“And before that?”
A wrinkle formed between her brows. “A low-level job at Regulation headquarters. Working on the pitches and other crafts the officials used. I was happy to get this position.”
“That seems quite the promotion.”
Her laugh echoed off the elevator wall as they entered. She hit the button for the bridge and Gin grasped the handle as it descended.
“Many weren’t too keen on joining the captain’s crew.”
A knot formed in Gin’s stomach. So, here was the catch. Something about this whole mission was off, and Captain Hartford’s desperation suddenly seemed suspicious.
“Why couldn’t he get a crew?”
Angela looked at his face and must have seen some of his dread. “Oh, relax, Temina. Captain Lian is more than qualified. He’s a superb leader, brave and steady. It’s his reputation that people don’t like.”
“What about it?”
“You honestly couldn’t tell? He’s a mix.”
Gin gasped, though he had initially suspected the captain was less than human. “No way! And they gave him a Class Three rank?”
Angela’s brows lowered again. “Yes, they did. As I said, he’s exceptional. He speaks a dozen languages. He never needs a translator when he negotiates with humanoids.”
Gin raised his hands. “I didn’t mean it to be offensive. I’m fine with aliens.”
“Humanoids,” she corrected. “Don’t let Doc hear you say that word.”
He knew the doctor was going to be scary.
The elevator opened and they stepped out onto the bridge. Gin’s eyes popped as his gaze slid from one side of the room to the other. It was huge! A dozen people wandered around, or leaned over consoles, or sat at a metal table at its center. The captain stood before the table, his palms flat on the surface. He was talking to the gathered crew members intently.
“Wow,” Gin said softly. “This is amazing.”
“The engine room is even better. But, let me point out a few things first. Can you see the chutes along the wall?” She pointed to four different metal latches. They were dispersed evenly between the elevators—marking the 45-degree intervals of the Bethany’s circumference.
“Those are the stairwells,” she said. “They’re in the same location in each level. So, each room upstairs has access—besides the bunks. Ours does, so the Class Three can get down there quickly in emergencies.”
Gin nodded vaguely. His eyes were glued to the nearest console where it showed the Bethany’s charted path. It displayed the Bloom Wormhole just past Jupiter’s orbit. If he touched the screen, he was sure it would show what lay on the other side of the wormhole.
His fingers flew up to his hair band.
“Temina.” Angela pulled on the hem of his coat. “The engines first.”
He groaned. How long were they going to keep denying him? Reluctantly, he turned away from the console and followed Angela to the closest stairwell chute. Now that he got a closer look, he noticed it was similar to a latch he’d seen in their bunk. Good to know.
Angela flipped the lever—awful archaic—and the metal door swung inward, essentially blocking the tube from anyone descending from above. What a terrible concept! Apparently, Gin missed his real calling as a spaceliner designer. He could show the people back in Franklin a thing or two about logic and functionality.
“Watch your step,” Angela said, her voice rebounding off the metal enclosure as she placed her feet on the rung. She started down at an easy pace and Gin did likewise. The latch shut automatically behind him. Or did it only stay open for a designated time? It could have squished him.
Raising his chin, Gin glanced up and noticed the stairwell bent with the curve of The Bethany’s hull. That curvature would actually slow a quick descent. If he slid down with only his hands on the rails, he could stop himself before hitting the bottom. In theory.
“Temina.” Angela’s voice bounced threateningly all around him.
“Coming,” he called back, and winced when his own voice crashed into his eardrums.
He started down the rungs.
Near the bottom, Angela said, “There’s a button at the top of the door. You can hit it with your foot.”
Gin glanced over his shoulder and saw her boot push a latch. The door swung to the side. It would have hit anyone with their feet on the level ground. This place was a death trap!
“What happens if you push the button while on the ground? You sure that’s not how Malc died?”
Angela snorted and continued down the last few rungs. “If something is blocking its path, it won’t open. It beeps until you move out if its way. Sometimes inconvenient, but not dangerous.”
