by Mierau,John
The air wasn’t the same either. It smelled a little salty, a little funky, and it reminded her of a beach on the Atlantic she’d walked once at low tide, with the scent of plants and sea animals all around her.
She moved to the side to allow more of her crew, lips pressed together, eyes wide, to pass inside. She offered them gentle pats and confident words, and was rewarded with small smiles and deeper breaths from the people who trusted her with their lives.
She felt herself growing to fill the role they needed her to fill. She stared around the multicoloured metal hills of the Eternal all around, growing lighter and more festive because they needed her to show them it was safe, it was essential, to live and to celebrate.
The ship hadn't said anything meaningful, to Daisy or Beacham or anyone, but Lou saw people walk to the walls, touching it and smiling. She’d done the same, out of gratitude and suspicion in equal measures, before she’d let any of her crew in... and had felt the same peace and comfort that she saw growing now on the new faces.
Lou wondered if they heard, as she had, that one word echoing through their minds.
Safe.
“Everybody, can I have your attention, please.” Lou shook her head as Travis’ voice appeared out of thin air next to her. She’d finally stopped looking around and accepted the magic tricks Daisy could do with sound, and looked a few dozen meters ahead, where a small circles of crates and chairs had been made.
There was Travis, smiling and clapping his first officer, Doug the Bug on the shoulder -or one of his shoulders- as he flipped something on a grill.
She joined him by the alien barbecue, as he continued with a wave. “Hi, I’m Sam Travis, Captain of the Betty.” He paused, an ‘aw-shucks’ grin on his face. “Or whatever she is now,” he went on.
A chorus of ‘Hi, Sam!” returned from the crowd.
“I know you’ve had a tough couple of days. I want to welcome you all to Farlost. “There were a few weak laughs, and Lou could see the man struggle to keep his face light, too. “There’s no denying it, your lives have changed. This is your home now.”
Quiet settled over the dozens and dozens assembled. Travis held up his hand. “But the crew of the Betty and I are living proof there’s a good life to be had out here! You’re welcome to explore the Betty and there’s plenty of food coming- and drink of course!” There were stronger cheers at that. “Also, anyone who wishes is welcome to sleep here under the gravity and stars!…" He pointed across the circle to where Beacham leaned on another crate, his head in a cloud of holograms. “Doctor Beacham tells me we’re ready to disappear."
Beacham blushed deeply at the applause and roar of the grateful crowd. He said something Daisy didn’t amplify, and a moment later three-meter tall white numbers appeared in the sky.
Lou joined in the count, down from ten, and made her way to stand by Beacham’s side. She nodded at Arnel Villanueva and Taggart, walking in from the far side of the circle.
The countdown continued, and every voice joined in. Lou felt a swelling in her chest. It was like a New Years vid-cast and she half-expected the crowd to spontaneously break out into ‘Auld Lang Syne’.
She understood the joy, and she shared it. Beacham promised that the predator who had their scent, the mysterious Zeus that had loosed the Boomers upon them, wouldn’t be able to track them once he raised the ‘Light Show’ to block the full spectrum.
He’d wanted to raise it hours ago, after the first surprised readings from the Betty and Six’s power systems informed them that not only had the Eternal kept their hulls together during the violence of riding out the nuclear detonation of HHL-6’s drive section, it had also connected to all its systems: life support and power now thrummed at higher efficiency than the computers could even calculate — Daisy included.
After several million computer simulations, Daisy, Sam and Lou had finally signed off and Gruber had hijacked Daisy’s communication channel to invite everybody to Observation for a ‘barn party’ before the countdown.
The crusty Engineer had made a brilliant suggestion. A celebration was just what everybody needed, to let of steam and recalibrate after r the past few days.
The countdown approached zero, and everyone stared up to watch the stars wink out.
Lou let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. That’s it, she thought. We’re safe. For now.
This time, the roar was deafening.
Daisy’s whisper cut through the applause and cat-calls. “We are now completely hidden. We have altered course now for a third time and the Zeus is making no moves to follow."
“Now this is stealth tech!” Beacham preened.
