by M. D. Cooper
A crate budged an inch. An eye peered out. Nikili gripped her striker, switching on the power with the subtle swipe of her thumb.
Chapter 4
The Plexiglas of a faceplate glinted when Nikili’s beam hit it. The dark brown eye within the helmet blinked, revealing bronze-toned flesh. Human flesh. Her shoulders unkinked, and Nikili reholstered her defensive weapon.
“I’m going to move these boxes,” she said.
She and Lucy stacked the crates in the corridor on top of the one they had opened and cleared enough space for Nikili to help the captain, and for Lucy to slip into the crawl space to engineering.
With the lower bunk cleared, Nikili patted it. “Can you hop up here, Captain?”
He trembled. His teeth didn’t shiver, so he didn’t quake from the cold. His complexion was a lighter shade of bronze than most Outlings, or perhaps he was in shock. The roguish curls framing his boyish face were plastered to his skin. Nikili aided him onto the bunk and covered him with two thermal sheets from her pack.
“You look like an angel with a cute cherub’s nose.” His gloved finger poked at her faceplate. “Perfect almond eyes the shade of a lion’s. I saw a lion once on a Slice of Africa. Have you ever visited that station?”
“It’ll be arriving in orbit at Eris next month and staying for a year. You can see the lions again.” The traveling shows were only illusions, just like the creatures Castillo had recently battled.
“You need to see it. Lioness should be your name.”
“You said I looked like an angel.”
“A lion angel. Or an angelion. Liongel?”
“Whatever you call me, you’re in the best of hands. You’re going to be fine.” She attached a boxy ORS medpack to a portal in his suit. Located near the throat, the small portal was reserved for medical use. It was easier to measure vitals and deliver medicine from a port near the neck than anywhere else on the body, and the filaments didn’t have to be as invasive. The less intrusive medical assistance was, the better. Especially in space.
Command options from the medpack lit up on Nikili’s faceplate. “Action one,” she whispered. Two filaments snaked out from the box and burrowed into Captain Castillo’s neck. “Diagnostic one.” Castillo’s current vitals came up on her faceplate.
The captain’s heart beat as if he’d drunk twelve espressos. His blood pressure was dangerously elevated, and his breathing rapid and shallow. “Delivery seven twenty-one.” The mild sedative broke free from its slot in the med box and rushed through the filament attached to Castillo’s neck. He jerked and kicked. Nikili patted his shoulder.
“Nothing to worry about. Just something to help calm you down. It’ll take a minute for you to feel it working.” She attached a fresh oxygen tank to his intake hose. The air in the ORS tank was laced with lavender. “Breathe deeply. Salvage is on the way. We’ll get you and the hauler to Orcus. You’re safe.”
The stiffness in Castillo’s shoulders eased. Whether from her words or the drugs, Nikili couldn’t say in this case. Sometimes she knew it was the drugs.
“Angelion, you’re no huckamucka.” A half minute later, Castillo scrunched up his face. His lips puckered several times before anything understandable left his tongue. “My cargo?” His voice croaked.
“Delivery one,” Nikili whispered. Water whooshed from the med box. One of the filaments from the medpack snaked toward Castillo’s mouth. A large bubble formed at the end of it. “Take the water.”
He hesitated, his neck straining as he attempted to survey the room. Nikili blocked his view.
“Be a good patient and slurp up your water ration. If you do, I’ll tell you about your cargo.”
Returning his head to the cot, Castillo inhaled long and slow. “Accept delivery one.” The filament slithered up to his lips. Castillo’s tongue caught the water bubble and dragged it inside his mouth. He swallowed.
Nikili patted his head. “Good boy. Your cargo is fine. You’re about to be a rich man.”
His eyes widened. “Did you open one? It’ll ruin the value—”
“No, the value is intact.”
“Wh-what is it?” He tried to sit up once again, but halted half way and stared into the living quarters.
“Organic plastic.”
He inhaled sharply. “From fossil fuels?”
“Yup.”
“Thank the outer suns.” He slumped against the bunk and his breathing came easier. He blinked three more times. “What happened to them?”
