The Nightshade Problem: Sol Space Volume Two

by James Wilks

  She snorted with laughter once, her nostrils flaring, but that was all. Her eyes were slightly glazed, almost bored. She infuriated him, and he was torn between wanting to strike her, embrace her, or storm out of the room. He was sure that two of the three would result in him being in extreme pain, and the third would cost him some dignity. He stood motionless instead.

  Finally, the moment broke and she walked past him. He was just thinking that she was actually going to leave the room without saying anything when she paused and turned to him. “Fine. Let’s eat lunch together tomorrow.”

  She climbed the recessed rungs up to the hatch currently at the top of the ReC, opened it, and passed through. A second later it slammed back into place.

  Overton drew in a great breath, and then breathed out a sigh. He ran his hand through his spikey black hair. It hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, but it certainly had ended better than it might have. He had a sense of what Dinah was capable of when she was determined to hurt someone, and while he didn’t think she would ever turn that on him except in defense of her crew, he wasn’t entirely sure. The woman was an enigma to him, and yet he was unfailingly attracted to her.

  He had been in an odd position ever since he had come onboard. Most of his time he had spent either settling into the quarters the captain had assigned him, talking with Evelyn, the one member of the crew he really knew, or training with Jang to improve his rusty combat skills. Dinah had steered clear of him quite conspicuously, and he had finally had enough of it.

  He felt like a fish out of water and a fifth wheel all at once, mixed metaphors be damned. He had certainly done his fair share of space travel over the years and with the service, but he had never actually served on a ship, and it was difficult for him to think of Gringolet as an end and not a means. There was no home to go to besides this one, at least for the time being, and he was the new guy. Under the best of circumstances, being an outsider might have been difficult with a crew that was nearly family as this one was. With a group of people who not only lived under a death threat but had been betrayed more than once in the past few months, it was incredibly isolating. Only Evelyn seemed happy to see him. The situation might have helped the two of them be closer, but for reasons he did not fully understand, the crew welcomed her as one of their own instantly. And so instead of being two peas in a pod, she was a lifeline to him, a thin gossamer to a whole that seemed to regard him like some unwelcomed and illegitimate child dropped on their doorstep whom they had to feed.

  Suddenly, the hatch above him opened again and Dinah dropped the four meters to the deck plating next to him. There was a loud clang as her boots struck, and she bent her knees to absorb the shock. He spun to look at her in surprise, and she charged him. Instinctively, he dropped to a defensive position and tried to ward her off, but his efforts were laughable. She ducked inside his guard and grabbed his shirt by the collar. She pushed on his chest with her elbows just as her boot tucked behind his leg. He tried to step back to gain his balance, and over he went, landing painfully on the metal paneling next to the ReC control console. She rode him to the ground, trapping him with her weight. The breath surged out of him, and before he could draw another one, her mouth was on his in a brutal and passionate kiss.

  The momentary asphyxia sent adrenalin coursing through him, and he returned the kiss even as his chest hitched for air. After five seconds, he couldn’t take it, and he pushed her back a few centimeters and sucked in oxygen.

  “Let’s make it breakfast instead,” she said huskily.

  Day 4.

  Gringolet’s gymnasium smelled of sweat. Doctor Iqbal was working with his patient most in need of his ministrations, and that man was feeling anything but appreciative.

  “How many more?” Templeton wheezed between large breaths.

  “Thirteen,” Jabir replied and tapped the dumbbell in the first mate’s right hand. He wore light workout clothes and stood to the other man’s side. If Templeton’s struggle with the physical therapy routine that the doctor had assigned him had not made him feel weak, standing next to the doctor’s impressive physique would have done the job.

  “That’s an unlucky number, doc,” Templeton protested by way of distraction.

  “I hardly think that stopping at seventeen counts, Mr. Templeton,” he replied evenly. “Now let’s finish these out.”

  “Slave driver,” Templeton muttered, then began grunting as he hoisted his left and right hands, curling the five kilogram weights up towards his shoulders. After another five curls, he paused again while sweat dripped from his chin and dampened his shirt.

