He made her wait another few minutes before answering her question. “Have all engines come to a full stop. I’ll be up there in a minute.”
“Aye, sir,” Sonya said, and the radio chirped out. There had been an unmistakable gloat to her tone that infuriated him. He ought to just order her to take his watch and deal with this so called alien vessel. The stupid thing was probably Russian anyway. They were always passing Russian mining ships traveling this route.
So the bitch thought she had him, did she? Well, he’d get her back. And that was one promissory note you could take to the bank.
Logan eased out of bed and hunted the floor for some clean clothes. “Lights on half,” he grumbled at the ship’s computer system.
The stateroom lights came on as directed, but even the softer light sent daggers into his eyes. Logan shielded his eyes. “Fuck.”
“Please repeat command,” the ship’s computer said.
“Disregard,” Logan told it. Shuffling around the room, he found discarded pieces of uniform on the floor and put them on. He ran a comb through his thinning brown hair, brushed his teeth, and put on his best game face.
An aging phantom with red-rimmed eyes and droopy jowls looked back at him from the mirror. “It’s showtime, folks,” he said to his reflection. Then Logan left the quiet comfort of his stateroom to go and deal with Sonya’s alien vessel.
Chapter Four
Logan arrived on the bridge looking like he’d just been pulled out of a Dumpster. His uniform, or what little he wore of it, was dingy and wrinkled. Thick, two-day-old gray razor stubble covered his face. He grabbed a recycled paper cup, poured himself a coffee, and took his seat in the command chair. For several minutes he stared at the alien ship on the wide screen, sipping his coffee noisily. Then he finally twisted around in his seat and said to Sonya, “Still no communication from this damn thing?”
“No, Captain,” Sonya replied. Calling Logancaptain was one of those things that left an unsavory taste in her mouth. She found it comparable to shaking a drop of Tabasco on your tongue. It hurt and left a lingering burn.
“How many languages did you try?”
Sonya folded her arms. “All the ones in our database.”
Logan shifted around, scanning the crew. His gaze settled on Dirk. “What do you think it is?”
Dirk glanced at Sonya and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The big man shrugged. “It definitely looks like an alien ship to me. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Out in the vast darkness of space, the alien ship drifted, rotating around in one complete revolution. From this distance, it was hard to tell the vessel was operating on very little power. Sonya tried to age the ship, but even that proved impossible. There was no rust, no obvious decay, and no sign of life on board. At least none that registered on their systems.
Logan tossed his cup toward the trash receptacle nearby, but it bounced off the rim and spilled the remainder of his beverage on the floor. One of the crew rushed over to clean up the mess, and Sonya bit back a nasty remark. Why did they have to be stuck with this annoying drunk for a captain?
Logan stood up and stretched his arms high in the air, grunting with the relief it brought him. Sonya was close enough to catch a whiff of stale sweat and took an instinctive step back. Logan spun around and gave her a tiny grin. “It’s probably just some abandoned Russian freighter. The Russians love to dump shit in space that doesn’t work anymore.”
“It’s not Russian, Captain,” Sonya said.
“Japanese then.”
“It’s not Japanese either.”
“It’s not alien, Chief,” Logan insisted. “And I have another surprise. We’re going to board it, claim it, and drag it back for salvage.”
Sonya tried not to let the shock show on her face. “Why?”
“Parts, Chief. This damn thing’s worth a fortune. We’re going to tow it back with us. But first I want to make sure there’s no one on board just snoozing the decades away in cryo-sleep.”
Now it was Dirk’s turn to fold his arms. “The Mastodon is a cargo ship, Captain. We don’t have a tractor beam. How the hell are you planning to drag that thing all the way back to port? And even if we could find a way to tow it, we may not even have the horsepower to get it through Earth’s atmosphere.”
“I know what kind of ship this is, Mister Fowler,” Logan said angrily. “Maybe the derelict ship has something we can use to attach it to us. In any event, we have to get over there to see what we’ve got.” He glanced around the bridge. “Any volunteers?”
“I’ll go,” Sonya said before Logan could pick some poor unfortunate deckhand to do the job. Besides, proving to Logan the derelict ship wasn’t from Earth had become a death grudge for her.
“I’ll go with her,” Dirk said.
Whittmeyer came over to the captain’s chair. “I’d like to go, too.”
“Great. Floyd, I want you to go, too,” Logan said, turning to a nearby crew hand. “Now let’s get the four of you suited up. Floyd, fire up the transport, and let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Chapter Five
After Dirk had used Sonya’s underwear, he wrapped them in a handkerchief and snuck them back to his own stateroom. There he threw the panties in with his laundry, washed and dried them, then made the tense trek back to Sonya’s quarters. Complicating his mission were surveillance monitors all over the ship. Usually no one ever reviewed them. But if Sonya happened to notice anything odd in her stateroom, all she’d have to do is scan the surveillance history, and Dirk would be busted. Then he’d have a whole lot of uncomfortable explaining to do.
