by Kathryn Hoff
But damnit, we needed that fifty thousand sovs.
I said, “Davo, you don’t know it, but Archer’s the best engineer in the outer sectors. If he says it can work, then it can work.”
Archer’s eyes widened.
Kojo grinned. “Agreed. Archer, tell us what to do.”
Archer wriggled farther into Duchess’s propulsion bore, his wiry body encased in an enviro suit. Beside him, four heavy, insulated cables that we’d found among Duchess’s spare parts emerged from the bore’s depths. Among the orderly banks of controls, they looked as invasive as tapeworms.
Thunk. Archer’s voice came through my helmet mic. “Ouch. Damn this helmet, I can’t see what I’m doing. Hand me the Bristo wrench, please. By the way, thanks for sticking up for me at supper.”
Awkward in my own suit, I plucked the tool out of its magnetic rack and tapped it into his glove. “Well, it’s true. You’re a great engineer. Either that, or completely crazy.” We were speaking on the helmet-to-helmet channel—I wouldn’t have said something so gooey if anyone from the ship had been listening.
Archer fiddled with something inside the bore, then held out the wrench. “Microdriver. Yeah, well, I feel bad messing with the engines this way—they’re beautiful babies. If Duchess’s engineer saw what I’m doing, he’d be rolling in his grave. If he had one. Where is he, anyway?”
“I put him in a cabin with one of his crewmates. Strapped in, no rolling.” I handed over the driver.
“Good. I had nightmares about him last night. Hand me the Prestoseal, will you?”
“Letting yourself get spooked?”
“What? Oh, I’m not worried about his ghost. I just don’t like looking at the corpse. Give me the wrench again.”
Strange that a man who didn’t believe in ghosts would be rattled by the carcass the spirit left behind.
Lifeless bodies didn’t bother me, but tormented spirits had haunted my dreams, leaving me cold and weary even after I’d wakened. The Barony spirits hadn’t been like the peaceful, comforting presence of my ancestors, but brooding and resentful, mired in hate for their failed mission and useless deaths. Those feelings of hostility from the dead was something I wasn’t used to—and didn’t like.
Archer said, “You know, Patch, I wish some of them were alive—we could use a few more crew members. There are too few of us, really, to crew three ships.”
“We can manage, with Hiram in Sparrow’s wheelhouse and Kojo in the engine room. And you and me here on Duchess.”
“And Davo piloting Mudpuppy out of harm’s way.”
“Yeah. Strange, isn’t it, how Davo manages to have the safest, easiest post?”
“He’s a sick old man. I feel sorry for him. There, done. Pull me out.”
I tugged gently on Archer’s leg. As he floated out, I slowed and grounded him.
“Thanks.” He faced me, two panes of helmet glass between us. “Patch, I think you should stay with Kojo on Sparrow. I’ve slaved Duchess’s thrusters to Sparrow’s so there’s nothing to do here, really. I just want to be on hand to make sure everything works.”
Archer stunk at lying. If he were certain everything would work, he wouldn’t post himself on Duchess.
“It’ll work,” I said. “But you suck at moving around in microgravity. My job will be to keep you from floating into the head and getting locked in. I wouldn’t want you to get stuck here with the hoodoos.”
While Archer tidied up the engine room to prepare to return to Sparrow, I propelled myself up Duchess’s lightless, lifeless passages, checking that all equipment was stowed and all hatches secured, ready for the stress of a full-bore thrust. Every time I passed one of Grand Duchess’s lost souls, I repeated my assurance that we meant them no harm.
In the silence of the ship, even Archer’s heavy breathing comforted me. I didn’t even remind him to switch off his mic.
On the command deck, Shipkiller’s reflected red glow dominated the view. Over the command consoles, the inside of the canopy was hazed with frost, crystallized remnants of the Duchess officers’ dying breaths.
Oddly, a few lights on the command console glowed softly—enough to silhouette a floating torso.
I paused, heart thumping. Could someone have loosed the captain or first mate from his restraints?
As I drifted into the room, the floating figure turned to me and raised a stiff hand.
