The Forever Quest (The Forever Series Book 4)

by Craig Robertson

  There were no records concerning the human worldship fleet, the destruction of Earth, or any other related topic. So the words I’d overheard remained a mystery. Of course, Varrank might know more and would never share such intelligence with the likes of a pirate. Crapidydap. I was in for the duration. The only positive I discovered was that Deerkon was just a hop, skip, and a jump from Pallolo. That leg would only take three months.

  I’d done long space voyages before—much longer. That one wasn’t a major deal. Plus, I had company, such as it was. I kept in touch with Al on Shearwater the whole time. I could send messages to my family, but the distances were large enough that I’d hopefully be done with this trip and back on the cube before they received them. The first nine months were uneventful. Karnean didn’t kill me, so that was nice. Ned and I became buddies. Who could resist me for long, right? Between the chores and the card games and the booze, things fell into a comfortable routine. I wasn’t having fun, but my existence didn’t suck either.

  That’s when things got complicated. Yeah, with me, complicated was always the new normal. One day, I was hacking into the computer system, mostly out of boredom, when I noticed two unsettling things. One, Karnean had messaged his sister that the deal with Varrank was getting worse. He’d received a message changing the terms, the timetable, and the safeguards Karnean had built into the contract. Two, I detected an impending leak in the fusion drive seals. Nothing was critical yet, but if no one took notice and fixed the seals, the ship would go boom in a week, maybe less.

  I’d met the entire crew by then. The engineer was okay, at best. His assistants were, however, useless on their best days. Bottom-dwellers every one of them with not enough brain cells between them to form one good thought. I couldn’t very well waltz up to Karnean and alert him about the seal issue. That would get me a thank you, a torture-session, and a yo-heave-ho off the ship. Neither could I repair the damage. Out of my job description. Plus, it would require shutting down the engines, ejecting the plasma, and doing a big tear-down repair. No way I could do that in secret.

  My initial plan, bare-bones to be sure, was to become chummier with one of the bridge crew, a Kaljaxian named Fontelpo. He was the only Kaljaxian onboard and kept pretty much to himself. I knew everything there was to know about the ship and it’s systems. If I could get Fontelpo to notice it, my problem would be solved. I invented a story about spending time on Kaljax and spoke to him in Hirn, Sapale’s dialect, though I made it sound pretty broken.

  I made it a point to mop the bridge during his shifts. I worked my way over to his station and asked, “Hey, brother, would you likes a plate of calrf? You looking hunger.”

  That got a laugh out of him. “I’m never that hunger,” he replied. “Why do you think I left Kaljax at such a young age?” We chuckled quietly.

  “You know,” I said, switching back to the Standard language, “I flew one of these ships a few years back. Nice rides.”

  “They’re okay. But I used to pilot a Bernin-8.”

  I whistled in admiration.

  “Yeah, no going back after you’ve flown the best. They can do three-quarters c in under a parsec, all the while the crew’s as comfortable as if they were back in their mothers’ arms.”

  “Impressive. Say,” I tapped the plasma pressure indicator, “is that a little low?”

  He got a defensive look on his face. “No. It’s in spec, sailor.”

  “Hey,” I raised my hands, “no offense, okay. I’m just making conversation here.”

  “You ever pilot one of these?” he asked, still pointedly.

  “Yeah, sort of…”

  “How does one sort of pilot a ship. You either did or you didn’t. You’re either certified or you’re not. Which is it?”

  “Fontelpo,” I said, slipping back into Hirn, “I’m a man talking to another man. Keep your intestines in one place.” It was an odd expression that meant lighten up, dude.

  He eased up a bit with the attitude. “Sorry,” he said in Standard, “must have been you mentioning calrf. Put me on edge.”

  We smiled but didn’t laugh.

  “No problem. I just recall the specs wrong, I guess. I thought if there was a variation in the flow matrix, you know, it was bad.”

  “The pressure’s not related to the flow matrix in a sealed system. There should—” That was all he got out.

