobby,” which left nothing more to say on the matter.

  There were twenty-two of them, no two alike, and some very expensive. I'd never bothered to learn the kinds, but I'd named them all in my head—names I didn't dare let the Doctor hear or he'd give me a long lecture on the species and genus of each one.

  “Here you go,” I said, opening the little hatch in the top of the tank and measuring the gray pellets into the lid of the jar. I filled it once, dumped it in, filled it again and dumped it, then closed the hatch and screwed the lid back on. I watched as all twenty-two of them turned in one motion and darted towards the slowly drifting bits of synthesized marine nutrition that floated through the water.

  “It's not like I'm the only one who thinks so,” I stated, still focused on the fish. “Everybody knows he's spoiled and hotheaded.” I watched one striking creature, bright yellow on the front half and dark navy on the back, open his mouth and
snap at a pellet. Two-Tone, I called him. “I mean, he's a sweet guy, really. I love him... a lot.” I smiled at a particularly unusual white and orange fish. I called her Brainy because the patterns on her scales looked like a brain. “I really do. But honestly, someone needs to give that man a good spanking.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  I shrieked and dropped the fish food, knocking the lid off and spilling pellets all over the floor.

  Whirling towards the doorway, I saw the Doctor standing there, his thin form still covered in his white lab coat.

  I blew out. “It's just you.”

  He looked down at the spilled food and I laughed, nervously, and bent over to start picking it up. “Sorry... I was just... talking to myself.”

  He approached and knelt beside me. “About whom?”

  I scooped some pellets into my hand and poured them back into the jar. My face warmed as I answered. “Crash.”

  The Doctor shook his head, picking up the pellets with his right hand and dropping them into his left. “Trouble?”

  “Sort of,” I sighed. “I mean, he thinks he's in charge, and the Captain, of course, disagrees.”

  “Heaven help us,” he muttered.

  “And... everyone else doesn't seem to know what to do,” I went on. “I mean, the Captain really is right. Crash is overstepping. And I mean... I don't know the rules, but I guess a case could be made for Crash, too. But he doesn't have to be so... difficult.”

  “No, he most certainly does not,” the Doctor said, in his most severe “Crash is going to get in trouble” tone. I'd heard it often enough growing up. Maybe if Crash had come to live with his uncle a little younger, he would have learned to actually listen to him more. But by the time we'd gotten him, he'd been eighteen years old and already pretty well spoiled by his proud, doting mother. He had a good heart, he just got carried away sometimes.

  The Doctor dropped the last few pellets into the jar, then picked up the lid and screwed it on. He laid a hand on my back, so gently that I barely felt the pressure through my uniform. “I'll have a talk with him. Don't worry.”

  I took the jar. “I'm not worried.”

  “No?”

  I flushed under the steady gaze of his gray eyes. “Well... maybe a little bit.”

  He gave a half-smile. “Well don't be.”

  I smiled a bit in return. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Rubbing my back a bit, he stood up. “My work's all done for the day, so you can do whatever you want for the afternoon. I'll call you if something comes up.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He turned and left, and I just stood holding the jar for a moment. Then I tossed it once, caught it firmly, and hurried to put it back in the cabinet.

  “Whatever I wanted” wasn't as apparent as the Doctor seemed to think. What did I want to do? That category normally included reading or working on an invention or maybe playing a game with August if he was free. But he wasn't free, and I didn't feel like working or reading. The combination of excitement over Crash's arrival and frustration over his behavior made me restless.

  I wandered into the exercise room adjacent to the lounge and found it empty. A glance at my wristcom told me why. Lunch time. I wasn't hungry, though, so I settled myself on a weightlifting bench and stared at the various workout equipment.

  “Getting any stronger?”

  For the second time that morning I started and turned towards the voice. This time it wasn't the low, gruff voice of the Doctor, but an assured, cocky one.

  “Hey, Crash.” I stood up and started to walk past him, but he held out his arm in front of me.

  “Thought I'd come take you to lunch.” He smiled his handsomest smile. “I've been trying to find you.”

  I just looked at him.

  “Something wrong?” he said, still smiling. His tone was so innocent I almost believed it.

  I kept staring.

  “You're not upset about up on the bridge, are you?”

  I sighed, and tried to walk past him again.

  “Hey, And.” He gripped me by the shoulders, his fingertips not quite hurting, but exerting uncomfortable pressure. “I'm sorry, okay?”

  Now I really stared. “You're... what?”

  “I'm... sorry. No reason I ought to upset everybody just when I come back.”

  A smile bubbled up inside of me, and I let it show on my face.

  “...even if I am right,” he added.”

  “Eagle Miles Crash...”

  He let go of my shoulders and held up both hands. “Okay, okay. Let's forget it and go to lunch? I want to hear about how you are.”

