by D. M. Pruden
I need this job. Chambers landed in my life like a fairy godmother. This gig isn’t ideal, but it’s the only opportunity open to me. I won’t turn my back on it over a bunch of lowlife gangsters.
I must have dozed, because my bleary vision confirms it is 0745. I shoot out of bed, fully awake.
Requiem launched while I slept, and I didn’t feel a thing.
When the shock wears off, I sit on the edge of the bed and rub the sleep from my eyes.
“I guess it’s decided for you, Melanie.”
I can’t think of a reason to feel sorry about it, so I pad to the shower. As the lukewarm, five-minute ration of recycled water drips over me, I compose my excuse for sleeping through our departure.
Examining my image in the mirror, I satisfy myself the makeup makes me look more alert than I feel after a sleepless night.
Halfway to the bridge, I realize the ship is silent and isn’t vibrating from the hum of the engines. Either Schmaltz keeps things exceptionally well-tuned, or they are not active.
The mystery deeps when I spot our pilot, Mikey Reynolds, walking toward me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be flying this boat?”
Puzzled, he says, “Not until we take off. Some late-arriving cargo is being loaded. We’ll leave in half an hour.”
He continues down the corridor, probably wondering about my intelligence. In my defence, I would’ve handled that more smoothly with breakfast in my belly.
I hurry in the direction of the mess, hoping to wolf down something before our departure. After that, I can take my place with the rest of the crew for the launch.
“Ah, there you are.” Chambers’ voice booms behind me.
Turning, I force a smile. “Morning, Captain.”
“Please don’t call me that. It’s a long story.”
“Okay. I understand some late-arriving cargo has delayed us.”
“Yeah, that’s why I was looking for you. I need you to come with me to inspect it.”
“Oh?”
“It’s organic. I want you to tell me everything is kosher before I let it aboard my ship.”
“Does this sort of thing happen often?”
“No.” He starts down the corridor, forcing me to catch up.
“Is something wrong?”
He scowls at me briefly before his features soften. “It’s the client for this run. He’s being a pain in the ass about flouting my safety regs.”
“Um, I need to study up on those...”
“I don’t transport any biomatter unless I know what it is and that it is safe to do so...”
“That sounds prudent...”
“And Singh won’t show me what’s in the crate. He insists things are perfectly legitimate...”
“You don’t trust him?”
“Hell, no, but our contract says it can only be rejected by our medical specialist.”
“So you want me to tell him no.”
“I want you to assure me that everything is okay. If you reject the fucking thing, we will run this job at a loss.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. If you just want a rubber stamp...”
He stops and sighs. “I want my crew to be safe, but I also want the contract. If Singh refused to open the container for inspection, I need your expert judgment as a backup to my decision to tell him to piss off.”
“You want me to cover your ass?”
“Now you’re catching on,” he says as he resumes walking.
We are greeted in the cargo hold by a frowning Parvinder Singh, accompanied by three grim-looking companions I wouldn’t want to chance upon in a dark alley. On seeing me, his scowl deepens.
“So you’re going to invoke the medical clause, Chambers?”
“You’re not being cooperative.”
Singh hands me a data pad. “I told him what it was, but he won’t believe me.”
After reading the manifest, I turn to Chambers. “This says it contains human remains.”
“My dearly departed uncle Satinder.”
“Just let us peek at his corpse,” says the captain.
“Impossible! That would greatly offend my family, who are already devastated by his loss so far from home.”
I pull Chambers aside and lower my voice. “Visual inspection of the body won’t tell me anything. The documents contain an official certificate stating the cause of death was accidental...” I check the pad again. “A vehicle accident. There is bio-sample analysis from the coroner that clears the remains for any trace of pathogens.”
He looks askance at me. “That document is probably forged.”
I consider the situation for a moment. “Look, even if there is something dangerous in that thing, the container is hermetically sealed. It has cryogenic controls that maintain the contents at a very low temperature. Anything untoward in there is dormant. Besides, if there is something in there, the last thing you want to do is open it up.”
“So, you’re saying the thing is safe for transport?”
“Well, I suppose so...”
“That is good enough for me.” He turns back to Singh. “The doctor has cleared your package. Your monkeys can bring it aboard.”
Parvinder rolls his eyes and signals his men to proceed.
Chambers says to me, “I’ll see you on the bridge in twenty minutes,” and leaves.
I watch Singh’s men manoeuvre the crate into the hold and secure it in place. Satisfied I am of no further use, I turn to leave as well.
“Thank you for talking sense into him, Doctor.”
“I had no grounds to deny the cargo, Mister Singh. I hope your uncle will soon be able to rest in peace.”
He smiles, not missing my subtle emphasis.
“Everything should be fine for everyone now.”
His meaning doesn’t escape me either. We’ve avoided a nasty confrontation with a notorious gang.
Less than an hour in, and I am already regretting my decision to stay on the ship.
