"I already have yours," Treinna called, and pointed down at the table, where a covered mug waited. "Shain let me know as soon as you left the bridge."
"Am I so predictable?" Genys wove through the half-dozen empty tables to join Treinna and a handful of other women lounging at a table under the biggest gap in the trellis ceiling.
"You're just submitting to the power of our collectively curious minds," Maora said, barely glancing up from the intricate knotwork that always seemed to fill her hands when she was off-duty.
"Power?" She settled into the chair Treinna had saved for her. Then she let out a sigh. Definitely, the chairs on the rec deck felt very different from the command chair. "Don't tell me you're employing some Le'ankan mind control to get me to come down here?"
Chapter Six
Maora grinned and looked up for a moment, cocking an eyebrow at Genys. That earned chuckles from the others.
Genys joined in. No need to say anything. If Rob Hollis had made that accusation, Maora would have retorted that there had to be a mind to control before she could employ her "Le'ankan mind control tricks" on him. She could get away with such teasing because she and Rob had grown up together. They were among a handful of survey ship children who had been left on their own on a planet beyond the traveled space lanes for six years, when their parents and the ship had fallen through a burping Chute.
Most Chutes were hard enough to detect until some lucky/unlucky ship stumbled into the galactic anomaly. Once a Chute had been located, the procedure was to set up marker buoys and study the Chute until all the angles and velocities necessary for safe travel were understood.
Burping Chutes were unpredictable, the ends opening and closing, and never in synchronization. That meant a ship -- or comet or meteor shower or other space debris -- sucked into one end might experience no time lapse at all, but come out the other end decs, luns, and even years later.
The survey ship Rob and Maora’s parents were on didn't have the right equipment to detect even the strongest spacial anomalies indicating a Chute might be nearby. The children, with Maora and Rob as the oldest at fourteen and ten, had been left in the first camp. The planet had been declared devoid of all Human life, therefore safe for the children to be left with only computer tutors and the oldest children for supervision. Their parents were performing aerial surveys when emergency alerts from their ship had drawn all three shuttles up to combat the threat. The Chute opened and sucked them down to a galaxy so far away, primitive radio signals from the mythical birth-world of Humanity were only starting to reach it. Granted, the time dilation problem could have contributed to that assessment. The parents all survived, but once they had repaired their shuttles and the ship, the Chute didn’t open until nearly a year later. They only had one shot, but correctly calculated the angle and velocity to return where they started. Six years had gone by in their children's perception.
Rob and Maora, as the oldest, focused on keeping the younger children alive and figuring out how to contact the Alliance and send for help. They took shelter in a massive underground labyrinth and kept busy exploring it. Maora followed her parents in anthropological studies, and already had made a name for herself thanks to her discoveries in the labyrinth. Rob chose the military and had only recently returned to his archeological roots.
Genys nodded her thanks to Treinna. She knew everyone was waiting for news, but first indulged in a long drink before giving them what they wanted.
"We're still following the solar currents to determine the origin point of the organic material. Nothing new since the original assessment and changing course."
"It's a good sign that there's enough to follow, even if there's so much it's hard to read the currents," Anya Keil, astro-cartographer, commented. "When there's a leak, it's easier to follow a flood than a trickle, but the flood makes a bigger mess to clean up."
"You're so encouraging," Treinna said with a sigh. She winked at Genys, who hid her grin in her mug and another long drink.
"What's the word, Captain?" M’kar asked from overhead.
Genys looked up and found her crouching against the clear panel in the zero-G compartment, the toes of one stocking-clad foot caught under one of the grips that studded the interior.
"I should be asking you."
"Mental health break. I find it interesting that when I sent the newest excavated coordinates to the helm, they reported that we were already on that heading."
"Interesting indeed," Genys muttered.
"My brain keeps catching on the lovely word, 'fewmets.' Self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps?"
