by Rachel Aukes
Throttle shook her head. “Impossible. Everything outside that cargo hold will be near absolute zero within a few days’ time. There’s simply not enough battery power and space for you to cycle through waking up passengers.”
“You stay on this ship, out of a pod, you die,” Eddy said. “That’s suicide. There’s no way I’d stay in this floating tomb.”
Aubree frowned and pursed her lips. “I’ve spent fifteen years with the sleepers, watching over them, waking them every month and helping them return to cryosleep. I can’t leave them.”
Throttle’s throat tightened. As captain of the Gabriela, Throttle was responsible for the sleepers’ lives, more so than any other crew member. The thought of leaving behind eight hundred and sixty-two people to likely death shattered her heart. Her jaw clenched as she bit back her emotions. She noticed Birk watching her, his gaze seeing more than she wanted him to see. Concern tightened his brows.
“I know, Aubree. It’s a bad situation,” Throttle said finally. “But we’re playing the only card we have in our hand to help them. I’ve turned on the emergency beacon, so if someone comes within six sectors of the Gabriela while we’re out searching for help, then maybe they’ll be able to do something before we get back with help.”
“Uh, I guess it falls on me to bring up the elephant in the room,” Nolin said. “We all know that there’s nothing habitable for another six light-years, which would take us three times that in the Scorpia, assuming we stay in jump speed as much as possible. The chances of coming across another ship over that distance—”
“Is low. We all know that, but it’s our only option,” Throttle said. She turned and took in a deep breath. “Go. Get the sleepers moved and set up for long-term storage. Then pull together your belongings and get your pods moved onto the Scorpia.”
Five of the crew members departed, their bootsteps awkward from walking in zero g. Birk pushed off from the wall and floated over to her. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him, pressing their foreheads together as they drifted in the room.
“We’re doing everything we can do to save them,” he said softly, still holding her forehead to his.
She took a deep breath before pulling away. “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier.” She mused for a moment. “A part of me wants to give up my place on the Scorpia to a sleeper. That way, at least one colonist would have better odds of survival.”
He shook his head and his features tightened. “You and I both know that there’s nothing except the cold abyss waiting for us out there. We’re heading out on the Scorpia because that’s what humans do. We scramble to cling to hope even when there’s nothing left to cling to.”
She cocked her head. “Don’t tell me you’ve been having philosophy lessons piped into your pod during cryosleep.”
“Maybe a little Sun Tzu.”
“The Art of War?” She rolled her eyes. “I thought your pirating days were behind you.”
“Once a pirate, always a pirate.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I remember that it was because I was a dashing outlaw that attracted you to me in the first place.”
She chuckled. “Dashing?”
“And dapper.” Birk was tall and lanky and his freckled narrow face bore few features a woman would call attractive. But he always did the right thing, making him a poor pirate; a conscience was inconvenient in a pirate’s life. He was smart and witty and would do anything for those he cared about. It was those traits that had drawn her to him, and she never wanted for another man.
“I liked the Scorpia,” she said. “You had a nice ship and needed a pilot, and I’m the best pilot around.” She grabbed him and gave him a quick kiss. “And I knew you were a pushover.”
His gaze moved across the room as he thought before turning his gaze back to her. “I’m good with that.” He reached out to her.
She avoided him by pushing off from the wall and glided toward the doorway. “We need to move the sleepers so I can start running preflight checks on the Scorpia.” She frowned as she considered something. “Do you think you could cram more food and water—especially blue tea for hydration—into the Scorpia’s cargo hold?”
“Trying to buy us more time in the black?”
“Even one day could make the difference.”
“Yeah, I bet I can find somewhere to squeeze on more food,” he said as he pushed himself out of the room.
She floated from the room and flew down the hallway. Short bursts from her suit had her speeding through the air.
Few spoke as they stacked the pods into the best insulated cargo hold on the ship. As new pods were brought in, Eddy connected them to a daisy-chain setup of batteries, which were feeding small space heaters.
Hopefully it would be enough, though nothing would be enough to make Throttle feel any better.
Afterward, she didn’t return to the room she shared with Birk. She’d already packed all her possessions into her cryopod and left it for him to move. Instead, she went straight to the landing dock where the Scorpia waited. When she arrived, she took a moment to look upon the gunship. Dark, smooth rilon covered its hull. Two photon guns, one at the bow, the other at the stern, were the only things that broke the ship’s sleek lines. The ship was a work of art, making up for its lack of cargo space with its speed and features. Unlike the Gabriela, the Scorpia was capable of flying both in space as well as within a planet’s atmosphere. It would be the most valuable resource when they reached a viable planet for colonization. Or, at least it would have been until the entire mission failed.
When she heard movement behind her, she spun around to see Sylvian entering the dock with two battery-powered bots guiding her pod.
She jumped when she noticed her captain.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Throttle said.
“You got down here fast.”
Throttle motioned to the tech’s pod. “I could say the same about you.”
Sylvian shrugged her duffel bag higher on her shoulder. “I, ah, wanted to get my things loaded so I could see about helping load extra supplies on board.”
“Good plan,” Throttle said.