  “I just remembered; I got to put in an emergency call to Bethany real quick,” he said.

  “Asking Ms. Miller to reduce thrust during your workout is a creative solution, and I give you full points for originality, but it hardly achieves the necessary effect.”

  Templeton sighed and began to lift again. Jabir continued, “You lost muscle mass while you were convalescing from your recent injury, and your cardiovascular conditioning was in a state of neglect to begin with. If you are to recover, this is necessary. You may not care, but our captain has asked that I ensure you are with us for many years to come, Mr. Templeton, and I am in the habit of fulfilling my employer’s requests.”

  Templeton blew out a sigh and stopped. “Thirty,” he declared.

  “Twenty-eight. Don’t think that I am incapable of pontificating and counting at the same time.”

  Templeton smiled crookedly. “You know, for a doctor, you’re actually pretty smart.”

  “Indeed, your flattery knows no bounds. Now, up up.” He gestured to the weights, and Templeton obliged with two more bicep straining curls. When he was finished, Jabir took the weights from him lightly, carried them to their cradles, and secured them tightly.

  “That it?” Templeton asked hopefully.

  “Ten minutes on the treadmill. A brisk walk, if you please.” Jabir smiled thinly.

  Templeton turned to the treadmill in the far corner before rolling his eyes. As he was crossing to it, the door to the room opened and Evelyn Schilling entered. She was dressed in tight purple and black workout clothing, and her hair was done in twin braids that rested on her shoulders. When she noticed the two of them, she paused, then turned as if to go. She halted again, turned back, and smiled an awkward but still somehow charming smile. Finally she took several steps into the room.

  “Miss Schilling,” Jabir nodded gravely.

  “Hey Evelyn, how’s it going?” Templeton asked, happy for the distraction. He picked up a towel and wiped his face.

  “Going well,” she replied. “Am I interrupting? Because I can-”

  “Nope, come on in,” Templeton said. He suspected that her hesitation came from Jabir’s presence, but he decided he could smooth that out. Social situations were far less intimidating to him at this point than ten minutes on the treadmill.

  “Thanks,” she said. She shot a quick glance at Jabir, then placed her towel on a nearby machine. “What are we working on?” she asked.

  “Doc here is still trying to save my life,” Templeton grinned, glad to extend the conversation. “Or end it. I’m not sure which.”

  “The EMTs on Cronos Station did the saving, and they did so with aplomb. I am just trying to prolong it. However,” he glanced at Evelyn, then away, “we are just about finished for today. Tell me,” he looked at Templeton, “can I trust you to complete your workout on your own?” He was already reaching for his towel and moving towards the door.

  Templeton held up his hand in an imitation of Scout’s honor. “Hand to God, doc.”

  “I believe that you are mixing your promissory gestures, but no matter.” Without looking directly at her, he addressed Evelyn. “Will you see that he keeps his word, Ms. Schilling?”

  “Sure thing.” She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the aging and lightly freckled man. “Now get to work, you!” She mimed a decent approximation of cracking a whip and uttered her deep laugh.
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br />   Jabir made his exit, and Templeton climbed onto the treadmill. Instead of starting it, he looked at the copper-haired computer scientist. “What was that about, if ya don’t mind me askin’?”

  Evelyn sat down on a leg machine and stared absently at the now closed door where the doctor had exited. “I suppose I could say that I don’t know what you’re talking about, but-”

  “Wouldn’t buy it.”

  “But you wouldn’t buy that. I don’t know how to quantify it.” She shook her head. “I guess it’s the same old story. Boy meets girl after she’s removed from a damaged stasis tube. Boy and girl feel attraction for one another. Girl pukes on boy’s shoes. Boy performs surgery on girl’s vagina to remove illegal genetic modification preformed under hypnosis as a plot to bring about the end of mankind. You know how it goes.”

  “It does sound like the plot of every movie I see,” Templeton agreed, a crooked smile on his face.

