by Clare Dargin
***
Safely in port, Keegan could finally rest. The metal cot creaked underneath him. He stared up at the ceiling, wanting to sleep but unable to. The responsibilities of the day continued to plague him. He folded his arms and looked at his room. The quarters were cramped and lacked a full bath. He should move but hadn’t had the time to do it. If Caitlin were here, she’d have taken over the responsibility of making a home for both of them. His heart ached for her. But then again, Command wasn’t big on husbands and wives working together. In fact, it was forbidden.
Closing his eyes, Keegan allowed his thoughts to linger on his wife. He missed her intoxicating scent, soft skin, sweet kisses, laughter—even the way they constantly argued over her work. What he would do just to hold her at this moment. A tiny smile crawled across his lips as he recalled a short nightie she had picked up at a small boutique in D.C. Though she was unsure of the fit, he assured her it was perfect. The smooth silk against her soft, warm skin sent chills up his spine. It wasn’t on long before it ended in a crumpled heap on the floor. He wondered if his last goodbye had been sufficient for her. It hadn’t been for him. Without her, his existence lay in question, as did everything he’d gotten himself into.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
COs never sleep. They only rest their eyes.
“Yes?” he answered, wanting whoever it was to go away.
There was an officer on watch to take care of these things. He wondered why whoever it was was bothering him.
“Sir, it’s Commander Berger. May I enter?”
“Enter.” He wearily swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The bright light from the hall nearly blinded him as the door slid open. Keegan stood in only his boxers and T-shirt and approached the commander.
Berger closed the door behind him.
“Lights,” Keegan barked. The room lit up immediately. “How may I help you, Commander?”
The man about Keegan’s age handed him a beat-up scriv. He entered his code and read the orders. He chuckled at the words across the screen. More surprises. It would have been nice if they had informed him of the appointment ahead of time, but then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Interesting.”
“Sir?”
“Now they tell me.” Keegan handed the device back to him. “At ease, Commander.”
Berger relaxed his stance. “What is it, sir?”
“Apparently you are my new executive officer.”
Berger’s surprised look told Keegan it was news to him, too. Keegan sized him up. The younger man appeared to be the consummate career officer. He wore his khaki brown service uniform in a neat and professional manner. His hair was cut short on the sides, allowing his deep brown skin to show. His dark brown eyes gave no hint of the turmoil Keegan guessed was going on in the man’s head.
With all that information, would he take the job? Keegan waited.
A line creased the younger man’s forehead. Berger’s mouth was set like stone then he said confidently, “It will be an honor, sir.”
“Believe me, I know what you’re feeling.”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Yes, I do. At any rate,” he said with an outstretched hand. “Commander Berger, do you accept this assignment?”
Pausing momentarily, Berger answered soberly, “Yes, sir, I do.”
The two shook hands.
“Thank you for accepting this assignment. I’m certain it will be a pleasure. And maybe when things calm down, we can have a drink. Until then, we have work to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Commander, if you don’t mind, we can finish this later,” Keegan said, climbing into bed.
“Yes, sir.” He walked to the hatch.
“Lights off,” Keegan barked.
The hatch clicked shut. Keegan fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, hoping he wouldn’t come across any more surprises.
***
A full moon hung over the training grounds at Cole Naval Air Station. The blizzard passed as quickly as it came, leaving a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. The big Montana sky wore a black blanket overhead, allowing the stars to twinkle like distant beacons. The cryo team stood in the night dressed in their pixilated white Arctic camouflage that mimicked the shading of the native brush. Some smiled, others were irritated, but all found the sight interesting.
As the team closed in and around Caitlin, she stared at the alien body on the ground, swearing to herself. She could hear the boots pulverize the snow and dirt underneath as the wind kicked up around them. Looking up, she saw some of them standing with their hands in their pockets, trying to stave off the cold, while others stood as casually as if they were on a beach in Florida. Their tight circle acted as a windbreak for her and protected the downed trainee from the freezing air.
“Wake up!” Caitlin demanded as the cold wind howled in disagreement.
Wind chill was the biggest culprit in cases of hypothermia. She knew this, all her trainees knew this…but this thing—this so-called higher intelligence didn’t have a clue regarding basic precautions against exposure. She stared deeply at the body of the alien in front of her. Its lidless eyes were round with dark pupils as black as deep space. There was no life in them. She couldn’t tell if the thing was dead or alive.
“Maybe it’s too cold. Somebody ought to get a blanket,” Petty Officer Nico Jesswan quipped.
The others laughed at his remark.
“Quiet!” Caitlin frowned at Jesswan. Her harsh glance kept him from making any more remarks.
This was a screwup from beginning to end. Dammit, I knew this was going to happen. First dropping this thing in on us unexpectedly and then allowing it to train was a major fuck up. I knew there was a reason I never wanted to work with aliens.
“Mosely, give me your coat.”
“Here you go, Chief,” he said, taking it off and handing it to her.
