“They don’t understand us, do they?” Jamie looked at Chanda, then back at Kor.
“The encyclopedia article didn’t mention much in the way of intelligence,” Kor said.
“She may have learned the word apple,” Chanda said.
“And knows what she has to do in order to get one?” Jamie asked.
“I don’t know.” Chanda gazed into the duct, but Roberta had disappeared into the darkness. All they could do now was wait.
8
Kor paced, tapping his medical kit and glancing at the display hovering over Jamie’s tablet. She and Chanda still knelt in front of the duct, watching the quashi’s meandering crawl into the dark recesses of Engineering. The sensor program they had pulled up would have had no trouble following the animal’s route even without a tracker, thanks to its heat signature. Kor and the others should have realized sooner that the saboteur wasn’t a real quashi.
“Is it getting any closer to the saboteur?” Borage asked. “Or just taking the tour in there?”
A beeping came from his station. He cursed and turned back toward it. “Now what?”
Kor looked over, feeling he should help, but he wouldn’t know how. He was useless here in Engineering now that he’d done his job of sticking a chip onto an animal. All those years of medical training for that moment…
“I think she’s getting close,” Jamie said, poking a finger into her display. “Look, I’ve combined the tracker data with the motion sensor.” She pointed to two different blobs, blobs that were now close together.
A snap-crunch came from somewhere deep within the machinery behind the bulkhead. Kor shifted uneasily as Borage cursed again.
“Get that weapon ready,” he called over his shoulder.
“The tracker hasn’t been placed yet,” Jamie said.
“I don’t care. Somehow, it’s eating through the plating of the housing for primary life support.”
“What?” Kor asked sharply.
Borage ran to a locker, yanked it open, and pulled out a laser rifle. He also grabbed a toolkit. “If it gets through the housing, I can yank out the tank and should be able to see it.”
“The tank for what?” Kor asked.
But Borage sprinted past him without replying. He ran up a ladder onto a catwalk, then disappeared over the top of a bank of machinery.
Kor worried Borage might need help—or that the saboteur would have the power to evade his fire and attack him—and almost jogged after him. But Jamie spoke, making him pause.
“I think they’re right next to each other,” she said.
Chanda leaned over her shoulder, and Kor couldn’t see the display.
“The tracker stopped moving,” Chanda said.
Kor came up behind her so he could see.
“The tracker is showing as right by the back of the life support system,” Jamie said. “Your quashi may have tagged it already.”
“Is that Roberta?” Chanda pointed to a blob that had started moving surprisingly fast.
“Uh, I don’t know what else it would be, but—”
“I see the hole it made,” Borage yelled, his muffled voice barely reaching them. “But the intruder hasn’t come into the unit yet. Can you fire the duct rocket now? Stop the creature before it gets into the unit? The auxiliary life support system is still offline from its earlier visit.”
“Shit, it’s not choosing random targets, is it?” Kor asked.
Jamie grabbed the miniature rocket launcher off the deck.
“Wait.” Chanda grabbed her wrist as Jamie started to arm it. “Roberta is still in there. It’ll hit her.”
“There’s no time to wait.” Jamie glanced in the direction Borage had gone.
A shot fired, the buzz of an energy weapon.
“I hit it!” Borage’s voice floated down. “But it’s still moving. It jerked out of my sight, back into the duct. Hurry and use the rocket. I bet it’s going to try to make another hole, get in where I can’t see—” Thuds and clanks ended his sentence.
Kor hoped Borage was responsible for them. Their intruder couldn’t be returning his attack somehow, could it?
“Borage?” Kor called. “You all right?”
“Come on, girl,” Chanda yelled into the duct at the same time. “I’ve got your apple for you.” She waved the browning slice in the air in front of the exit.
Jamie, her thumb on the trigger that would arm the self-propelling rocket, glanced at the display on her tablet.
“Is she coming?” Chanda demanded.
“I think so. She slowed down.”
“Because she’s injured?”
Jamie twitched a shoulder.