"I don't want to hear it," she said, putting down her mug and crossing her arms over her chest and meeting M'kar's I've-got-a-secret-don't-you-want-to-know smirk.
"Hear what?" Tress bounced down from the other side of the compartment. She caught hold of M'kar's arm to keep from rebounding, and swung around with the force of her momentum.
Genys sighed. What she wouldn't give to have the energy of the children. And the flexibility and recklessness to risk bouncing around in zero-G. Yes, she played zero-ball, but always properly padded, with teams and rules. M'kar had a taste for hazardous duty when she got into the compartment with the children and let them grab onto her and bounce off her and use her for a launching pad.
"I don't want to hear any nagging. I am pulling every string available to get your … package delivered in time."
"I wasn't thinking of that at all." M'kar widened her eyes in mock innocence.
"I'm almost cranky enough to call you a liar and face the consequences."
That earned laughter from the other women at the table.
"I was just thinking that now that our family-style ship has become official, with all the attached regs, others are going to be brave enough to follow in our path. We're not going to be unique for much longer. We need something new to make us stand out."
"As in?" Genys knew she was teasing, but her heart lodged halfway up her throat. M'kar had seen Dulit's drac, probably touched its mind. A semi-sentient creature out of myth and legend. What animal-focused telepath wouldn't want one as a new best friend? "No. No dragons. Have you ever considered what fewmets have to be like?"
"Not even teeny tiny dragons?" M'kar gestured, measuring shorter than her forearm.
"This ship is not big enough for a dragon, if we ever find a dragon. Not even a teeny tiny one. They grow! Every story and myth and fable describes them as huge. No room for one, forget about two. Or more."
"What makes you think I would want to bring a dragon on board, much less multiple dragons?" M'kar asked, her voice rich with repressed laughter.
"Weren't you the one who insisted the last time we found a pre-sentient species that we could not, in all conscience, take just one sample from the planet back to Le'anka for study? You said we had to protect its psyche, its social structure and support system, and take representatives from all developmental levels, to ensure no damage occurred either physically or mentally or socially during the voyage."
"Uh, no," Maora said, letting go of her knotwork for a second to raise her hand. "That was Syless. What a psych-tech would know about a species that we still can't determine is vegetable or animal, I have no idea. He never should have been allowed to weigh in."
"But the pogagi are only eight centimeters tall!" Tress interjected, holding up her thumb to demonstrate. "You put them in a box this big!" She spread her hands to show the size of the box, less than a meter wide -- and squealed when letting go of M'kar sent her drifting away.
M'kar caught hold of Tress by her belt and tugged her back down. She wrapped an arm around the little girl's waist and settled her on her hip. Tress giggled and grabbed hold with both arms.
"I swear by the Seven Forefathers," M'kar said, raising her free hand, "I will not ask anyone to take dragons on board the Defender. If I do, then chances are very good that my mind has been taken over by an outside influence and you have my permission -- change that, you have my orders as an officer, to
sedate me until I can be taken back to Le'anka and my teachers can scan my mind to ensure I have been thoroughly freed from that influence."
"Notice there are no recorders on at this moment? None of you are going to stand witness to that, are you?" Genys said, glancing at the women sitting on either side of her. Maora and Treinna just grinned and shook their heads. "Honestly, M'kar, what would you do if we did find dragons at the end of this fewmet trail?"
For just a moment, she could have sworn something echoed at the end of her words, as if a deep well had opened in the nebulous future known as Destiny. The chances were next to nil that they would find the drac planet here, in this sector of the galaxy. The Corona had gone through a Chute, after all, before they found it. Whatever lay at the end of the organic matter trail, it would turn out to be boring. That was just the way things worked for her and her ship. When they wanted something incredible and miraculous to happen, they got milk runs, and labels like Nanny Ship.
