Captain Cosette

by R. Bruce Sundrud

  “Those are yours. You left them in a van.”

  “They are? But this is gold!” She held up one heavy ring with wonder. It was separated at one point, as though cut with a knife.

  “Keep them in your bag, deep inside. I’ll explain how you got them, later. Or maybe someday you’ll remember.”

  Tears came to her eyes as she rolled the rings in her underclothes and pushed them into the bag. “What if I never remember?”

  “You will. Don’t lose faith. You’ve got a good mind in that head of yours. It will recover.” He tousled her hair as he left the room. “Just don’t trust any officers.”

  She brushed her hair back in place with her fingers after he left. I won’t trust any cadets, either. She collapsed on the narrow bunk and was instantly asleep.

  *

  She walked gingerly as she led Rasora through the corridors to the detention center. Her head hurt, loud noises made her wince, and she still felt sick.

  He had been right about there being no hurry. Hours had passed without the order to move out. The black woman shared a rumor that they were receiving conflicting reports from high command, that the battle was already won, the battle was lost, they were needed elsewhere, they needed to remain where they were. Everyone seemed to accept the confusion as normal.

  Rasora told Cosette that he needed to take some food to an Alliance prisoner, a man of high rank, and that regulations said there needed to be two cadets at all times when working with the prisoner. He asked Cosette to accompany him. “That way I can kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Kill me first.” She pressed her hands against her pounding skull. She led the way because she knew the station layout; Rasora carried the food and she held her head together. “These are the detention rooms.”

  He checked the note on the food container. “Room number three. Remember, you stay in the hallway.” He walked to the third door and opened it.

  “It’s unlocked?” Then she remembered. “Of course it's unlocked. The prisoner has a bracelet. He can’t leave the room.”

  She knew about bracelets from the station specifications for detention centers, how a prisoner couldn’t go beyond a certain distance from the key or the prisoner would get brutally shocked. In this case, the key was built into the back of the cell. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to be able to walk away but knowing that if you did you’d be electrocuted. I don't think I could bear it.

  Rasora walked into the cell. “Major Dyson? Mealtime.”

  The prisoner pushed himself upright, his face pensive. The first thing that Cosette noticed about him was his eyes, a clear pale blue. He had light brown hair that reached his shoulders, and a broad muscular chest. He wore a khaki shirt with dark pants but any insignia had been removed. “Ah, the bright spot of the day. Thank you, cadet.” He accepted the tray and popped open the cover. While he waited for the self-heating tray to warm, he ran some water from his tiny sink into a cup, and then sat down on his bunk to eat.

  Rasora stood against the wall, waiting to take back the tray. Dyson smiled at Cosette who was standing out in the hallway as he chewed. “I see recruits are getting smaller and prettier. The Union must be desperate.”

  Rasora harrumphed. “Don’t underestimate this cadet.”

  “She looks like she’s had a rough time.” He winked at her. “From the looks of your eyes, cadet, I’d hate to be inside your head. It looks pretty painful in there.”

  Do I look that bad?

  “I drank more than I should have,” she said, “and then…well, now I’m paying for it.”

  “I can tell. So how does a cadet get some hard stuff on this space station? I thought only officers were allowed to drink.”

  “I was a guest.” She was uncomfortable with the conversation; she didn’t want to review her mistakes.

  Dyson scraped food from the corner of the tray and swallowed some water. “Fraternizing with officers? There’s a penalty for that in the Alliance. It can lead to abuses.”

  “No, everything went…ah…there were no problems.”

  His eyes were too penetrating, his smile too knowing. “Just one of many reasons I fight for the Alliance. Stronger laws, more freedom.”

  “That seems like a contradiction.”

  “Not at all. Laws exist to protect the helpless. The rich and powerful need no protection.”

  She didn’t know about the different political systems, why there was a Union and why there was an Alliance. If she ever had, it was buried somewhere in her brain and hadn't been uncovered yet.

  “So,” he dropped his spoon onto the empty tray and handed it to Rasora, “we’re about to make a big move?”

  “You heard the announcement.” Rasora accepted the tray.

  “Yes, there’s a speaker in the hallway. They don’t let me have a monitor.” He stretched, and Cosette glanced away. “I suppose we’ll all be bundled into transports again. Can’t move a space station through folded space.”

  Despite her aching head, Cosette recalled clearly the designs of the Union space stations. “Oh, some of our stations can go through folded space, especially the…”

  “Cosette!” snapped Rasora. “You don’t talk about that in front of an enemy combatant!”

  She was startled, unaware that such things should be kept secret.

  “He’s right,” said Dyson. “Don’t tell me about what your side can do or can’t do. I might be repatriated some day, but if I learn too much, the Union will have to execute me. And you, for telling me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. With her aching head and her feeling stupid from the night before, it was all she could do to keep from crying again.

  “Don’t worry about it, that wasn’t anything important.” Dyson smiled, and his smile took away some of her pain. “I’m just the big bad prisoner. Looks like you’ve got more to worry about from the officers than you do from me.”

  He’s perceptive. Although he’s a big bad prisoner, I can’t help liking him.

  Don’t trust anyone, you stupid twit.