  “What is going on here?” snapped Kayla from behind us. “Mr. Ryan, why are you here? Why are you discussing secure information with my pilot? And why, Mr. Fontelpo, are you discussing it with this man openly?”

  Oh boy. She was pissed.

  “That you both should behave so inappropriately is unforgivable. That you do it on my watch is unhealthy.”

  “Ma’am,” he started to say, “I can—”

  “Silence! I asked a question of Mr. Ryan first. He will answer first.” I guess I wasn’t invisible anymore. I kind of missed it right about then.

  I turned and faced her. That didn’t make my task any easier. She was gorgeous when she was angry. “I was here doing my job, ma’am. I engaged Fontelpo in conversation to ease the boredom. If that’s bad, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not concerned with idle chit-chat. What I am concerned with is your meddling in ship’s affairs at this level. As my brother obtained you so randomly, I will assume for the time being you are not a spy. But I will know by what right you discuss operational concerns with my bridge crew.”

  I was in deep doo-doo. “With all due respect, ma’am, I piloted one of these Starliners for several years out of Dalque for a man named Quislor.” Yeah, I took a chance making all that up, but that planet was such a mess, records had to be unobtainable. What the hell, I knew the specs of the ship better that she did. Robot brain to the rescue.

  “I find that challenging to believe.” She placed her arms behind her back. That threw those breasts out even farther. Crap. “The ancillary thruster on the port bow. How many tallards of pressure does it generate, and where does the vented gas arrive from? The wrong answer will cost you your life.”

  She was tough. “That’s a trick question, which I resent.” Yeah, push back a little, but gently. “There are two ancillary thrusters on the port bow. Each generates twenty-seven tallards of pressure. The nitrogen gas is delivered by plastic hoses located just inside the hull. The hull, in case you ask, in this section, is three point seven five centimeters thick, composed of carbona—”

  “Enough.” She looked at me as if for the first time. “Impressive knowledge for a deckhand. Why is that, Mr. Ryan?”

  “Probably because no one asked my qualifications before handing me this mop.” I angled it toward her. Man, was she a knockout.

  “Be very careful, Mr. Ryan, how you answer my next question. Why was a top-rate pilot seeking employment as an able-bodied sailor and not at his pay grade?”

  Good question. Why work for little pay, less comfort, worse hours, and absolutely no respect? Had me wondering. “Ah, ma’am, that’s kind of personal.”

  Her hand moved like a greased cobra. She slapped me across the face so hard I had to make my head spin. “One more remark like that and I will personally throw you off this ship. Is that clear, Mr. Ryan?”

  “Abundantly, ma’am. I didn’t look for a pilot’s job because I have a drinking problem. A drug problem too. Sooner or later, usually sooner, my commander figures it out. I’m lucky if they just maroon me on the next station we hit. It’s been a problem, ma’am.” Yea for me. A great bullshit answer.

  She moved her jaw around while she thought. “Mr. Fontelpo, your turn. Why were you discussing operations with a swabbie?”

  “I wasn’t, ma’am. We were discussing theory more than…”

  “I heard what you said, and it was not a theoretical exchange. Mr. Ryan asked you if the plasma pressure wasn’t a bit low. You said, and I quote: No, it’s in spec, sailor. That is classified information, is it not?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is, but it’s right here on display where…”


  “Mr. Fontelpo, you are relieved. Go to your quarters and remain there until summoned. I will man your post in your absence.”

  He responded with a barely audible, “Ma’am.”

  Glad I really didn’t like the guy, because I sure just got him in a heap of trouble.

  “As for you, Mr. Ryan, as you were. I want this bridge so clean you’d invite your mother to eat off the floor.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And know that my brother and I will be keeping an even closer eye on you in the future. Neither of us is much of a believer in coincidence or chance.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” By the way, you’re beautiful, ma’am! Permission to steal just one kiss, ma’am. Nah, even I wouldn’t say that out loud.

  A few hours later as I lay in my bunk pretending to sleep, Ned rushed in. “Captain wants to see you on the double, mate. I heard what happened, and I don’t envy your shoes about now, if you know what I mean.”