Knowing Sonya was conducting a meeting in the briefing room and waiting for him, he snuck into her room, tossed the panties back in the hamper, and slipped out. Lucky for Dirk, no one was wandering the halls when he came out into the passageway again. He sure hoped Sonya wouldn’t be too pissed at him for being late.
* * * *
The last thing Sonya wanted was Dirk tagging along on this mission. He was opinionated and loved to argue with every decision she made. Sonya had no idea why aggravating her was such a joy, but she assumed it was because she was a woman. Dirk just couldn’t seem to help himself. Boy, how she wanted to bar him from coming, but unfortunately Sonya was stuck. There was no way to stop Dirk without getting into a long, drawn-out conversation about why she didn’t want him to come. So, she decided to hide her displeasure under the guise of professionalism. Maybe if she was unpleasant enough, he’d change his mind. Yeah, fat chance of that.
Being the Chief, Sonya drafted up some quick rules for them to follow once they were on board the alien ship. But she couldn’t discuss them yet because Dirk was late to the briefing, as usual.
She checked the clock on the wall and leaned against the monitor waiting. Floyd and Whittmeyer fidgeted in their seats like teenagers attending after school detention. Whittmeyer was a first-class Merchant Marine petty officer with an undergraduate degree in mechanical engineering and a felony record. Logan had taken him on the USS Mastodon because Whittmeyer had run out of luck on Earth. It was either another tour in the slammer for beating the crap out of a guy in a bar or the Merchant Marines. Whittmeyer made the smart choice.
Floyd, however, was another story. Now a wiry sixty-two with a head of white hair, Floyd had spent his whole life in the Merchant Marines and could fix and pilot almost anything. He was always a great help in any tense situation, because Floyd never argued. He just did what you told him.
The hatch banged open, and, without a word of apology, Dirk stumbled in, giving Sonya a nervous smile. He took a seat.
Sonya glared at him. “Did you take care of everything you needed to?”
Dirk blanched and cast a confused glance at the other two attendees. He appeared nervous and even dared to look unsure if Sonya was talking to him or not.
“Yes, Dirk,” Sonya said. “I’m talking to you.”
“Oh. Yeah, everything’s cool. Why?”
&n
bsp; “I assume whatever you were doing was important since you’ve kept us waiting for fifteen minutes.”
“It was,” Dirk said.
Sonya decided it was impossible to embarrass the man so why even try. She pushed a button on the remote she was holding. The lights dimmed, and Sonya walked up to a large computer screen behind her with bullet points. “There are three simple rules on this mission that I expect you all to follow. One is that we all stick together. Two is that no one touches anything unless being told to do so. And three is to report any findings immediately. Everybody got that?”
Dirk raised his hand. “I have a question.”
“Yes, Dirk, what is it?”
“Well, it’s really just a clarification.”
“Okay,” Sonya said, struggling to keep her tone even.
“So,” he said with a thoughtful pause, “we’re not going to do any exploring on our own? We have to stick together the whole time?”
“That’s right.”
“Why? I mean, couldn’t we cover more of the ship if we split up and just keep in contact by radio?”
Whittmeyer leaned forward and put his muscular forearms on his knees. He looked like he was going to tackle her. “He’s right, Chief. That’s a big ship, and we won’t have much time. Our oxygen tanks only last a little over an hour. Why waste time huddled together? Maybe we could break up in teams of two and cover different areas of the ship. That way we’d have less chance of missing something.”
Sonya raked her fingers through her short black hair. “I don’t really think that’s safe, James.” This was going to turn into a showdown. It was a rare thing for the men to just accept what she told them and not give her any crap. They were always second-guessing her or trying to override her decisions. But it wasn’t happening this time. As their chief, she was responsible for them, and it was her ass on the line if something went wrong.
Dirk’s mouth twisted into a crooked grin. It was time to make his appeal as a buddy. Boy, she hated when he did that. It was so condescending. “Come on now, Sonya. We’re not kids here. Give us a little credit. I think we can handle breaking up into two groups.”
Sonya had had enough of this. “Are you in charge of this mission, Dirk?”
He hesitated, and Sonya knew she’d pissed him off. Would he challenge her in front of the others? The big man leaned back in his chair. “No.”
“No,” Sonya repeated loudly for the benefit of the other two. “You are the second in command, which I objected to, but Logan overruled me. Personally, I don’t understand why you’re coming at all, yet here you are. But I think I can guess why you’re here. You invited yourself along to help me. Isn’t that right?”
“Not exactly,” Dirk protested.