  “I think I’ve still got some residual post-hypnotic problems to work through; I was programmed not to be attracted to anyone other than poor Gordon.” She glanced at Templeton. “Gordon Laplace, I mean.” He nodded to signal that he knew whom she meant. “So that’s still hanging around. There’s the embarrassment from the shoe incident,” she blushed lightly, “which I shouldn’t care about, but there it is. You know, it’s funny. When I first met him, I definitely wanted him in my pants, but not with a scalpel. I only wanted him to play doctor, not actually be my doctor.”

  Templeton barked a laugh. “Yeah, I could see how that would complicate things.”

  “And it doesn’t help, I suppose, that I kept ending up in Medical the first time I was on the ship. He’s kind of weird about the whole doctor-client thing.”

  Templeton nodded again. “Doc’s a real professional, but sometimes I think he doesn’t know where to draw the line. He can be too professional, if you know what I mean. Ms. Schilling this and Mr. Templeton that. I know it’s real important to him, but sometimes I think he overdoes it.”

  She sighed. “A man with intimacy issues. How droll,” she said ironically.

  He pointed at her. “Work and personal life issues, actually. Be fair. Way I understand it, the doc doesn’t have much trouble getting intimate with people.”

  “Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t complain.” She looked down at her strong and freckled hands. “This is, overall, the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  Templeton searched for the ironic tone but didn’t find it. “Really?” he asked dubiously.

  She looked at him. “Oh, of course! Shootouts and space battles and galaxy-altering intrigue? Sign me up.”

  He grimaced. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun.”

  Her features fell. “Oh, Don, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I know you just got badly hurt, and I didn’t mean to make light of that. It’s just-”

  “No, it’s okay,” he interjected. “Tell you the truth, I was having a pretty good time overall too. I mean, scared, and I wanted it to be over, but you and me aren’t the first people to feel more alive after having a scrape with death. But this,” he raised his right hand and touched his chest where the bullet had entered, “this was different. I thought I was going to die. I wasn’t scared I was going to die; I accepted it. I knew it. I stepped forward and that bullet hit me and I thought, ‘well, okay. This is it.’” He looked up at the ceiling, then down at his hand on his chest. “It’s a weird feeling. I was completely surprised to wake up in the hospital. I actually thought,” he laughed, “I actually thought that someone had made a mistake. Like God or someone.”

  Evelyn watched and waited to see if he would continue. After a moment, he did. “Everything that happened, from the time the pirates attacked us up until the moment I got shot… I was afraid we wouldn’t come through it. I was trying to hold the crew together and stop Clea from pissing anyone off too bad with her goddamned pragmatism, but I always thought we’d come through it. But now…” he trailed off.

  “Now you’ve been shaken. ‘Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.’” She intoned the last as a borrowed piece of wisdom. He cocked an eyebrow. “Just a quote I heard somewhere. Some guy I dated used to say it,” she explained. “The point is, I guess you’re feeling your mortality. Makes sense. I just haven’t been feeling mine lately. I know I should.”

  “But in a way, you just survived the greatest space disaster in the Jovian sector. What’s not to be happy about?” He finished her thought.

  “Besides the artificial intelligence controlled warships hunting us?” She shrugged and smiled. “Not much.”

  “Plus, we’ve got Dinah,” Templeton offered. Her levity was infectious, and he had finally caught his breath and stopped sweating.

  “Oh my God, Dinah, right?” she enthused. “She is just amazing. Is there anything she can’t do?”

  “Smile.”

  “She makes me wish I was gay. And, you know, not completely intimidated by her.” Templeton laughed. “And you know what she would say if she were here now?”

  “What?” Templeton grinned.

  In her best stern impression of the engineer, she said, “Get walking, sir!” The phantom whip cracked again.

  Templeton stopped grinning and sighed.

