by Tony Healey
The Captain drew himself to attention, shot them a salute and walked off.
The young pilots watched him go, and for the longest of moments not a single one of them said a word.
There was no need.
“Captain,” the Chief said when he saw him enter the engineering section. Macintosh’s crew stopped to salute, but Driscoll waved them off.
“As you were,” he said curtly.
The Chief brushed his hands off on his overalls. “So to what do I owe this pleasure, Captain?”
The man’s mock politeness grated Driscoll in a way that almost made him want to grind his teeth with agitation, but he suppressed it. “How’s she holding together?”
“Pretty well, considering what you put her through,” Macintosh said under his breath.
Driscoll glanced about at the others. “A word.” He led Macintosh out of the engineering section to the corridor. He found the nearest vacant room and stood to one side as the Chief went in first.
It was a utility room, filled with tools and equipment. There was barely space in there for the two of them to stand together.
“Problem?” Driscoll asked.
“You know I have,” the Chief spat. “Aside from the issues we have already, I take umbrage to this ship’s CO treating her the way you have. She’s new, fresh out of dock, and you’re using her for target practice!”
“I saved our lives today, Chief.”
“Yeah, but in the process you might’ve got us all killed with your wild ideas and schemes,” Macintosh said. “I don’t appreciate it. After the amount of work I put into this tub, to see you come along and wreck it all. The reactor’s going to need full maintenance and to be frank I’m surprised it’s not broken entirely.”
Captain Driscoll sized him up. “So that’s what this is all about, huh? You’re not mad at me for pulling a stunt with the Manhattan, not really. You’re still cut up over the Resolute.”
“Course I am. Aren’t you? I mean, in case you’ve forgotten, it was your mistake got them all killed…”
Driscoll jabbed a finger at him. He stepped in, closer than he should have. “You’re outta line, Macintosh. There’s not a day goes by I don’t think about what happened on the Resolute. You know more than anyone, I had no choice.”
The Chief’s eyes glistened―with what? Anger? Sadness?
“There’s always a choice,” he said, his voice cracked. “And everyone we knew died because you made the wrong one. I won’t stand by and let that happen again. Not on this ship.”
Driscoll stepped back. “It won’t, you have to trust me. Look, we can’t afford to be at each other’s throats right now.”
The Chief frowned. “What d’you mean?”
Driscoll laughed, crossed his arms. “You telling me you think two capacitors blowing at the same time is a mere coincidence?”
“What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying we’ve got a traitor aboard. Clear and simple. Working for the Draxx… or someone else. Whatever the case, there’s somebody on this ship trying to stop us in our tracks. It only makes me think that what we’re doing here is more important than ever. This cluster is hiding something big, I feel it.”
The Chief absorbed this. “So what do we do?”
“That,” said Driscoll, putting an arm around the engineer’s shoulders, “is why I want to talk with you in private…”
ichael navigated the crowd of people in The Manhattan Club, the flight officer’s lounge. Without the presence of the carrier command staff, pilots could unwind here. With tray in hand, he turned sideways to maneuver through some of the guys from Red Wing and arrived at a small silver table near the windows, around which the rest of his squadron relaxed. Outside, the peachy hues of the Chimera Nebula swirled in an endless roil. Michael sat between Zavex and Emma, grinning at the notice of the strong scent of soap surrounding her.
“That was one heck of a shower, did you leave any hot water for anyone else on the carrier?”
She shot Michael a patronizing look, continuing to stare into space… literally.
“Ooo,” said Liam, sitting forward and examining the tray of steel cups with white plastic extensions. The honey-brown liquid within set him near to drooling. “What’s that?”
“It just might be rum,” said Michael, taking a cup.
Zavex offered a disinterested smirk at the drinks, Liam snagged one without hesitation, and Aaron wore a quizzical glance as he picked up a glass. Emma sighed, as if the act of leaning forward to grab one was an unwanted exertion. Only out of a sense of duty, did she finally do so.
