Rescue Branch (Kinsella Universe)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “I’m back to being speechless, sir.”

  “I’ll give you a hint: don’t let my generation -- or your mother’s -- have free rein with your plans. We did things differently in our day. I still have to work on the wording of the ceremony. I’m positive you don’t want me to pronounce you husband and wife at the end.”

  “No, sir. Two people joined in love for all time.”

  “Again, trust me on this... the first question your mother asked me is if I knew who was marrying whom. I told her that, until she learned otherwise, to assume you were marrying each other. This isn’t the novel concept in Oz as it appears to be in the US.”

  “I’m back to speechless, sir.”

  “Lieutenant, senior officers are no different than anyone else. We have good feelings about those who’ve made us look good. You’ve brought great credit to this ship, her crew and her captain by your actions.

  “Did I mention that Miss Sanchez is coming with another medical officer for the flight? He’s a trained physical therapist, but he’s spent time as an Israeli army trauma surgeon. Do you know how hard it is to get a medic out of those cheapskates at Fleet?”

  “I have no idea, sir.”

  “Very hard. Miss Sanchez told me to list him as her physical therapist, so they wouldn’t try to take one of my other docs from me.”

  Becky sighed. “This isn’t anything like I imagined command would be like, sir. There’s more to it than ‘Do this!’ or ‘Do that’.”

  “Some officers never learn that a captain has to rely on his ship and crew. They become petty tyrants; most of those petty tyrants would never dream of circumventing regulations. Lieutenant Cooper, never let the regulations stand between you and accomplishing your mission. Be it rescuing a few hundred people more than you have nominal life support for -- or marrying two women, when you’ve no experience in it. Of course, I had no experience for the first task, either.”

  He surprised Becky by reaching out and touching her arm. “I wanted to be with my crew -- I heard the descriptions of what you faced. I saw you when they took you off your shuttle. The doctor threatened to relieve me if I undertook to help succor the sick. He had me washing my hands every half hour, anyway. Not that that was special treatment! Everyone washed! After the passengers were off, we showered, every last one of us. More soap and water. Then fatigue details to wash down the areas where the sick had been. Then more soap and water! Soap and water in the form of showers, twice a day, even though it’s at the max our reclamation systems can handle.

  “A captain’s duty is to command, Lieutenant -- not to show solidarity with his crew by getting sick with them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A little later Becky stood at Captain Cook’s shoulder when the shuttle arrived and began to unload. Southern Cross was in orbit, which meant zero g. She looked on anxiously at how her mother would fare, and was concerned about Anna as well. It was amusing to see Anna helping her mother, rather than the other way around.

  Her mother regarded Becky for a moment, and then they hugged. Then it was Anna’s turn -- the first time the two of them had embraced with both of them upright. Becky kept the kiss as short as humanly possible -- it was still rather lengthy and their hug was still as tight as they could manage.

  “You are excused, Lieutenant, until 2400,” Captain Cook told her.

  Her mother was surprised how small her quarters were, but Anna had homed in on Becky’s bed. “First dibs!” Anna said with gusto. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be in your bed, Becky!”

  Becky’s mother blushed, but Becky tried to pretend that it didn’t matter. “The way this works, Mom, is that you strap in at the desk and I stand.”

  Her mother stared at her bed. “How on Earth do you even roll over on that?”

  Becky laughed. “In free fall like this, the problem is moot. I float off the bed an inch or two in a web bag like a Snuggie hammock.”

  “I talked to people -- Anna, your captain. I came to make wedding plans. The first thing I need to know is who the bride is and who the groom is.”

  “Mom, we are two equals getting married. No bride, no groom. Two spouses.”

  “Tradition splits the wedding responsibilities between the bride and groom,” her mother said stubbornly.

  “And this will be a simple ceremony,” Anna told her. “The largest expense will be bringing people aboard. Sanchez-Cooper will be responsible for that.”

  Becky caught that. “Sanchez-Cooper?”

  “I bought one of the thirty passenger shuttles, and started routine service from Earth to orbit. We’re going to make a killing!”

