by B. C. James
Sharp continued the tour, leading Pierce out of the long cargo corridor and into the engineering section. Franklin looked up from his workstation as they entered, frowning at the interruption while he stroked his dirty gray beard. “Hi, Cap,” he said as he sized Pierce up. “Is this the numbskull whose ship nearly tore off my docking boom?”
“Hello, Chief,” Sharp greeted warmly, trying to smooth over the old man’s coarse demeanor. Franklin wasn’t the most sociable person, his mind was more concerned with circuits than cordiality, but he was a creative and competent engineer who had gotten the Rojo out of more than a few close calls. “This is Captain Pierce of the Endurance. He and his crew will be joining us for the rest of the trip to Chariko.”
Franklin put his grease-stained hands on his hips and raised one eyebrow. “Yeah, that jackass Arnold just let me know about our new bunk assignments. I guess I have you to thank for that too, eh Pierce?”
Sharp was starting to think bringing Pierce to engineering had been a mistake. He rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “How’s Briggs coming with the docking ring?”
“He’s still at it, Sir,” Franklin answered impatiently as he eyed Pierce, who had started wandering around to the various consoles in the room.
Franklin crossed his brawny arms over his chest, resting them on his bulbous belly. The gray hair that covered them was full of grime and grease.
Sharp noticed his agitation and attempted to distract him. “Why don’t you explain to Captain Pierce how the ship’s warp engine works,” he said, corralling Pierce away from the consoles.
“Yes, please,” Pierce said, returning his attention to the old engineer. “How is it you are able to travel faster than light?”
Franklin glared at Pierce from under his furrowed brow, his dark eyes boring into him. He looked away and sighed, dropping his arms back to his hips. “Well, we don’t actually travel above light speed. We cheat. The short version is that we create a tiny artificial black hole and harvest the massive amount of energy it gives off as it collapses to create a warp field around the ship. The field shrinks the space in front of us and expands space behind us. So the ship doesn’t move at all but the space around it does.”
“Fascinating,” Pierce said. “What about sublight speeds? Surely you cannot use your warp engine within a star system. How do you maneuver in and out of orbit?”
“True, the spatial distortion from the warp field would tear apart any object in our path. We use gravitic thrusters to get us up to speed then ionic thrusters to maneuver us in,” Franklin explained, his voice becoming more annoyed.
“Gravitic thrusters? How do they work?” Pierce asked.
Franklin frowned and rubbed his lined forehead. Sharp could tell he was about to lose it and thought it best to end the meeting. “Well, we better let you get back to work, Chief. Keep me apprised of Briggs’ progress,” he said as he shepherded Pierce back into the cargo corridor.
“You’ll have to excuse Franklin,” Sharp apologized. “He has a mind for machines, not so much for people.”
Sharp changed the subject as they walked up the hallway. “The name grav-thrusters is kind of a misnomer, they aren’t really thrusters at all. They work by creating an area of high gravity in the direction we wish to move, and the ship is drawn toward the gravity well. We can increase or decrease its strength depending on how fast we want to go.”
“What speeds are they capable of achieving?” Pierce asked.
“They can take us up to about point five C.”
“Point five C!” Pierce exclaimed. “We could have made it to Alpha Centauri in under ten years if we had that technology.”
“Yeah, propulsion tech has come a long way,” Sharp chuckled. He didn’t tell him that using the Rojo’s warp engine, they could make the same journey in about two-and-a-half weeks.
Pierce sighed. “What a shame. Here we are, five hundred years later and nowhere near our destination.” He looked up at the maze of ladders and doors lining the corridor walls. “There has to be something we can do, Captain Sharp. With all these massive modules, there must be a way to make room for my cargo.”
So, it was back to the cargo, Sharp thought. Why was it so important? “I’m sorry, Captain Pierce. I can’t bring unknown cargo aboard my ship. Perhaps if you told me what this cargo of yours contains, we might be able to make accommodations for it.”
“I cannot do that, Captain Sharp. I am afraid that information is restricted to Endurance command personnel only.”
