by Darrell Bain
“You know, I'm not real certain what he'll do with them, come to think of it. I wonder if they could be used in manufacturing? At least they'd be useful. As it is, the missiles won't be worth a shit. They're designed for space warfare.”
“Maybe you could put a laser cannon in one of the tenders,” Tom said idly.
“Hey, I'm a tech, not an engineer. Besides, maybe the planet we land on will be inhabited by big bad aliens and we'll keep it online as a weapon.”
“In that case, you wouldn't be farming, would you?”
“Who knows? But I'm not going to sweat it. There haven't been any aliens discovered yet.”
“True. We aren't carrying any heavy weapons in our company, though, so maybe the cap'n will keep the cannons functional, at least until we find out what we're dealing with on the planet we find.”
“Could be,” Sandy said. “At any rate I'm still doing service and maintenance between these classes. That's why I haven't been around the last few days.”
“How about tonight?” Tom ventured.
“Yeah, I'm free. Are you both off?”
“Uh huh,” Jerry said.
“Okay, meet you in the ship's rec room after chow, such as it is.”
“We're on rations, haven't you heard?”
“I probably heard it before you did,” Sandy said. “Whoops, here comes our teach. Later.”
* * * *
Donald Juleman had always wanted to be a colonist, to get away from the swarms on earth and be able to afford a place of his own for his family. What he hadn't had was the money to do it like, for instance, Simon Pasting and his family did. They had paid a very hefty fee for the privilege of colonizing on Sweetwater, the so-called “Garden Planet", while he and Marge and their three kids had to settle for the marginal world of Briarport, a much more difficult proposition. Now they and all the other families who had intended to colonize were in the same boat regardless of their original destination. No telling what they'd get but one nice part of it was that everyone in the ship would be equal. No, more than equal for the intended colonists of both classes had at least studied farming even if it had been for a particular planet and not the type they were likely to land on. They would have a head start, which was proven by the class he was teaching.
It felt good to be in front of a class, passing on his knowledge while Mister High-and-Mighty Pasting was spending a week on kitchen duty, scrubbing pots and pans. He remembered vividly the day all the colonists had met with the captain. As soon as Captain Callahan mentioned that he would need the services of all of them, as well as their equipment, to get the colony going, Pasting had stood up and interrupted him.
“Mister Callahan, me and my family didn't sign up to share the machines and implements we paid our hard-earned money for. Nor did we sign up for a-a communistic community such as you're implying. I won't stand for—”
“Shut up, you stupid ass!” the captain said. “Can't you get it through your thick skull that this ship is lost? And that it was never designed as a colony ship? Your money is as worthless now as used toilet paper. And my title is Captain, not mister. See that you use it in the future.”
“I'll speak however the hell I please. Furthermore—”
“Shut up, I said!” Travis looked to the back of the room. “Sergeant Wong, please come forward and escort Mister Pasting to a cell until his brain begins functioning.”
The female sergeant had seemed to glide down the aisle she moved so swiftly and yet she didn't appear to be hurrying. Then Pasting attempted to remove her grip on his arm. A second later he was bent over with her holding his hand behind his back. She frog-marched him out of the room amid laughter and his wails of protest, mixed with pleas to quit hurting him. It truly was a moment to remember. There had been few displays of antagonism from the rich colonists after that little demonstration and the all-ship broadcast of the Captain's Mast where he was sentenced to a week of kitchen duty.
“Good morning,” Juleman said to the mix of students. They included army, ship's crew and even a couple of scientists whose professions were suddenly no longer so useful, including Wendy Shulman, a comparative sociologist who had been making a round of the colonies to collect notes on a book. She had once berated Marge for not keeping the kids under control in the rec room. As if they had anywhere else to play in a ship. Never mind, the roles were reversed now. He intended to do his best at teaching what he knew and if some of them didn't like it, so much the worse for them. He was pretty sure Captain Callahan would find a way to keep them busy.
His greeting was returned with a mix of responses ranging from enthusiastic to grumpy, barely polite mutters. He smiled to himself and began the day's lesson.
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* * *
Chapter Six
After Sissy programmed a new destination into the backup computers, Travis was beginning to feel as if he were finally getting a handle on most of the things that had to be done. A pointed lecture to several government officials and one colonial head of family who refused to listen to reason had taken care of most of the dissent. He had purposely picked the most recalcitrant of the passengers and also the ones most likely to spread the word that he would stand for no nonsense. Apparently it had worked. Talk funneled to him by the control room crew had shifted from grumbles about the incompetence of a captain and crew who managed to get their ship lost to prospects of finding an earthlike planet. The last was due in large part to Brandon. Once his inventory and rationing system was in place he began telling stories to anyone who would listen about early groups of colonists on just-opened planets. And he had been the one who had suggested entertainment programs of hardy pioneers and problems they overcame, both historical and fictional. He had been right when he suggested the series would help focus everyone's attention on what their future home might be like, even when there was no possible way to tell yet. Amazing.