Taggart appeared behind him and clapped a hand on his back. They grinned at each other.
“How’s the memory coming, Ron?” Lou asked.
A sheepish expression moulded the security officer's features. “Still can’t see it clearly, any of what happened when I was being driven around by that thing. It's all a haze, like a dream."
Beacham nodded. “Brain chemistry changes play hell with recall. Imagine being possessed by an alien as resulting in an altered state and—“ he looked around, and whatever he saw made him cut off his droning lecture. His voice lifted with self-effacing humor. “Speaking of altered states, I stayed drunk one entire semester of college so I could remember what I’d learned for the final exam. Never would have passed if I sobered up."
Lou laughed. “You’ve changed, Doc,” she said.
Beacham didn’t even bristle at her calling him ‘Doc’. “Well, I”m glad the Light got the hell out of you. Exorcism isn’t in my wheelhouse."
Taggart’s shoulders moved with silent laughter. Lou was happy to see he could laugh after being the mouthpiece for something everyone in Farlost seemed scared of.
The Lights seemed to have gotten what they wanted -the Eternal safely away from the Guard- as no one had seen any loved ones since the Eternal hugged them and beacham nuked them away at high speeds.
“Captain Travis,” she called to the man as he wandered over to them.
“Told you,” He growled. “Sam.” He looked around at the others. “That goes for all of you.”
Sam looked better than he had any right to as well. He had a slight limp to match Lou’s but the cracked artificial hand was repaired and the damage to his middle was hidden beneath a fresh if threadbare collared red shirt and vest, and what looked a lot like blue jeans.
“What did Gruber mean?” Villanueva asked, casually rubbing a spot of oil off of his black jumpsuit. Lou wondered if Villanueva had eaten, showered, or even changed since their Arrival in Farlost. “When he called Taggart a sensitive,” Villanueva went on.
Gruber’s voice turned heads as he joined their circle. “The Lights used him like a puppet to save Beacham, so Beacham could save them.” He sauntered over to Travis’s side, a banjo carried under one arm. “Lights project themselves into memories to trick people we call sensitives,” he said as he lifted Travis’s right hand and inspected it. “Not too many of any species can, well, pinch-hit for them, physically. That makes you a big-time sensitive.”
He let his Captain’s hand go, shared a nod with Taggart, and eyed Lou silently.
Gruber had run into her on the Six, when he’d joined Villanueva on part of his inspection. "Keep an eye on Taggart,” he’d told her then, before dragging Villanueva away to explore more of what he undoubtedly saw as an antique spacecraft.
Beacham seemed to pick up on Gruber’s meaning. “Good thing he is, too: it’s how he convinced you to wait for this thing to catch up, right?” Taggart could do not wrong after saving his ass, it seemed. “Ron’s not a problem, what are you doing about Stan and Rose?"
Gruber scowled at Beacham, then his eyes darted to the side. Lou heard a whisper of Daisy’s voice as a hologram opened and displayed murky, backward images to the Engineer.
Lou was grateful for the distraction, and flashed a warning at Beacham to rein in his emotions.
Travis st
epped closer. “We’ll do what we can for them, as soon as we can. First we have to make sure we're well and truly hidden and take stock of what we have and what we need, and line up some barter."
“You’re talking about physical goods and data trades, yes?” Beacham asked. “You and Montagne settle the disposition of the material goods on the Eternal between you, but we want to be very careful how much we show and tell about the Light Show,” he warned. “Maybe I can’t patent those fields out here but they’re still my creation and I want to get as much as I can for every nugget of knowledge that went into them!"
Lou sighed, disappointed. Once a prick, she thought...
Beacham met Lou’s annoyed stare. “Tech is the most potent form of money and power in Farlost. That tech is all the barter Six can lay claim to by itself. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you and this crew, and whatever I can get in trade for that technology belongs to all of us."
Wide eyes stared back at Beacham.
“I hate to interrupt this touching moment,” Gruber huffed, “but there’s something you need to see. “
He beckoned everyone gathered away from the circle and gestured in the air. “Daisy received this message a couple course corrections ago. Don’t worry, we lost ‘em but… well, listen.” A hologram appeared, accompanied by the hiss of air and footsteps and hushed computer tones.