M'kar grinned, baring her teeth. Treinna laughed. Genys had the awful feeling she was out of the loop. That was what happened when an executive officer became captain. There were just some things she was better off not knowing, the in-jokes among the crew, the secret stashes and bartering that went on, the social bonds and rivalries, the hidden economy, the tall tales and competitions that made up the healthy society of a starship. She missed that.
"You mean besides find some way to let her scuzzbucket cousins know she found a Nisandrian outpost on the planet, and trick them into coming down, all thrusters blasting, right into the middle of a dragon nest, in the hopes they get themselves eaten?" Maora spoke to her knotwork as she wove glistening black and gold beads with crimson threads. "I have no idea."
Everyone laughed. Tress frowned, looking like she wanted to join in the adult amusement. M'kar whispered to the little girl, and a moment later flung her across the compartment like a javelin. Tress squealed with glee, echoed by the other children, who reached out to catch her. Genys appreciated the distraction tactic. The fewer questions the children asked about her background, the better for everyone.
Dr. Jeyn, M'kar's mother was a cultural anthropologist who went to study Nisandros. She married a son of the chieftain of the premier clan. Everyone assumed it was purely for scientific and political reasons, to build bridges between the two cultures and gain access to Nisandrian historical texts. No one expected emotional and physical intimacy. The Nisandrians insisted their ancestors had improved their genetics, making them a new race that could not interbreed with unimproved Humans. Ashrock and Dr. Jeyn both testified when they took sanctuary on Le’anka that part of their goal had been to prove Nisandrians were indeed still as Human as everyone else.
When M'kar was conceived, her mother was accused of infidelity. When genetic testing proved she was indeed the daughter of Chieftain Ashrock, the uproar could be heard four star systems away. Every self-proclaimed prophet and mystic on the planet came out of the woodwork or from under whatever rocks had been hiding them. Either she was an abomination that had to die before birth, or she was a figure from prophecy. Being the first daughter of the bloodline in generations just made the situation even more complicated.
Her parents lived constantly on alert in her infancy and early childhood to protect her. Political and religious powermongers wanted to control her. The lunatic fringe insisted the “abomination” had to be destroyed before she cracked the planet in half. The battle royal distracted the entire planet and kept Nisandros from being a headache to the Alliance for about ten years. Finally, Ashrock and Jeyn had enough and fled to Le’anka. When M'kar's Talent erupted into activity, that triggered efforts to have her returned to the planet of her birth. Sometimes M'kar claimed she had joined the Fleet just to ensure she was always on the move and could hide behind bureaucracy and red tape.
Genys agreed with M'kar's sporadic grumbles: Nisandros had finally come around, willing to enter diplomatic negotiations with the Alliance, because of her. Nisandros couldn't get at her, couldn't use politics to force the Alliance to hand her over, until they "played nice" or pretended to. Genys suspected the day Nisandros became a member of the Alliance, M'kar would vanish, maybe turn pirate.
"Captain to the bridge." Helmsman Parys' voice blared through the rec deck.
"And so ends your reprieve," Treinna murmured as Genys got up to step over to the communications panel on the wall.
"I doubt we've found any fewmets." Genys crossed her pinkies over the fingers next to them against the bad luck of making such a daring statement. One thing she had learned early in her career was that challenging the Fates always brought something interesting. Often the worst definition of "interesting."
"Distress signal," Parys reported when Genys contacted the bridge. "Survey ship code. Sargo class." A pause. "We think it's the Corona."
"Ouch." Genys glanced over her shoulder at Treinna and Maora, who didn't make any pretense of ignoring the conversation. "On my way. How close are we?"
"Maybe half an hour at current speed. Double?"
"Triple."
Genys wasn't surprised when both women followed her into the lift. Even if it wasn't the Corona, there was reason to be concerned. Sargo class survey ships had families on board. Survey ships essentially did what Fleet ships did, funded by private corporations or academic institutions. Licensed by the Alliance, they were well paid for increasing understanding of the Gatekeepers and the cataclysmic events that had seeded the Human race across the universe.