“To the crates? They’re fine.”
“No, the green balls.”
“Green balls? I think your spacewalk compromised your air intake, Captain.”
“They had teeth.” He sat up again. “I didn’t imagine them.”
Nikili checked his oxygen levels and compared them to measurements taken by the hauler before her arrival. “You were space sick, Castillo. Space sick.”
His gaze darted around the room. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” She set the medpack to meter out a steady dose of quality air and sedative. “Lucy and I encountered nothing but ice and your crates.”
He grabbed her wrist. “I-I saw them. Th-their teeth marks are in the hull. Go check.”
“Oh, I will. So will Salvage. Promise.” Hook Raeder would definitely comb through every millimeter of the vessel. The organic plastic would tempt him into making Castillo an offer for the ship and the cargo. The last thing he and their daughter needed was more junk cluttering up their allotment of space at the colony on Orcus.
Nikili kept those thoughts to herself. She didn’t want to stress the captain, and she knew firsthand how delusions brought on by space sickness could feel as genuine as reality. She’d once had an episode where she believed a box of saltines attacked her. The crackers had teeth, too. She clutched onto the hand gripping her wrist and pulled Castillo to his feet. “Let’s get you onto the Huey, huh?”
“Yes.” He stumbled ahead of her. The ice had him losing his footing. He steadied himself on the wall before skating the rest of the way to E51.
Nikili paused at the crawl space and signaled Lucy. “Taking the captain onto our ship. What’s your report, Ashida?”
“Systems are working properly except for the loss of xylomannan. It’s so strange…”
“You can puzzle over it more on the way to Orcus. Salvage will be happy to pore over the mysteries with you.”
“Agreed. On my way.”
“Step it up. Castillo is shaky.” Nikili rushed after her patient. She caught up to him on the Huey and guided him down the ladder to the infirmary. “You can relax in here. You need to get your vitals under control. That’s an order.”
“I want the reports on my hauler. And the cargo. I want to see my cargo.”
“E51, play the recordings we took of the hauler’s cargo for Captain Castillo.” Nikili helped him remove his helmet and spacesuit, and tucked him into the bunk. She attached a node to his forehead to measure vitals and stuck a gel pack of a stronger sedative to his wrist. He needed to stay quiet.
“Rest up.” She sealed the room and climbed up to navigation. Lucy arrived and set the repair and med kits into their places. She removed her helmet. Nikili did the same and sat in the pilot’s seat. Her finger flicked at an icon on the gel glass panel. “Dispatch, ORS 51 returning to base. ETA on salvage.”
One pop was her reply.
Nikili hit the icon again. “Dispatch?” She squinted out of the window. The salvager loomed within range; an odd arrangement of squares with ports resembling the goals of a field game sticking out of each side. A round bubble ruined the blocky configuration. Inside the translucent bubble sat one person. She knew who it was by the way he sat. Hook Raeder.
She glared in his direction than at the communications icon. Dispatch should have notified her and given her a flight plan to Orcus. “What’s going on?”
The salvager signaled, requesting communication.
“Damn and space balls.” Nikili flopped into her sea
t. “You answer the hail,” she said to Lucy.
“You’re such a child.” Lucy opened the channel. “This is ORS 51, about to leave CIT KSH0021. Delayed awaiting flight instructions from dispatch. What’s your status, SO8?”
“I can’t raise Eris either. Awaiting towing instructions.” Hook’s husky voice caressed the channel and Nikili’s ears.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her heart to beat more steadily. The fighting hadn’t been about pasta and there had never been a lack of passion. Her inability to admit she’d been shaken by the space sick dude with the blow torch had come between her, Hook, and their daughter; an impenetrable wall. She’d never been great at telling Hook how she felt about him, and the mission-gone-wrong had dampened any emotions from forming on her tongue. It built to constant bickering and fights from which Hook had to walk away, taking their daughter with him.
Nikili couldn’t blame him, yet still couldn’t say a word to win him back. Unable to shed her habit, she remained silent, checking incoming channels. Dispatch didn’t respond. “Analysis on communications error, E51.”
