by S. H. Jucha
“Seriously, Captain, you thinking of buying some of the YIPS propulsion mass after they’ve processed our slush?” Bryan Forshaw, the propulsion engineer of the Belle, asked.
“Does seem a little ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Harbour commented. “What would it take to process Emperion slush aboard the Belle?”
More than one spacer choked on his or her drink. They loved their captain. She possessed every characteristic they could wish for regarding a leader — someone who cared for the crew and someone who put coin in their pockets. But a spacer, she wasn’t. Harbour had never trained as one and had never worn a vac suit, which meant she’d never walk on a moon or outside a ship in an airless environment until she achieved the ratings.
“Captain, you risk spreading this ship in little pieces all over Pyrean space,” Bryan replied, after he’d cleared his throat. “Processing frozen gases is dangerous business.”
If Bryan thought he’d managed to curtail Harbour’s idea, he was sadly mistaken. It was the fact that Harbour wasn’t a spacer that she didn’t think like one.
“Fine,” Harbour replied. “We don’t process it inside the Belle. We process it outside.”
“Outside where, Captain?” Dingles asked, thinking he’d missed a crucial part of the conversation.
“Over Emperion, at our own processing station. We build a mini-YIPS,” Harbour replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world to do.
“Captain, there’s an old saying about learning to walk before you run,” Dingles replied. “We’ve earned a good amount of coin, but we’d need a great deal more before we could design and construct our own processing plant.”
“Understood, Dingles,” Harbour replied evenly. “Now listen carefully. I’m serious about having access to a supply of reaction mass that doesn’t require us sitting off the YIPS and buying our own product back. If you don’t like my idea, come up with alternative ones.”
Harbour received a round of assent from the table. They recognized that Harbour was thinking ahead for them, even if some of her ideas were a little unrealistic.
Sensing the mood shift in her spacers, which hadn’t been her intention, Harbour chose to bring up a lighter subject. “By the way, I’ve not been able to decide what to wear over my skins during downtime at the cantina. Any suggestions for me?”
“Um, captains don’t tend to join the crew when it comes to that tradition,” Dingles said.
“Well, there’s always a first time,” Harbour rejoined.
The male spacers ducked their heads or found somewhere else to look, and Birdie broke out laughing.
“What?” Harbour asked. She detected embarrassment from the men and unabashed amusement from Birdie.
“I believe our males have already made their opinions known on that subject, Captain, more than a little while ago. It seems they appreciate your skins as they are,” Birdie replied.
“Oh, so you like Makana’s designs, do you?” Harbour asked, with a straight face.
A Belle artisan by the name of Makana had decorated Harbour’s flat-back skins with silver filigree that came off the shoulders and down the outside of the arms. It also initiated from inside the arms at the wrists, ran up under the arms, and then down past the outside of the hips to the ankles. It was beautiful work, and it wonderfully accented Harbour’s figure.
Harbour could sense the waves of mortification from the men, and she deliberately kept a neutral expression on her face.
Birdie was unsure how to respond. In her mind, she received pulses of bubbling humor that she recognized Harbour was sharing with her. Joining in the moment, Birdie replied, “Yes, captain, the men are very appreciative of anything that’s well designed.”
That did it. The two women cracked up. Despite the men’s mortification, they laughed good-naturedly at themselves and toasted their captain.
Harbour detected a rapid shift in Dingles’ emotional output. His comm unit had chimed, and he’d glanced at the message. A frown furrowed his brow.
“Captain, maybe you and I should visit the bridge,” Dingles suggested.
Harbour heard the casual manner in which Dingles spoke, but the angst pouring off him was palpable to an empath. She made her excuses to the spacers, and, after passing through the cantina’s doors, they walked briskly toward the colony ship’s bridge.
“Problem?” Harbour asked.
“Don’t know, Captain,” Dingles replied. “The message requested my presence on the bridge and asked that I hook on.
“I’ve heard that phrase used before,” Harbour said, recalling times when Dingles and Ituau Tulafono, Jessie’s first mate, used the phrase. “Seems to be spacer shorthand.”