“Even after all this time?” Sharp asked. “Your mission is over, Captain.”
“Nevertheless, I cannot divulge its contents, and I certainly cannot leave it out here unprotected.”
Sharp shook his head. This conversation was going nowhere fast. “Why are you so hesitant to leave your cargo, Captain?” he asked as he continued up the corridor.
Pierce didn’t answer. Sharp noticed him look down and press a button on his wristband before he dropped back to examine one of the ladders. “This is a beautiful ship, Captain Sharp,” he said from behind. “It is unfortunate I have to take it from you.”
The statement caught Sharp off guard. He stopped and turned to face Pierce. As their eyes met, a flash of movement filled his vision followed by a crunching pain that shot through his skull. Shocked by the sudden blow, he fell to his knees and clutched his temple. He pulled his hand away. Bright red blood covered his fingers. Dazed, he looked past the crimson fluid and saw Pierce looming over him, a half meter long magnetic spanner clutched in his hands.
He hit me, Sharp realized through the throbbing pain in his head. Reacting quickly, he swung his feet around, slamming them into Pierce’s legs and knocked him to the floor. Fighting the dizzy blackness closing in on him, Sharp pushed himself to his feet and staggered as fast as he could manage toward the end of the long corridor.
He slumped against the exit hatch, letting it support his weight as he wiped away the crimson stream flowing into his eyes. His blood soaked fingers left streaks of red on the control panel as he frantically felt for the comm button. “Cormac!” he screamed into the mic as the line crackled open. “Lock it down! Lock down the ship!”
Not waiting for a reply, Sharp jumped to the side just as Pierce caught up to him. The spanner crashed into the panel where he had just stood. Shattered fragments of glass fell to the deck amid a shower of sparks as Pierce turned to swing at him again. Sharp reeled back, dodging the blows as Pierce swung at him wildly. His heel caught something hard, and he fell backward over a conduit. Pierce leapt on top of him and pinned him to the floor, straddling his waist and holding his wrists. He thrashed violently, trying to break free from Pierce’s overwhelming weight.
“I do not want to kill you, Captain,” Pierce said calmly. “But I will if I have to.”
Pierce released Sharp’s wrists and raised the spanner over his head, clutching it tightly with two hands. As he brought the spanner down to strike him, Sharp caught him by the forearms. The blood on his hands smeared onto Pierce’s arms as they struggled for control of the weapon. The slick blood made it hard to hold on, and Pierce wrestled his arms free. He raised the spanner again, this time with one hand while holding Sharp’s arms back with the other. Sharp’s vision flashed white as the spanner smashed against his skull, tearing skin and crunching bone.
Sharp’s arms fell to his side as his body went limp. Sounds became muddled and faded away into hollow emptiness. The world slowly closed in around him, swallowed by the black oblivion of unconsciousness.
6
Sleep
Pierce stood up next to Sharp’s crumpled body and dropped the spanner. Clanging echoed through the corridor as it clattered on the metal deck plating. He looked down at his bloody hands as the lights of the corridor began flashing a red alarm. The blood alternated from crimson to black in the pulsing light.
What had he done? This was not what he wanted. All of this violence could have been avoided if only Sharp had let him bring his cargo aboa
rd.
The door to engineering opened at the far end of the corridor, pulling him back to the present. He kicked the spanner out of sight as Franklin ran up the long hallway.
“What happened?” Franklin yelled as he knelt next to Sharp’s limp body.
Pierce paused for a split second before answering. “He slipped and hit his head,” he lied.
“Shit, he’s out cold. Help me get him to the med bay,” Franklin ordered. He moved to the side of the corridor and unstrapped a cargo grav-jack unit from the wall.
Pierce kept his eyes trained on Franklin as he helped him lift Sharp onto the flat bed of the jack. Franklin activated the controls on the handle, and the jack levitated a few centimeters above the floor, lifting Sharp’s limp body along with it. He pulled the exit hatch open and looked at Pierce when he noticed the smashed comm panel next to the door.
Pierce shrugged his shoulders. “He fell into the panel,” he offered.