Ancestors! I windmilled my arms, trying in vain to change direction. My father’s occasional visits from the afterlife were a source of comfort, but I had no wish to confront Grand Duchess’s demanding captain.
I careened into the figure, our collision sending us both bouncing into the bulkheads.
Davo’s voice grated in my helmet mic. “What the hell are you doing, sneaking around like that?”
“Davo? I thought you were on Sparrowhawk.”
“Nah. I brought up a battery pack to try to download the survey records. Figured if yon boyo’s calculations are off and we have to cut Grand Duchess loose, we should at least have the survey to give Barony.”
If he could have seen my face, it would have been turning red with fury. Coming aboard a vessel without announcing himself? Syncing into our com links without saying anything? The sneaky bastard must have heard me and Archer talking about him and hadn’t said a peep.
I bit back my anger. He was a captain, after all, though only of a dingy little skimmer. And we needed him to guide us out of the Gloom.
“Will you be here long?” I asked. “Archer and I have used most of our oxy and are heading back to Sparrow.”
“Go on, then. I’m just wrapping up.”
Kojo wouldn’t like anyone staying alone on Duchess, but that was Davo’s problem.
Something seemed off. I spun slowly—the officers’ corpses were gone.
“Where are the captain and first mate?”
“I got tired of them looking over my shoulder. Stuffed them in the turret.”
“Strapped in?”
Davo cackled into his helmet mic. “Why? They won’t complain about a few bruises.”
I was becoming thoroughly sick of Davo.
As I turned to go to the forward turret, Davo added, “Don’t waste pity on them, girl. I listened in on some of the captain’s logs. That survey mission weren’t so innocent—they was in Troy’s space, looking to grab a little more territory. When Troy finds out, that little off-and-on war of theirs will heat up quick.”
“Good thing we’re restoring the hulk to Barony then, isn’t it?”
I didn’t have time to move the two bodies to somewhere more suitable, so I just secured them to the gunners’ stations in the turret, in front of the cannon controls.
They didn’t look comfortable. Maybe Davo was right, and it was silly to worry about them. Still, I silently apologized to them as I closed and sealed their faceplates. You should be on the command deck, but at least here you’ll have a good view.
As I backed down the ladder, I again felt the menace that had haunted my dream. I paused and peeked back into the turret—but they were only corpses, frosted and stiff.
Once Archer and I were safely back on Sparrowhawk, I took time to check the wheelhouse.
Kojo looked up from the pilot’s seat. “I sent Hiram to catch some rest,” he said. “Gave him a shot of brandy to make sure he’d sleep.”
As I settled into the watch station, I eased Tinker into my lap as an apology for taking her favorite seat.
“I’m worried about him.” I said. “He’s looking more worn out. He’s always tired, falling asleep in the wheelhouse, though he hates to leave the helm.”
Grand Duchess’s bulk blocked the view on our starboard side. As the joined ships slowly spun, the red sun’s rays glinted off her gun turret where her captain and first mate kept frozen vigil.
Kojo sighed. “I’ve noticed that, too. I’ve been taking longer pilot shifts so he can rest, and I know you’ve covered for him a few times. I’ve tried to cut back on his hours, but he won’t h
ear of it. We’ll have to do something soon.”
“If we bring on a younger pilot, it’ll break Hiram’s heart.”
Tinker kneaded my leg, not always remembering to sheathe her claws.
“Maybe we can make some excuse,” Kojo said. “Make Hiram think he’s doing someone a favor by showing him the ropes. Once we’re out from under and back in our home sectors…”
Right. Once we were out from under.
“But what about today?” I said. “A full-bore thrust is going to be hard on everyone. I hate to think of Hiram all alone up here.”
“What choice have we got? I have to manage Sparrow’s engines and you have to stay with Archer—I can’t let Archer handle Duchess alone. As jumpy as he is, he’d probably get lost on his way to the airlock. Just get him back to Sparrow’s engine room as soon as the maneuver’s done so I can take over the helm.”
“What about Charity? Maybe she can sit up here with Hiram.”
