Jones shook Hamilton awake a few minutes before the launch docked with the survey vessel.
“Wake up, your friend’s arriving.” he said.
Hamilton got up and followed him down to the docking port where Vogerian and Carl were waiting, along with Lewis.
Hamilton could guess why she was there. He hoped she’d get the shock she richly deserved when Klane came through the airlock door.
Hamilton moved closer to Vogerian. Carl eyed him cautiously.
“Don’t be too shocked by Klane’s appearance.” he muttered to the old man. “She’s been through a few battles in her time.”
The old man glanced at him and smiled. “A few scars don’t frighten me, Mr Hamilton.”
“I’m glad to hear that. She can get a little touchy about her looks.”
“Rest assured, I’ll be the soul of discretion.”
Hamilton smiled and moved back to his place by Jones. He repeated the information to the black man, with similar results. He pressed his hand against his injured ribs. They seemed strong enough.
A few moments later, the ship rocked slightly as the launch docked. They waited patiently for the lock to cycle.
After a few seconds, the hatch began to open.
Walsh was first out. He glanced at Hamilton with an amused look on his face, and then wandered off into the ship. Hamilton hoped Klane hadn’t been telling one of her stories about him to Walsh. Heavy boot steps sounded from inside the launch and Klane emerged into the ship.
At first, there wasn’t much of her to see as she was preceded by a gigantic kit-bag that dwarfed Hamilton’s. Both Hamilton and Jones could have been inside that bag without anyone realising. Two arms were wrapped around the bag. One of the hands was artificial, a prosthetic. It’s metal and ceramic form gleamed dully under the artificial lighting.
With a deafening thump, the bag was dumped to one side and Klane stood revealed.
She was between six and seven feet tall and had almost as impressive a physique as Carl. She wore a simple vest and shorts which revealed, perhaps intentionally, her mechanical parts.
Both legs were artificial. No attempt had been made to blend the artificial limbs with the rest of her body, though such technology was readily available. Her left leg ended just below her shorts, her right a little lower. Flesh ended and metal began. The limbs were non-standard, being heavily reinforced. Hydraulics and micro-circuitry were easily visible, though the latter were encased in toughened resin blocks.
Her upper body was mostly normal, save for the left hand and forearm, which were similarly constructed. Scar tissue covered much of the remaining flesh of her body like a road-map.
Her face had changed since Hamilton had seen her last. Then, she had merely been scarred and ugly. Now, she had lost her right eye. It had been replaced by, for her, a suitably conspicuous electronic device, the lens of which gave off a faint, somewhat sinister, orange glow. A metal plate also stretched over a quarter of her head on the same side as her eye. A few wisps of straggly blonde hair were all that remained on her scarred head and her nose was well broken. Two gold teeth gleamed in her mouth as she grinned at the greeting party..
She glanced at Hamilton, still grinning, who in turn glanced around at the others to get their reaction.
Jones had gone pale. He swallowed and continued to stare at Klane.
Vogerian was gaping in disbelief while his sidekick stared in what appeared to be horror.
Lewis was also staring in disbelief and, Hamilton thought, disgust. He shrugged and turned back to Klane.
She took a step forward and swept him up in her arms. “Hamilton! Good to see you again.” Her hug was like a bear’s. No, he thought, a bear wouldn’t stand a chance against Klane. Hamilton took a deep breath and held it, tensing his muscles. He hugged her back with all his strength. He suddenly knew how a car felt when it went through a crusher. Hamilton endured the hug until he felt his ribs creaking. He’d forgotten how bad her greeting hug was.
“Enough!” he cried. “You win! Again!”
“As usual.” she observed, letting him go. “You usually put up a better fight, though.”
Hamilton fingered his side. “I usually don’t have cracked ribs to worry about.”
“Hah!” Klane exulted. “I can’t let you out of my sight for even a few years without you getting into trouble.”
“Look who’s talking!” Hamilton snorted, reaching up to tap the metallic part of her skull. “Anyway, it was an accident.”