Franklin raised an eyebrow at Pierce before pulling the grav-jack through the door.
The med bay wasn’t far, and Franklin carefully guided the jack into the narrow space between the two med pods. He quickly lifted the lid on one of the units. Pierce watched quietly as he twisted a knob on the grav-jack controls and it lifted to the level of the bed. He helped him slide Sharp onto the bed and Franklin closed the lid. Franklin busied himself with the med pod controls, only looking up momentarily when Lieutenant Lewis entered the room.
Pierce nodded to Lewis and motioned for him to stay put. “Is he going to be okay, Chief?” Pierce asked.
Franklin’s attention left the med pod controls and focused on Pierce. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.” His eyes narrowed. “What about you? Why are your hands covered in blood?” he asked as he slowly moved away from the med pod, keeping the grav-unit between him and the other men.
Pierce didn’t answer. He turned to look at Lewis. Lewis gave him a subtle nod. Pierce lurched forward and grabbed the edge of the grav-jack. He shoved it toward Franklin. The jack smashed into his waist, and he grunted as he was thrown against the wall, pinned by the grav-jack. He struggled to escape, but Pierce held the jack tight against him. Lewis jumped onto the jack and punched him hard in the jaw. Franklin slumped forward, unconscious, onto the floating jack.
“Help me get him into the other med pod,” Pierce ordered as he pulled the jack away. Franklin’s limp body collapsed to the floor with a thud. Moving around the grav-jack, Pierce grabbed Franklin under his armpits, and with Lewis at his legs, they heaved him onto the med unit bed.
“Jesus, he’s a heavy bastard,” Lewis complained as he poked Franklin’s gut.
Pierce ignored the comment and closed the lid. “What is our status, Lieutenant?” he asked as he fiddled with the pod controls, trying to figure them out.
“We were able to subdue the rest of the crew, but that bitch Cormac locked out the controls before we stormed the bridge,” he reported.
Pierce scowled. That was his own fault for letting Sharp get to the comm panel to warn her. He pushed the failure out of his mind and focused on the med pod controls. They were surprisingly straightforward and user-friendly, no doubt designed so any layman could operate them. He set the two pods to repair Sharp’s and Franklin’s injuries then to keep their occupants sedated indefinitely.
Pierce washed the blood from his hands in the sink built into the bulkhead. He shook them dry and turned to Lewis. “Take me to the bridge.”
***
The bridge was dark as Pierce and Lewis stepped through the doorway. The flashing red alarm was the only thing illuminating the lifeless control stations. Commander Thompson sat in the command chair, leaning over the panel and poking at the dead controls. Cormac and Morales were tied up and sat leaning against the wall, struggling against their restraints. Pierce moved toward Thompson and placed a hand on the back of the command chair. Leaning over the console, he watched Thompson peck away at the controls. “What is our status, Commander?”
Thompson sat back with a sigh and looked at him. “They managed to lock out all the high-level command functions,” he answered. “We’ve got no propulsion, no navigation, no long-range comms. We’re pretty much dead in the water, Sir.” He turned back to the panel. “We still have access to lower functions like life support, cargo management, and docking.”
Pierce sighed. The takeover had not gone as smoothly as he would have liked. They had only gained partial control of the ship. “Better than nothing I suppose,” Pierce said as he looked around the dim bridge. “Can you at least turn off this damned alarm?”
Thompson entered a few commands on the console and the lighting switched back to normal.
“Did you take care of Briggs?” Pierce asked.
“Yep, left him tied up in the airlock.”
Pierce grabbed the chair and spun Thompson around to face him. “Unguarded?”
“Um, yeah why?” he replied startled.
Pierce scowled at him, and Thompson’s shocked expression slowly gave way to understanding as he realized his mistake.
“Shit,” Thompson whispered.
“Get back down there,” Pierce ordered, frustrated at Thompson’s incompetence. “Make sure he is still tied up and lock him in one of the empty crew cabins.”
“Yes, Sir,” Thompson replied before standing up and hurrying out of the room.