Lou stepped forward, peering intently at the bridge of the Zeus. It had been changed a little, but the railings, the raised console behind the command chair in the center of the frame were the same. And in that chair sat an older man. His dark eyes flashed with intelligence. Healthy pink skin shone on his bald head and glowing cheeks. He was broad shouldered and commanding in a white dress uniform, similar to the US navy and space command uniform, but with new touches. Like the holo floating in place of the traditional ribbons over his heart, across which words floated in alien script, ever-scrolling and changing.
The older man smiled into the camera, his full black beard obscuring his lips. “This is Admiral Robison on the Guard flagship Zeus calling the crews of HHL-6 and Betty McKenna.”
“How…?” Beacham snapped his fingers “The flight data recorders! The emergency beacons automatically broadcast our ID and location!” Lou nodded and held a hand to silence him.
The man’s face remained respectful, pleased even by their accomplishments, but something flashed in his eyes. " Today you bested the most powerful force in all of Farlost. Today you bested…me.” He leaned forward, and Lou resisted the urge to lean just as far back. “To the new arrivals: the crew of the Betty McKenna will no doubt tell you my Guard is dangerous. A force to be reckoned with. To be feared. Pay. Them. Heed."
“To Captain Travis and First Officer Douglas: The Eternal survived for a thousand years inside the shatterzone of a Thorn. My scientists also believe HHL-6 arrived inside a working force field. Taking them from me is unacceptable. Return them to me now, or be destroyed."
“You can’t control what you have. It could shift the balance of power, here. Then again, there has been too little challenge to my Guard for too long. It’s tiring, working to knit Farlost together while every faction tears it apart.” The Admiral laughed. Lou’s blood curdled. “I almost hope you do keep running. In any case, this is your only warning. Return to Zeus now or I will have you hunted down, your ships destroyed with your crews inside, and I will take those precious resources from you. Robison out.”
The holo disappeared.
The silence stretched.
“Fuck me,” Beacham wailed.
“I bring alcohol!” boomed a deep, inhuman voice, and Lou, and everyone in their little circle, jumped. She turned to face the multi legged lobster alien-Travis’s first officer Doug.
He held six cups. “Irish whiskey, fresh from Gruber’s stills!” He passed them out to all assembled.
“Well,” Gruber said, “The next best thing to Irish.” Lou laughed and they all clinked cups together.
“It is a wondrous thing,” the alien boomed, pointing to the ridges of equally alien metal surrounding the observation deck. “Our reaction tanks are full, our life support replenished.” The gigantic, intimidating alien leaned down and whispered. “Sam has been fascinated by the Eternal since we arrived, you know. It’s his white shark."
“Whale,” Gruber corrected Douglas with a swift kick to the carapace. “White whale!"
Aliens mangling pop culture quotes. Lou didn’t know what to say, so she took a slug of her own whiskey. She looked into the glass, mournfully noting it was half empty already. She’d want more. Much more.
Gruber stuffed his glass in one of his many ship suit pockets and put both hands on his banjo.
A few more notes floated to Lou’s ears in answer to Gruber: Murray Barrowman showing up with his fiddle. The engineer grinned and walked with Barrowman back to the circle, where Patel was drinking with Kyle Nishioka and Steve Bosteder, and the two men settled wordlessly on the same song, and began to play.
Lou wandered past them, stopping where Newark and Dina and Doc Sanders were-well, she couldn’t think of a better word than cuddling-one crate over. “Forrest,” she said, tipping her head to the Doctor, who had his arm over Dina’s shoulders. Newark lay on the ground in front of them, with its tentacles wrapped around their legs and behind their backs for the human man and woman to lean on, and happily vibrating almost like a cat’s purr.
Forrest shrugged. “Once you save a life you’re responsible for it?”
Dina patted one of Newark’s tentacles. “He’s a touchy-feely pain in the ass,” she said, her words contrarily warm in tone.