“Aren’t they all?” she replied, smiling. “Anyway, who are your friends?”
Hamilton introduced Vogerian.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Vogerian said, timidly offering his hand.
Klane snatched it and gave it a violent shake. The old man’s arm flopped up and down like a dead snake. “Likewise.” she said. “So you’re the boss, huh?”
“Um, yes.” Vogerian answered, sounding less certain than she was.
Klane nodded. “And who’s this?” She nodded towards Carl.
“This is my bodyguard, Carl.” Vogerian answered.
“Say,” Klane began. “You’re a big fella. I’ll look forward to working with you.” She clapped him on the shoulder heavily and winked her remaining eye.
Carl winced, blinked uncertainly and a touch of colour appeared in his cheeks. Klane chuckled and turned to Jones. “Who’s this guy?”
Hamilton introduced Jones.
“Ah! A kindred spirit.” she exclaimed, when Hamilton told her about his part in the mission. To Jones’ horror, she swept him up in a hug. He gasped at the sheer power of the woman’s grip, giving her a tentative hug in return. She cackled and let him go. It took a great effort for him not to collapse on the floor.
Lewis had vanished.
“So,” Klane continued, turning to Vogerian. “Where do I bunk?”
Vogerian cleared his throat. “We’re a bit short of space. The cabin we set aside for women is full, I’m afraid, though one of its occupants is currently in sickbay. We had made provision for you to share with your colleagues….”
Klane shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll kip down anywhere.” She looked at Hamilton. “Any space in your cabin?”
“Sure.” Hamilton replied. “Though the bunks may need some re-modelling.”
Klane grinned. “That’s my speciality.” she said, flexing her artificial hand.
Hamilton glanced around, but Lewis was nowhere in sight. He smiled to himself.
“OK.” he said. “Follow me, then.”
Klane lifted her bag with an obvious effort. “Lead the way.” she grunted.
They made their way to Hamilton’s cabin. Vogerian and Carl returned to their own quarters.
On the way, they met some of the crew. It hadn’t taken long for word to spread about the strange new crewmember. Some muttered fearful “hello’s”, others merely gaped in astonishment. Klane nodded and returned their greetings affably, well used to the reaction she engendered in others and, it seemed, thriving on it.
Once in the cabin, they closed the door. Tong was absent, having left earlier to get something to eat.
Klane barged down the central aisle with her bag, forcing Hamilton to take refuge on one of the bunks. Jones was glad he had been behind her.
“Careful!” Hamilton muttered.
She dumped the enormous bag at the end of the small cabin, near the lockers. Then she turned back to the pair. “OK. Now what the fuck is going on, Hamilton?”
Hamilton got off the bunk. “It’s kind of difficult to explain.”
“You’d better start.” she threatened. “And where’s my money?”
Hamilton nodded to Jones. The black man pulled a device from his jumpsuit and switched it on. “OK.” he said. “We’re safe now.”
Hamilton then proceeded to outline what he and Jones had discovered about Vogerian.
Klane listened without interruption. At the end, she looked thoughtful. “So, if we turn the tables on Vogerian, we end up with t
he alien artefacts?”
“That’s the idea.” Hamilton agreed.
“If there are any artefacts.” Jones added.
“Hmmm.” Klane murmured, thoughtfully. “I still want my money, but this could be very interesting.”
“It hasn’t been dull so far.” Jones grumbled.
“Oh. What does that mean?”
Jones and Hamilton took turns to tell her what had happened since they had come aboard.
“This Lewis character,” she said. “Is that who I caught a glimpse of when I first came out the lock? The one that scurried away like a rodent before I could be introduced?”
“That’s the one.” Hamilton replied. “She’s totally out of her mind.”
“She’ll be out of the ship if she gives me any trouble.”
“Just watch out for her,” Hamilton advised. “She’s an unnecessary distraction.”
“Distractions should be ignored.” Klane stated.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to do that.” Jones said.
