Swish. The meeting room door opened to admit Sandra Rivers. The professor, clad in her white lab coat, moved unhurriedly over to the bulky black desk where Hunter did most of her work.
“Busy, Captain?”
“Fairly. I need a good handle on Ramiran economics if I’m to strike a good bargain for us. I’m an old dog trying to pick up new tricks, but I’ll get there.”
“I need to speak with you about an important matter.”
Hunter glanced up from her computer screen. The scientist looked serious. But then, she always did.
“I can spare you a few minutes, at least – take a seat. Is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid so.” Seating herself opposite the captain, Rivers retrieved a single, crumpled sheet of paper from her breast pocket. “It’s simplest if you read this first.”
Closing her computer, Hunter accepted the page, noticing printed text at the top and handwritten names at the bottom.
She read:
We, the undersigned, request that the captain of this ship for the remainder of our voyage be determined by a democratic process.
While we all agreed to serve under Captain Hunter at the start of our mission, the nature of that mission has now changed sufficiently that an election is necessary to ensure that we have the leadership we need to return home safely.
We will all abide by the result of any election, and the winner will have our full support going forward.
Sandra Rivers
Kiaya Ferguson
Jess Ryan
Balafama Abayomi
Barbara Young
Lorna Costa
Ekaterina Antakova
Evi van der Meyde
Hisano Ikeuchi
Annabelle Grace
Iris Jones
Hunter was pretty good at keeping her emotions from showing on her face, but she knew she was reddening slightly as she read the missive. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet the professor’s. Rivers shifted uncomfortably in her seat and ran a hand through her short curls, but offered no apology.
The moment had arrived. The captain had long suspected that her head scientist’s numerous shows of discontent and borderline insubordination had been leading up to something, and here it was: a power grab, a mutiny dressed up in civilised words.
“Well?” asked Hunter, once she was sure no more of her anger would reach her voice than she wished.
“Well what, captain? It’s fairly self-explanatory.”
“Yes, I suppose I can’t fault your clarity. Of course, the contracts you all signed before we shipped out were fairly self-explanatory as well, and legally binding.”
“Earth law. Human law. Can either really be said to hold sway out here? We may never see another human being again, besides each other. In our situation, can we really afford to rigidly adhere to documents signed half a galaxy away? We need unity to survive. We need a captain we all agree is the best qualified to extract us from our current predicament.”
Hunter had to fight the urge to tell Rivers to get her miserable ass out of the room. It hardly needed saying that the scientist planned to put herself forward as the new captain.
“How can you talk about unity when you sneak around behind my back getting support for a coup? How long has this been going on for?”
“Just a few days getting the signatures. I had hoped not to have to use the petition, but today’s events have forced my hand.”
“Today’s events.” Hunter nodded. “Yes, I did notice you were rather withdrawn during the discussion with Haji. I take it you didn’t approve of my approach?”
“No,” said Rivers smoothly, “for two reasons. Firstly, after wisely deciding – following proper consultation with the crew – not to reveal either the nature of our passenger or the extent of the Bona Dea’s damage unless absolutely necessary, you then took it upon yourself to do both those things.”
“I did, and rightly so. I judged Haji – and, by extension, the people who have elected him as co-leader – to be decent and trustworthy. I changed our plans based upon that new information.”
“Without consultation.”
“None needed: I’m the captain. Also, the Ramirans may have judged us more harshly if we’d hung onto our secrets for longer. It was the right time. Your second problem?”
“My second complaint – and let’s be clear, I’m not swayed by your response to the first one – is that you rejected the idea of trading for weapons.”
“Ah. Of course.”
“The reality is that we may very well need weapons at some point. We have to visit four other colonies, and they might not all be so friendly as this one. As of right now, we have a handful of stun guns, and three robots trained for basic combat – no ship to ship weaponry at all. This cavalier dismissal of an obvious need, again with no consultation, shows exceedingly poor judgement.”
Hunter laughed bitterly. “Really? You think we can just strap a couple of laser cannons to our hull and blast four planets into submission? Ramira isn’t a martial culture at all. Even if they gave us their best weaponry, even if we could successfully install it on our ship, we’ll still be powerless in the face of any half-decent warship. Our predicament won’t be solved by fighting. More importantly, your approach shows weak morals. This is a ship of peace.”
Rivers wrinkled her nose. “Your moral code is dear to your heart, most of the time. Strange, though – you were happy enough to fight on Mata. Your principles appear to wax and wane as the mood takes you.”
“My principles have never wavered and never will. You know your trouble, professor? You’ve got a binary mind. No appreciation of nuance. There’s a big difference between fighting when all other options have been exhausted and roaming around the galaxy armed to the teeth. The latter approach is liable to cause conflict we can’t win and could easily avoid.”
“Are you so sure we couldn’t win? We’re evidently ahead of these people in some areas. With the creative minds we have aboard, I think it quite possible that we could modify their weaponry, making us the ultimate power in this part of space.”
“Power founded on the ability to deal in death. I say again, this is a ship of peace.”