Private funding meant lack of backup for survey ships, as in Maora and Rob's childhood situation. It also meant they didn’t have the firepower of a Fleet ship, to defend against cultures that might not want to understand the Gatekeepers, such as the Ankuar, Gatesh, and Nisandrians. Then there were the Gleaners, the garbage pickers of the Human race. Gleaners weren't known for attacking survey ships, but they performed sabotage, and then demanded everything the stranded ship carried in exchange for repairs, spare parts, and towing services.
"No sign of Gleaners in this sector for the last five decs," Parys reported as Genys, Treinna and Maora stepped out of the lift two minutes later.
"Keep reading my mind and you'll get sent to Le'anka for testing," Genys said with a crooked smile. She stepped down to the helmsman's station. "Or worse, you'll prove you're fit for a command of your own."
"Enlo save me!" the lanky, white-haired woman said with a grin.
"Visual," Koreen said from the sensor station.
"On screen." Genys settled down into her command chair and called up readings from the various stations on the bridge, to display on the armrest screens. She glanced over the energy readings, the audio feedbacks, the chroma-scans that analyzed the mineral content in this portion of space. She paused on one screen.
"You see it too?" Taggert stayed at his station, but turned his chair around to face her.
"See what?" Treinna said. She and Maora had taken the auxiliary seats that were usually empty except for emergency situations, such as being under attack or suffering unpredictable gravity waves.
"The survey ship is in the middle of a cloud of organic matter," Genys said. "You think it's the source?"
"I hope not." He shared a bleak look with her, then turned back to his station.
"Hopefully, they were following the trail, too." Parys gestured with an upward tilt of her chin. The forward viewscreen rippled as the magnification adjusted to let them see the survey ship.
Genys winced, calculating the damage to cause this ship to hang there in space with most of its running lights dark, and an ominous glow streaming out of its belly. Granted, the glowing, flickering light came from the top of the ship, but by the placement of the thrusters and sensor ports, the survey ship was upside down to the Defender's orientation. The belly of the ship held the cargo. The glow came from matter escaping a massive gash in the skin of the ship. Oxygen and other flammable gases mixed in the escaping stream to be ignited by exposure to sparking power leads. Something was on fire, using
up precious oxygen, while being sucked out into the vacuum of space.
Where were the crew? Had they managed to close bulkheads and hatches and cut themselves off from the ruptured compartments in time? Or were there dead bodies floating in those cargo holds? Maybe sucked out into space along with whatever cargo they had been carrying?
"Please, Enlo, protect the children," Treinna whispered, just loudly enough to be heard.
"Life signs?" Genys shook off a cold shudder as she pictured Tress and the other children who had been playing with M'kar just moments ago. Tumbling around in a cold, airless compartment. Eyes red with ruptured blood vessels, their lips blue.
"Uncertain," Koreen reported after just enough hesitation Genys turned to look at her. "If someone is alive in there, they're hidden behind multiple layers of shielding." A light flashed on the screen to her left and she turned to look at the readings spilling across it.
Genys called up the data on her auxiliary screen, and a moment later snarled a curse she had heard M'kar use, but hadn't been able to talk the lieutenant into translating just yet. From the way Treinna flinched, she guessed it was pretty strong.
"What?" Maora asked.
"Energy signatures, maybe four hours old. Still strong enough to be identifiable as Hivers." Genys slammed both fists into the arms of her chair, just missing the screens. "No wonder we aren't getting any life-sign readings. How many children on that ship?"
No one answered. Genys shuddered, torn for a moment between the need to get some answers, to report to Fleet that they had found the Corona, and the desire to turn tail and get out of here. With the new families that had joined the ship, she had just over fifty children on board the Defender under the age of fifteen. The spicy-sweet remnants of her drink turned bitter in her mouth as she remembered the latest intel from Fleet, speculating on Hiver interest in pre-adolescent children.
Friendly Fire Page 9
