Warp Thrive

by Ginger Booth

  “Yeah, he doesn’t count,” Wilder concluded to Kassidy. “Already punished himself enough. He’s stuck with us.” He laughed.

  Uncertain, Teke began to grin.

  41

  Ben slammed into the wall next to the med bay door. His momentum slid his feet another step. Not because the ship still tilted – Sass didn’t tell him until the ship was restored to normal internal 1-g, the witch.

  “Cope!” he cried out, bursting in to reach his partner’s side. He grasped his hand and squeezed. “Doctor?”

  “He’s heavily sedated. I’m not sure he can hear you.”

  “Can,” Cope murmured. His eyelashes fluttered open. “Hi.”

  “Hi, buddy,” Ben crooned. He splayed his fingers across his partner’s jaw. Cope told him how much he liked that on the way to Denali, when he was incarcerated in the auto-doc with burns from the engine room fire. Ben’s touch calmed him, he said. “I hear you broke your back.”

  “Hurt,” the engineer conceded. His eyes drifted closed.

  “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do here,” Dr. Yang offered quietly.

  “Stay,” Cope whispered.

  “I’m not going anywhere, buddy,” Ben assured him. He gentled the injured man in silence until his breathing deepened into sleep, plus a few minutes more for a margin of error after he let go of Cope’s hand.

  Ben rose and beckoned the doctor out into the cargo bay. “What happened?”

  Yang shrugged helplessly and explained the chain of trivial events. “His bones are fragile. When the auto-doc tried to reinforce his spine a month ago, the pain was excruciating. We felt it best to wait for a surgeon on Mahina. But time ran out on that plan. He should be fine after a week or two in the auto-doc, plus another couple weeks of rest.”

  “Why so long?” Cortez’s innards were crushed, Lavelle near dead from laser fire. They took longer, but this seemed out of proportion.

  “The new damage from today’s injury takes about 12 hours. It’s the cumulative wear of 28 years that’s the problem. The auto-doc prefers to repair nerves with the patient alert. I prefer that the patient not scream in agony. I’m trying to compromise.”

  Ben grabbed the doctor’s shirt front. “He screams in agony and I crush your throat.” The not-a-doctor wasn’t buying it. Ben sheepishly withdrew his hand. “Pardon me. That was out of line.”

  Yang flourished a wave toward the med bay. “Would you prefer my daughter or Eli? I am an engineer. I don’t like screaming. I don’t like cranky patients and bodily fluids. Never did.”

  “Right. Thank you. Sorry.”

  Sass hopped down from the catwalk to a gentle-g landing. “Ah, it feels good to do that again, doesn’t it?” She beamed with forced cheer. “How’s my engineer?”

  Dr. Yang popped back inside the med bay to let Ben fill her in.

  “I see.” Sass scratched her nose when he finished. “Well, you are relieved from the watch cycle, Mr. Acosta.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Because you are temporarily chief engineer.” She winced in sympathetic apology.

  “Shit. Yes.”

  “Cope is in good hands. And you’ll have time to visit with him. Probably.”

  “Yeah.” Ben glanced over his shoulder to his slumbering beloved. “That time isn’t now, is it.”

  “Mr. Copeland always seems rather busy after we, um…”

  “Put the ship through a meat grinder? Yeah,” Ben acknowledged, with a deep sigh. “Air pressure.” He headed for the engineering control podium by the cargo door, Sass trailing.

  “Breathing is good,” she encouraged. “Cope also advised not to use the main engine above power level 8. That’s how our 10 minute launch sequence grew to 15. And our 50% fuel reserves are down to more like 37.”

  “Cope didn’t happen to mention…?”

  “No. Seconds before takeoff,” Sass confirmed. “When you get a chance. And remember you have Reza. And Teke. They’re exhausted from refueling, but.”

  “Teke?”

  “Stowaway.”

  “Outstanding.” The damage control master display suggested the hole from the removed air conditioner was leaking badly, plus possibly a few minor chinks. “I suppose we intend to use that engine.”

  “Hourly, yes.” She grasped his shoulder and smiled. “I have every confidence, Mr. Acosta.”