“Maybe. I was thinking of having her with me in engineering, but I suppose she can’t do much to help.”
Grand Duchess’s flanks caught the red sun’s oblique light. After a year in orbit with no power to her shielding, her once-smooth sides were beginning to show pings and scratches from space dust.
I cleared my throat. “Speaking of Archer—we had a talk. I told him the real reason I wanted to get married.”
Kojo winced. “Dropped me in the bilge, did you? I was wondering why he was giving me the evil eye.”
“I didn’t go into all the details, but he’s not real fond of you right now.”
“Tough. What’s he gonna do, yell at me? If he gets out of line, I’ll make him clean the galley with a toothbrush.”
I glared. “You do anything to Archer and I’ll break your fingers.”
He turned to me with an expression I’d seen so rarely on Kojo that I almost didn’t recognize it: shame.
“Look…I was wrong to get mixed up with Ordalo and to drag you into it. I know that. But I still have to be the captain, don’t I? And if Archer’s going to be on the crew, he’s going to have to follow orders even if he doesn’t like me.”
“You may be captain, but you need him. Nobody else would have come up with that plan to free Duchess from orbit.”
He twitched his one-sided smile. “That’s for sure. Tell you what, if Archer takes a swing at me, I’ll let him hit me. Honor will be satisfied, and I probably won’t even feel it.”
On our port side, the crystals in the planet’s atmosphere glittered like rubies in the reflected sunlight. It seemed much too close to Sparrow’s fragile hull for my liking.
Kojo rubbed his jaw. “I know Archer’s plan is sound, but…”
“But what?”
“Davo. I didn’t remember much about him, not at first. But with him telling stories about the old days, it started to bring some things back from when I was a cabin boy. Back then, Davo was bigger than life, standing straight and heavy-muscled, not the puny wisp he is now. His voice is older now, but he always had that sharp tongue and quick laugh. He and Dad were close for a while.” He glanced my way.
“Hiram told me. He argued about it with Papa, and Hiram left Sparrow.”
“That’s right.” Kojo nodded, his eyes distant. “For a time, Dad thought the world of Davo. I was just a kid: I resented Davo for taking up all Dad’s time and for breaking up the crew. And I was worried—if Dad would leave my mom behind and leave Hiram behind, I thought he might leave me, too.”
“What happened between Papa and Davo?”
“I’m not sure. There were serious talks in the wardroom, with Davo urging Dad to go with him somewhere. Then, poof. One day Davo and his ship were gone. I stayed out of Dad’s way for a few days, he was so short-tempered. Then Hiram came back, and things got back to normal.”
All consistent with what Hiram had said. “So, a lover’s quarrel.”
“I suppose, but that wasn’t like Dad. He always stayed on good terms with his exes. He used to say there was no percentage in leaving someone feeling bad because you never knew when you were going to run into them again.”
Kojo reached over to rub Tinker’s ears. “What about you? Any doubts about Davo?”
I laughed. “I have absolutely no doubt—that he’s an obnoxious, bigoted bilge rat. But I think he really cares about Charity, so I’m willing to believe that getting Duchess to Barony is important to him. I just wish he weren’t so callous about the dead crew.”
Kojo side-eyed me. “Are your ghosts kicking up a fuss?”
“Didn’t you feel it when you were on Duchess? They don’t like us. They don’t want us on the ship.”
“Fine with me, I don’t like being on their ship, either. I’ll leave the spooks to you—I’m a lot more worried about this hunk of ice below us. The sooner we get out of here, the better I’ll feel.”
CHAPTER 15
Breaking away
Hours later, after all connections were in place and we’d all snatched a few hours of rest, Archer and I suited up again and took position in Grand Duchess’s engineering section, preparing for the thrust to push the ghost ship out of the gas planet’s pull. The console gauges glowed eerily in the cold dark, flashing reflections onto Archer’s faceplate. I couldn’t help but wonder if we were doing something foolish.