  I dropped to the floor. “Lead the way.” Each day of my life could bring such unexpected joy.

  Karnean was sitting behind his small desk this time. “Sit, Ryan,” he commanded, pointing at a chair without looking up at me first. “My sister told me all about your little revelation and your antics. I’m not pleased. Do you know why?”

  “No, sir.” I had an idea, but, hey, I’m a hard-ass. Got a reputation to maintain, even if it’s only with myself.

  “Because I don’t like surprises. I tend to kill surprises. Tell me in as few words as you can why I shouldn’t follow my gut and continue that healthy trend.”

  “You like your ship.” I raised a hand and counted four fingers. “There. Four’s the fewest I can come up with in a pinch. I was going to say: because you don’t want to die along with your beloved sister suddenly in space, but that’s,” I counted more fingers, “fourteen words. I didn’t want to piss you off.”

  “Well, you failed. You have. You know I’m about to kill you. With that in mind, do you wish to clarify your flippant remarks in a manner that will alter my plan?”

  “Yes, Karnean.” Wow, he reacted like I punched him in the nose using his first name. “I’ll make you a deal. You don’t kill me, and I’ll save your life. I think, all things considered, that’s a generous offer on my part.”

  The man was seething. “If you deliver on your promise, I will spare your life. If you don’t, I will kill you as slowly and as painfully as I can. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I replied, sticking my hand across the desk to shake on it.

  He didn’t appreciate the gesture. He glared laser beams at my hand until I withdrew it. “Speak quickly.”

  “Your fusion drive seals off your main drive, and they are about to fail. When they do—”

  “I know what that will do. And just how is it you know this very obscure factoid? Surely you don’t think I’m going to tear the main engine apart because a drunkard pilot says I should?”

  “I told Fontelpo. The plasma pressure quivered a bit. That suggests a variation in the flow matrix, which I could see plain as day on Control Panel Three. Subtle—but it usually is—until it goes boom.”

  He thumbed the intercom. “Chief Gatly, captain’s quarters on the double.” He leaned back, smiling like a hungry wolf. “We’ll see about what you saw, Mr. Ryan. If your information is inaccurate, well, I don’t want to spoil your surprise.”

  What the hell. “I thought you hated surprises, Karnean?”

  “There’s that new fascination you seem to have with my name. Please lose it quickly. Yes, I hate surprises, unless they’re the ones I’m gifting to others.”

  Someone pounded on the door.

  “Come!” The chief engineer lurched through the doorway, panting. “You called, sir?”

  “This man says you’re incompetent, and that incompetence is about to cost me my ship, my life, and my dear sister’s life.”

  The look on Gatly’s face showed he understood there was a crisis.

  “Sir, he’s lying. The man knows nothing about what he’s saying.”

  “Chief, I haven’t told you what he said yet.” Karnean had a fake, happy smile on his face now.

  “I don’t need to. It all lies. Damn lies, sir.”

  Kayla stepped into the room. “What, brother dear, is all this noise about? If I don’t sleep, I can’t perform at my best.”

  Oh man. She was wearing her pajamas. True, they were long-sleeved men’s pajamas with full length bottoms, but…she was in her proverbial nighty.

  “Kayla, how opportune of you to join us. Ryan here just bet his life that Gatly is such a bad engineer that he’s about to get us all killed. Can you believe that? You almost missed the show.”

  “I’d rather be sleeping,” she said, eyeing Gatly and me suspiciously.

  “So, Chief, the deckhand says there’s a variation in the flow matrix of the main engines due to the impending failure of the main seal. He says he saw this on a display panel he happened to glance at while swabbing the bridge. You, with your superior skill and equipment, will now investigate his claim. Here,” he said as he stood, “use my computer.”

  Dumb with fear and confusion, Gatly tapped some keys and grunted a lot. After a couple minutes, he said cautiously, “I grant that there’s a tiny variation, but it doesn’t mean the seal is bad. No, sir.”

  Karnean raised his eyebrows in my direction and asked, “What other causes for this might there be, Chief?”