Sanders kissed Dina’s ear. “Our little bundle of joy..and tentacles."
Lou couldn’t help but laugh-she’d been doing so much of it she suspected it was her own PTSD leaking out. She waved her glass of whiskey in Titus Villanueva's direction. “No smooching on duty! My first officer is right over there, you want to get written up?"
“I don’t think I work for Haskam anymore,” Villanueva shouted back.
“Commander,” the older man called softly. He scratched at the shorty curly gray hair on one temple and rubbed the back of his neck. Lou walked closer, knelt down.
“I’m the only doctor on Six now, and we need to talk about what comes next.” He gave a weak grin, eyes tracking around the massive enclosure. “Our friends on Betty have the right idea, starting with a party, but there’s going to be a lot of post-stress trauma, hopefully nothing as severe as Burkov but…"
“Whatever you need, Doctor.” Lou nodded, put a hand on his knee. “The crew comes first."
“Crew first? What an un-corporate thing to say,” The older man smiled. “Dwyer was right about you."
Lou bit her lip, and returned his smile gratefully.
A tentacle curled around Lou’s pinky finger and squeezed lightly. Lou started, but didn’t pull away. She followed the tentacle into the black, pink and grey exoskeleton on the floor beside her. A muzzle emerged from the cottony webbing hiding the body in the center. A tongue stuck out, panting happily. She squeezed the tentacle back.
“Speak of the devil.”
Lou looked up. Doc Sanders’ kind face had turned as hard as his last words, and he glared over Lou’s shoulder.
A cadaver-thin man in a wrinkled, stained suit shuffled past, casting a perfectly timed scowl toward all assembled. Chairman Goss. he looked down his bent hawk’s nose at the Commander and the assembled crew.
“Surely you don’t believe that, Commander? That the crew comes first? Haskam corporation put you on this ship, and compensated you handsomely. As chairman, I’ll be making all decisions going forward."
“There’s no law here and no economy, Chairman. Only people.” Lou rose and turned. She held her hands out, taking in the singing and music all around them. “Haskam corporation doesn’t exist here, and the same maritime law that gave me command keeps me in command. I'll decide how things run from here on out. And I’ll listen to what the crew thinks and n
eeds You’re just one voice here."
“We’ll see about that, now, won’t we?” Goss walked closer, sneering. “I’ll let you know a secret, Commander. People need to be told what to think."
“Did Burkov need to be told what to think?” Lou asked him heatedly. “I heard you had a video call with Burkov before he blew himself up. If I find out you had anything to do with that--"
“Burkov was mad.” Goss’s smile deepened. “And it seems HHL-6 is commanded by a fool.” He straightened his ridiculous tie. Lou heard the velcro hidden beneath rip as he walked off. “Not to worry! You don’t have me trapped in that Cellar any more. I’ll make sure things turn out better from here on out."
Lou stared after the old man as he turned and strode imperiously away. Too many of the crew bowed or made other deferential movements as he passed them by.
“Isn’t he a ray of sunshine?” Travis asked at her side.
“He’s an old fool. What’s he going to do? He’s got no money and no real influence here.”
“I've known people like him,” Travis murmured. “Don't be so sure he's harmless."
Lou smiled, sharklike. “I guess I’ll have to keep an eye open, won’t I?"
Just then one of Taggart’s Security Officers-Jon Pruett- passed by. He still looked impossibly young and stern-faced in his spotless black ship-suit, but he looked a bit more relaxed now, a bit more confident.
He returned the Commander’s smile and followed silently in Goss’s wake.
“Well, we made it.” Sam sighed, as he nodded with his chin and walked through the circle. “Got away clean, in fact, and, for once…” He pointed at the rising multicoloured wall. “We got away with our pockets full."
“Daisy’s scans?” Lou asked, an eyebrow raised.
“The rumours are true!” Travis nodded. “Thar’s gold in them that hills.” He dropped the bad accent. “And aluminum, titanium, hundreds of other precious metals, not to mention veins of pure liquids, gases and protein baths."
Lou saw Whish floating overhead of Salix at the base of the wall where Travis was heading.