“Then they should be removed.” Klane’s matter-of-fact statement caused Jones’ eyes to bulge.
“Take it easy.” Hamilton cautioned. “The way she and I were threatening each other it won’t be long before something happens. In the meantime, just ignore her. OK?”
The other two nodded.
Hamilton then proceeded to give them the names of their various assignments. They agreed that it was better to concentrate on a few each than on everyone. There wouldn’t be any duplication of effort that way. They agreed to trade information each evening, particularly if it pertained to another person not in their group.
After they had gone over the mission Klane looked around the cabin. “I’ll take that bunk.” she said, pointing to one of the upper bunks.
“That’s Tong’s.” Hamilton informed her.
She shrugged. “OK. I’ll take one opposite.”
“That’s my bunk.” Jones said, fearfully.
Klane smiled at him pleasantly.
“But I don’t like heights.” Jones added. “I’ll move.”
“Oh no you don’t!” Hamilton scowled. “I’m not having her above me. The bunks aren’t that strong.”
Klane gave the bunk assembly a vigorous shake. “But Hamilton,” she began, softly, moving closer to him. “I thought you liked me on top?”
Hamilton scowled, feeling his cheeks redden involuntarily. “I’m not having your bulk crushing me flat in the middle of the night.”
Klane looked hurt. “You never complained before.” Her face broke into a devilish grin.
“Will you stop that!”
“OK. OK. I’ll take the bunk under this Tong guy.”
She lay down on it, to test it out. Her legs extended several inches beyond the end of the bunk. She kicked the bottom panel out of the bunk casually. Her legs were still too long, but at least they were on the same level as her body, not angled up.
“That’s better!” she stated.
“There was no need for that.” Hamilton told her, picking up splinters of plastic from the floor. “You can’t feel anything through those legs of yours. You wouldn’t have known whether they were on feathers or glass shards.”
Klane shrugged. “It’s the principle of the thing. Besides, old habits die hard. Now, about that money….”
Hamilton scowled.
In the mess that evening Klane astounded everyone further by devouring vast quantities of what, to everyone else, was mediocre slop. Her excuse was that she was a growing girl.
The rest of the crew chuckled at that. Veltin went so far as to comment. “Eat too much of this crap and you won’t grow much more.”
After the meal, Hamilton went to check on the condition of Johnson.
“She’s recovering slowly.” Dyzwiecki told him. “Her brain patterns are almost normal now. But no one can tell when she’ll wake up.”
Hamilton noted that the doctor’s breath smelt of alcohol. “How about the next jump?” he asked. “Will that send her crazy again?”
Dyzwiecki pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. In any case, now that we know she’s susceptible to this sort of thing I can give her some shots which should keep her calm.”
“OK. Do what you think is best.”
“I always do.”
Hamilton chuckled. “I guess we’re alike in that respect.”
Dyzwiecki smiled. “I guess so.”
The next two days were spent accelerating away and beginning the run up to the next jump. This jump would end with the rendezvous of the survey vessel with the Hope’s Breath, Vogerian’s own ship.
Hamilton, Jones and Tong discovered that Klane snored in a very un-ladylike way. They were forced to resort to earplugs provided by the good doctor. Klane, of course, denied it strenuously. Her manner indicated that she wasn’t prepared to discuss it.
“Ladies don’t snore!” she told them.
Lewis kept a low profile. That was fine with Hamilton, who used the time to speak with the others on his list.
Johnson was still unconscious so that only left Puckett, LeGault and Simmonds. LeGault still regarded Hamilton warily and Hamilton was unable to get anything of any interest out of him.
Simmonds, the chief engineer, kept mostly to himself. He occupied his time fooling around with the mostly self-contained engines on the survey vessel. What he said was of little interest, though he became quite talkative when discussing the engines. Hamilton inquired of the engines of the Hope’s Breath, but the man was unable to tell him much except that he was one of the leading matter/antimatter technicians around and that that was the sort of engines the Hope’s Breath had. He had never seen a working m/a engine, so was understandably excited by the prospect of getting his hands on it.