Chapter 5
When I signed up to become the ship’s doctor, I gave little consideration to what I would do with my time during the voyage.
Short answer: not much.
I spent the first day getting familiar with the crew’s medical records. After that, I studied the operating procedure for the myriad of high-tech equipment in the infirmary. It was when I caught myself rereading corporate policy manuals that I realized nothing would overcome the tedium of the journey.
Three weeks in, and I am bored. Mind-numbingly so. Nobody has come to see me for so much as a hangnail. I now appreciate how Chambers got away without having a medical specialist aboard for so long. What I don’t understand is why he requires one at all.
If idle hands are supposed to be the devil’s workshop, then I am his employee of the year. I need something to stimulate my brain, or I will go bonkers and become a serial killer or something.
Wondering how the rest of those aboard deal with the circumstances, I decide to conduct an informal poll. Hanging around the canteen, I make small talk with anyone who comes in for a meal or a coffee. Even though there are only ten crew members, myself included, I think I might be able to drag my little project out over the better part of a week. What I hear is considerably more than I expected.
After the first few encounters, I realize the depth of the waters I probe. The one common thread everyone shares is boredom. Most are busy enough during their shift, but off-shift time is something they dread. All of them use drugs or alcohol to blunt the sting of the idle hours, and every one of them asked me to supply them with something. More shocking still: they all offered to pay me for my services. Suddenly, the corporation’s generous restocking policy makes perfect sense.
Unsure of how to proceed, I defer the first requests until I can consult Schmaltz. We are now friends and share meals.
“Of course he dealt drugs,” he says. “I’m surprised it took you this long to figure that out.”
“So, I’m just supposed to take the crew’s c
redits and supply them with their recreational pharmaceutical of choice?”
“Chambers hasn’t talked to you about this?”
“No, why?”
“He took a cut from our last doctor. The two of them had a nice little racket going.”
“What happened?”
“The doc got a little too confident. He demanded a bigger share. Our captain didn’t think too much of that idea and dumped his ass off on Ganymede.”
“Holy shit. He never mentioned a thing about this.”
“Maybe he’s waiting until you formally set up shop. Or perhaps he’s testing you.”
“How?”
Schmaltz shrugs. “He might be watching to see how straight-laced you are; trying to determine if he can trust you or if he needs to find somebody more willing to play the game.”
“You’re telling me to show some initiative or I might find myself hitching a ride back?”
He puts the unlit cigar between his teeth. “Yup.”
“Does Chambers have arrangements with anyone else? How about you?”
“He pays me to doctor our fuel consumption reports to hide our little off-the-books side trips. I suppose he has similar understandings with some of the others.”
I scan the mess hall and lower my voice. “What does Singh have to do with all this?”
“Nothing. If he knew what was going on, he’d want a piece of it for the collective or for himself.”
“So smuggling for them is just another one of Chambers’ side businesses?”
“That reminds me,” he says, “I have to make some calculations for our little course deviation in a few hours.” He stands to leave.
“An unauthorized side trip?”
He nods. “Something to do with Singh’s cargo.”
“Where are we going?”
“I was just given some coordinates in the belt.”
“An asteroid?”
“Or a ship,” he says. “There are privateers operating out here.”
“Doesn’t that put us in danger?”
“Why do you think Singh has his goons with him?”
“I dunno, I would have thought the pirates and the collective were associated.”
“I think some of them are, but there are plenty of freelancers out here off of the main trading routes.”
“Have you guys ever been attacked?”
He raps his knuckles on the plastic tabletop. “We’ve been chased but never boarded.”
“Are there...contingencies for that possibility?”
He nods. “Chambers is ex-military, and we have a small armoury. It’s smarter to avoid any kind of confrontation, though. This ship wasn’t built to take a lot of punishment. One hit in the wrong place and we could explosively decompress, or the engines could go critical, or the life support—”
“Okay, I get it. I don’t have to worry about bullets flying around my head.”
Schmaltz grins broadly and pats my shoulder. “Don’t concern yourself, Doc. We’ve done this before. This run should be a quick in-and-out, and then it will be back to boredom.”
He’s turned to leave when I call to his back.
“Would Chambers have mentioned any of this?”
“I dunno, I suppose so. Maybe you should ask him when you talk about your new side business.”
“Will you become one of my new customers?”
“Sorry, Doc, booze is my vice of choice, and I keep my own stash down in engineering.”
“Mind if I come down for cocktail hour sometime?”
“Any time,” he says, waving.
Chambers happily confirms everything Schmaltz told me. “There are no secrets here, Mel. We are all in this together.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this when you offered me the job?”
“I checked you out, but I had no real way to confirm you didn’t work for the Morality Police.”
“What made you decide I don’t?”
He chuckles. “When you cleared Singh’s cargo; an MP stooge wouldn’t have considered letting that thing aboard.”
“So, you were testing me?”
He shrugs. “I needed to be sure.”