“How much of an explosive is in that rocket?” Kor eyed the baton-sized launcher. It was small and compact, but that didn’t mean much. A mini grenade had the power to take out half the ship.
“It’s concentrated and won’t explode,” Jamie said. “Sparks and I made sure it would just take out what it hit and not damage the surrounding machinery.”
“Borage?” Kor called again, realizing the engineer hadn’t responded.
He jogged to the ladder and ran up the rungs.
A curse came from Borage’s direction, followed by the buzz of laser fire.
“Jamie,” Borage hollered. “Do it now! Before it bites into—” More shots fired.
Kor scrambled onto the catwalk over the large equipment, worried Borage would hit his own machinery and accomplish by himself exactly what the saboteur was trying to do. Borage had scrambled off the catwalk and to an access panel. He lay on his belly with his rifle pointed inside.
“No,” Chanda blurted, and Kor paused.
“We have to,” Jamie said.
Kor glanced back in time to see Jamie jerk her wrist from Chanda’s grip, arm the rocket, and release it into the tunnel. Anguish washed across Chanda’s face.
A thunderous crack came from within the life support unit, and fire flashed up through the hole, bathing Borage’s face. He screamed and rolled to the side.
Cursing, Kor raced toward him. The fire died down quickly, but Borage’s pain did not. He dropped his rifle and gripped his burned face, writhing on top of the housing for the machinery.
“What happened?” Jamie yelled from the deck below. “That wasn’t the rocket. It’s heading back out without detonating.”
“Sir?” came another yell from the deck. Sparks must have run over from wherever he’d been working. “Commander Borage?”
“He’s alive,” Kor called back as he reached Borage, grabbing him to pull him away from the hole in case another explosion of flames erupted from it. “Does the damn saboteur have grenades too?” he grumbled.
Smoke flooded out of the open panel, and Kor couldn’t see inside and tell how much damage had been done, or if the mechanical quashi was still down there.
“No.” Borage pulled away from Kor as a new alarm wailed.
With his red and blistering face a rictus of pain, Borage scrambled on hands and knees back to the catwalk and grabbed one of the fire extinguishers mounted along its length. Kor pulled an ampule of a fast-acting painkiller out of his kit and jammed it into an injector. As Borage returned, veering straight for the open panel, Kor jabbed the injector against the engineer’s neck. The drug released with a soft hiss.
Borage didn’t seem to notice. He sprayed the extinguisher through the open panel.
“The intruder self-destructed,” he said. “I think our rocket was just short of hitting it. I know I wasn’t destroying it with my rifle. It must have been programmed to destroy itself if capture or destruction was imminent.”
Borage shook his head, then stuck it through the open panel behind his fire extinguisher. He sprayed for several long seconds. Kor itched to do more than give him a painkiller.
The alarm continued to wail, and he heard the captain’s voice from the doorway, wanting to know what was going on. Borage pulled back and tossed the fire extinguisher aside, and Kor expected him to go down to explain, but he
stuck his feet through the panel and dragged his toolkit inside after him. Kor was fairly certain this wasn’t the side of the environmental control unit engineers were supposed to go in through.
“Do you need any help?” Kor rested his hand on his open medical kit. “In any sense of the word?”
“Dr. Blackthorn?” Mandrake called up. “Report.”
“Borage is—” Several thumps and clangs came from below, interrupting Kor. “Repairing the environmental control unit,” he finished.
“Those sound like vigorous repairs.”
“Yes, sir. He said the intruder self-destructed, so I don’t think there will be further damage done.” More clangs. “By the saboteur,” he added.
The wailing stopped. Kor didn’t know if Borage had already fixed what had prompted the alarm, or if Sparks or someone else had silenced it.
“Why is your assistant weeping?” Mandrake asked more quietly, the words directed to someone else. Ankari? And did he mean Chanda?
“I’m not sure,” Ankari’s voice floated up. “I just got here too.”