  It took him a second. “Well, there could be a powerful magnetic field causing it.”

  “Here,” asked Karnean, “in the absolute center of nowhere?”

  “Unlikely, sir. It could also be a faulty gauge or a faulty relay to that gauge.”

  “You could test that from here,” I said unhelpfully.

  “Is that so, Gatly?” asked Kayla.

  “Ye…yes, I suppose it is.”

  “Then do it very quickly,” said Karnean. “And Ryan, you watch him do so.”

  In less than a minute, Gatly said, “Nah. The relay’s sound, and the gauge works fine.”

  “Then, perhaps it is the seal?” asked Kayla.

  “I’ll need to check, sir, but I suspect it is about to fail.” Gatly was so stooped as he spoke his head almost touched the floor.

  “Very well. Gatly, you and your new Chief, Mr. Ryan, set about that arduous task immediately. Before you pull the panel to the seals, however, and please note this carefully, I’d better be standing there behind you. Understood?”

  We both replied that his point was clear.

  “Oh, and Mr. Ryan? You’ll be interested to know that Fontelpo will now fill your former position as janitor. I asked him when I reassigned him if he minded the demotion. He said he didn’t. But you know what? I think he did. Watch your back. Kaljaxians hold on to grudges like their infants.”

  “Tell me about it, sir.” I responded. Swabbie to chief engineer. Not bad. Not a general again, but not too shabby.

  “With your new rank, Ryan, Karnean will be fine.”

  “Got it, Karnean. And please, call me Jon.”

  “I’m going back to bed,” said Kayla.

  She turned and walked out—in her jammies.

  SEVEN

  “I understand, but we all knew this was bound to happen. Perhaps this is a bit earlier than our predictions suggested, but such matters are inevitable,” said Bin Li. As Secretary General of the UN, he wasn’t in charge of anything except that legislative body. But, based on the huge role the UN played in evacuating Earth, he was still a powerful figure.

  “There are issues that I feel we, as members of the Visionary Council, must address.” Amanda Walker was being as tactful as she could be. Admittedly, that wasn’t all that tactful. The Visionary Council was the new term for what was the Security Council. The older term sent the wrong message to non-member worldships.

  “Each worldship has sovereign rights, whether the US likes it or not,” said Supti Banerjee. The ambassador from the Hindu Worldship Coalition chaffed against what
she felt was the heavy-handed paternalism of the old bosses.

  “Yes, certainly. But the rights of every individuals on any given ship must also be preserved,” Amanda responded. “If a worldship goes off on its own, I cannot condone any individual citizen be forced to do so also.”

  “Sovereign rights, President Walker, are not contingent on your approval.” Supti was digging in her heels. Hundreds of years of foreign domination of her homeland had honed her for this debate. “You can no longer dictate policy to other nations. If a worldship decides upon a given course, they are absolutely free to do so. Cultural standards are no longer subject to first-world dictates.”

  “I have never dictated anything, Madam Banerjee. I resent very much your choice of words. They are inflammatory and not constructive.” Amanda was heating up.

  “Please do not let us lose sight of our goals and functions. We are discussing important topics. Nothing will be decided upon here. There is no benefit in the rhetoric getting out of hand,” said Li, trying to keep a lid on the tension in the room.

  “I understand. But in any move forward, I will insist that safeguards are put in place that allow any inhabitant of any worldship to relocate from a ship that is committed to a course of action the individual does not support. I’m talking basic human rights here. I will not allow any political or religious faction to kidnap a single person.”

  “I repeat my contention. You, Ms. America, are free to issue dogma on the rubble that is the Earth today, as you have in the past. Here in space, on our separate worldships, you no longer enjoy such a privilege. If a sovereign political unit decides it is in the best interest of the greater good to not allow a citizen to emigrate, then that person will not emigrate. What if, for example, all the doctors and scientists decided to remain with the fleet? The exiting ships would be crippled. Is that what you want, for dissenting worldships to founder and perish?” Supti was so passionate that at the end she stomped her foot on the ground.