Sissy had programmed in three stops already, with three more beyond that they couldn't be sure of yet. It would be nice, he thought, if they had the resources to search for the very best the cluster had to offer but they didn't. He was going to have to go with the recommendations of the xenobiologists aboard and those of the landing and exploration teams. It might even be wise to listen to the colonists about a landing spot, he thought suddenly. They were trained in how to pick farmland for settling. All that would have to be done quickly, though. With a thousand or more mouths to feed, there was no time to spare. God knows what would happen if they made a mistake and he committed them to a planet that later turned out to be less than hospitable. The impending decision was wearing on him and he waited anxiously in the control room after coming out of hyper until the target planet of the first star system on the list came into view. It proved to be a green and brown world without much visible water. He had another screen open with the heads of Chester Logman and Addie Smitherman in view. They were the lead scientists of the group he'd appointed to help decide on the viability of each planet.
“Not much free water,” Addie said, then glanced quickly toward the hatchway as it opened. Her face lit up then fell as she saw it was one of the techs coming on duty.
Travis noted her reaction with amusement and thought of how often she and Brandon had been stealing glances at each other. It didn't take much deduction to figure out who she had hoped was coming into the control room. He could understand. She was a pleasant-looking slim woman in her thirties with ash-blond hair and a well-focused mind. He had appointed her to the newly created position of chief scientist and almost immediately afterward she and Brandon appeared to hit it off as they began coming in contact frequently.
“It looks as if most of it is tied up in the polar caps,” Chester Logman answered, speaking to his cohort rather than Travis. His specialty was xenopaleontology and xenogeography. He had been glad when Travis asked for him. He had been wondering what to do with himself other than attend some classes on machining small tools.
“It still could be oka
y so long as the axial tilt doesn't vary that much. We don't want wild weather each season from melting ice caps.”
“Give me another hour and I'll let you know,” Logman replied.
Travis groaned inwardly but knew there was no sense in trying to rush them. That would only lead to mistakes.
“Sorry, sir,” Addie said, looking away from her screen and toward the one the captain was watching. “It may still turn out to be good but we're not finding much free water and we don't yet know whether it's from winter in the northern hemisphere or simply a weather pattern that puts most of the ice at the north pole.”
“Take your time,” he said grudgingly.
“Coffee, Captain? I'm getting some,” Sissy asked.
“Sure. Thanks, Sissy,” he said. He made his eyes not follow the sway of her hips across the room to the alcove where the pot lived. He had always liked the way COESS Lines uniforms looked, especially on the female form, but right now he wished they were a tad less snug fitting. Sissy's figure was good to look at but that just told him what he couldn't have at present.
“Thanks,” he said and reluctantly turned his attention to the scientists. “How about the atmosphere? Anything wrong there?”
“Umm, it's breathable but the oxygen content is a little low. There seems to be a lot of particulate matter in the atmosphere as well,” Logman reported.
“What would that mean?”
“Volcanic action or possibly high winds in the desert regions. I'm really not liking it much so far.”
“Find out all you can just in case we have to come back to it.”
After that he waited impatiently but it was almost two hours before Logman decided he had enough data.
“Captain, the axial tilt is pretty high, more so than earth's.”
“What would that mean in terms of weather?”
“I wouldn't want to try growing crops here. I suppose it could be done but you'd have to know more than we do at present. And it would be hard. There's lots of desert but I'm seeing dry riverbeds as well. That means a lot of ice melt and flooding each year.”
Travis sighed. He had really hoped they would hit on the first try but apparently it wasn't to be.
As more data came in, it became obvious that they would have to look further for a place to live.
“All right, Sissy, set up a course to the next one and let's hope for better luck next time.”
* * * *
Adelaine Smitherman was ready for a break. Since the captain had appointed her chief scientist as well as head of the evaluation team for selecting their new home, she had hardly slept. It had been disappointing not to have found a viable world right off, but there were two more in the near future to look at. In the meantime, Brandon was waiting and they weren't going to have much time together before he had to go on duty to relieve the captain. She had thought it was him entering the control room earlier .
“Come on in, Addie,” he said when she announced herself outside his stateroom.
She stepped inside and into his arms. She hadn't really thought about settling down until the catastrophe. There were too many planets to explore, too many exotic ecologies to study. The assignment to Bonnport had been all she had hoped for and she had been gearing up to be part of the team opening up the second continent for settlement. It was covered with a different kind of life than the continent already colonized. The two had been separated so long, the flora and fauna had diverged significantly. It would have been a wonderful new experience and a great entry on her resume. She had confidently expected to win a spot on a survey team next, exploring and classifying life on utterly new planets. Well, she was going to get to study a new planet all right and she had to admit that Brandon was a wonderful new experience, too.
“Mmm,” she said. “That was nice. How much time do we have?”
“Not enough for what I'd like to do but after this shift we should both have some time off together. Twelve hours anyway.”
“I'll take it,” she managed before their lips were locked together again.