“It is, Captain. Between spacers, it requires the listener to drop what they’re doing or saying and follow the speaker’s lead. The correct and only expected response is aye, latched on.”
“Looks like I’ll need to add learning the lexicon of spacer shorthand to my long, long list of things to learn about being a captain and a spacer,” Harbour replied, with no little chagrin.
“Little steps, Captain. Everything will come with time,” Dingles replied.
“That works, Dingles, if circumstances allow me the time.”
Dingles had no reply for that sentiment. He knew some of what his captain was dealing with concerning the commandant and the governor. That was enough for him to appreciate the complex and powerful machinations arrayed against the colony ship. As he quick marched toward the bridge beside Harbour, he sincerely hoped that the text to him had exaggerated the seriousness of the situation.
“Report, Monty,” Harbour ordered, as she strode onto the bridge.
“Captain,” Michael “Monty” Montpellier replied hurriedly, jumping up. He’d expected only Dingles to respond to his text. The ex-third mate and retired spacer was a new hire. He’d wanted to join the Belle’s first excursion but personal obligations prevented him. Dingles had promised to pick him up if there was another opportunity.
“I’ve been on duty for second watch a few hours, Captain,” Monty explained. “I was going through my checklist of required bridge routines and logging my observations. I got to the last one, and that’s when I discovered that.”
Monty stepped aside and pointed to a small monitor off to the right side of the extensive bridge operations area.
Soon after Jessie had set up the monitoring equipment overlooking Triton’s alien dome, Dingles had assigned the array’s output to a central monitor of the Belle’s bridge operations. Over time, when nothing changed on the screen and as more and more of the colony ship’s functions were brought online, the output of the Triton dome monitor was relegated to smaller and smaller monitors off to the side. Finally, the array’s output was nearly hidden from view.
Harbour and Dingles crowded close to the small monitor.
“Uh-oh,” Dingles muttered.
Harbour stared at the image of the blue energy field that formed the alien dome. The platform, console, and highly carved, metal deck were as Jessie and his team left them nearly a year ago. The only difference in the otherwise unchanging image was that the bodies were gone.
“Dingles, check the log of the first watch,” Harbour ordered.
Dingles took a seat at the panel used by the ship’s officers. He pulled up the log from the first watch. “The Triton dome monitor was checked three and a half hours into the watch. No change was reported.”
“Is there an image record with the entry?” Harbour asked.
Dingles pulled up the entry and the attached image. “Aye, Captain, bodies are there,” Dingles replied.
“Pull the array’s recording from the last entry until now. I want to replay it to a small audience in the captain’s office tomorrow. You’ll be joining me.” Harbour started for the bridge exit and then stopped. “And, Dingles, I want that array’s signal output on a central monitor, and I want it left there.”
Dingles found his response of, “Understood, Captain,” attempting to catch Harbour’s re
treating back.
“Dingles,” Monty said, after Harbour left. “I’m not up on what Captain Cinders and his crew found and did on Triton, except that it was all about aliens. What I’d like to know: Is it possible the bodies disintegrated with age, and that they’re gone because they’re just so much dust on the deck?”
Dingles looked at Monty and shook his head, a worried expression on his face.
“I was afraid of that,” Monty replied. “Thanks for the honest answer.”
Once in her quarters, Harbour snatched the comm unit off her hip. She placed a call to the Spryte, Jessie’s ship.
“Captain Harbour, Nate here,” the second mate replied.
“Nate, is Captain Cinders available?” Harbour asked.
“The captain is downside on Emperion,” Nate replied. “Word is the crew turned in early, what with it getting dark. Captain Cinders is expected back aboard the Spryte at first light. Is there a problem, Captain?”
Harbour ignored the question and asked one of her own. “Nate, do I have the correct list of people who investigated the dome? Captain Cinders, Darrin, Belinda, Rules, Tully, and Hamoi.”
“That’s correct, Captain,” Nate replied, a sinking feeling forming in his gut.