  “Anna, I have no money for something like that,” Becky told her.

  “Now you do. I brought loan papers for you to sign. Eagle and Kat will loan you the money. They want a cosigner, but that’s not a problem. Once we’re married, your signature will suffice.”

  “How much money am I borrowing?” Becky asked.

  “Not much, about twenty-five million.”

  Becky managed not to cough. “On my Fleet pay, you’ll have to wait about four hundred years before I can pay you back.”

  “Dear heart, two words: business plan. Let me expand on that: read the business plan. The loan will be paid within the year -- and we will turn a tidy profit. Try not to let large numbers impress you. Do you have any idea how many kilometers there is between here and Gliese? At a little less than ten trillion kilometers in a light year, we’re talking 200 trillion kilometers... about a tenth of what Southern Cross will cover on this trip.”

  “That’s a lot of kilometers,” Becky agreed. “But kilometers aren’t dollars.”

  “That they aren’t. I can see we are going to have to do a pre-nup. I want it very clear in your head that we are partners. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that. If you are excited about a few piddling million dollars, how are you going to handle Sanchez-Cooper lines having bought a starship? Four billion dollars?”

  Even Becky’s mother choked. Anna rapped the bulkhead of the compartment with her knuckles. “Space is expensive just now. Ships cost billions of dollars -- adjust and adapt. I intend to make a lot of money. I have Steph to look up to in that department. I told her weeks ago about this and she shivered. ‘If I had a ship, I’d be out of the Fleet the next day, flying God knows where the next.’ She wants to stay focused.”

  “Four billion dollars?” Becky gargled.

  “You are only responsible for half, Beck! You can’t lose anything because it wouldn’t be worthwhile for a creditor to chase you down. And besides, it’s my intention to see you on the bridge of that ship as her captain.”

  “Me? A captain?”

  “Sure -- who better? I’ve already signed up John Malcolm and his wife as pilots. Look, we’re back to business plans. Four billion is a lot of money, indeed it is.

  “But even nations like the US, Taiwan, Israel and the like think that’s a chunk of change. More important, it makes no sense to dump a hundred people on a virgin planet -- you really need at least ten times that many. Israel is going to send a thousand the first time, then five thousand the second trip. But they have only enough volunteers so far for fifteen thousand colonists. After they move those, there will be some new volunteers, but it’s hard to judge how fast they’ll come forward. That’s going to mean a lot of money is sitting up there in orbit, gathering dust, so to speak.

  “Sanchez-Cooper will offer such a deal! Wholesale prices! Five thousand people hauled to whatever planet desired! Cheap! Three quarters of a billion a trip! The fifth such trip will be gravy! I’ve already got a tentative schedule for the first ten trips -- China figures to get around the hassle of joining the Federation -- and save a couple billion by hiring a charter. Us!

  “On top of that, I’m looking into a design for a passenger ship. Right now, there isn’t a lot of call for people to go from place to place, but about the time there’s a million people off planet, that will have changed. I intend to get Sanchez-Cooper in on
the ground floor there too! Beck! We’re going to make a ton of money!”

  “Five thousand passengers?” Becky whispered.

  “It’s an enormous responsibility,” Anna told her. “I know as well as you do about that. I have built and will continue to build every ship as if I was going to fly me and my loved ones aboard. I will never certify a ship as ready unless I’m willing to trust myself and my loved ones aboard.

  “Beck, you are one of the most conscientious people I’ve ever met. You’ll never slack, not for a moment. That’s the sort of person I want on the bridge of our starship. John Malcolm has promised that he will limit his decisions to those within his purview as a pilot -- but he’s free to bring suggestions to you or me or whoever his boss of the moment is. The fact is that even then, I just barely trust him. I would never trust him with free rein on the bridge. And he knows it now. He has the distinction of being the most-fired pilot in space. Steph twice, John Gilly twice, and two other employers once each. He is good at what he does, but he’s a screw up when he starts making non-piloting decisions on his own. He says he’s learned his lesson -- so right now he’s going to be our shuttle pilot.”