  Neither of his proposed helpers knew how to walk a wall. “May I have Abel and Cortez?” No, those two were headed out for more fuel in a few minutes. Some more wrangling netted him Kassidy and Clay to help tutor Reza and Teke on how to use personal gravity generators. Teaching them to repair leaks was Ben’s job. And his damage control board had 6 more amber alerts to attend to after pressure was secured. All that before tackling Cope’s detailed after-launch checklist. Bless the guy for keeping good notes.

  Plus he should figure out what was wrong with the 3rd gen star drive – that problem had Ben’s name all over it.

  Sass left him to it as Ben marshaled his tools and his forces.

  Happily sweaty after a good frolic, Clay lay his head on Sass’s stomach in his cabin. Two days after launch, the immediate drama and trauma had passed. Maybe it would be more fair to wait and talk in her cabin. But he needed his own place for this one.

  “What’s next after Mahina, love?” he began.

  Sass chuckled. “We’re still five months from Mahina.”

  “I know. But.”

  She toyed with his ear. “I like you shaved bald like this. Less conspicuously gorgeous. I feel less outclassed.”

  He seized her hand. “I want to talk about this.”

  “Right.” She sighed, and eventually murmured, “I guess it’s not Mahina I would miss. It’s the family we’ve built on Thrive. And we’ve made advances in the past couple years. I feel like we should stay, and push those through. Resist any backsliding. You know?”

  “Time to let the children grow up, Sass,” Clay differed.

  “Harder for you than me,” Sass suggested. “You’ve repaired your relationship with Hunter now. You have honest friends, as the real you. You always liked living in Mahina Actual. I didn’t.”

  “I lied to every friend in Mahina Actual,” Clay differed. “That bridge is burned.”

  He sat abruptly and leaned against the bare bulkhead. “And Hunter. To my son, I am an embarrassment and a political liability. An inconvenient relative to a political animal.”

  Now he’d caught her full attention. She munged a pillow under her arm and propped up to gaze at him. “You don’t want to go back?”

  “Well, we are going back to Mahina. No question of that.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “But then, Sanctuary. I hope?”

  “Really, Clay? I mean, I thought about it, but you have Hunter and the grandkids. And I love this crew, this ship. We can continue to make a real difference here. Maybe even visit Denali again in a decade or so.”

  “Hunter is a grown man. The grandkids barely know me. He discourages them from talking about me. I like Hunter. I mean, I love him as a son. But I admire the man he’s chosen to become. He embodies Mahina. He’s driven. He’s determined to follow through, make the settlers succeed and thrive. Underhanded, overhand – he doesn’t care. He props up that president for ceremonial functions while he wheels the real deals. He finds the mutual advantage, so his bargains stay stuck. Because they’re in everyone’s vested interest.”

  “He could use your advice,” Sass suggested.

  “He hasn’t asked for it,” Clay admitted. “Oh, he’s asked for my perspective. But no more than he’d ask anyone else. He listens to experts. He has that strength.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sass murmured. “That must hurt.”

  “It hurt when he disowned me,” Clay corrected. “Especially when he thought I was in bed with the enemy, instead of working for the same cause he dedicated himself to.”

  Sass sucked in her lips, trying and failing to hide a grin. “You were in bed with the ene
my.”

  “Yes. Poor choice of phrase.” He bopped her lightly on the belly. “Fly away with me.”

  She fiddled with the sheet. “We’d break up this family. The Thrive. Cope and the Greers, they won’t leave their children. In space is no place to raise kids, sailing off into the unknown. Ben has his dad. I don’t think he could leave knowing that his father might die alone, never knowing what became of him. Kassidy and Eli – I could ask, but I think they’ve accomplished what they set out for. We could keep Wilder and Cortez.”

  As crew went, he knew she liked them, and they tried hard. But the two guards were their least valuable players.

  “Maybe that’s enough. I could learn gunner.”

  “No,” Sass denied. “If we went, we’d hire up to full complement. Engineer at a minimum. Though it’s tough to find anyone who could replace Copeland. Preferably a doctor this time.” Her voice petered out. “But wouldn’t it be more fun to stay, Clay? I’m proud of these people. Don’t you want to watch them grow? See what they do? Hang out with them?”