“Please communicate, at the earliest moment, to Captain Cinders that I’m requesting those six individuals aboard the Belle for midday meal,” Harbour said.
“Midday meal, Captain?” Nate asked, perplexed at the invitation.
“Yes, Nate, an important midday meal,” Harbour replied and ended the call.
Everyone who Harbour was requesting was downside, except for Darrin, who was aboard the Annie. There would be a crew member awake in the shelter, who would be monitoring comms. Nate called the shelter and left a message for Jessie.
* * * *
Jessie woke from a good night’s rest. That normally wouldn’t be the case after a shuttle ride down to Triton and hours walking and hopping around in a vac suit, while inspecting the slush processes. He rolled up from his cot, stuck his feet into deck shoes, and eyed the shelter crew. Most of them were either finishing breakfast or cleaning up. He was late.
The reason for his restful sleep and the crews’ good mood sat upright on the next cot. Sitting in her customary cross-legged position, Rules was doing her best to prep the crew for the day’s hard work that was to come.
Jessie heard from Yohlin Erring, the Marianne’s captain, that it would come to a fight if anyone was to ever slight Rules. That went double if security attempted to take her from them, as they were intending to do, if offered the opportunity.
Mining was hard work; space mining was harder. Spacers aged prematurely from the wear and tear on their bodies. Rules couldn’t help her crewmates in that regard, but she could ease their perceptions of the aches and pains. Rules was one of the most powerful empaths ever discovered, and she was only a teenager.
Belinda Kilmer, who Rules had cured of space dementia, brought a tray of hot food and drink to Jessie’s side.
“Sleep well, Captain?” Belinda asked.
“You can wipe that smile off your face, spacer,” Jessie growled. “You know we all did.” Jessie glanced toward Rules, and she flashed a bright smile at him. “That goes for you too, spacer!” Jessie added.
The crew’s response ranged from snickers to guffaws, and Jessie was forced to shake his head and grin. His tough demeanor hadn’t convinced anyone. Much of that was due to Rules’ influence, but the crew knew his complaints were so much camouflage.
Jessie quickly worked through his breakfast, and Belinda picked up his tray for recycling. That’s when the spacer, who had been on comms duty during the night, flashed Jessie’s comm unit. Reading the message, Jessie felt the contents of his stomach roil, and he worked to keep his food down.
Aurelia sensed the shift in Jessie’s mood. Her eyes darted to him, and, just as quickly, the sheltered crew focused on Jessie too.
Jessie put a false smile on his face. “Apologies, everyone,” he said, glancing at Aurelia, “I should have read the entire text before I reacted.”
Aurelia took the hint and resumed her broadcasting, which slowly took effect on the crew. But, she wasn’t fooled. Jessie’s concerns were still detectable.
“Looks like some of us are invited to midday meal at Captain Harbour’s table,” Jessie said. “How fortunate a precious few are?” Jessie punctuated his statements with the lift of a single eyebrow, and the crew jeered and laughed at his antics.
While the crew used the facilities and prepared to return to work, donning their vac suits, Jessie carefully and quietly notified Belinda, Hamoi, Tully, and Aurelia that they would be joining him for the meal.
It was Belinda who asked Jessie, “Is Darrin invited too, Captain?”
When Jessie nodded, Belinda tucked her lower lip between her teeth.
“Cheerful expression for the crew, Belinda,” Jessie quietly admonished.
Jessie and his spacers trekked to the Spryte’s shuttle and lifted for the Annie. He called Captain Erring to let her know he needed Darrin for a visit to the Belle.
“The spacer network is way ahead of you, Jessie,” Yohlin replied to his request. “Selecting the crew members who were trapped with you in the dome is akin to broadcasting a distress signal. Did Captain Harbour give you a reason for your special meal?”
“No, it could be a celebratory affair,” Jessie posited.
“And that’s what you believe?” Erring asked.
“No, but it’s what I’m hoping is the reason,” Jessie replied.
“What did we do to deserve to be the ones to discover an alien dome?” Yohlin asked rhetorically.