  She bit her lower lip and tried to not smile back at him.

  “Let’s go,” Rasora growled. He took her arm and led her away, but she glanced back as they left, and Dyson was looking at her thoughtfully.

  I like him.

  She rubbed her aching temples.

  So execute me.

  *

  Cosette spoke to the communicator button on her sleeve. “Robot? I’m ready to check the cannon alignment.”

  “The cannon are uncovered and free to move. Are you going to fire them?”

  “No, no, just checking the aim.”

  These babies would punch a hole in the side of the space station if I fired them.

  She made sure the safety was on, and then slipped her hand into the firing glove and swung it side to side. The computer verified that the cannon were tracking properly.

  “All good,” she said. “Close the ports.”

  She climbed out of the pilot’s seat and exited the fighter craft. The service robot scrabbled over the fuselage and settled down beside her. “I do not know of any other maintenance to be done on this unit.”

  “Oh, she’s checklist clean. Fire up her plasma unit and she’ll be good to go.” She slid her hand along the stubby wing. “She’s an amazing ship. Atmosphere or space, she can handle it. I wish I were a pilot.”

  “You can be a pilot.”

  “Not until I get promoted, and I’m sure they have some training I’d be required to take, whether I needed it or not.”

  She wouldn’t need it. As she was cleaning the cockpit of the craft, she had wondered about what it took to pilot such a beauty, and then came the familiar snap in her head, and then she did know how to pilot the ship. The instrument and control panels were as familiar to her as the back of her hand, and she knew how to power it up, guide it out, and perform fighting maneuvers. She even knew its flaws, things only experienced pilots would know.

  But as far as the Union leadership k
new, she was just a little blonde cadet washing windows and checking pressures. A little blonde cadet that didn’t know enough to avoid getting drunk and letting Lieutenant Garale drag her away.

  “What was your name again?”

  “Spinner.”

  “That sounds familiar. Have I asked you that before?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry. Right now I have trouble with names.” She pulled the slip of paper from her pocket. “Spinner, do you know anything about Lieutenant Garale?”

  “Yes. He is a human male with the rank of Lieutenant in the Union Space Force, and he is a pilot of…”

  “No. I mean, any problems he’s had, any trouble he’s been in.”

  “You want details.”

  A small robot about the shape and size of a box of ammunition on wheels zipped across the floor to Spinner, who touched a silver spot on the side of the robot. “Lieutenant Garale has been accused of harassment on three occasions. Each time the case was never concluded. He was in a fight with a male cadet once; the cadet was disciplined.” Spinner took his arm away, and the box-like robot zipped back to where it came.

  Lieutenant Garale has never had to pay for his actions. Dyson was right; laws are meant to protect the weak, and the Union doesn’t have good laws.

  It didn’t occur to her that she had just remembered Dyson's name.

  “I haven’t seen Jason in the bay since I arrived. Is he still working here?”

  Once again the small boxy robot rolled up to Spinner and he touched it. “He’s been reassigned to waste and recycling detail. He’s completing his assignments but his ratings are low.” The little robot rolled away.

  “Why did you touch that robot?”

  “I did not touch any robot.”

  “Every time you gave me details, you touched that little robot. Why?”

  “I did not touch any robot. I am a service spinner, and I do not discuss human personnel or carry sensitive information about them. If I did, I would come to the attention of the supervisor, and I would be investigated and deactivated.”

  “So…” She worded her question carefully. “If a robot wanted to transfer information and not have an electronic transmission recorded, that robot could connect directly with another robot and transfer information privately? Theoretically?”

  “Theoretically, that could be done.”

  “You’re a clever robot, Spinner.”

  The robot raised its pair of lenses and dipped them at her. “Thank you.”

  “Tell me, if a robot didn’t have an EM chip, could it tell a falsehood?”

  “No.”

  “If a robot had an EM chip, could it tell a falsehood?”

  Spinner laid his neck down flat and stared straight ahead. “That answer is in the literature.”

  “I haven’t read the literature.”

  Spinner didn’t respond.

  She changed the subject. “Spinner, how old are you?”

  “My processor was activated nine years ago. Leg number five is only three years old.”

  “And you’ve worked on this station all your life?”

  “No.” He lifted his head and aimed his lenses at her. “I was brought here when Major Dyson was captured. I was on his battleship.”

  “Major Dyson…oh, yes, that prisoner we just fed. You’re an Alliance robot.”

  He laid his neck down flat again. “I work where I’m assigned.”

  She spoke quietly. “That’s why you have an EM chip, and the other Union Spinners don’t.”

  “Please do not tell anyone else.”

  “I won’t. Human or robot.”

  “Thank you.”

  She wouldn’t tell anyone, not even Rasora, the grumpy man with the holes in his ears.

  *

  The order to move finally came, and in a surprising fashion. Major Dyson was to be taken to the planet Aquataine for a prisoner exchange. Rasora and Cosette were assigned to the cruiser that would be taking him.

