by Britt Ringel
As they approached the ship’s mess, Lochlain stumbled slightly to allow his left shoulder to bang into a bulkhead. The impact caused him to yelp out loudly in pain and curse his clumsiness. A few moments later, plaintive sobs emanated from the ship’s mess.
The party turned the corner to find a red-eyed Lingenfelter weeping at the kitchen table. When she saw the group enter, her wails became more subtle. Lochlain noticed that the attractive Svean had found time to run a brush through her hair and strategically lower the front zipper of her shipsuit to elicit a maximum response from the all-male inspection team. Jackson practically leapt over the table to stand by her side.
“Make sure she’s not injured, sailor,” Forrester ordered in a richer baritone than Lochlain remembered him having.
Lingenfelter slid a folder of documents across the tabletop and lamented, “I can’t find Danny’s certificate, Captain. I looked all through his quarters…” Red, puffy rims around her eyes highlighted the blue in them. The vulnerability in the woman’s face made even Lochlain want to race to the table and comfort her. Her head dropped, causing blonde hair to wash over her tear-stained cheeks. “There are so many memories of our childhood in there… How am I going to tell our parents?”
Lochlain answered with regretful determination. “I’m sorry, Elease, but the lieutenant is going to need to see our certifications. You have to go back in there and find it.”
“It’s okay, Reece,” Forrester announced over Lochlain’s mild reproach. The officer knelt by Lingenfelter’s side and wrapped a supportive arm around her.
Lochlain locked his jaw tightly to suppress his amusement when he saw Lingenfelter press her face into the young man’s shoulder. Her sobs resumed.
McCormick pushed past two junior enlisted and into the mess. He extracted the sonic interrogator from his pack.
“Lieutenant,” Lochlain stated loudly at the appearance of the instrument, “do you want me to show someone in your team our other casualties while you remain here?”
Lingenfelter’s left hand had found its way to the lieutenant’s chest. “Uh, yes,” Forrester answered anxiously, torn between the roles of dispassionate commanding officer and chivalrous white knight. “Chief, can you go with the captain, please?”
McCormick grunted while stowing his device. “Aye, sir.” He gestured toward the corridor. “Lead the way.”
Lochlain turned slowly, trying to see if the junior enlisted were going to proceed with their inspection duties. “The medical bay is just down the hall if you gentlemen could bring the first response kit in here and attend to my crew.”
He led McCormick at a deliberate pace down the forward spine. He reduced the number of stumbles, groans and winces appropriate to his new, and seemingly uncaring, audience. When they reached the forward internal hold, he fed temperature and atmosphere into the compartment before asking the chief for help in manually opening the portal.
Inside the hold, the three bodies of the Anceran hitmen lay in frozen torpor. Even the most elementary examination labeled their cause of death as anoxia. McCormick’s exam was far from elementary. Lochlain silently thanked the stars that none of the men had been hit by Brooke’s return fire.
The evidence of death by vacuum was as overwhelming as it was true. He remained solemnly quiet during the examinations knowing that nervous chatter would only cheapen the impact of three men who had died brutal deaths. After McCormick scrutinized each body, he looked somewhat sheepishly at Lochlain and muttered, “I’m sorry for your loss.” He glanced back at the corpses with a grim expression and added, “It’s a hell of a way to go.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Lochlain said gravely. He intentionally stared at the dead men, refusing the urge to blink. The sting in his eyes allowed tears to come easily.
Apparently satisfied, the chief’s demeanor became more passive. “Let’s get you back to the others, sir.”
By the time they returned to the mess, Lingenfelter’s arms were wrapped around the lieutenant while she wept pitifully. Between sobs, she reminisced about attending university with her only brother and their excitement about receiving work aboard the same freighter.
The lieutenant was trapped in a horribly awkward position. He could return the beautiful woman’s embrace and support her emotionally or maintain his professionalism and shy from the physical contact while looking completely disconnected from humanity. In the end, he wrapped his arms around the stricken damsel and rocked her gently.