I pretend to be offended for a moment before returning his smile. “What happens now?”
“Now, we make our rendezvous with Singh’s contact, transfer the package, and do a hard burn to put us back on our logged schedule.”
“You have this all worked out.”
“It ain’t my first rodeo, darlin’,” he drawls.
“What’s that?”
“It’s an old Earth thing involving livestock.” He drains the last of his coffee and stands. “We’re coming up on the meeting coordinates. I have to prepare.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t expect trouble, but ensure the infirmary is prepped for any...unforeseen events.”
I should have been upset at having been played by him, but I admire his cunning. For some reason, I trust him, which is a rarity for me. But I am a little concerned; for such an apparently savvy businessman, he doesn’t make a point of knowing what he transports for the Collective. I’m certain it isn’t the body of Singh’s uncle.
It’s none of my business, but I can’t stop thinking about what our mystery cargo is. Nobody transports human remains, let alone under cryogenic preservation. Something stinks, and it isn’t a decaying corpse.
The one plus side to having something to ponder is that I’m no longer bored. The bad thing is that I can’t leave such a thing unsolved.
I need to learn the contents of that crate.
The corridor that runs up the axis of Requiem’s structure is abandoned.
With my heart beating a drum solo, I try to appear casual as I stroll past the infirmary.
If I had to cite my worst character flaw, it is curiosity. It has gotten me into more trouble than I care to recall. Common sense tells me to turn around and spend my time rechecking everything in the medical centre that I have already rechecked a dozen times. It should be easy for me to remain there, safely out of the way until everything is over and I can collect my bonus. But I can’t do that.
If everything goes as planned, Singh’s package will soon be removed from our ship, and I will never learn what’s inside.
There is some justification, at least in my mind, for my curiosity. What if the contents of the crate really are hazardous to the crew? Maybe Chambers will think twice about endangering everyone in a similar manner in the future. Maybe we can charge the Collective more for the next one, out of consideration for the danger it presents. It seems like smart business to find out.
I pause before the hatch to the cargo hold and collect myself. After a deep breath, I enter.
Four men are startled by my entrance.
“Can I help you, Doctor?” asks Chambers, scowling.
Singh and his men appear even less pleased to see me.
My mouth flaps, but no noise comes out. Finally, I say, “I...I just wanted to make sure the cryogenic controls on Mister Singh’s package were still operating properly.”
The two of them regard each other, puzzled. Chambers turns back to me.
“That won’t be necessary. Nothing here requires your attention, Doctor. Please wait for me on the bridge.”
My cheeks warm as I meekly acknowledge his order and turn to depart.
I wonder which planet or moon I will be marooned on after this is over.
Chapter 6
I’m in my launch seat, trying to be inconspicuous, when Chambers enters the bridge with Singh and Schmaltz. Schmaltzy shoots me a sympathetic expression as he takes his place across the aisle. To my relief, both Chambers and our client ignore me.
The captain assumes his seat next to our helmsman. “Bring us in slow, Mark. We don’t want to spook anyone.”
Mikey’s attention is completely absorbed by the controls as an asteroid grows larger outside the front window. The tension among us is palpable. Singh is particularly uptight, a death gri
p on the arm of his chair. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple.
A quick glance at the others around me reveals a common apprehension. I lean over to whisper in Schmaltz’s ear. “What’s going on?”
He brusquely shakes his head to dismiss me and focuses on his engineering panel.
Our navigator, Cervantes, announces his readings for all our benefit. “Radiation levels are normal so far.”
“Look alive, people,” says Chambers. “If anything gets hinky, we’re bugging out of here.” He addresses Singh. “Is that clear?”
The client nods submissively, his attention riveted to the asteroid that now looms before us.
“Nothing on radar; no thermal emissions; no electromagnetic or gravitational anomalies,” says Cervantes, who also monitors our sensor array.
Aside from the random pings and beeps from the controls, the bridge is silent as everyone not otherwise occupied watches out the window.
“Magnetic body, two hundred metres off the port bow,” shouts Cervantes. I almost jump out of my skin.
“Evasive thrusters! NOW!” bellows Chambers.
I am pulled left as Requiem responds.
“Secondary body approaching starboard; range: fifty metres!”
“Dorsal jets! Full burn!”
“Three more below—”
“Fire retros! Bring us to a stop!”
Chambers turns on Singh. “You brought us into a fucking minefield.”
“There shouldn’t be one here,” says the client. “I was assured this site is neutral.”
“Neutral between whom?” I ask.
He regards me as if he just noticed my presence.
Chambers answers for him. “Between the Jovian Collective and the local pirates operating in this part of the belt, except it looks more like a trap.”
“I can think of no reason why Roberts has betrayed us,” says Singh.
“Probably because he’s just as trustworthy as you jokers,” responds Chambers.
“Sorry for interrupting the blame game you two are playing,” I say, “but what are we going to do about the minefield?”