“Is that my Kili bonilli?” Hook’s chuckle came through, despite the fact he didn’t laugh out loud.
Nikili crossed her arms and stared at the glass gel panel flashing with results, warnings, and suggested actions. She pointed at solution three to Lucy, which was to replace a sensor in engineering. She pushed herself up from her seat, determined not to speak to Hook.
“Was it something I said?” His humor became laced with notes of anger.
The old arguments lanced through Nikili’s spacesuit. She stiffened and took the two steps to the engineering panel.
“You curse the Sol by not saying what’s on your mind.” His anger gave way to exasperation.
Nikili glared. “Your innumerable superstitions will doom us as the stupidest species in the galaxy.”
“There she is.” Hook Raeder sounded as pompous as he often looked. A crest of black hair swooped, flirting with his cocky, steel-gray eyes. Long lashes, too pretty for the likes of him, lined his lids with a dark rim, accenting the almond shape. His complexion was a few shades darker then Nikili’s. He had a strong, wide nose and cheeks. The smile and lips had done Nikili in when they first met. She had often drowned in his lips. She stared at them now.
“Any messages for our daughter?” he asked.
The heat roiling in Nikili’s gut settled and she gripped the edge of the engineering panel. “How is Saverna?”
“Still angry with you, but you shouldn’t let it keep you from checking in with her every day.” Hook’s words softened. “She’s as stubborn as you and will never admit she needs you, Kili, but she does.”
“We’ve been over this. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” The threat of tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. When would she let go of the family done in by a space sick dad with a blow torch? Maybe never.
Nikili’s fingers traced over a spot just below her neck. Covered by the spacesuit and her uniform, her locket was well hidden. Shaped like Saturn, it contained images of Saverna and Hook taken during the days when their family was young and joyful. Nikili wondered what had happened to the people in those images. Her gaze locked onto Hook’s, searching for a trace of the man she had so madly loved.
His tongue clucked and he threw up his hands. “She hurts as much as you. She and I could help you move on. The first cleanse didn’t work, but let me do another. It often takes several attempts.”
Rituals involving rocks, bubbles of water, and flickering electric candles would get her nowhere. His clan’s ways weren’t hers. “Your Europa voodoo has no place on Orcus.”
“There’s nothing wrong in surrendering to the fact the galaxy is vaster than we know.”
“No, there’s not, but incantations and wishing don’t solve anything.”
“I’m tired of this fight.” It was the same one into which they always devolved. Crossing his arms, Hook found the ceiling of his salvager very interesting. “You don’t have to believe in being still, you don’t have to believe the solar system speaks, and you don’t have to believe certain actions can change your life, but you do have to respect that I will always be a man from Europa.”
Nikili rubbed at her temples. “I don’t want to bicker. Just want to do my job.”
“It’ll be your way. It always is.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from sputtering obscenities. Her middle finger had other ideas. Hook made the gesture back.
The comm. channel blared, “Dispatch.”
Nikili swiped Hook’s image to the corner of the monitor and brought up the ORS dispatcher. “Why didn’t you notify me of SO8’s approach? And where’s my flight path to Orcus? I have an injured man aboard.”
The young dispatcher sat up, a frown tugging at his thin lips. “You didn’t respond to my hails.”
“Other way around.”
“I’ll send you my record.”
“E51, send ours,” Nikili said. Tapping a foot, she waited for the dispatcher’s apology. It was inexcusable to leave a rescue squad without communication.
His young gaze, pale brown in color, raked over the reports. “We were both blocked. Why did that happen?” He spoke more to himself and resorted to mumbling.
“Well?” Nikili returned to her seat. “Captain Castillo needs medical attention.”
“S-sorry. Umm…” He flicked at a command off screen. “Will copy you on the full report regarding this glitch, Echols. Meanwhile, your flight plan is set. ETA twenty-two minutes.” He signed off, the screen going dark except for the tiny corner to which Hook Raeder had been relegated.