“Uh, sir,” McCormick called uncomfortably from the portal. “There are three…” His eyes swept over a trembling Lingenfelter. “Uh, it all checks out,” he truncated.
Lochlain judged the lieutenant and decided the time had come to push the issue. “Elease, you’re the only one who can find Danny’s certificate,” he pestered. “The lieutenant needs to start his inspection. I’ll dig through the other cabins for the rest.”
Forrester looked over Lingenfelter’s quivering shoulder as she clung to him. “Chief, check the documents inside the folder on the table,” the officer ordered gently. “Reece, do you swear the ship was in compliance with all Federation safety standards and regulations when you departed Menali, and that your crew is fully qualified and certified?”
Lochlain met the man’s gaze squarely. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Will you sign a sworn statement to that effect?” Forrester asked. He was still gently rubbing Lingenfelter’s back.
“Of course, sir.” Lochlain limped toward the kitchen table. “I think the standard affidavits of licensing and compliance are in the folder.”
“All right,” Forrester decided. “Your sensorman sent us your cargo manifests while we were enroute and they’ve checked out. So long as the documents on the table are up to date, I’ll take your sworn statement and we can skip the rest.”
Lingenfelter squeezed the man and purred into his chest, “Oh, thank you, sir.”
Forrester seemed to inhale the aroma of her hair and regretfully ended the embrace. “I think your crew’s been through enough, Reece,” he said somberly. “Chief, let’s get our team back to the shuttle.”
Chapter 44
After three hours of drifting aimlessly near the Menali tunnel point under the watchful eye of Nokota, Brooke had finally run enough diagnostic tests to be confident that the freighter could operate its power core without mishap.
During those hours, Nokota’s captain had been helpful and patient, offering all of the frigate’s services including the use of several engineer ratings to assist with Zanshin’s revival. Brooke tactfully declined the offers, citing limited room inside the engineering compartment.
Lochlain likewise demurred the offer for additional medical support. Besides the concussions, the worst injuries sustained were to Naslund’s back and arms. The second-degree burns would throb painfully for now and itch terribly as they healed but the young man would suffer no long-term consequences. Lochlain realized with belated horror that he had invited the inspection team to retrieve supplies from the medical bay which housed the completely wrapped auto-doc. The sealed appliance contrasted directly with his tale of “Danny’s” protracted demise. The gaffe had gone unnoticed, however, and Nokota remained at her station near the tunnel point even after Zanshin began to limp in-system.
Four hours later, Zanshin was halfway through her trip to Carinae’s semi-habitable superearth, named Vela. Lochlain had ordered all of his crew except Brooke and himself to sleep once they were underway. During that time, the couple made only minor repairs to Zanshin’s systems and merely focused on keeping the ship pointed toward the large planet. A partially refreshed crew now relieved the exhausted pair.
They were lethargically making their way toward their quarters when Brooke bypassed the stairwell on the main deck.
“The bed is this way, Mercer,” Lochlain joked while pointing down the stairs.
“I remember,” she answered dryly. “I wasn’t hit on the head that hard.” She continued down the main corridor. “It’s been
over four days since we played and I want to see what’s happened.”
Lochlain groaned. “Can’t we check that game after we get some sleep?”
Brooke waved dismissively. “Go to bed, sweetheart. I’ll meet you there but I’m not going to get a wink until I see how many we saved.” She turned the corner to the entertainment lounge and disappeared from Lochlain’s sight.
“We saved ourselves. Isn’t that enough?” he asked the empty corridor.
A minute later, Lochlain hovered over Brooke’s shoulder and peered at the game screen. “Well, we made it into Andrestea at least.” The game had paused after the virtual ship successfully docked to an orbital inside the Republic star system. Several military ships ranging from small system defense ships to much larger frigates and destroyers cruised near the orbital. Even in the game, the Republic’s military was pervasive and oppressive.