The two women glared at each other in silence for several seconds. When Rivers next spoke, her tone was slightly more conciliatory.
“I suggest you make your arguments to the rest of the crew. My proposal will be that we each make a speech before any voting takes place, together with anyone else who wants to stand for the post, of course. That will give us a chance to clearly lay out our plans for the Bona Dea. Afterwards, the crew will cast their ballots. Excluding you and me, there are sixteen women aboard. One vote each. As the incumbent, you will remain in power in the event of a tie. That’s only fair.”
“Yes, I can see justice is foremost in your mind. I believe your count of potential voters is one short, though.”
Rivers looked blank for a moment, then frowned as she caught the captain’s meaning.
“I presume you’re referring to the thing in the attic.”
“Her name is Chamonix.”
“It can call itself whatever it likes, but it’s not a member of the crew, unless you hold to the view that it’s still Flora Cartwright. I, for one, do not. I’ve seen less and less resemblance to our late colleague every minute I’ve spent with it. The hybrid is a passenger, with no official standing and no input over how we run our ship.”
“Alice and Daniella are both technically passengers,” noted Hunter. “Do they have no input as well?” It was a little ironic, to be cast as Chamonix’s advocate; she had plenty of doubts about the creature as well, but she wasn’t about to let Rivers treat her as a lesser lifeform.
The scientist thinned her lips and rolled her eyes, but had, at last, to concede the captain’s point.
“As you wish; our electorate is seventeen. Oh, but perhaps you want the robots to have their say as well?”
Hunter ignored both the sarcasm and the question.
“Hold on a minute, professor. You seem to be under the impression that this is a done deal. It isn’t. You’ve given me no reason why I should fight you for a prize that’s already mine by right. Or is there a threat hidden behind this veneer of civility?” She slid the petition back across the desk.
Rivers declined to pick it up. “No threat. We’ll abide by your decision if you want to hang on to power. But think how much stronger your position would be if you won.”
“And if I lost? Would I be a pariah, confined to the cell for the rest of the trip?”
“Of course not. My hope would be that you’d continue to serve our interests as an ambassador. No-one else aboard can match your diplomatic skills. You could continue to negotiate with the Ramirans, for example, though I would want you to address our weaponry situation.”
“Unacceptable.”
More silence. The captain considered the young woman opposite her. Unassuming, really, the curly hair the only striking feature. But what a mind! Hunter had been struck by her remarkable clarity of thought from the very first glance at her application form.
“Do you know why I wanted you on this mission?”
“I believe my academic record is rather strong.”
“True, but there were more experienced women with similar records. The truth is, I wanted all the women of the world to feel we were representing them, including the young. You, Annie and Iris were supposed to be the faces young girls could relate to and aspire to be like.”
“And, because I have my own views on morality, you now feel I’m a bad fit? Perhaps in future you should consult with people before you assign them the status of role model.”
Hunter sighed. “‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth …’”
“‘… it is to have a thankless child’,” supplied Rivers. “But I’m not your child. Even if I were, I’d be under no obligation to meekly follow the path you’ve laid out for me. If the rumours about you and your daughter are true, you should know that already.”
The captain’s eyes flashed. “Enough. There’ll be no weapons, no cynicism, no vote. If you’ve nothing else to discuss, I’ve work to do. Kindly leave.”
Hunter opened up her computer screen again, signalling the end of the debate. She was aware that Rivers’ eyes were still on her but refused to give the other woman any further acknowledgement.
At length, the professor rose to leave. But before she did so, she pushed the page with its list of names back into the centre of the desk.
“I hope you’ll reconsider,” she said simply, then turned and strolled unhurriedly through the door and back into the Hub.
Hunter tried for several minutes to focus on her work, but she kept glimpsing Rivers’ petition out of the corner of her eye, an itch begging to be scratched.
She slammed her computer shut again. The page stood out starkly against her desk, white on black.
Eleven names. More than half the crew. But it was the last few words before that list that stood out for her. The winner will have our full support going forward.
Implying, of course, that she did not enjoy that support at the current time and would not unless she faced Rivers and won.
Miriam Hunter had always prided herself on putting the bigger picture first, sacrificing her own comfort and convenience when there was something bigger at stake. She’d seldom regretted holding that principle more than she did now. But Rivers had been right about one thing: the crew did need unity.
Reaching for her wristband, she opened a direct link to the scientist.
“Okay, professor. You’ll have your vote. Tomorrow afternoon. I’d like Ms. Winters to handle proceedings.”
“No objections – she’s the nearest thing we have to an impartial observer. I think you’re doing the right thing. This will-”
Hunter cut the transmission. Her duty to the crew might compel her to play Rivers’ game, but she didn’t have to be polite about it.
* * *
It was a showdown at high noon, Ramiran time. Doubtless conditions were brutal outside, but that didn’t enter into Hunter’s mind as she, Rivers and Daniella Winters stood together in the ship’s lounge. They might still have been in the depths of space, for all that it mattered at the moment. Her only concern was with the women seated before her and reaching enough of them to win.