Sylvian turned back to her pod, controlling the bots through her wrist-comm to maneuver it to the ship.
Throttle turned to enter the ship first, but a blinking light on the pod caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder and noticed then that Sylvian’s pod was operating. She frowned. “Your cryopod is running.”
“Oh? I’ll be sure to shut it down as soon as I get it on board.”
Throttle stopped and moved toward the pod. “You know, you’ve always been a lousy liar, Sylvian.”
The tech held out her hands to block Throttle. “It’s nothing, really. I’ll take care of it.”
Throttle slapped Sylvian’s hands away and grabbed the pod. She looked inside to see a man in cryosleep. She activated the gravity on her boots and turned to Sylvian. “Who’s that?”
The tech halted the bots before looking up at her, stretching her neck to stand taller. “I won’t leave him behind.” The words were barely above a whisper, yet they were spoken in the most forthright tone Throttle had ever heard from her friend.
Throttle’s frown deepened. “Sylvian, you know we don’t have the supplies to take any sleepers with us.”
The tech blinked. “He can have my supplies, then. I’ll stay behind.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
Sylvian shook her head, adamant. “I won’t leave him behind, so you have to choose. Just him or both of us.”
“Who. Is. It?” Throttle gritted out.
“His name’s Finn, and he’s Sylvian’s lover,” Aubree called out as she approached with her pod and several bags of medical supplies.
Throttle’s gaze shot between the pair before hardening on Sylvian. “You knew about this?”
Aubree gave a small nod and looked to Sylvian.
Sylvian shrugged. “I wanted to tell you, I really did, but it was never the r
ight time.”
Throttle’s jaw slackened. “Never the right time? We’ve spent over seven of the past fifteen years working together. Trust me, there were plenty of ‘right’ times in there.”
The tech grimaced. “It’s just—I don’t know. As time went by, it just seemed more awkward to tell you. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”
“Yeah, you should have.” Throttle took a deep inhalation. “Just get him loaded already. Then wake him up and get him into a chime suit before he freezes to death. If he’s going to be a part of the crew, he can at least help load the ship.”
Sylvian blinked as though she didn’t understand her captain. Then she nodded fervently. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
She waved Sylvian off. “And you’d better get extra creative on finding more space to store supplies on board, especially now that we’ll have an extra mouth to feed.”
Sylvian rushed to restart the bots. “I will.”
Throttle watched as the tech navigated the pod through the ship’s open airlock.
“Finn’s a good man,” Aubree said.
“You knew she was going to try to sneak him on board?”
“I had my suspicions.”
Throttle’s jaw tightened. “How long did you know about them?”
Aubree nodded. “I knew something was up the first time I woke him up. I’d just woken group sixteen for their three-day health cycle, and Sylvian was assisting me with helping the passengers to their feet. Let’s just say she was overly helpful in assisting Finn. That girl can’t act to save her life. When I pulled the truth out of her, she swore me to secrecy.” She smiled. “Sylvian was there every time group sixteen was up for their health cycle. She even had me wake her during her sleep cycles so she could be there.” Then she sobered. “I would’ve told if you I’d thought there was any danger to you or the rest of the crew for not knowing.”
“Her sneaking him on board the Scorpia with food and battery power calculated for only seven puts the entire crew in danger. We need to look at all our numbers again.” Throttle pursed her lips. “She should’ve told me.”
“For some reason, I think Sylvian had the irrational fear that you’d send him back. I’ve seen Finn come of cryosleep; he has more than his fair share of scars. I don’t know what happened, but the pair clearly tried to draw as little attention to him as possible. Then, after a couple of years went by, they seemed to have settled into their quiet routine.”
Throttle clasped the woman’s shoulder. “No more secrets, Bree. This crew will fall apart if members hide things from one other that could impact the mission or the crew.”
Aubree seemed bothered for an instant before she nodded. “No more secrets.”
Throttle turned off her boots with a switch on her suit and launched herself toward the Scorpia. She flew through the outer airlock, the pressurization chamber, the inner airlock, and wound through the kinked, narrow hallway to the bridge. Two stations were built into the small space—one for the pilot and one for the navigator. Both stations had full control of all of the ship’s systems, a handy setup that Throttle and Birk had used on several occasions. She settled into the pilot’s seat, powered up the systems, and set the electromagnetic system to 0.2 g throughout the ship to make loading easier.
She was curious about her newest crew member but running preflight system checks demanded her attention. Hours bled by as she programmed her selected flight path into the nav system. The Scorpia had jump speed capable of the current human limits of point three four light speed, which could cut their flight time down by months, even a year or two, before it ran out of juice, but there were no navigation charts that far into the black. Though, not having charts had never stopped Throttle before.
She’d flown a colony ship into the unknown. She’d taken the Gabriela through a hundred jumps until they ran out of juice and had to run off solar sails. After the first twenty jumps, she’d captained the ship beyond charted space. Without charts, she could’ve jumped through an asteroid. But she hadn’t, so she tried not to think about the odds she faced now.
The crew came and went, loading pods and supplies while Throttle ran her checks. After she finished, she looked out the front viewscreen to see Birk staring at the ship, his head cocked as though he was in deep thought.