Kor’s stomach twisted. He could guess why. Had the little quashi—the real one—been caught by the rocket? Or in the self-destruct explosion?
He started to turn back to the catwalk, almost forgetting Borage’s injuries in his desire to go down and wrap an arm around Chanda, but the engineer’s voice stopped him.
“Doc?”
“Yes?” Kor turned back toward the open panel. Smoke still wafted from it, along with the smell of melted circuitry, but he hoped the fire was out and the danger past.
“I could use that help now.”
“For your burns?” Kor reached for his kit.
“For them and for getting out of here.” A hand reached up, the fingers just visible through the opening.
Kor scrambled back over, clasped Borage’s hands, and pulled him out of the unit.
“Borage?” Mandrake called.
“Coming, sir.”
Kor thought the light was such that he could have helped Borage with his burns there, but the engineer shuffled toward the catwalk and the ladder leading back down to the deck. Kor offered his arm, and Borage let him offer assistance, especially with the ladder.
At the bottom, Borage slumped against it and explained to the captain that the environmental control unit had been patched, similarly to much of the other machinery the saboteur had damaged, and would hold for now. He would get Sparks and Jamie to help with more permanent repairs along the way.
Kor listened only half-heartedly as he withdrew a tube of regeneration salve from his kit and looked past Mandrake and Ankari toward Chanda. Jamie had left, joining Sparks at a console, but Chanda still knelt by the duct, that apple slice clenched in one hand. She wasn’t weeping, as Mandrake had said, but her eyes were brimming with moisture.
Borage grunted and grabbed Kor’s wrist. He had been smearing the salve on the engineer’s burned face.
“Go check on the girl,” Borage said.
“What?”
“You almost stuffed your finger up my nose.”
Kor blushed at his own unprofessionalism but tried to cover it with a joke. “I thought it might need medication.”
“Not by your finger.”
“I didn’t know you were so fussy.”
Borage tilted his head toward Chanda.
“All right.” Kor handed him the tube so he could medicate whatever he wished on his own. “Come by sickbay later, and I’ll run a repair kit over your skin so you don’t have scars.”
“From the burns or my self-medication?”
“Both.” Kor headed toward Chanda, guessing the reason for her moist eyes.
He crouched beside her and touched her shoulder gently. “She didn’t make it out? I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have volunteered her,” Chanda whispered. “In the end, it didn’t even matter. Not if the intruder killed itself.”
“It may have only done that because the rocket was on its way. It looks like your quashi—Roberta—may have actually succeeded in sticking that tracker to it.”
“Of course she did.” Chanda sniffed surreptitiously.
Kor wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her into a hug. But her eyes widened, and she dropped her hands onto the deck to peer into the shaft.
“Something’s coming,” she whispered, then raised her voice. “Roberta? Apple.”
She waved the now-grubby apple slice. A furry body appeared in the shadows, tiny legs churning, propelling it toward the treat.
“Huh,” Kor said, surprised the creature had survived and also surprised it had found its way into and out of the maze of ductwork.
Soft trills reverberated from the sides of the duct. Chanda lay the apple slice on the deck. The quashi passed it, the light revealing soot on one side of her furry body, and came to rest against Chanda’s thigh. She trilled, her antennae waving in the air.
“I think it—she—had a rough day,” Kor said.
Chanda picked up the quashi, grabbed the apple, and held the animal in her arms so she could munch while being cuddled. Roberta trilled in contentment. Chanda grinned at Kor, her eyes bright and shining now rather than tear-filled.
“I’m glad she made it out,” he said.
“Thank you.” She gazed into his face, her lips parting slightly.
He found himself leaning closer, his own lips parting.
“Doc?” Sparks asked, and Kor almost jumped back, remembering that he and Chanda were far from alone.
“Yes?” he asked, turning toward Sparks.
“Now that we’re all more or less safe, I wouldn’t mind having the use of both hands again.”
Kor nodded. He had a duty to do. He touched Chanda on the shoulder again, then left her and her new pet—Kor had no doubt that “Roberta” would not be returned to the station with the other quashis—so he could help the injured men.