Brooke’s finger guided the game to the freighter’s status screen. “Wow, Shinshin is down to seven percent life support. It’s basically ruined.” She swiped at the screen to move to her cargo containers. Her finger wavered. Brooke inhaled deeply and looked up to Lochlain. “You ready?” Without waiting for an answer, she swept the game cursor over the first standard cargo container and tapped the screen. The container opened and the dead littered the floor of the unit. The virtual bodies were nearly stacked over each other.
“That’s… visceral,” Lochlain commented distastefully.
“I, uh… maybe…” Brooke stammered quietly at the repulsive scene. “Damn.”
The horror story was retold inside the next standard container. Then told again and again. Seven times Brooke tapped open a container only to be greeted with a ghastly visage of death. She angrily swiped her hand over the screen to clear the final, grisly scene.
Lochlain eased a hand to her shoulder. “It’s just a game and we knew those people were doomed,” he soothed quietly. “At least they’ve come home with their families,” he added, attempting to bring some meaning to the appalling display they had witnessed.
Brooke cleared her throat as she moved to the PRESERV containers. She adjusted herself nervously in her chair before opening the first container. Her hopeful expression fell immediately. “No!” she wailed before slamming a fist onto the gaming table’s surface. “They had a chance!” she protested to the holographic screen. “This isn’t fair!” Identical sights played out in every PRESERV container.
“The people inside the ship made it, Mercer,” Lochlain said while gently rubbing her back.
“That’s less than twenty percent,” she whispered, heartbroken. “Almost thirty-five hundred people… gone.” She moved her hand to turn off the game but Chief Engineer Shi appeared.
The winsome hologram looked passively at the players. Perhaps there was a touch of sorrow in the corners of her mouth but Lochlain thought he might be projecting her wistful expression given the ugly outcome of the game.
“Greetings, Captain,” she started. She sounded… sad. “The Brevic inspection party has finished with Shinshin.” The holographic woman’s face glanced respectfully downward. “All refugees have been removed from the ship. All ship’s logs and evidence of our time in Harmleikur have been confiscated. The crew has signed nondisclosure agreements in penance for our intrusion into Republic space. What are your orders—”
The hologram flickered in fits and bursts before completely cutting out. The game crashed.
“What?” Brooke gasped as she leaned away from the gaming board. “Did it finally short out?” She tapped lightly on the console without effect before sighing her resignation. “I guess that’s that.”
The screen flickered in response and the weathered face of an old man appeared. The image looked like a recording, not an animation, and the Asian man’s expression was as tortured as it was haunted.
“What the hell is this?” Lochlain asked. Gooseflesh ran down his arms as he recognized where the man was standing. The perspective matched the camera view in Zanshin’s own hangar, located just above the bay’s containment field controls. Lochlain could see the hazy, red barrier over the man’s left shoulder. He thought of Shi’s tag on his helmet, Zanshin’s newer drives and life support. He wondered about the replacement shuttle.
“My dearest Jiaying,” the elderly man began. He appeared to be seventy going on two hundred. Black circles darker than space wore under swollen eyes. His skin was impossibly drawn, stretched tightly over the skeletal frame of his face. The man’s lips were chapped and cracked. “I miss you terribly but even as I have finally returned home, I find I cannot abandon this ship. What right do I have to embrace my only daughter when I allowed so many like her to perish?”
Exhausted eyes dropped. “Shinshin is in orbit at Shui Wei and I have disbanded her crew. Though they are stained with the same shame, at least they will not have to live aboard her. I am a broken man, Jiaying, as broken as my ship. I can only pray that after witnessing the events that have been so callously concealed that you will understand what I have done… what I am about to do.” His tortured voice cracked as he begged, “Please do not think poorly of me, beloved. You have been spared the worst of the horror.”