“Because we’re the most intrepid of Pyrean miners?” Jessie offered, which generated a chuckle from Yohlin.
“Darrin will be suited and waiting in the airlock when you dock your shuttle, Jessie. I can’t wait to receive your post-meal message.”
Jessie picked up Darrin and made the Belle with a half hour to spare. By the time they cycled through the airlock, dumped their vac suits into lockers, and made their way to the captain’s quarters, they were on time.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Harbour said, by way of greeting Jessie and his spacers. She stepped aside to indicate the table, which was well-laid with dishes, cutlery, and drink glasses.
Jessie had hoped to have a private word with Harbour before the meal, but it looked like she had other ideas.
“This looks fabulous, Captain,” Belinda announced, passing Jessie and gently nudging his arm.
“Absolutely,” Darrin agreed, and greeted Dingles before taking a place beside the Belle’s first mate.
Aurelia held her hands out to Harbour, and the two empaths shared a brief exchange, which brought warm smiles to their faces. Aurelia had sought to detect Harbour’s underlying emotions, but, as was the captain’s custom, her broadcasts were tightly controlled.
“Captain Cinders,” Harbour said. Her tone was an earnest entreaty to Jessie to join the others.
“Thanks for the invitation, Captain,” Jessie replied graciously. He gave Harbour the slightest of smiles and took a place at the table.
It was obvious to Jessie and his crew that Harbour had gone to extraordinary lengths to make the meal a pleasurable affair. The setting was pleasant, but it was the food and drink that overpowered the spacers’ senses. Meals aboard the Belle provided spacers with the rare treat of fresh food instead of their preserved meals. But, the people who had prepared this meal had outdone themselves, and the quiet at the table, except for the clinks of utensils and the occasional murmur of appreciation, was a testament to the spacers’ enjoyment.
When the dishes and glasses were cleared, Harbour rose and said, “If you’ll come this way, I have something to show you.”
Jessie’s crew glanced toward him, but he walked purposefully toward Harbour’s study, which she’d indicated.
In the study, Belinda commented, “This is nice, if not a little …”
&
nbsp; “Dark,” Harbour supplied. “I’ve been reviewing the records of the Belle’s voyage. Every captain in the rotation was male. I believe this study was designed with their tastes in mind.”
The guests sat in comfortable seats, while Harbour remained standing. Dingles positioned himself to the side of Harbour’s desk and busied himself accessing something on his comm unit. A large monitor slid up from inside Harbour’s desk. It faced the seated individuals.
“Last evening, it was reported that there was a change in the image from the Triton dome,” Harbour said. “Dingles and I looked at the array’s output, and there was a change. Dingles pulled the recorded material from the bridge’s first watch entry and it indicated no change.”
Jessie raised a finger to interrupt, but Harbour lifted her hand partway. “No one else, including me, has seen the recorded output of the array. I thought it only fitting that this group discover it together with Dingles and me.”
Harbour nodded to Dingles and took a seat beside Jessie.
“I’ve set the recording to fast forward until motion is detected,” Dingles said, as the image of the Triton dome, as Jessie and the crew had left it, popped on the screen. The image appeared static, except for the occasional trickle of dust that fell in front of the vid’s lens.
Then light flared from the platform, merged with the dome, and eight figures appeared, bathed in bright blue light.
“Oh, for the love of Pyre,” Darrin managed to gasp out.
When the energy from the platform diminished, the figures held their positions, frozen in a strange tableau.
“Well, now we know the platform’s purpose isn’t for entertainment,” Jessie remarked.
“Out of thin air … a gate,” Tully, the survey engineer, marveled.
“Incredible,” Hamoi, the tech, agreed. “I wonder if it’s quantum coupled or if there are multiple destinations.”
“Spacers, I think we need to focus on the aliens who’ve appeared, for now,” Belinda admonished. “You can debate the fine points of the fabulous technology later.”
The group watched in fascination as the aliens spread out. Jessie immediately picked up on the leader, and he kept his eyes on that one.