She placed it over the creature, hoping to warm it. These things with all their technology couldn’t take a little cold air? In fact, she found the outside a little warm.
“This ain’t even the South Pole, and he’s out this fast?” someone asked. “How’s he gonna take the real thing?”
In the debrief, she’d been informed that if Siaeu, the small, gray alien on the ground in front of her, took a nap, she was to give him a little shake to wake up. She’d tried it, and it hadn’t moved.
“How can you tell it’s a he?” Mosely joked.
The natives were getting restless. Something had to be done. All this chatter was just a way of hiding nerves.
“Somebody get the doc out here!” Caitlin yelled, pulling a thermo read from inside her pocket.
The small, black cylindrical object activated immediately upon hitting the cold air. It was a cryo specialty. Most didn’t want to use it, as a matter of pride, but it was standard issue, especially in training.
Removing her gloves, she placed it against Siaeu’s neck. Its smooth skin was a pale bluish gray and had a shiny, almost greasy look to it in spite of the dry air. A small hum emanated from the thermo as the nano probe inserted itself inside Siaeu’s skin and deep into its body.
It’s temperature read seventy-two degrees.
“Is that normal?” a member of her team asked.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” she barked and slapped the creature on the side of its face again. No response. She wondered if she’d have to give it mouth to mouth. Its tiny mouth was slim and barely open.
Would I even be putting air in the right place? She hadn’t even been prepped on their physiology. The brass had said it was on a need-to-know basis, not considering eventualities such as these.
“Where in the hell is the doc?” she yelled again. “Don’t you die on me. I don’t have time for the paperwork.”
Jesswan leaned down and stared at the creature. “Never send an alien to do a man’s job.”
He was one of her best cryos, trained for sub-zero
weather, and the thing’s supposed partner. So much for the buddy system.
“Stow it,” she retorted, wiping a bit of moisture leaking from her nose.
The creature stirred, emitting a low moan.
“Thank God.” Caitlin let out a relieved sigh.
The arriving medics carried a stretcher and a thermo blanket. They lifted the frail creature onto the stretcher and wrapped it from head to toe in a blanket before they carried it away.
“So much for the crawl, walk, and run. I guess we should call it the fall down, freeze, and die,” Jesswan quipped with a grin.
Ignoring the crack, Caitlin rose to her feet and regained her composure. She handed Mosely his coat and gave him a look, signaling him to get lost.
“What do we now, Chief?” Jesswan asked standing beside her.
“Let the heavenlies in the Adminisphere handle it. It’s out of our hands now. Have ’em fall in. We don’t stop training just because someone takes a nap.”
They believe in training via red tape. Let them fix this.
“All right, get back into formation,” Jesswan ordered, stepping over the impression left in the ground by the alien. “We do it again, this time without the drama.”
The boots of the soldiers crunched on the frozen ground as they began their cold weather acclimation drills. She glanced at a yeoman approaching her wearing a thin jacket and an uncomfortable expression likely due to the cold.
“Ma’am,” she said, saluting her.
Caitlin returned the salute.
Reaching into her jacket pocket the woman, barely able to hold her chattering teeth still, said, “Message for you.”
She handed Caitlin the folded piece of paper.
“Thank you.” Caitlin glanced at it and annoyance struck once again. What could they possibly want to see her about this time?
“What is it?” Jesswan asked, approaching her.
Placing it in her pocket, Caitlin looked off into the distance dispassionately.
“I’ve got to report to the CO,” she replied.
He nodded.
“Keep ’em cold ’til I get back.”
Chapter Seven
The motion sensor automatically activated the lights inside the cryo wing as Keegan strolled through the vacant hall. Inspecting empty quarters was the last thing he wanted to do. With the ship’s repairs, new pilots, and cargo, there were more important things to tend to. But per orders, he had to make sure their new shooters had a proper place to sleep.
“All right, give me the specs,” he said to the maintenance officer following him.
He handed Keegan the scriv before promptly returning to his place behind him. The cryo quarters had been renovated and redone since he’d last seen them. Instead of one room containing the metallic sleep units they’d used before, the new quarters consisted of individual rooms. Sensors within each monitored their vitals and controlled the air temperature at all times.
“Make a note to turn on the op systems. Everything should be ready to go as soon as they come aboard.”
A holdover from the twentieth and early twenty-first century, cryogenics at one point was considered the only hope for loved ones who had a flare for the ridiculous or an incurable disease. For Caitlin it was the latter. Her late husband had her frozen so she could be awakened once a cure was found. But he either gave up on his belief or fell in love because he moved on and she was left to sleep for almost a century.
Unfortunately, that had been the norm for most of the people who had undergone the procedure. Unregulated and open to whoever took an interest, most were either sold as medical spare parts or used in experiments. Then there were the ones used by the military—considered to be legally dead and therefore devoid of rights. Their main purpose was that of functional suicide. Assigned to tasks too dangerous for regulars, no thought was ever given to their training or well-being before Tau Ceti, where they proved to be valuable.