“Blech.” Liam sputtered. “This is iced tea.”
Michael let his deep baritone laugh off the leash. “I said it might be rum. You know we can’t drink out here. At any minute, we could be in the mung without warning.”
Emma smiled, sipping it. Zavex took his cup at last, sniffing it.
“I checked the Medbase, Zav. Your physiology is compatible with tea.” Michael held up the cup as a toast, and then sipped.
Emma and Aaron exchanged mild glares.
“Well, that was an unexpected turn of events,” said Keg, hovering over to the table bearing a pizza on top of his microfridge-shaped body. Michael, Aaron, and Emma snagged slices. Zavex eyed it with suspicion. Liam went for one, but Keg turned to face Michael, leaving an empty section of tray facing him. “How did the Draxx find us?”
Liam got up and moved around Keg.
“That is a very good question,” said Zavex, causing Keg to face him.
Liam growled as his hand seized empty tray for a second time. “Keg?”
“Yes?” The droid whirled about.
Liam snagged a piece at last. “Nothing. Carry on.” He returned to his seat on the other side of the table. “Could be just a coincidence. This entire cluster is known to play games with navigation systems, sensors, comms.”
“Not so much comms anymore,” said Emma. “Michael has it sussed.”
Aaron mumbled over a mouthful of pizza. “That doesn’t help sensors, or explain how the Draxx found us so easily.” He grimaced. “Ugh, what did they do? Make this pizza from dead Draxx?”
“If they did, I might have some.” Zavex cast a dubious glare at the food.
Everyone cringed.
The stony face of the Talnurian cracked into laughter. A passing pilot from Vandal Wing bumped into Keg as he rushed past. The droid bounced away from the edge of the table, turned with one gripper claw rubbing his non-head, and faced Green Wing before he burst into audio-only tears.
“I’m sorry, guys. It was my fault.” He blubbed for a moment. “It must have been when we found the derelict and got seen by the Draxx ships. I wasn’t fast enough on the jammers and they must’ve gotten a signal out and―”
Clank.
Keg whirled on Liam. “Tarnation, boy. Why the Sam Hill you always hittin’ on me―”
Clank.
Keg’s LED eyes blinked. “Where was I?”
“You were theorizing about how the Draxx found us,” said Emma, now nibbling on the linoleum-like crust end.
“Oh,” Keg said, holding his spindly arms as if rubbing his chin. “At first I thought it was when we attacked the derelict, but I didn’t detect any high-intensity outbound transmissions.”
“Doesn’t add up,” said Michael. Crumbs danced on the table as he drummed his fingers.
“I’m just glad that meeting with Captain Driscoll is over,” said Emma.
“Why? He was just congratulating us,” asked Liam.
Michael gave her a raised eyebrow.
Emma gave up on the crust, leaning back in her seat. “I dunno, maybe I’m just being prang about the whole thing. He kept staring at me, as if wondering why he had a bint on the boat.” She scowled at the silence.
“You’ve been listening to this daftie too much,” said Liam, pointing his thumb at Aaron. “He’s the only one what ‘ave a problem wif ‘at.”
Liam’s awful impersonation of her accent mad
e her laugh.
“He was probably just trying to figure out how you sounded so cool and in control out in the crap, but looked like a terrified schoolgirl in his office.”
Emma stared at Michael. “Terrified schoolgirl… Are you serious? Did you see the look on your face in there? I thought you were going to faint. Now you sound just like ‘im.” She thrust her arm at Aaron.
“I think we were all a bit nervous to get called before the Captain, even if it was for a pat on the back,” said Michael. “I think only Liam and Zavex kept their composure in there.”
“Well, one’s a rep and one’s suicidal,” grumbled Aaron.
Liam’s usual brushoff of replicant zingers seemed to fail him. The glower he shot Aaron, that time, carried real venom. “Look ‘ere, Spoonie.” He paused to shed the British accent. “I might be a replicant, but that doesn’t mean I’m heartless. I’m just older. I’ve seen enough death to keep me from being impressed by a couple of gold bands on someone’s sleeve.”