She tapped the letter B on her wrist-comm. “Birk, what are you doing?”
He raised his wrist-comm near his face. “I’m wondering if I can fasten the printer onto the hull somewhere.”
She laughed. “It’s nearly as big as the ship. Trust me, it won’t fit.”
He frowned. “I don’t want to leave it behind.”
“I don’t, either,” she said. “Finish loading what you can. Then we need to get to work on opening the docking bay doors.”
He trudged back to grab a crate he’d left floating behind him.
Throttle stood. Her leg braces held her steady, and she went to the small cabin nearest the cockpits. Two cryopods filled the cramped compartment, leaving only a narrow gap to walk from the door to the bed. Her wheelchair lay folded near her pod. She ignored that and opened her cryopod to make sure everything she owned had been carried in. A single bag of clothing, a bag of tools—mostly for charging her blasters and sharpening her knives—and, most importantly, a small black box.
She lifted the box and opened it to make sure the biome kit remained undamaged. Should they reach a habitable surface, the kit would launch a host of biological content that would adapt to the specific environment and build out an acre of sustainable plant life, expanding over time. Under the right conditions, it could turn a dead rock into a lush garden in under a century. Biome kits could be invasive to any preexisting biological life, but they were miracles on planets, moons, and asteroids with atmospheres but no significant life.
A good friend had given her the biome kit as a parting gift, and she cradled the precious resource, knowing that it could be the beginning of a permanent colony.
Her heart panged.
The Trappist system’s first colonization mission was a complete failure.
No one would pick up their emergency beacons. They’d traveled nearly forty light-years farther than any ship before them. Throttle couldn’t hold on to an idiotic hope that someone would come to their rescue. Leaving the colonists alone and asleep was the only compassionate choice while they searched for a miracle in a black ocean devoid of life.
She swallowed the ache in her chest, gently rubbed the outside of the biome kit, and set it back into her pod. She’d unpack everything later—there’d be plenty of time for that and second guesses after the crew evacuated the Gabriela.
She left her cabin to check on the rest of the crew. Since it was a gunship, the Scorpia didn’t have the luxuries of yachts, the most notable being a single shared bathroom for the crew near the cargo hold. The crew common area consisted of a tiny pantry with enough seating for two. The ship, designed for a crew of four—two in the cockpit and two support techs in the mechanicals hold—had only four tiny cabins.
Throttle left the cabin that Birk and she had shared since claiming the ship. In the next cabin, she found Sylvian and a pale-skinned, fit man with cropped light brown hair. They were unpacking their belongings into the wall of drawers.
“You must be Finn,” Throttle said.
He turned. “Captain Reyne.” He pushed stiffly to his feet, moving slowly after just being awakened from the induced cryogenic coma. She waited as he approached. He held out his hand. “Thank you for allowing me to join your crew. You won’t regret it.”
“But you might regret it. We have no idea what lies before us. You likely would’ve been better off staying in your cryopod.”
“Whatever it is, I’d rather face it head-on,” Finn said.
“We’ll see, won’t we.” She glanced at her tech before turning back to the newcomer. She reached out and clasped Finn’s forearm. “Welcome to the crew, Finn.”
His features relaxed, and he returned the gesture. His g
rip was firm, and he carried himself with a poise she’d rarely seen in a colonist. Curiosity needled her, and she made a mental note to review his file later.
She left to find Nolin in his and Garrett’s cabin. He was working on building something out of black rilon rods. Their two pods were stacked vertically like toothpicks against the far wall.
“Systems are all green,” Throttle said. “We’ll be ready to go as soon as we get the bay doors open.”
Nolin turned. “We’ll be all wrapped up in a few minutes.”
She nodded toward the project on the floor. “What are you working on?”
“We’re building a rack to stack the pods,” he said as he returned to his work. “We figured we may as well use the printer one last time.”
Someone bumped into Throttle’s shoulder.
“Watch out. Coming through,” Garrett said, his arms filled with more rilon rods and tools.
She stepped back to allow the dark-skinned man to squeeze through the doorway.
“Any chance you printed enough to build racks for all of us?” Throttle asked.
Garrett grinned. “I’m one step ahead of you. I’m already printing enough rods for every cabin. I was going to print enough for Eddy, but he said he’s already working on his own setup for his pod. Something he says is better than ours, evidently.”
“Of course it is,” Throttle said sarcastically. On her way out, she paused. “Oh, and be sure to print enough for one more pod. We have another crew member joining us.”
Both men seemed taken aback. “What?”
“His name’s Finn. He’ll be Sylvian’s roommate, and Aubree gets her own room since Eddy doesn’t want a roommate.”
With that, she left the pair to their work and found Eddy where she’d expected to find him. He’d chosen to set his cot near the mechanicals. He’d strapped his pod to the floor near the engineering panel, and he’d fastened his cot on top of the cryopod’s cover. He was sitting on the cot as he went through screens on the panel before him.
“Nice use of space,” she said. “Using your pod as a frame for your bed and seating area.”
“I didn’t have much choice. This ship is too small for these pods,” he said without looking away from the panel.