Pierce called after him. “Then get that airlock open and get back to the Endurance,” he yelled. “I want our cargo prepped and ready to transfer immediately.”
Pierce looked over at Lewis and shook his head incredulously before sitting down in the command chair. He turned to face the two prisoners and leaned forward, trying to read their expressions. They stared back at him silently as he studied their faces. Morales wore a mask of barely contained wrath. He wouldn’t get far trying to persuade her to help them. Cormac’s face was more placid, yet still sternly defiant. He decided to start with her.
“Commander Cormac, this is a… delicate situation. We have a very important mission to complete. It is a matter of life and death for my people. I need you to unlock the controls so we can get underway.”
“No,” Cormac said firmly. “Not until my Captain orders me too.” She looked around the bridge then down the central corridor through the open doorway. “Where is Captain Sharp?”
“Sharp has been relieved,” he said calmly. “I have assumed command of this ship. Now please unlock the controls. Our mission cannot wait.”
Cormac stared at him unmoving. He sighed and turned to Morales. He could feel her anger as she glared at him through narrowed eyes. It was unlikely she would help, especially after her superior officer had just defied him. He tried anyway. “How about you, Ensign?”
“Fuck you!” she growled through grit teeth. Pulling hard against her bonds, she tried to stand up and get at him.
Lewis came from the side and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back. She squirmed loose and attempted to head-butt him. He slammed her down hard against the wall in retribution. Morales spat in his face. He wiped the saliva away with his sleeve then slapped her hard across the cheek. The noise echoed through the bridge like the cracking of a whip.
“Easy there, little girl. You don’t want to get hurt,” Lewis mocked, snickering as he wiped the rest of the spit away with his fingers.
Morales’ olive cheek flared bright red. A tear formed in the corner of her eye and trickled down her face. She cocked her head to the side and wiped away the moisture with her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed again. She glared at Lewis, her jaw clenched, a smoldering look of hatred on her face, like she was burning with the desire to rip his heart out.
Pierce would almost like to see her try. He didn’t care much for the ex-navy seal. He found him to be hot-headed and arrogant. Lewis had been forced onto his crew by the infinite wisdom of the pencil pushers in charge of the mission. They had somehow reached the conclusion that there may be a need for someone with combat training if the mission ran into anyone or anything host
ile on their destination planets. Pierce hadn’t expected to have much use for him, but he also hadn’t expected to be commandeering an interstellar freighter five hundred years in the future. Even if Pierce didn’t care for Lewis’ aggressive methods, he saw the need for it now that their mission had changed from a journey of colonization to a fight for survival.
Morales struggled against her bonds, trying to get to her feet again. Lewis thrust a heavy boot against her throat, grinding her into the deck. “Try me, princess,” he sneered with a sadistic grin. “I’d love nothing more than to put you in your place.”
“Stop! She can’t breathe!” Cormac screamed.
Pierce cleared his throat to call Lewis off. He didn’t want these people to suffer. He just needed their ship.
Lewis released Morales and turned to him. “It’s no use, Captain. These two cunts seem pretty loyal to Sharp.”
Pierce leaned back in the chair. “Where is Lieutenant Arnold?” he asked. “He does not seem particularly fond of his Captain.”
“Got him tied up in the galley, Sir,” Lewis replied smirking.
Pierce stood up. “Take these two and lock them in their quarters,” he ordered. “I am going to have a talk with the Lieutenant.”
He took one last look at the bound women. Morales lay on her back trying to catch her breath. A pang of sympathy shot through him. “Go easy on them,” he added before leaving the bridge.
Noticing Thompson hadn’t yet returned from fetching Briggs, Pierce stopped by a comm panel on his way to the galley and tried to contact him. “Commander Thompson,” He spoke into the comm. “What is your status?” Only static came back over the speaker. He tried again with the same result. Strange, he thought as he continued down the corridor.
Entering the galley, he found Arnold tied to a chair at the head of the long metal table. Baker and Daniels watched over him. “You two, get down to the airlock and see what is taking Thompson so long,” he ordered.