She exited, allowing Gin room to get to the floor. He followed her through the narrow opening, then gaped when he spied the twin engines at the center of the room. They were tall—easily stretching the equivalent of two stories—perfectly cylindrical, with a bright blue gas swirling behind the translucent glass.
Gin grabbed his hair tie and ran to the engines. In front of the left one, he placed his hands along the glass. It didn’t feel warm, but he could still sense the heat of the gas inside.
“Glider fusion,” he said in awe. “I didn’t realize armada ships had implemented this technology yet.”
Angela stood beside him and gazed at the engines as well. “The Bethany was one of the first to be built with gliders. But nearly half the fleet has them now.”
“I’ve read all about them, but nothing this sophisticated would ever come to Tallahassee. We only got compression engines, or thrust engines. This is amazing!”
Angela grinned and tugged on his arm. “Come look at the schematics.”
He followed her over to a console, located in front of the engines, but centered between them. “This is the main database. There are lesser ones around the room—each with a more detailed data bank. But this one has the overview of each, and it’s how we control the engines.” She pressed a few buttons beside a large screen, and a diagram of the engines popped up.
Gin touched his rubber band, then poked at the screen. It zoomed in the view, showing the base where the surplus dark energy was stored. While out in space, the supply of dark energy was infinite, but while in port the engines could only use what it had stored. This amount would be enough to lift them out of Earth’s atmosphere, and into the vacuum of space, where the tanks would refill.
He tapped the screen again and it zoomed out to show the dynamics of the whole engine room. The wires. The connectors. The pipes. Gin’s eyes glazed over in something approaching lust. He could spend hours and hours familiarizing himself with this layout, memorizing every inch of the Bethany’s interior.
“Why don’t you have a look at the systems?” Angela suggested. “The members for the first shift should be down shortly. I’ll introduce you when they get here.”
“Sure,” he said offhandedly. He pressed a blue button and it changed the screen to a summary report. Temperature, pressure, capacity, fuel percentage. He scanned the information, noting this was the norm for idle engines. Once they were off Earth, these numbers would change.
He pressed each button, making a mental note of its function and how he could use it practically during the trip. He even had time to read the startup and shutdown instructions, as well as the troubleshooting diagnostics reports. These engines were his, and he was damn certain he’d keep them optimal. The captain wouldn’t even care he wasn’t Temmy. He’d prove himself with knowledge and competence.
Voices began to talk softly behind him. He ignored them until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
When he turned, Angela gestured to the gathered people—four of them, one human male and one female, plus two alie… humanoids. The taller was a Ruvario, with skin nearly black, and three eyes in a row on their face. Ruvario often vacationed on Earth, and Gin had seen several in Tallahassee as they passed through on their way to the beach. He still didn’t know much about them. The other was a Toltec, with
fur and a thick mane—meaning he was male. He smiled at Gin and showed off large, pointed teeth.
“This is Temina Oshwald,” Angela said. “He’s our new Class Three.”
Gin nodded his head to them. “I’m sorry to be joining the crew under such tragic circumstances.”
Angela gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. “Temina, this is Syrin.” The Toltec put a hand to his chest and lowered his muzzle, but his yellowish eyes didn’t leave Gin’s face. “He’s the other Class Two on this shift, besides myself. The others are Class One. Orious—” She pointed at the human male, in his late thirties, with thick glasses and little hair. Orious saluted sharply, his boots clicking as he brought his heels together. “Lennel.” The Ruvario blinked their eyes in a quick pattern, which seemed to pass as a greeting. “And Nikita.” The human woman smiled broadly and touched her fist to her heart. Then she tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. It was nearly as long as Gin’s, and an almost identical shade.
“Nice to meet you all,” Gin said, suddenly feeling grown up. He was in charge of these people. Temmy would faint from shock if she could see him now. “This will be my first mission, and I’m very excited to be a part of this crew. Please let me know if you have any concerns or questions.”