  Clay shook his head. “They’re at the busiest stage of life. Oh, we’d see each other once in a while. But with creches available up to middle school, they don’t even need us for babysitting. Maybe they’d invite us to a kid’s birthday or a soccer game. Or to cover for them because they’re perpetually running late and having dramas. We’re never out of time. We outgrew most of the drama.”

  “They don’t need us anymore.”

  “Worse,” he said ruefully. “They need us to get out of their way. Let them run. You’ve cleared obstacles from their path. You gave them tools to succeed. Let them.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she promised.

  “We have the life span to visit other worlds,” Clay added. “And the ship. We can. And someone should.”

  “Understood.”

  42

  “Hey!” “Look who it is!” Sass led the dining room in applause as Copeland arrived for lunch 10 days later for the first time since launch. Yang’s new nanite system dramatically sped his recovery.

  Ben evacuated his chair and slid it in for Cope, evincing only the slightest wince. As of today, the engineer graduated from ‘bed rest’ to ‘mild activity.’

  Ben settled on a step-stool. The galley was a lot more crowded home-bound than on the leg to Denali. Reza offered to make a couple more chairs and see about extending the table.

  “Welcome back, John,” Sass said warmly, standing so she could reach down the table and clasp his hand. “We’ve missed you.”

  He slumped forward, his ‘stretch’ posture never great, and immediately straightened again in pain. “I may not be much use yet.”

  “Take it slow,” she encouraged. “We’re all fine. Assistant Chief Acosta is doing a wonderful job.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a setback,” Teke offered. With Cope in the auto-doc, he’d claimed Ben’s bunk, while Ben slept in Cope’s bed. His new quarters amounted to a pallet under the stairs.

  Cope smirked back. “Get that man a bed, Ben, so he doesn’t trip me in the halls for mine.”

  “I’ll see to that, Cope,” Reza offered.

  “Actually,” Eli said, “Quire? Would you like to share my cabin?”

  The soft-spoken Denali farmer reminded Sass of a Buddha. Unlike the others, he maintained his loincloth in the Thrive, and only ever seemed at home in Eli’s labs or the engine room garden. He never complained, but a rambunctious 4-man cabin didn’t suit his personality.

  Quire agreed with a grateful head-nod of relief.

  “Yes! I get a real bed!” Teke pumped a fist in triumph. “I mean, I’ll help Reza rig that new bunk in your cabin right after lunch, Eli.”

  Dr. Yang looked envious. Sharing a cabin with Kassidy and Aurora was a trial, but he tolerated Teke well enough. “Welcome.”

  “Take my bunk, Reza,” Ben offered quietly. “The mattress and hardware for Eli’s room, I mean. We don’t really need it.” He and Cope shared a shy smile.

  Sass was pleased with how smoothly the crew – and Denali passengers – had settled into shipboard routine. The regular gang were old hands now, which made it far easier to induct the newbies into the daily discipline and weekly cycle of mild diversions. Everyone had goals, personal and professional and fitness, and made steady progress on them. Ben stepped up to run engineering smoothly and cheerfully. Cliques, not so noticeable with only 10, coalesced and prospered among 16. But they were associations of like minds, not competitive or backstabbing. The day-to-day separations introduced a mixer flair to ship-wide events.

  “Cope, will you resume study hall this afternoon?” the captain asked brightly.

  “As long as I can manage,” he agreed. “I don’t see taking back Ben’s job this week.”

  “Definitely not,” Yang and Yang pronounced. The pair combined into one fairly good medic, with an umpire assist from Eli.

  As lunch cleared away, Sass lingered over coffee with the engineering couple. This was her bridge watch, which didn’t require her attention at present.

  Cope asked, “Hey, Ben, I was looking over your notes. One was kind of cryptic. Max 8?”

  “Mm!” Sass pounced. “The third gen star drive. You told me to keep it below power level 8.”

  “Right.” Cope raised an eyebrow at Ben. “You haven’t figured that out yet?”

  “I had other things on my mind right after launch! I would have gotten to it.”

  “Let’s walk it through, buddy,” the engineer invited dryly.