Epilogue
Chanda leaned against a bulkhead, stroking Roberta and watching as Kor patched up Sparks. Borage, too busy working, refused to head to sickbay, but at least the white cream smeared all over his blistered face seemed to be helping with his pain. The captain and Ankari were talking together in a corner of Engineering, but both had come over to give Roberta an appreciative back pat earlier.
When Kor finished with Sparks, leaving the engineer capable of returning to work, he smiled wearily toward Chanda and walked over to join her.
“You’re handy for a monk,” she said, thinking of the variety of things he’d done the last few days, only some of which had been related to the medical field.
Chanda supposed she should go back to Ankari for work now that the emergency was over and the fake quashi was in a hundred pieces, but when Kor leaned against the bulkhead next to her, his shoulder against hers, she forgot about such responsible notions.
“I like to think I have handy hands,” Kor said, “occupation regardless.”
“Handy hands? Is that dirty?”
“You’re thinking of handsy hands.”
“Ah.” Chanda grinned at him.
“That was a good idea with the quashi,” he said. “I’m glad you thought of it.”
“Thank you. And don’t forget it’s Roberta now.”
“Yes, of course. Are you keeping it? Her?”
The quashi trilled, her two antennae lifting, the tips toward Kor.
“She doesn’t understand what we’re saying, right? I don’t recall that being mentioned in the encyclopedia article.”
“I don’t think so, but they do seem intuitive.” Chanda stroked the creature’s furry back and received soft, contented trills in return. “I’d love to keep this one, if it’s allowed. And if the ship wants to keep me.” Chanda grimaced. “I haven’t had much of a chance to prove I can be helpful in Ankari’s business yet, and I… think she’s figured out that I’m here under somewhat deceptive circumstances.”
“You are?”
“The job offer was actually sent to my mother—my well
-trained medical researcher mother—and I intercepted it. I was hoping to learn marketing from Ankari, to make her my mentor.”
“Well, I could use an assistant if the women can’t.”
“Oh? Are you allowed to hire people?”
“I don’t know, but I could make an argument for doing so. You brought Mandrake a green drink. He should see your worth.”
Chanda snorted. “I have to admit, I’m still hoping to figure out how to make my own project profitable so I wouldn’t need to bring people beverages.” She hadn’t had much time yet to consider Ankari’s suggestions, but she would definitely do so.
“What project is that?”
“Uh.” She realized she still hadn’t told him that she’d lied to him the other day. “You remember when you asked if I’d played Nature’s Wrath?”
“I remember you saying you used to play and pretending you weren’t that into it but that you’ve referenced numerous games since then, including that one. You even know about the Ring of Neo-Druidism.” He smirked at her.
“I’ve been teased before for my interest in such games,” Chanda admitted, “so I try to downplay it when I meet new people, but I’ve been known to stay up all night… for lots of nights in a row… playing.”
His smirk turned into a broad smile. “I would love to stay up nights playing with you. I mean, if you’re interested sometime. It doesn’t have to be in my cabin. You could be in your cabin, and I could be in my cabin.”
An engineering assistant walked past with a mop and quirked an eyebrow as he caught the last sentence. “Guess that’s how it works when you’ve taken celibacy vows,” he muttered to himself and continued on.
“I’d like that. Uhm, either way.” Chanda thought about admitting that she liked feeling the heat of his skin through their clothing. “But I should probably confess that I’m actually the original creator of Nature’s Wrath and still have a lot of input.”
Kor gazed blankly at her.
“I came up with the idea in school and taught myself enough to do most of the coding until it grew popular enough that I was able to attract more competent programmers to help me. They do most of the coding now, but I still come up with all the quests and storylines. That was always the fun part. Figuring out how to pay people has been less fun, and that’s what I meant about trying to get Ankari to mentor me. I researched and saw what she’d done with her business in the last year. I’m hoping to learn from her.”
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