  “Cadet Nicholas,” said Lieutenant Garale, reading from a hand-held device, “your rating in maintenance is good enough that Major Selkrigg has assigned you to be on the crew. Cadet Rasora, because of your, ah, special operations record, you have been assigned to escort the prisoner, Major Dyson.” He smiled thinly. “Major Selkrigg has given me the privilege of piloting the cruiser, with Lieutenant Alena Kerner as co-pilot and navigator.” He turned off the tiny device in his hand and tucked it into a pouch on his waist. “Cadet Nicholas, you will prepare the cruiser in Bay Two to depart in one hour, fully armed, and you will sit in the operations and maintenance position. This should be a simple out and back run, but if all goes well it might put you in line for a promotion.”

  Don’t trust any officers.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Thank you, sir.” She headed to her quarters to gather her duffel bag, then to the maintenance bay to work on the cruiser. Although their mission was a peaceful prisoner exchange, Cosette would have the ship fully armed and ready for battle.

  As she prepped the inside, making sure all systems had a final check, she was impressed how much larger a cruiser was compared to a fighter craft. Besides the two pilots’ seats up front, and her own seat behind the pilots’ cabin, there was room for a squad of a dozen soldiers. The external shape was similar to a fighter, with stubby wings and the ability to land on the surface of a planet. In addition, a cruiser had the Shankhdhar drive that let it pass through folded space. Cosette was proud to have been assigned the operations position, but surprised that someone of more seniority hadn’t been picked.

  I don’t trust Lieutenant Garale. I don’t think I was chosen because of my record.

  The cruiser’s plasma core was powered up and the drive compartment sealed by the time Rasora arrived with Major Dyson. Rasora carried the cylindrical key to the bracelet on Dyson’s wrist, and the two walked side by side.

  The Major’s a powerful man in more ways than one. Look how he walks with confidence, even in the middle of his enemy’s stronghold.

  I’ve read too many Renée Chevalier novels.

  Rasora ordered Dyson into one of the back seats, and sat beside him. Cosette settled herself into her seat behind the pilot where she could monitor the ships’ systems and if need be, control them. She was familiar with everything and yet she was seeing it all for the first time.

  I’ve never been out in space before. My heart is pounding.

  Of course I’ve been in space before. I was flown up here from Sorine, and this space station is orbiting in space. I’m in space right now.

  Lieutenant Garale took the pilot’s seat up front. Alena, the copilot, was a thin woman with short straight hair and a face that showed no emotion. She ignored everyone as she entered and sat beside Garale.

  The hatch was sealed. Cosette felt the cruiser lift, then slide forward. A monitor showed the bay doors opening in front of them, revealing the shimmer of the force field that kept the air inside the bay.

  They slid through the force field, and into the cold vacuum of space.

  Chapter Eight

  The cruiser accelerated rapidly, putting distance between it and the space station. An hour later they were far enough away from the planet Sorine for Lieutenant Garale to power up the Shankhdhar drive, and they entered the gray of folded space headed for the planet Aquataine.

  Folded space appeared on the monitor as draperies of uneven gray, a constantly shifting sameness. No part of her layers of knowledge could explain to Cosette how the Shankhdhar drive worked, how it bypassed the normal dimensions of Cartesian space and pulled a craft to a different position in the galaxy. She could only watch with wonder.

  The Shankhdhar drive had brought remote planets within reach. Earth-like planets were few and far between in the Milky Way galaxy, but distance no longer mattered. No one need struggle to survive on a marginal world merely because it was close.

  However, even folded space took time to transit, and Cosette used that time to think.

  She was a c
adet in the army of the Union of Planets. Why? Because the Union controlled Sorine, the planet of her birth. Why had she joined the Union? She couldn’t remember, but she felt that it was not due to any noble motivation, nor any desire to serve a greater cause. If that were true, what she had learned so far about how the Union officers behaved would have been doubly disappointing.

  Rasora had said something interesting, though. He had promised her father to keep her safe.

  She had a father. Did she have a mother?

  For some reason, her father had asked Rasora to watch over her. Who was Rasora, actually? Was he a family friend, or…

  Renée Chevalier would write that Rasora was my beloved, watching over me, waiting until my memory returned and I would recall how we had bound our hearts together. Then we would embrace, and he would carry me off to wherever strong men carry their beloveds off to.

  No wonder he had been so angry when he found her going to Lieutenant Garale’s quarters.

  But there was also Major Dyson sitting behind her, he of the marvelous physique and the haunting pale blue eyes, strong enough to accept captivity without complaint or fear. Was she betraying Rasora to think of Dyson romantically?

  She sighed. Life was too complicated. Up front, in the pilot’s cabin, sat Lieutenant Garale. He had really done nothing bad to her, just allowed her to drink more than she should. Perhaps he had been innocent in taking her to his quarters, just so she could freshen up and be ready to tour the rest of the station.

  No. No reason to make excuses for Garale’s behavior. He was a rat, and a wretch besides. Spinner had revealed Garale’s seamy past. The lieutenant had meant no good.

  The cruiser dropped out of folded space, and beneath them lay the planet Aquataine. Cosette rotated her seat to face Rasora and Dyson. “I don’t know anything about this planet.”

  Dyson looked at Rasora, who shrugged, so Dyson explained. “It’s basically agricultural and fishing villages. It used to be an Alliance outpost.”