“Whatever your reasons were,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “you agreed to come along knowing I was in charge. Now if you have a problem with that, you need to take that up with Logan, and maybe he’ll put you in charge and you can run this mission any old way you want to. But until the captain says he wants someone else, you will all play this by my rules. If any of you don’t think you can do that, I welcome you to drop out.”
“So, we’re not allowed to question anything you do?” Whittmeyer asked. His tone was clearly hostile.
“Of course not, and I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here.” Sonya paced. “Listen, I’m sure this won’t be the only chance we’ll get to explore this ship, but I want to be extra careful because it’s the first time. Gentlemen, we really don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Let’s not throw caution to the wind our first time out.”
Dirk threw his arms up in surrender. “You’re the boss.”
She searched the faces of the other two men. “Am I?”
Whittmeyer and Floyd broke eye contact and nodded.
“Okay then,” Sonya said, feeling the tension ease from the back of her neck. “I’m the boss. Now let’s get the gear, suit up, and fire up the shuttle.”
* * * *
Sonya came into her stateroom tense. One hour in a spacesuit away from any type of medical care was dangerous and probably a little crazy. The thought occurred to her to pass on the assignment, but she quickly shook the notion off. She didn’t want the crew thinking there was something wrong with her or, worse yet, that she lacked the nerve to be in charge of the mission. Well, she was just going to have to make sure that she had plenty of medication to last not just the hour, but the unlikely possibility of two. You couldn’t be too careful.
Taking care to make sure her stateroom door was locked, she stripped and examined the tiny medication pump Velcroed to her thigh. The pump was her savior, one of the ways she controlled her life-long bouts of epilepsy. Normally she only took one pill a day. But when she didn’t know how long she might be gone because of duty or watch, she wore the pump. No one on board knew about her condition, and she’d felt well within her rights to conceal it. She knew hiding her health issue wasn’t right, but she had to.
If Sonya had told Logan about her condition when he’d first interviewed her, he surely would have rejected her. He would have brushed aside her three years of US Fleet experience and her degree in aerospace engineering and just simply said no. As it was, it was hard enough convincing him to look past the fact that she was a woman. She certainly didn’t need the stigma of being a woman with a potential health problem. Never mind that her epilepsy was controlled by the medication and she hadn’t had a seizure in more than two years.
None of that would have mattered.
A new nervousness came over her wondering what they might encounter on the alien ship. Going there was both thrilling and terrifying, but she was looking forward to it. And if Logan was right, if they could tow that thing back, they’d all be rich beyond their wildest imagination. It was definitely worth the risk of going over and doing a thorough check of the vessel. Plus there was the added benefit of rubbing Logan’s nose in the fact that it was indeed an alien vessel and not some fucking Russian bulk cruiser with a busted-out engine room.
Under her bed was a locked metal chest filled with medical supplies. She pulled it out and used a key around her neck to open the lid. Inside were prescription anti-seizure drugs, tiny medication sacks, needles, sterile tubing, and various other essential supplies.
Sonya eased the thin needle out of the vein in her thigh and covered the wound with a sterile bandage. She wrapped the used medicine bag in a disposal container and placed it in the compactor. The machine smashed the debris into a solid cube, crushing it in with the other trash collected from all over the ship and sucked it into the belly of the ship. Each cube was then dropped into an incinerator and the microscopic ash released into space.
Sonya found another good vein and removed the packaging from a fresh medication bag. With practiced care, she prepared a clean needle, attached it to the tubing and the medication, and inserted it into her flesh. There was a momentary sting, and then she felt the medication flood her system. There, she thought, feeling her anxiety move down a notch, now I’m ready for anything. Well, almost anything.
Sonya was just about ready to leave when she noticed her hamper had been moved a few inches to the right. She came over and searched her clothes and then around the hamper for anything strange. She found nothing. That’s strange. Maybe I’m imagining it was moved. Then she shook her apprehension off. She’d probably bumped the thing on her way out. Better get down to the Ready Room and get this circus underway. She didn’t want the clowns to take off without her.
Chapter Six
The Ready Room was small and cramped with the four of them jostling around to get dressed out in their space suits. Dirk was a little disappointed that it wasn’t just going to be him and Sonya on the trip. She was a definite turn-on, and he was crazy about her despite the fact that she showed no interest in him whatsoever. But Dirk was an optimist. Once she got to know him, really know him, he was sure she’d come around. Maybe they’d never end up in the sack together, but if he could j
ust get her to thaw, that would be nice, too.
“What if the aliens have tentacles?” Floyd joked, trying to lighten the mood as he tugged the heavy suit up over his broad shoulders.
“All the more to love you with,” Dirk said. Because of his cyborg legs and arm, he took longer to suit up than the rest of them. The artificial limbs, although as responsive as his real ones had been, were heavy and powerful. One careless move, and he could easily tear his suit, essentially flushing a two-million-dollar piece of equipment down the can.
Ghost Ship Page 2