Hamilton thought about this for some time. If the crew he was with now were the ones to make the final expedition then why didn’t anyone appear to know much about the vessel they were going to use. Having an engineer that had never seen an engine of the type they were going to use hardly instilled confidence. Simmonds assured Hamilton that the running of the engine was simplicity in itself and showed Hamilton reams of data that had been provided by Vogerian. It meant little to Hamilton but made him somewhat less nervous. On the other hand, Vogerian had provided Simmonds data. That wasn’t very inspiring. The whole idea of using a ship with a crew who’d never been aboard it before was unnerving.
Puckett, the co-pilot, was glad to talk. He’d had little to do so far. Things had been handled mostly by Veltin and the chief astrogator Alex Philbin. Even the launch had been flown by Walsh, the survey team pilot. Hamilton found the man quite likeable. Because of his colour, Hamilton found himself comparing the man to Jones. However, Puckett hardly seemed as worldly-wise as Jones.
Apparently, the Hope’s Breath boasted two launches. This was news to Hamilton. Puckett was looking forward to piloting one. He talked about his career modestly, and then muttered irritably about Veltin O’Won, his immediate superior. His gripes were mostly to do with Veltin’s boastfulness and seat-of-the-pants attitude.
“It was his fault,” he grumbled. “That we had such a bad transit last time.”
“Oh?” Hamilton said. He had assumed it had merely been a difficult transit, not the fault of anyone.
“Yeah,” Puckett continued. “He skimmed over some of the calculations, guessing the figures to input into the navcomp.”
“Really?” Hamilton muttered. “Do you think he’ll do the same this time?”
“I’d put money on it.” Puckett replied.
The time for the jump drew close. Everyone retired to their cabins, except those involved in the operation of the ship. Johnson was sedated still, even though she had not yet regained consciousness. It was thought it was for the best.
The others waited silently in their cabins. Hamilton had not mentioned his discussion with Puckett to anyone. He decided to see what happened during this transit.
The ship trembled, as it had before and the p
rotective fields wavered unpredictably, again as before. However, the severity of this transit was considerably less. There was only one severe jolt, which caused Hamilton to grimace, but then everything returned to normal. It had been an almost standard transit. O’Won must have learnt his lesson.
Hamilton immediately went down to sickbay. Johnson was quiet. Charlton watched over her.
“Where’s the doc?” he asked her.
“Drunk.” she sighed.
Hamilton scowled. “How often does he get like that?”
She shrugged. “His breath always smells. He seems to get really drunk only when we make the transit.”
“Hmmm.” Hamilton considered. “He didn’t seem drunk last time, when the accident occurred.”
She shook her head. “He wasn’t.” She regarded him evenly. “He seemed to think he had to make an impression on you, that time.”
Hamilton frowned, not fully understanding her meaning. “That time?”
“We’ve been on board for some weeks. He’s been drunk every transit except that one.”
“I see. How long has everyone else been aboard?”
“We were among the first to be picked up.” she replied. “The others were picked up one or two at a time after that. Some of us have been aboard for over a month.”
“So you know the others quite well?”
“Not really,” she said, evasively. “We haven’t mixed very much except with regard to our cabin mates.”
Hamilton decided to continue with his questioning. “What can you tell me about Lewis?”
The medic scowled. “She’s crazy.”
“I know that much. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“What about Lutess and Johnson?”
“They seem OK. At least we can talk to each other, though Johnson says some weird things at times.”
“How do you mean, weird?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You have to talk to her to understand. I guess its things from her past. You know that she’s a rebreather?”
Hamilton nodded. “Yeah.”
“I guess it’s sayings from those old days. They don’t make much sense now, though they mean something to her.”
“I suppose so.” Hamilton agreed. “In any case, how is she?”
Humal Sequence 1: A Breath of Hope Page 11