It wasn’t that I doubted Archer, not really, but the damn contraption looked so jury-rigged. The four thick cables he’d grafted into Duchess’s propulsion consoles connected them to Sparrowhawk like umbilical cords. Each cable would deliver a burst of power from one of Sparrow’s jump cells into one of Duchess’s thrusters, in a jolt far stronger than anything her propulsion was designed to handle. I felt almost guilty, like we were injecting an overdose of stim into a comatose patient just to get one last twitch before the patient’s heart gave out.
And Davo—he’d provided us the heading for our thrust and the coordinates he’d calculated would be the best place to break away from orbit. “Yep, that’ll take you right into a nice current. A day’s easy ride then a quick turn at the next signpost. I’ll be there to guide you.”
We had no way to check Davo’s calculations—if he’d made any.
“He’s come and gone from here before,” Kojo reminded me. “He’s led us this far. We’ve got no choice but to follow him out.”
What unsettled me most was Grand Duchess herself. I’d never felt uncomfortable aboard any ship the way I felt on Duchess. In the few hours of sleep I’d had as we waited for the orbit to bring us into position, I’d hoped for a comforting vision of Papa assuring me that we were doing the right thing. Instead, my dreams had been filled with the suffocating tendrils of the Gloom and feelings of terrifying hate.
“All right there, Patch?” Archer asked through the mic. Even in his enviro suit he looked thin and frail.
“Sure.” I pushed him into his seat. “Just make sure you’re strapped in tight.”
Beloved ancestors, help me find the wisdom to choose what is best, the strength to do what I must, and the courage to face what may come.
Archer pulled my helmet to his so our faceplates touched. Without keying the com, he spoke, the tinny sound vibrating directly from his helmet to mine. “If things go bad, get out fast.”
That was a cute trick, a way to speak privately despite the enviro suits. Just the sort of thing Archer would come up with.
“Sure,” I said, patting his glove. Like hell.
Securing myself into the second seat, I held up both thumbs.
Davo supervised from the safety of the skimmer, now delinked and in high orbit. Charity had begged to join him on Mudpuppy, but he’d brushed her off and told her to stay with Hiram in the wheelhouse.
“That’s about perfect, mates,” Davo called into the hailer. “Thirty seconds to thrusters. Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”
Kojo answered from Sparrow’s engine room, “Jump cells ready, standing by to activate thrusters, full bore, five-second burst.”
“Duchess thrus
ters ready,” I confirmed.
Hiram added, “Sparrowhawk helm ready, course laid in, fingers crossed.”
“Be careful, Daddy,” Charity added.
“Three seconds,” Davo said. “Light ’er up.”
“Activating,” Kojo called. “Thrust in three, two, one…”
The cables jumped like striking cobras. The thrusters slammed us into space. My swivel chair slewed backward, the inertial forces tugging at my body to strain against the straps. Hands, arms, legs, and neck were pulled helplessly, like a ragdoll being slung by its belt. If I had eaten breakfast, it would have come up.
I vaguely remembered Archer having foolishly munched on a piece of toast.
One eternal second, two eternal seconds.
Grunts came over the mics, I couldn’t tell from who.
My injured head felt like it was bursting. My vision grayed—I was on the verge of passing out.
No—it was smoke, coming from the superheated cables.
Three eternal seconds, four eternal seconds.
Archer waved his arms. A voice that could only be Archer’s uttered a long aaarrrggharrahaaargh.
Five eternal seconds.
Why were the thrusters still going?
Now my vision had begun to fade for real. More smoke wafted through Duchess’s depleted atmosphere. On the deck near the cable, the frost retreated.
Six eternal seconds.
Archer forced his hand to the straps and released them.
Bad idea. His body slammed into the bulkhead, the crunching impact of his helmet on metal plates ringing through the mic. The glass of his helmet exploded outward in a mist of shards, moisture, and vomit. He stuck to the bulkhead like a magnet on steel.
Then…the thrust stopped. In the blink of an eye, we went from supergravity to weightless.
I released my straps and launched myself to the console. The thrusters’ propulsion circuits had melted, ending the thrust, but power still surged into the console from one of the cables. I tried the cutoff switches—useless, melted into active mode. My glove sensors registered superhigh temps.