Retaking her seat beside Lucy, Nikili commanded the Huey toward Orcus with the wave of her finger. “That’s twice we’ve stumped dispatch today,” she said to Lucy. “I’ve never seen them rattled before.”
Lucy held up her hand and tapped on Hook’s image. “Beep me when you return to Orcus? I’m curious about the hauler’s loss of antifreeze.”
“Sure, Lucy. Kili, call Saverna or I’ll leave a batch of wet noodles at your door.” Hook deployed tractor beams to slide the hauler into a bay. He would scour every centimeter of the vessel for anomalies, damage, and inventory. Within the hour, he’d get a cut of the cargo’s profits. He and Saverna would be set for several years if he spent it wisely.
“Don’t spend your cut before Z’ha’dum sets,” Nikili said.
His usually thick lips were pressed thin, turning white. “You’re a piece of work.” He slapped at the comm. control, signing off.
Nikili hung her head. Her comment had been mean. Hook had only spent an entire windfall in one night once; the day she agreed to marry him. Why’d she keep picking at him? Why’d he keep picking at her? She sighed and peeled off her spacesuit, whacking her elbow against the lockers.
“Your bruise will become a tattoo if you keep hitting your elbow,” Lucy said.
“It’s always the same damn spot.”
“Maybe it’s one of those effective rituals Hook drones on about.” She didn’t laugh or twitch, just read over E51’s reports. “What would have blocked communications?”
Nikili had been too focused on surviving her encounter with Hook to have given the anomaly of a communications outage enough thought. “Good question. Any ideas, E51?”
“A large object between us and the relay would explain an outage,” the AI answered.
“What kind of object and how big?”
“Kind is unknown. Diameter is 93,000 miles.”
“Huckamucka and a beanstalk. Another planet?” Nikili rose to her feet, pressing her nose against the transparent hull. An object the size of Jupiter should be visible, but nothing shone among the outer planets other than the usual. The stubborn darkness made her shiver.
Chapter 5
“Asteroid not detected,” E51 answered, after two minutes of silence.
“What is detected?” Nikili asked.
“Gravitational fluctuation between Eris and Orcus. Curr
ently interfering with communications between Eris and Makemake.”
“Gravity?” Nikili rubbed at the back of her neck. “The rest of the Outling System is no longer in this quadrant.” Pluto, Charon, Ixion, Sedna, Quaoar, and Varuna were on the other side of the Sun, a seeming universe away. “Send data to reporting stations on Eris, Charon, and Makemake. Heck, all of the Outling worlds.”
“And the Innlings?” Lucy asked.
“If it doesn’t affect them, they don’t care what goes on out here.”
“They have those big telescopes. They’re better equipped to figure it out.”
“Again, they don’t care about us.” Nikili stared at the two globes filling up the dark skies: Orcus and its moon, Vanth. “Let’s get Castillo to Rampart General, give our reports, and go home.” She shrugged her shoulders and her fingers brushed over the locket hidden under her uniform. “I should call Saverna when we get in.”
“You don’t have to wait. Call her now. Retreat into infirmary bunk seven if you want privacy. I can handle supervising the Huey.”
“I’m on duty.”
“We’re on autopilot for the next nineteen minutes.”
If the happy mom inside her locket still existed, Nikili wouldn’t hesitate. She had been unable to tell her husband and daughter about the CIT with the blow torch, and the unspeakable deaths of his family. She had been unable to share it with anyone. It weighed on her like full gravity, tugging her innards toward the floor, breaking her into two people; one who understood she was being insanely stupid, the other unable to do anything but close herself off from feeling anything. The morose mood had spread like a disease, and she had sworn not to let it infect Hook and Saverna. Especially Saverna.
The two of them had moved past the shambles Nikili caused. Rumors around Orcus whispered Hook had his paws all over a harbor master named Chaquita Peebles. Marriage came up in too many of the rumors. Nikili believed Chaquita would be better for them, even if the woman’s name always made Nikili hungry for breakfast.
“No matter what happens,” Lucy said, “you’re her mom. My mom ran off, but I still wish she’d message or something. Anything to let me know she remembers me.”