Aaron cringed at the monicker.
“There is a distinct difference between being suicidal and accepting the will of the gods.” Zavex sipped the last of his tea. “I am merely at peace with the destiny fate has given me, whatever it may be. I respect the Captain; I do not envy his burden and I do not fear him.”
“Spoonie?” Aaron glanced at him, narrowing his eyes.
“As in silver spoon,” snapped Liam. “That should be your callsign, not some flannel you made up yourself.”
Emma giggled. “It’s kind of cute.”
“No.” Aaron held up both hands. “No way. She’s got more money than I do.”
She gasped. “Your mum’s a colony administrator and your dad’s a Terran Ambassador? Me mum’s just a botanist on some God-forsaken backwater planet no one has ever heard of. I sincerely doubt that.”
“You gotta believe we’ll get home,” said Michael, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s what keeps me going.”
Liam flicked his thumb over the seam of his cup, where plastic met steel. “Some people think having no attachments makes for a better warrior.”
Aaron thrust his lower lip forward, pondering, but said nothing for a minute.
Emma caught the look in his eyes then, wondering why he seemed to share Liam’s gloomy demeanor despite having family.
“They just say that to make the lonely ones feel better.” Aaron’s gaze flicked over to Liam. “You’ve got us, though.” He offered a hand.
Liam waited for the replicant joke, but none came. He accepted the handshake. Soon, all of Green Wing clasped hands over the table.
“So where do you think we’re going?” asked Emma.
Michael shifted back in his seat. “Mission parameters specified six months to one year. The Chimera Cluster borders Draxx space over a large region. From here, assuming them finding us at first was pure chance, we should theoretically be able to strike at them with impunity.”
“How much damage can one lonely carrier really do?” Liam held one hand to the side of his head as he leaned back.
Michael stood, grabbing the empty tray. “A carrier that can’t be found? Quite a bit.”
“And what if they find us?” Emma could not look up.
Liam made a plosive noise, gesturing with his free hand to simulate something detonating.
“If they find us consistently, I’m sure Captain Driscoll will make the call to abort.” Michael turned to take a step. “There’d not be a point to pitting one carrier, even this one, against a massive fleet.”
“Based on what we saw, I’m confident that we will elude detection.” Zavex leaned forward, putting his empty glass on the tray before Michael went for refills.
“So, we’re likely to be out here awhile then.” Keg spun out of Michael’s way, conking his frame on the table. “YES! Draxx DECIMATION! Lizard LETHALITY! Reptilian REAPING!”
Bonk.
“Owwwwww.” Keg shuddered, LED-eyes glaring at Aaron. “Only he’s allowed to bonk me.” One thin strut arm pointed at Liam.
“Looks like we’re going to need more tea.”
“Fancy a spot of Earl Grey?” asked Liam, to Emma.
“Have you seen the replicator’s excuse for crumpets,” she muttered. “It’s worse than a pig’s breakfast.”
“I’ll take that as a bad thing then,” said Michael, laughing. “Be right back.”
aptain Driscoll stripped out of his dirty uniform and ran a shower. It was hot, too hot perhaps, but good. He felt more than clean after he’d changed into some loose fitting civvies. Refreshed and ready for some much needed rest. It’d been one hell of a day, that was for sure.
He fetched himself a glass of scotch and sat on the small couch at the other end of his quarters. Outside the dusky orange hues of the Chimera Cluster gave depth and substance to space itself. Gave it color.
He sipped the single malt and reflected on all that had happened. Some start to a mission… and already things were complicated.
He’d seen what the ship could do, and more importantly what her crew were capable of. Driscoll was pleased. Both held up well under pressure, in the face of their mutual destruction. He couldn’t have asked more.
But there was a traitor aboard.
A spy.