  I could understand why he'd had dozens of girls after him all the time in college.

  “All right,” I agreed. He gave a grin that washed my annoyance away, leaving only the aftertaste of the knowledge that I was somehow being manipulated.

  “So,” he asked as we walked, “how are you? How are things with your newfound brother?”

  I often wondered whether Crash was a little jealous of August, since Crash had been the one filling the “big brother” role in my life for so long. It had been less than a year since August and I were reunited just before our biological father's death, but our bond had been quick and natural. “Hardly newfound, Crash. It's been more than six months.”

  He shrugged, and I decided to ignore that part and answer the rest of the question. “I'm doing well. Things have been pretty quiet around here since all that trouble with Captain Holloway and the galactic center. Did you hear about that?”

  “Sure did,” he said as we reached the full and noisy mess hall. “Sounded pretty interesting.”

  Interesting was hardly the word I'd have used to describe the incident, which had resulted in accidents, injuries, and even deaths. “Yeah,” I said. “Well... nothing's really been happening since then.”

  “See why I don't want to be tied down in a place like this?”

  “As you said yourself, we have some 'interesting' times,” I said.

  “Oh, I don't deny it. Just not enough for me.”

  We reached a square table for four, and he pulled a chair out for me.

  “Thanks.” I sat down, and he sat across from me. A glance around the room showed me that neither the Doctor nor the majority of the bridge crew was there yet, but it seemed like nearly everyone else on the ship was present.

  “How are you feeling? That disease of yours giving you any trouble?” He leaned his elbow on the table and looked across at me, his brown eyes genuinely concerned and caring, even if his word choice was awkward.

  I instinctively touched my right knee. Our discovery of the purpose of the metal implanted there had coincided with my discovery of my relationship to August. “It's been fine. I haven't felt anything in my knee for a long time. The Doctor doesn't like the situation, though... he's trying to find some alternative cure or treatment.”

  Crash nodded, creases forming between his eyebrows. “Makes sense. I wouldn't want to be going around with the last cure for something inside me.” A moment of mere ambiance, and then he reached out and laid his hand over mine. “But... it'll be okay, And.”

  I forced a smile. “I'm not worried.”

  He leaned back in his chair as a kitchen assistant brought out our dinner of chicken and dumplings. “And how has...”

  “There you are.” The Doctor's voice came from behind me and I turned to face him, but his eyes stared beyond me at his nephew.

  Crash waved cheerfully. “Hello, Uncle.”

  “Don't 'hello, Uncle' me.” The Doctor pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “I've had wind of your antics.”

  “Antics?” Crash tilted his head. “Funny, even I haven't had wind of any antics.”

  “I hear you've been making trouble and being an arrogant jerk up on the bridge.”

  “Rumors, all rumors.” Crash put his hands behind his neck and looked calmly at the Doctor.

  “From Andi?”

  Crash had nothing to say to this, and
the Doctor used the opportunity to go on with his lecture. “Crash, just how would you like it if Trent barged onto the Alacrity I and told you how to run it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then what do you think gives you the authority to tell him how to do things here?”

  “Mr. DeMille's orders.”

  The Doctor breathed an exasperated sigh. “Eagle Crash, you...” He stopped. “Andi, you want to go sit with August for awhile?”

  Of course I didn't, and of course he knew that, but I knew better than to protest. “Sure,” I said, and picked up my tray of food and crossed the room to sit with my brother at a table on the other side. Something told me there was going to be a serious man-to-man talk.

  The same thing—experience—told me it wouldn't make any difference.

  Chapter IV

  We closed down sickbay early since there was nothing to be done, and I glanced at my wristcom after putting the last bottle back in the cabinet. Nineteen hundred hours. Crash had mentioned earlier that we would head in at warp twenty, which should allow us to cross about five sectors in eight hours. We should have passed the point where he'd left the Pigeon by now.

  “Doctor, I'm going to go up on the bridge and see what's going on up there, if that's okay.”

  He replied without looking up from his pad. “All right. Just don't get into any trouble.”

  I laughed. “I never get into any trouble, Dad.”

  “Good.”

  He seemed more grumpy than usual, so I left him alone and made my way up to the bridge.

  Things were calmer there than they had been earlier, though I could still sense a heavy stiffness in the air as I stood by the back near the doors and watched out the fore window.

  Crash stood to the left and a little ahead of the Captain's chair, and the Captain sat poised as if ready to hop up at a moment's notice. Everyone else worked at their posts.

  I should have announced my presence on the bridge but instead I just stood and focused on the stars, watching as they streamed by, thousands of them every second. It wasn't until I thought about the distance between them that it struck me anew just how fast we were moving, and just how enormous the universe was.