His dark eyes glistened as they returned to the camera. “Song was right,” he confessed while nodding to himself. “As she predicted, the Brevics stormed aboard and erased all traces of the disaster that they created. But she anticipated their actions and prepared copies of the data Doctor Tsai gave us, hiding it in the one place the Republic would never think to look. Song embedded the data into the rewritten code of the game you are playing now. She tells me that the program is not only persistent but also insistent and that once you come aboard, the game will attract your attention. I know better than to doubt her abilities.” A tragic smile ghosted the corner of his lips.
“Upon completion of this message, all files pertaining to the joint Brevic-Tengying project known as Blossoming Flower will become fully accessible. This material will provide undeniable evidence of our corporation’s collusion with the Brevic Republic in their attempt to manipulate planetary magnetospheres. Doctor Tsai insisted the effort was an endeavor to double the number of habitable planets currently available to our respective governments but as you now have seen, the project failed with catastrophic results. Rather than admit their complicity in the loss of life, both governments choose to hide it.” Dark eyes shimmered as they stared into the camera. “They killed these people and erased their lives, Jiaying. Expunged women and children along with everything else that might lead back to what transpired. The fate of this evidence is yours to decide, for I am not a worthy judge.”
The man rattled a miserable sigh. “If I were a stronger man, I would expose Tengying for the monster it has become but I am too afraid of the consequences. Not for myself, but for you, my cherished. I harbor no illusion of the depths Tengying would plunge to retrieve this information if they learned of its existence. The danger would be unimaginable. Perhaps it is better to let the curse of Shinshin end with me. My last act as captain has been to retitle her to a name befitting to what she has borne witness. I can only hope that the trapped souls aboard her will find peace with you, their new captain. I will always watch over you. Peace and love, my daughter.”
The man moved an ancient hand toward the panel to end the message when a figure climbed up the ladder through the deck cutout behind him. Brooke gulped before she blurted, “That’s the chief engineer in the game!” She pointed at the screen and insisted, “That’s Chief Engineer Shi!”
The stunning woman’s face was a mirror to her hologram. Her mournful expression carried easily through the small game screen.
“Song,” the defeated man said in a voice thick with shame, “I disbanded the crew. What are you doing on board?”
Song regarded the containment field with despondent, almond eyes. The woman’s rich voice that Lochlain and Brooke had heard so often in the game now choked out the words, “I’m not letting you do this alone.”
The man’
s posture collapsed as the woman approached him and lovingly placed a hand to the back of his head. It sagged to her shoulder and the woman’s fingers ran tenderly through grey hair before reaching for the control panel. The recording faded and disappeared.
Lochlain and Brooke sat in silence at the blank screen. After several moments, she inhaled sharply and scrambled to pull out her datapad. “Oh my, I just realized something.” Her fingers ran over the screen. “When we first came aboard, I looked up the meaning of Zanshin. I took the most common answer, a Japanese interpretation. I didn’t question it because of Mr. Oshiro’s last name. It made sense. But the owner was Chinese.”
Lochlain watched Brooke’s brow crease as a look of pain played over her face. Her shoulders sagged, crestfallen and she pushed the datapad toward him. He looked down and read the Chinese interpretation of Zanshin’s native symbols and a single word caught his eye: Brokenhearted.
Chapter 45
Lochlain watched Truesworth push the kitchen cart back in front of the broken wall that had concealed the former pantry. The smuggled goods taken from that space were on their way to Vela’s surface, claimed by Verdin’s men after making a substantial deposit into Zanshin’s account. Other, legitimate companies also celebrated the ship’s arrival with prompt payments and had greedily stripped the cargo containers from the freighter’s hardpoints. The hard-earned fees would not only see to Zanshin’s many repairs but also pay for the fuel cell recharge scheduled later in the afternoon. There were even enough credits left over to begin a substantial reserve for future needs.
The crew’s personal shares for the voyage amounted to a small fortune. Lingenfelter had immediately ordered everyone to the nearest bar on the orbital where she insisted they down multiple, “real” shots. Lochlain had kept his promise and bought the first round.