  Irritated, Ben enumerated what he’d looked through trying to figure it out. “I figured asking you what you meant was the best solution.”

  Cope was unimpressed. “Show me the drive power signature.”

  Ben tossed it up on the main display. “I tried that, like I said. Looks fine.”

  “Looks like power level 8,” Cope critiqued. The figure said so at lower left.

  “But we never ran the engine above 8 because…” He paused to take in their expressions. He frowned. “But this image was taken at launch.”

  Sass walked a couple fingers backwards across the table as a hint.

  “We launched at 8 because you saw something above 8,” Ben concluded with a put-upon sigh. He back-tracked the record on that drive, and found a red bookmark, clear as day. Cope had naturally noted it to review later. “Level 9.2. What the hell is that.” He peered at the power signature, nose inches from the enormous display.

  Cope said nothing. He listed toward his customary slouch-of-unimpressed, then winced back to upright posture.

  “You should take a painkiller and get back to bed,” Sass suggested.

  “A minute,” Cope allowed. “He’s close.”

  Ben scowled at him and inched forward the time sequence on the drive as it backed down toward 8. He correctly marked 8.3 when the turbulence damped, and verified it stayed gone to level 8, even sampling the weeks since. Then he brought the display back to the weird bit.

  He turned a scrunched brow to Cope. His elder blinked back blandly.

  Sass sighed. She’d entertained the thought that Ben might supplant Cope in time. Now she could see what he meant, that Ben’s vocation was officer, not engineer. Oh, his degree was a valuable foundation for a highly capable officer. But even she knew the next step in this analysis. But Ben wasn’t hopping the gap.

  “Computer,” Ben whined, “search the database for a similar image.”

  “There are 5,896 images of star drive engine signatures in the database matching the external notation.”

  Cope dropped his forehead to his hand in body language, then promptly straightened his back with a wince. Sass tried to picture the tall and rangy man forever cured of slumping. But she rather liked his sinuous postures.

  Ben drew a box around the internals, omitting the axis lines and marginal notations. “Computer, repeat search on the boxed content.”

  “There are 345,724 images in the database –”

  “Stop. Computer, this part.” He drew a cu
rve around the weird turbulence.

  “No match.”

  “You could at least tell me I’m following the wrong lead,” Ben complained.

  “But you’re not,” Cope replied. “Maybe more than a few minutes,” he conceded to Sass.

  Ben turned, deflated. “I would ask you. If I didn’t think you’d be available, I’d ask Markley. If I asked Markley now, he’d laugh at me and tell me to ask you.”

  “OK, hint,” Copeland allowed. “How the hell would I know?”

  “Good hint,” Sass agreed.

  “I don’t know, you just know everything!”

  Cope nodded, and confided in Sass, “I was born that way. Omniscient? Is that the word?”

  She chuckled. “I share the same burden.”

  Cope grinned back. “I think I will go for that painkiller.”

  “Uncle?” Ben attempted as he walked past to leave.

  “Not urgent, cap,” Cope advised, with a parting rap on the galley door frame.

  No, of course not. She had no reason to burn the engine above level 8 again until turnaround to brake for Pono. Cope could torture his partner for at least another month.

  “Relax your mind, Ben,” she suggested. “It’ll come to you.”

  Obviously Copeland read the manual for his new toy, a constructive habit they shared. Between Thrive, Nanomage, and the shuttle, the manuals supplied many thousands of hours of bedtime relaxation. Dry but requiring attention, these tomes put the day behind her and bored her to sleep quite well.

  Ben simply wasn’t that interested. He read what his professors required, or what the task at hand demanded, and no more. He gave up with an aggrieved sigh, and hit the books to do his homework.

  “Thanks for coming, Cope.” Abel stood and offered a hand to shake as the engineer arrived at the office. A whole new feeling pervaded the Thrive now in the final weeks of the 5-month voyage home, of anticipation and optimism.

  The trip was not without problems, of course. The galley still wasn’t back to 100% following the kitchen grease fire. The bakkra infestation was probably inevitable. They lost some weight during the final round of the engineers’ epic battle with the microbes. Nothing less seemed to work, so they dismantled the food recycling system and exposed it to the absolute cold and vacuum of space. That worked.