Chapter 7
LIAN TAPPED his fingers along the metal table. He was anxious to be off the planet, and this small tic was the only way he could release some of that pent-up energy. They were still waiting for the green light from Regulation. Admiral Alejaro—the leader of the Order of Right—had said it would come in the next thirty minutes, but that was nearly an hour ago.
What’s the holdup? Temina had checked out, so the problem wasn’t with Lian’s roster. The Bethany’s systems were optimal. Supplies were loaded and ready. Why this delay?
The fear deep inside him said it was an issue with the Dalmin. The race had been rather fickle when setting up this negotiation. He sincerely hoped they hadn’t backed out.
“Captain?” Trish asked.
He turned to her. She sat at the com station to his left. “Yes, Commander?”
“Admiral Alejaro has issued the green light. We’ve been added to the takeoff rotation.”
Lian barely held in a relieved sigh. “Thank you. Sou, get the Bethany ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Sousuke said, with a dip of his head.
Lian headed to Trish’s com station and gently nudged her out of the way. She vacated the chair and sighed dramatically. He ignored her and tapped the screen to pull up a direct feed to the engine room. Usually he used his call badge, but he couldn’t be certain Temina knew how it functioned yet.
The engine room appeared on the screen, and Temina’s face was inches away from it. The mechanic pulled back with a startled yell. “Captain?”
Lian almost snorted. The man’s quirks were not something he was accustomed to. “Temina. We have the green light for launch. Are you situated down there?”
“Yes, sir. Angela showed me the ship and the engine room, and introduced me to the crew members on this shift.”
“Good. Please initiate phase one.”
Surprisingly, Temina nodded, and his hands touched his hair tie before pushing a quick succession of buttons on the side of the screen. “Phase one, initiated.”
The engines started to hum and Lian could feel the slight tremor they sent through the ship. He really does know his stuff. Lian raised his head from the screen and looked to Sousuke. The other man gave a nod.
“Initiate engines,” Lian told Temina.
Temina’s gray eyes flew over the console as he set the necessary dials. Finally, he met Lian’s gaze. “Engines set, Captain.”
“Go ahead, Sou.”
The navigator gave the final codes needed to get the Bethany airborne. She flew herself, based on the flight plan programmed into her database. Once the engines were on, she very rarely needed outside assistance. The only reason Lian kept a fully stocked crew of mechanics was on the off chance she couldn’t handle the situation.
Lian looked back to the screen. Temina had a huge grin on his face. “Good work, Temina. Now, come up to the bridge. I’ll escort you to Doc.”
The smile on Temina’s face fled. “But I’m perfectly healthy, Captain. And there’s still so much I need to learn about the Bethany’s engines.”
Lian stared for half a heartbeat, unable to believe the man was arguing. The mechanic wasn’t used to rank, but he should know enough to follow directions.
“That was an order,” Lian said, knowing it sounded harsh. Temina needed to learn this lesson early. Lian cut off the feed.
Trish leaned up against the console. “I bet the poor thing is shaking in his boots right now. You didn’t have to be so mean.”
Lian frowned at her. She was another one who could use a refresher in following orders. He loved her dearly, appreciated her friendship, but sometimes she pushed him just a tad too far.
“You have control of the bridge until I return,” he said.
She saluted, but her lips tugged up at the corners as she fought a smile.
The stairwell hatch opened and Temina climbed out. His face looked paler, and his gray eyes had lost their sparkle of happiness. Lian hadn’t been that harsh.
“This way,” he said, and walked to the nearest elevator.
Temina followed him inside, his shoulders slumped.
“This is a routine checkup. I know your reports have your current health records, but it’s always best to be seen by Doc first thing.” Lian could have sent Temina on his own, but he was happy for the chance to say hello to Mother.
The elevator opened to a deserted hallway. Most of the crew not on shift would be down one more level, eating or relaxing in the com room. This floor was hardly ever full. Even among the other humanoids on the ship, Doc was one most tended to avoid.
Lian pressed the button that opened the door to sick bay. He walked in, his eyes quickly sweeping the room for any crew members. It was empty, save Doc.