After finally breaking the long kiss, Brandon still held her loosely. “Have you given any more thought to getting married?”
“Yes, and yes.”
“Great! Where would you like to go on our honeymoon?”
She laughed. “How about a new planet? Not many honeymooners can afford that!”
* * * *
“Hey, big man,” Sarah Justman said as she slid the tray into Morehill's cell. She and the convict had renewed the conversation that had pretty well terminated after the army took over guard duty. But now the situation had settled down and some of the prior security personnel had been returned to duty under new supervision from the army. It was good to be back at a job she knew something about, but she didn't particularly care for the sergeants who now ran her duty life. She thought them too exacting, too much bound by rules and regulations.
“Well, if it isn't the Blond Bombshell. Good to see you again. I was tired of looking at those punks from the army. By God, I had just about lost hope that I'd ever get to talk to you again.”
Sarah stared at the convict. She knew she shouldn't be getting friendly with him but at least he looked at her in an interesting way and there sure as hell weren't many men who did that.
“It's nice to talk to you, too, Crag. I heard you weren't with the group slated for release. I'm sorry.”
“So am I, BB. When we were all excited about maybe being turned loose, I was thinking of you.”
She blushed, only half believing him but it was still nice to hear. “Sorry,” she said again.
“So when do we land?” He looked at her anxiously.
“The last planet wasn't fit to live on. We're coming up on another soon, though. Maybe it'll be okay.”
“It won't be okay if I can't be with you. Damn it, it's not fair. I'm not dangerous, not any more. All I want to do is settle down now.”
She gazed at him with a surge of desire. “Maybe they'll change their minds.”
“Maybe. If not ... hell, what will they do with us?”
“I'll see if I can find out for you. How's that?” Surely she could do that much for him, especially since she thought he was sincere about wanting to settle down. And after all, what else could anyone do on a brand new planet? He sure as hell couldn't go around robbing banks!
“Hey, that'd be great!”
She left, thoughts of a liaison on her mind and wondering just how she could bring it about. She knew it wouldn't be easy under the present situation. In fact, it would be damn near impossible. She knew she probably shouldn't even be thinking of such a thing either, but Crag seemed to be okay. And in these circumstances they should have let him loose. Or was that her body instead of her mind directing her thoughts? Whatever, images of his rugged face kept producing erotic daydreams until feeding time again.
* * * *
“It's a damn disgrace the way you've been treated,” Joseph Fondez said to his colleague, Elias Montingham. “Confining you to your room like a common criminal. That's not right.” He screwed his dark brown face into an expression of disapproval although he didn't care personally one way or the other. However, if he intended to be anything except a dirt digger on whatever planet that damned incompetent captain landed them on, he had to make hay now. He laughed inwardly at the expression, probably derived from frontier agricultural days back on earth. As if he were already thinking in terms of farming. But, no. Not him. He was destined for better things. Hadn't he been shipped out to govern Spinner's World? That ought to tell anyone how astute he was. It ought to be apparent to persons of any sense at all that he should be put in a governing position. If not now, at least when they landed and that fucking Callahan couldn't act like some goddamned tin god.
“Exactly, Joseph,” Montingham answered.
Fondez could see that he was still fuming over the indignities he had been subjected to. Hell, it shamed him to see how a colleague was being treated even if he had no personal feelings for t
he man. He knew Montingham had been forced to apologize and promise Callahan he would cause no more trouble. As if trying to help govern all these leaderless people was a crime! At any rate he was freed from his room now and it was possible Fondez could use Montingham to further his own ends. Callahan hadn't absolved him of being involved in the aborted mutiny, not that he considered it in that fashion, but as soon as he heard Montingham could move about again, he'd come calling, only to find the man still almost helpless with pent-up anger.
“I wouldn't be surprised to find out one day that Captain Gordon was drugged by Callahan in order to steal the captaincy of the ship.”
The accusation came out of Montingham's mouth in a burst of spite. Fondez doubted he had even consciously thought before spitting it out but now that he had, it made sense. Why else had Captain Gordon begun acting in a manner that induced the control room officers and that army officer to seize power? He had been perfectly normal beforehand.
“You really think so?” he asked while running it over in his mind.
“I certainly do! How else do you explain the sudden change in his behavior?”
“Hmm. Let me think about this.” Fondez mused for a moment and came to the conclusion that Montingham's explanation for Gordon's breakdown probably wasn't as likely as he first thought, but that made no difference. It made perfect sense to him politically and it gave him a basis to begin a campaign for governor of the colony once they landed. Montingham could be played as a victim and Havers as well, especially since he was dead. And those guards who'd been with him at the time? Could he use them? Probably. It was doubtful they were looking forward to being plowboys any more than he was. “You know, Elias, I believe you've determined the reason for the change in command. I think between the two of us, we may be able to use that information to bump Captain Callahan from his high-and-mighty throne. After all, why should he and those other officers run things now? It's people like you and me who've been trained in government that should be in charge.”