  “Could we get back to wedding plans?” Becky’s mother asked. “There are a lot of questions we still have to answer, and my stomach is not really comfortable floating.”

  “Just be glad that you’re a guest aboard,” Anna said. “The first time I was in micro-gravity, they set up three guys as pinwheels. The only faster way to give someone vertigo is to make them the pinwheel.”

  “Plans!” her mother said. “I’m just fine when I’m focused. Plans!”

  Chapter 13 -- Weddings and Funerals

  As weddings went that Becky had gone to over the years, hers wasn’t too bad. Her mother had understood her better than Becky had expected and Becky had no complaints.

  It was plain, short and sparsely attended, even by the crew of Southern Cross. She’d attended several weddings when she’d been in high school, but none since. The Naval Academy presumed midshipmen wouldn’t marry until they dropped “midshipman” from their title and really, she’d been too busy to even notice.

  The wedding was short, uncomplicated and for the life of her, Becky could never remember afterwards all the details. That it was short stood out the most in her memory. None of Anna’s family showed up -- but Becky’s did, so did a fair number of brass from the Fleet.

  The wedding night wasn’t what she expected. The one thing she’d never expected from Anna was shyness. Anna was shy about her missing leg. They kissed, they touched -- above the waist -- and had a pleasurable time. Becky had been firm though. “I understand that it’s still hard to deal with, no matter how much you pretend with others it wasn’t a big deal.

  “Clearly, it is. Anna, I never wanted to marry you because you had two legs; granted, I never thought about it, one way or the other. Now, I still don’t think it about. You are Anna, my one true love. You’re missing a leg. Not your heart, not your brain, not your drive, not your sense of duty -- just twenty or so pounds of flesh and bone.”

  “I look -- asymmetrical,” Anna offered. “Everyone says symmetrical is better.”

  “Anna, I didn’t marry you with the thought of sex uppermost in my mind. Symmetry? Hah! Couldn’t imagine it!

  “You’ve never met a problem that you didn’t study seven ways from Sunday. Your solutions are most often leavened with a dry, wry wit that people treasure. I. Love. You. Not your legs, not your arms, not your pretty smile. You. I want to spend as much of the rest of my life as I can not far away from you. I think we will make great mommies -- for boys and girls.

  “Someday I want to look up from cookies baking in the oven and see you grin at me, at some stupid thing a kid did. I will treasure that moment -- right up until the next treasured moment.”

  “Beck, my stump is not ready for prime time. It leaks goo. There’s a drip tube to catch it -- but it doesn’t take more than a hiccup to dislodge the drain. It smells; I smell. I’ve dosed myself with more deodorant than a battleship crew uses before liberty. I still have control of my output, but my control can go south. I never knew I had a mild allergy to peanuts. They can control the worst reaction now, but the first few times I had a PB & J sandwich I was cleaned right out like you lost it with the cholera.”

  “I’m not bragging, Anna,” Becky laughed, “But you have no idea. None. Ten liters a day, Anna. Two and a half gallons. You don’t want to think about two and a half gallons.”

  Anna turned green. “Gallons... I always thought ladies deposited ounces.”

  “Gallons, Anna. Awful smelling gallons. Worse than baby poo.”

  “I had to baby sit; there is nothing in the universe worse than baby poo.”

  “Maybe; after you’ve lived with yourself for a few hours and cholera, maybe you’d have a different opinion.”

  Anna suddenly laughed. “I get the distinct impression Beck, that you are telling me that you had it worse.”

  Becky shook her head. “Nothing like that. I had it different. It wasn’t pleasant, Anna. None of this is. It’s okay to try to fool the noobs with ‘It was no big deal -- I’ve hurt myself worse shaving.’ I know it was a big deal... and I’m sure you’ve never hurt yourself worse.”