“Lian!” she said, jumping to her feet and rushing over. She didn’t hug him, he’d made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate that, but she did grip his hand in her own. “Why didn’t you stop in before takeoff?”
“No time, Doc.” Lian took a step to the side, revealing Temina’s slightly huddled form. “This is Temina Oshwald. I brought him in for his checkup.”
Doc smiled. She was trying to be kindly, but even to Lian she looked frightening. As expected, Temina retreated a step.
“Hello, Temina. Come in and have a seat. This won’t take long.” Doc walked farther into the room and placed her hands on the back of a chair.
Lian was hoping he wouldn’t have to physically push the mechanic to follow. Luckily, Temina went to her, his legs clearly wobbling. He sank into the chair as if his muscles could no longer support his weight.
“There you go,” Doc said. “Now, take off your shirt.”
“I’ll wait for you outside, Temina,” Lian said, and headed toward the door.
“No!” the mechanic called urgently.
When Lian looked back at him, he had his hand outstretched as if he wanted to hang on to Lian’s coat.
A blush crept onto Temina’s pale cheeks and he quickly lowered his arm. “I mean, I’d prefer it if you stay.”
The poor country bumpkin was terrified, it seemed. Much more so than a simple trip to a doctor should incite. Lian dipped his head. “I’ll stay.”
With a sigh of relief, Temina unbuttoned the jacket and slipped it off. Then he lifted the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head. He held the garments clenched between his fists.
“Now, open your mouth,” Doc told him.
Temina did so, his eyes still downcast. Doc placed a thermometer into his mouth, and Temina nearly spit it out. Doc already had the measure of the quirky mechanic; she held his jaw up to lock the thermometer in place.
“Sit still. This is taking your temperature.”
He thrashed a bit longer before stilling. The man may be a geni
us, but he needed to learn some social skills.
After a moment, Doc pulled the thermometer from Temina’s mouth. She held it up and rotated it. For some reason, she preferred many archaic methods. She never used a digital thermometer. She hated pain-tabs, insisting everyone drink brewed tinctures made of herbs for relief. She even used her own poultices and salves instead of Regulation supplied creams and antiseptics.
“Temperature is normal.” She moved her hand to Temina’s throat. Temina gasped and tried to push her away. “Sit still,” she repeated, and Lian could tell her forced good humor was fading quickly. “I’m taking your pulse.”
“You could have warned me,” Temina mumbled.
“Do you think I’d be trying to hurt you, Vaynayla?”
Lian flinched at the Quifante term. It meant little boy, one still dependent on his mother. Not usually used as praise.
The foreign word didn’t faze Temina. He glared—as if he understood the negative connotation—and said, “You do seem to be awful grabby, Doc.”
“If I wanted to, I could kill you easily, before you even had time to scream.”
That did the trick. Temina’s eyes flew wide and he began to struggle out of Doc’s grip.
“Enough,” Lian said sharply. Temina froze, and even Doc lowered her hands to her sides. “Doc, as you know, Temina is from Tallahassee. He didn’t go to the academy. He’s never been in space. A little understanding and compassion is needed here, so I suggest you search inside yourself and summon one or the other.”
Lian noted he could take his own advice in that regard. He’d forced Temina into this uncomfortable position without consideration to his provincial upbringing.
Doc’s face looked pinched, but she nodded. “Of course, Captain. Temina, I apologize. I was having a bit of fun. Quifante sense of humor, and all.”
Temina’s eyes widened farther. “You’re a Quifante? I had no idea.”
“I wear it well.”
Lian coughed to cover his chuckle. “Doc, please continue with the exam and stop tormenting other crew members.”
She nodded, all business again. “Temina, I’m going to attach sensors to your chest. It’ll take a few measurements.” She turned to the counter behind her and grabbed a metal contraption with two wires hanging from it. She placed the ends of the wires—covered in sticky white pads—on Temina’s chest. Her eyes scanned the reader, and then she removed the sensors and placed them on the counter. “The last thing is a blood draw.”
Spark in the Stars Page 5