She needed only eight votes out of sixteen, Daniella having declined to take part so as to preserve her impartiality. The journalist seemed to be rather enjoying her stint as an arbiter; this was all good material for her book, no doubt.
Eight votes. Who should she count on? Chamonix, the only voter not present, would be rather foolish to vote for the woman who’d never wanted her aboard in the first place. Dr. Little was an old friend, while Jackson and al-Hawsawi were fiercely loyal.
Her gaze found the Cumberlands, sitting together on a green sofa chair. Gypsy was blending into the seat, as she wore the same colour. What did green mean in her system of superstition? Peace and tranquillity, the captain recalled. A dash of those would be nice today.
Both Cumberlands were likely to vote for Hunter. The mother had made it plain she was a fan the first time they’d met; the daughter disliked change, and maternal influence on her decision was likely. Six votes more or less in the bag, then. None of them had signed the petition calling for the election, which more or less confirmed it.
The remaining two votes would be harder to pick up. Rivers was a popular enough leader of the science team, as far as she knew. They would likely break for her, as would Barbara Young. Given all the times Hunter had scolded Annie for her behaviour, she’d be hard to win over now, even though their relationship had improved recently.
So, it was the other technicians who held the key. Hunter hadn’t interacted with any of them much on a personal level since Mahi Mata. But if she couldn’t reach them now, maybe she didn’t deserve to be the captain anyway. A leader should inspire.
“Okay, I think we’re ready to go,” said Daniella. “Both candidates have agreed that there won’t be any back-and-forth debate, as they can get a trifle … intense. Crew harmony’s a priority for all of us. They’ll each give speeches – just a few minutes each please, ladies – and then I’ll collect the votes on my handpad. I found some voting software in our files; all very secure. Oh, and please don’t applaud the speeches, as that might influence the other voters.
“So, the only question is, who speaks first? Ms. Grace has been kind enough to lend me a coin, if the incumbent would make the call…?”
Hunter called heads; the coin landed tails. Rivers, however, opted to speak first, which would have been Hunter’s preference anyway. She’d taken part in a fair few debates over the years and found the last word to more often be the decisive one.
Perhaps the scientist’s choice was born of nerves, an urge to get her speech over with quickly?
If so, then she hid it well. Sandra Rivers took a single step forward and began to speak, her tones as smooth and precise as sculptured marble.
“This is a sad day, but a necessary one. The Bona Dea requires a new captain, for we have a new mission. No longer are we on a voyage of discovery – our only aim now is to return to Earth.
“Miriam Hunter has identified a possible means by which we might get home, for which we thank her, but it is a path fraught with difficulties and unknowns. We need the correct philosophy to guide us.
“I am a scientist, accustomed to unknowns. If elected captain, my philosophy will be simple: for every decision I face, I shall choose the option that gives us the highest probability of seeing Earth again. As intriguing as these alien cultures are, they are obstacles, and should be treated as such. We need the fragments of Vitana’s artefact the colonies hold, and I’m quite prepared to beg, steal or borrow to get them. Or fight, if need be.
“The Ramirans present us with an opportunity to turn from powerless nomads dependent on charity into a force to be reckoned with. I propose to take it.
“Perhaps Miriam Hunter
will tell you that a moral code is more important than seeing our loved ones again. A persuasive argument, on the face of it, but is there anyone here who truly believes it? If we fail, if we are forced to live out our days on alien soil, or wandering aimlessly through empty space, I would take no consolation at all from having passed some ethical test. No, the only consolation I can conceive of would be knowing that I had exhausted every avenue, tried every trick to get home. Don’t be ashamed of feeling the same way. You have a right to live and die on the planet of your birth.
“I can guide you there, simply and directly, using clinical, rational thought, and clear logic. I await your decision.”
Rivers stepped back. Hunter noticed ship’s botanist Jess Ryan raise her hands as though to clap, before remembering she wasn’t supposed to and hurriedly lowering them again. On the whole, Hunter judged, the speech had been reasonably well received.
Now it was her turn. She had prepared a rough draft beforehand, but it suddenly felt inadequate. Rivers had anticipated and pre-empted Hunter’s planned appeals to higher morality, to setting an example for future women to follow. But perhaps that was never really the right approach. These women weren’t looking for a lecture, but for a personal connection, for proof that their captain saw them as people and not as tools.
Yes. That was the answer. But had she seen it too late?
Time to improvise.
Hunter let her gaze drift unhurriedly from face to face acknowledging each encouraging smile she received in kind.
“You know,” she began, “I don’t feel at all how I expected. Last night I thought I’d be jangling with nerves, but right now, looking at you all gathered here, my only emotion is gratitude. I’m grateful to have spent this mission with such an exceptional group of women, grateful to have had the opportunity to watch you change from a collection of talented individuals into a team, without losing the qualities that makes each of you unique and irreplaceable. I’m grateful for every day I’ve spent as your captain.
Amygdala Page 10