A saboteur intent on stopping their mission, screwing with it. The thought made him take a long, hard swallow of the scotch to feel its burn, its heat, like sandpaper down his throat.
A rat in the galley. And what do we do when we have a rat in the galley, eh? Why we put out a trap or two. Make sure there’s a lure there to entice them, then let the trap snap their neck.
Well, at least he now had the Chief on his side. And he knew that, for however the man might feel about him, Macintosh would take the necessary precautions to safeguard essential systems in the future. For the briefest of moments, he’d considered the notion that the Chief himself had sabotaged the ship, but common sense prevailed. The man probably hated his guts, but it was no secret he loved the ship. The Manhattan was very much his baby, and Driscoll knew deep down there was no way the Chief would take a hammer to his own work. No, the Chief chiseled the marble, and spent forever polishing it. He’d never be one to knock it down, reduce all that work to rubble.
But someone tried.
Whoever the rat was, they’d have to try something different. Try harder, and Driscoll was under no illusion that they would try again. It was only a matter of how, where, and when.
For now, he would relax and drink. After, he would sleep. Tomorrow their mission would continue, to head further into the Cluster and determine what secrets lay at its heart. Discover just what it was the Draxx were building in there somewhere. Something was out there. The lizards came to the Cluster to conceal evidence of its construction from prying eyes. The question was… what were they building?
Well, he had come to do the opposite. No saboteur with idealist delusions was about to stop him. Not now, not ever.
Not before I’m done.
Driscoll drained his scotch, then got himself another.
ommander Robin Teague handed over to the night shift and headed to her quarters. She felt beat and, just like Captain Driscoll, in dire need of a good hot shower.
It still felt like a comfort to her, to have amenities like that at her disposal. As a child growing up in the shadow of the camps on Mefista Prime, a shower would have been considered a luxury. Now, she took it for granted.
Strange how life can turn around. She stepped inside her quarters and locked the door behind her. She kept the lights down low, showered, then sat on the edge of her bed wrapped in a towel. A comb ran through her wet hair while she listened to the gentle thrum of the ship’s engines, so quiet as to be almost imperceptible.
It relaxed her. She’d read before that to some it was almost reminiscent of being in the womb―of listening to the muffled beat of your mother’s heart through walls of tissue. Here, the tissue was layer upon layer of alloys and polymers. The principle was the same.
&n
bsp; Robin liked the simple pleasure of letting herself unwind to its harmonious rhythm.
Unlike Captain Driscoll, she was not bothered by the events of that day. Her thoughts did not dwell on who might be trying to sabotage the Manhattan―only on how she might do it better next time. Destroying the capacitors had, perhaps, been too obvious a move.
Next time I’ll do better. Next time I’ll do it right. And not Driscoll, or anyone else on this ship will stop me…
On Mefista Prime, once their parents had left and it was only the children in the camps, a new presence had made himself known. Not a reptile like the rest of the Draxx―though, as a race, they all varied in degrees. No, this man was just that.
A man.
She pictured him now, striding into the camp, dressed completely in black. On his face he wore a mirrored mask that gave no clue to the being within. He had trained them, instructed them, made them all see the light.
Made them abhor the Union for what it had done, invading Draxx space and claiming Draxx worlds for its own. Gradually, over time, the children had come to see his point of view. The man wasn’t there all the time―he came and went, and when he was away, the Draxx continued his work.
We were shown the light.
As she rose through the ranks, as she took promotion after promotion, Robin kept in touch with the others from the camp. They too had come to fulfill prominent roles within the Union.
They too had sworn an oath to do what was right―to act when the time was right.
Robin stripped out of her towel and got into bed. Again, another luxury.
It had always seemed to her that humanity surrounded itself with things―the best gadgets, the most comfortable surroundings. It cushioned itself against reality.
Well, now humanity would have that cushion taken away. It would stand trial for what it had done throughout the galaxy. And she would see to it that people like Captain Driscoll were made accountable for their crimes.