He continued down the corridor, glancing at the names on the room doors. Sykes, Mosely, Jesswan…Driskoll. He stopped, causing the officer behind him to stumble. Staring at the name again, he could not believe it.
“We’re done,” he snapped to the surprised lieutenant.
***
Keegan knocked on Hollis’ hatch as softly as his fading patience would allow.
“Who is it?”
“Ruth, it’s me.”
Their long history had afforded him some benefits and one was the ability to be on a first name basis, for which he was grateful.
“Come in,” she said. “How’s it going? Ready to quit yet? You know it always looks easier from the other side—” She stopped at his glare. “What is it?”
The light from the lamp glinted off the medals on her chest. He drew in a quick breath before he spoke.
“What’s going on?”
“I asked you first,” she countered.
“I was just below, inspecting the room assignments for the shooters coming aboard.”
“And…?”
He tensed his jaw and looked away. “She is one of them.”
“Who?”
She closed the folder she was reviewing and gently placed it aside.
“My wife.” He met her gaze, waiting see the truth in her eyes, but he found only shock.
As the implications dawned on her, Hollis shook her head. “You’re kidding me.”
“No.”
“She still serves?”
“Yes, but in the reserves,” he said rubbing his chin. “They listed her under her former name.”
Was this some sort of game Command was playing? He was bounced out because of his relationship with her and now they were deliberately assigning them to the same ship?
Hollis chuckled with disbelief. “Those guys in Washington are a real class act.”
“I’ll say. She can’t stay down there,” he informed her.
“Why not?”
“For one, it’s against regs. She’s an officer.”
“She is? What’s her rank?”
“Chief Warrant. And they have her assigned to the enlisted quarters.”
“Any other time I would agree with you on that one, but we’re squeezing everybody in as it is. To be blunt, there is no place else for her to sleep.”
“What about the fact I’m the CO of the ship with his wife coming aboard?”
Hollis paused. “Medoro, I would be remiss in not saying this. It would not be the first time a husband and wife have served together on board a warship.”
“Not like this, they haven’t,” he mumbled.
“I have to admit, it’s unusual and damn irregular. I’ll check into it. But for now, there is nothing we can do about it. So it looks like you are going to have to work this out on your own,” she said nonchalantly, “because apparently someone back at Command thinks you are capable of doing so.”
“Right,” he said, sarcastically. He spun and left the room without another word.
Chapter Eight
Caitlin gripped the cold examination table inside the space station infirmary. The two CS jumps she’d just experienced to get to Eckhardt Station were a blur melding one day into the next. No matter how hard she tried to clear her head, the room still spun.
She rubbed her temples. They felt cold and clammy. No doubt she needed another dose of her meds. She automatically lifted the side of her shirt to activate the pump. It was no longer there. Her shoulders sank.
“Damn,” she whispered. The base doctor had removed it before she left.
What am I going to do?
So far, the temperature inside the room was bearable. But what about later?
The door across from her opened. A woman with black-rimmed glasses and a no-nonsense expression entered the room. Her chunky shoes clunked against the floor as she approached.
“Hello, Chief. What can I do for you?” she asked, switching her clipboard to her left hand.
Caitlin handed her the scriv she had been carrying since she’d left Cole NAS.
“What’s this all about?” Caitlin asked.
The woman ignored her and closed the door behind her.
“Great,” she said, expelling her breath loudly.
The last place she wanted to be was inside another infirmary but, as usual, she was under orders. The same orders that pulled her and her team out of training and sent them on their new assignment on the USS Blanchard. When asked about the nature of their mission, her former CO had been cagey at best. She’d never forget the expression on his face when he had handed her the scriv. He had looked like he was losing his favorite toy. She didn’t agree with the decision of deploying them so early in their training but then again, the Navy was not in the habit of asking her input on these sorts of things.
Sent separately, she wondered how her team was fairing. Nervous, she shifted her position on the bed. She had been through this too many times before to not know what was coming.
“For once I’d like to go through this with my eyes open,” she murmured, frustrated.
She gazed at the door but couldn’t move. In theory, she could run but then they would find her and either lock her up or give her the shots anyway. Resigned to her fate, she rolled up her sleeve. The doctor entered silently with a syringe filled with light blue liquid and injected it into her arm.
I hate this.
As the plunger filled her veins with the icy fluid, Caitlin shuddered.
“Just one more,” the doctor said, injecting her once again. “All right, you are all finished.”
She smiled and pulled off her gloves. Caitlin looked around. The room was still the same. It wasn’t spinning, and the doctor was her normal self. She even felt the same. Relieved, she sighed. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“I hope not,” the woman said amused. “I know most of my patients hate these things so I try to make it as painless as possible.”
“By the way, what was it you gave me?” She tried to maintain her focus, even though the desire to flee teased her.