  Anna turned serious. “One second I was standing there, listening to the foreman explain the problem, then the next the world was all funny. I can’t explain it -- it was funny. I looked down and saw the beam and not my leg. It didn’t hurt; it didn’t even seem real. Then you were there and that was when I realized that while I like to build spaceships, I love you.

  “And you were so calm, so brisk -- it was like a trip to get a Big Mac. Then the doctor gave me something and I woke up looking pretty much like I am.

  “It didn’t seem real at the time; afterwards there was pain, honestly a lot of pain, and that was real. But even now, I have to stop myself from putting a sock on that foot. Gosh -- think of all the money I’m going to save on socks! I’ll be rich!”

  Then there was tickling and then there was kissing and maybe it wasn’t the usual sort of a wedding night, but both woke up the next morning with smiles on their faces.

  * * *

  Becky was kept busy coming up to speed on the intricacies of their power plant; Anna spent her time touring the ship, poking into every nook and cranny -- and in a 140-meter diameter ship, there were a lot of nooks and crannies. Anna was approving of one feature in particular. “Southern Cross was designed to be the first Fleet ship dedicated to survey. There is a lot more space devoted to labs and research support than a warship would be able to spare.

  “Crew quarters are less spartan than what you normally see in a warship too. We scientists -- even we former scientists -- do like our creature comforts.”

  Becky frowned. “Our compartment is larger than the one I had on an aircraft carrier, but it’s just a smidge more than half again the size. Still sleeps two people though.”

  “And while that might not seem like a lot, it is.” Anna laughed. “I know Steph, and if she’d ever inspected this ship, purple rockets would be flying everywhere.”

  “Purple rockets?”

  “Steph doesn’t get angry very often, but when she does her face turns purple. A nasty thing, that, especially if you are the reason she’s angry. It’s a term I use; I invented it myself to describe Steph being angry.”

  “Charlie Rampling described her face to me, when General What’s-his-name committed suicide.”

  “General Greene,” she told Anna.

  “You don’t ever want to say that name around Steph; she loathed the man from the first millisecond they met. She had him pegged as an abysmal ass, even then. That’s why she fired John Malcolm the second time: the general asked to see the pilot’s control stick.”

  Becky frowned. “Starships are run by computer. There is no stick.”

  “I know that; you know that. Everyone in the universe knows that after five minutes study. The general never studied anything.
He was an even bigger political risk, as it turned out, than he was a bad leader. He was going to claim that first planet in the name of the US -- even though everyone had told him repeatedly not to, from the President on down. He wanted to get his name in the history books; well, I suppose the Guinness Book of World Records is a kind of history book. Still, being recorded as the first human fatality in interstellar exploration isn’t a record many people are going to think was a brave thing. Impossible to beat though.”

  She smirked, “Ditto for the longest distance traveled on a honeymoon.”

  Becky laughed. “Unlike some records, ours will be beatable.”

  “True, too true. It’s why I’m not going to submit it to Guinness.” She waved at the desk. “Now, I’ll get back to flogging this poor excuse for a computer.”

  “Anna, it’s the top of the line.”

  “It was the top of the line two years ago; alas times march on. I keep waiting to hear from the Captain that I use too many CPU cycles.”

  “One user couldn’t use that much,” Becky protested.

  “They invented the term ‘Super User’ to describe people like me. I can; I do. They significantly upgraded the computer on Psyche for me. Of course, they made me pay for half, including half the freight.”

  She stopped talking for a moment. “It was before you saved my life. Now I suppose I have to think about things like that again.”

  “Not on my account!” Becky protested vehemently. “You’ve spent -- a lot of money in my name -- and I barely raised an eyebrow.”

  “No, you turned white as a sheet,” Anna said smugly. “Can I beg forgiveness?”

  Becky laughed. “First we make up, then you can be forgiven.” When Anna didn’t react, Becky tossed a pillow lightly at her. Pillows in zero or microgravity were really only decorations -- they were impossible to use. But they did remind people of home -- even if they were velcroed to people’s bunks.

  Anna added “Make up” and “Pillow” and didn’t reach four, but she did realize that “Bed” was the right answer.