  After their time in the gym, Evelyn and Templeton made their way over and up to the mess hall. It was late afternoon, and while Evelyn wanted a snack, Templeton was hoping to take on a full meal. Since they had lost their full-time cook and could not replace him, the first mate had made sure to resupply the ship with more easily prepared and pre-packaged meals. It wasn’t that none of the crew was capable of cooking, but for the most part they all had jobs of their own to occupy their time. Providing quality food for a dozen adults and one child was a full-time job, and none of the crew was able to take it on in addition to their normal duties. The day before Charis, John, and Yoli had spent two hours in the kitchen preparing fried tofu with noodles, a light potato soup, and a salad with cheese, almonds, and cranberries. The crew had drifted through and helped themselves, but apart from that, they had mostly fended for themselves.

  Today, Templeton fished a frozen dinner out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave. While he salivated over the spreading smell of processed meats, Evelyn selected one of the raspberry yogurts that Staples was partial to and sat down with a spoon.

  “So I have to say,” she said after taking a bite and swallowing, “that I feel like sort of a fifth wheel around here. I know that I have to be here; no place else is safe,”

  “I hate to tell you,” Templeton interjected, “but you’re not exactly safe here either.”

  She gave a half smile. “Well, safer than I would be on my own. But I don’t want to just be a passenger. It’s nice of you all to take me in, but I’d like to earn my keep.”

  Standing next to the microwave while it glowed and hummed, Templeton mused for a moment. “The funny thing is, we don’t really have any openings. I mean, you could cook…”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I’m not much of a cook.”

  “Figured,” he replied. “Girl like you, people buy you dinners, right?”

  “You’re not wrong.” She took another bite.

  “We’ve got,” he made an unpleasant face, showing his lower teeth for a moment. “We’ve got two security positions open, but that’s just a stupid thing for me to say, really.”

  Evelyn lowered her spoon. “No, it’s all right, Don. I feel anger at Quinn and Parsells for what they tried to do, but then I feel bad for what Piotr did to them.” Templeton was momentarily unsettled by her misattribution of blame arising from the captain’s deception, but she didn’t notice. “It’s kind of a null game. Anyway, there are bigger problems. Funny how we can ignore past trauma when there are more pressing things looming over us.”

  Templeton nodded distantly.

  “I’m not fond of guns, and I don’t really think it’s me,” she explained.

  Templeton’s attention came back into focu
s. “Yeah, no, I agree. You don’t have the temperament for it, and I mean that as a compliment.”

  “I’ll take it as one,” she beamed. “But what does that leave? I was helping out at coms before, but Brutus is doing that now, and it’s not really my field anyway. What I need is a good computer to program.”

  “Well,” Templeton speculated, “Gringolet does have a computer core. We’re up to date on drivers and the OS and all, but I suppose you could look over it. I’m sure the captain would be happy if you could realign the targeting protocols or something.”

  “That’s tinkering, and tinkering is what people do for a hobby. Besides, I’ll bet that Brutus is better than I am at that too.”

  The microwave dinged, and Templeton opened the door, removed his meal, and pulled the plastic film off the top. Steam wafted up into the room, and he breathed in deeply.

  “I can’t believe you’re savoring that,” she said. “You used to have a good cook here. Well, a cook who was good at his job, and now you’re reduced to quasi-beef frozen two billion kilometers away. It’s not exactly fresh.”

  “It’s a matter of perspective. You’ve heard the jokes about hospital food?” He carried the tray over with some utensils and sat heavily across from her. “Well, hospital food on Jovian moons is worse.” He began cutting into the slab of beef, saving the mashed potatoes and peas for later. “As for Brutus, the captain gave him run of the ship, but she asked him to stay clear of the computers. I think she trusts him, but not everyone does, and with his ability to come up with viruses… it’s just better.”

  “That does make sense,” she sighed. “I guess I’ll ask her. Do you think Brutus-” She stopped abruptly as she heard a sound in the hallway leading to the room they occupied. It was unmistakably the sound of metal robotic feet on steel grated flooring. Templeton raised his eyebrows at his dinner companion as if to say speak of the devil, then took a bite and chewed reverently.