Firmament: Machiavellian

by J. Grace Pennington

  And it was pretty hard to see much when traveling at a hundred and eighty-six thousand miles a second.

  We stepped out of the elevator and jogged the few meters to the bridge. When the bridge doors slid open, confusion met our eyes.

  The Captain called out order after order, while Mr. Yanendale, the com marshal, kept up a steady stream of words into the intercom. Guilders interposed suggestions that couldn’t be heard over the Captain’s voice. Mr. Ralston worked frantically at his station, his long, thin fingers darting back and forth over his smooth console. Whales squinted at the screens in front of him, mumbling the readouts and keeping his place with one forefinger.

  “Navigator on the bridge, sir,” August called out, and hurried forward to his console.

  “Second medical officer on the bridge, Captain,” I hastened to say, though I would have preferred to keep quiet and not add to the chaos.

  He either didn’t hear me or took no notice. “Mr. Yanendale,” he called, turning towards communications.

  Mr. Yanendale pushed the hold button and turned. “Yes sir?”

  “No luck?”

  The com marshal shook his head. “Not yet.”

  The Captain set his jaw and turned back to the fore. “Mr. Howitz, please find maps for this quadrant immediately.”

  “Yes sir.” August began keying coordinates.

  As if he’d just heard my announcement, the Captain turned towards me. “Andi, have you seen Lieutenant Unkrich anywhere?”

  I paused, trying to remember who Lieutenant Unkrich even was. An engineering technician of some sort, I thought, but I didn’t remember what he did.

  “No sir. I haven’t seen him.”

  He looked at me for a moment, then turned back to the fore.

  Was Lieutenant Unkrich involved with tracking? Maybe he wasn’t at his post and something had gone wrong—

  My wristcom beeped. “Andi, are you awake?”

  I answered it. “Yes sir, Doctor. I’m on the bridge.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure.” I looked around at the confusion as I spoke. “I think that it has something to do with tracking, and a missing officer—”

  I heard a grunt over the speaker. “I can’t hear you with all the noise in the background. Come down to sickbay.”

  The call was terminated, and I left the bridge and hurried down to sickbay.

  The Doctor had his back towards me when I walked in. He stood in front of the open cabinet at the far end of the room. As I stepped closer, he turned around with a bottle in his hand.

  He didn’t say anything, but just held the bottle up for me to look at. I hurried a few steps closer and peered at the label.

  “The scopolamine?” I muttered. “How did it get here?”

  Chapter VIII

  The Doctor shook his head, and handed me the drug bottle. “I just found it there a moment ago,” he said.

  “In the cabinet?”

  “Yes. I thought maybe you’d found it and put it there.”

  “No sir.”

  Mumbling to himself, he took it from me, put it back in the cabinet and closed the doors. “What did you say was the matter?”

  I explained everything I knew, which wasn’t much at all, and sounded like even less when I said it to him. I had to explain what tracking was, as he wasn’t very knowledgeable with non-medical technology and made little effort to remedy his ignorance.

  Frowning, he ran a hand through his gray hair, staring absently at me. I bit my lip. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know that he suspected Napoleon and his party of some kind of sabotage.

  Why any of them would want to do such a thing, I had no idea. It didn’t seem like they’d have much motive for such an act when they wanted to get to the galactic center. How could they get there without tracking?

  And I didn’t see what use any of them would have for scopolamine either. It was just a sedative, and it would have been risky to try to sneak into sickbay on the chance that none of us would be there and try to find it. If they happened to need someone unconscious it would be a lot easier to just knock them on the head.

  “Breakfast?” I asked half-heartedly.

  “It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It’s almost eight o’clock.”

  “Hmm,” was all he said. But he started for the door, leaving me to follow.

  Images from my dream came back to me as we walked, and I shuddered. “Doctor?”

  “Hmm?” He didn’t look at me, but just kept absently striding down the hall.

  I opened my mouth, hesitated, then said, “Nevermind.”

  I waited for him to protest and ask what I needed, but he didn’t. We walked on in silence.

  When we reached the mess hall, there was only a smattering of officers situated throughout the room. I wondered how many of them were working on repairing the tracking systems, and how many were searching for Lieutenant Unkrich. There were only so many places for a man to hide on the Surveyor, especially when the entire crew was on the lookout for him.

  “I’m going over there with Lee,” the Doctor said, nodding his head towards the far corner of the room, where the chaplain sat alone again. “Can you get my breakfast?”

  “Sure.”

  He started towards the solitary man, and I stared after him, slowly rubbing the back of my neck as my gaze drifted from him to Lee. Then I turned and walked to pick up our breakfast trays.

  When I reached the table with the two trays balanced on my arms, the two men were already in the middle of a discussion. Lee shook his head as I set the Doctor’s food down.

  “I didn’t have any idea.”

  The Doctor thanked me with a nod and began to eat his lentil soup, still looking thoughtful. “I don’t like it.”

  “He does have a point, I suppose.”

  The Doctor frowned. “You know better than that, Lee.”

  Lee smiled. “You’re right. I do.”

  The Doctor’s next statement saved me the trouble of trying to figure out what they were talking about. “There’s one thing that doesn’t make sense about his story, though. I thought maybe you could help me figure it out.”

  “All right.” Lee wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward. “What is it?”

  When the Doctor began to speak his voice was quiet, and I leaned forward too.

  “The serum has to be injected awhile before warp travel is begun. I was thinking about it last night. I thought maybe you could tell me—how much time was there between when the systems failed and the Surveyor arrived?”

  Lee thought for a moment. “I don’t remember exactly,” he replied. “It was less than a day, maybe about nine or ten hours.”

  The Doctor shook his head, still frowning. “The serum is only useful if injected about a week before beginning warp.”

  It was Lee’s turn to frown now. “You mean…”

  “It seems that way.”

  “Wait.” I looked at the Doctor. “You’re saying that Na—Captain Holloway—must have known several days before that they were going to be traveling at warp?”

  “Yes.”

  I glanced at Lee, then back at the Doctor. “But that’s not possible. They couldn’t detect the Surveyor that far away.”

  “They could have heard that we’d be passing, though,” the Doctor countered. “If they had access to ISA transmissions.”

  “But what about…”

  He gave me a look that said to be quiet, and I bit my lip, thinking. This didn’t make any sense. This didn’t make sense. Unless…

  “Maybe there were indications before that the systems were failing, and he was being prepared,” I suggested. “He wouldn’t have wanted to worry the rest of the team.” This would fit with what he’d said about not telling his crew about the warp stomach shots.

  “That would be in character for him,” Lee shrugged, scraping the last bits of soup onto his spoon.

  The Doctor shook his head. �
��I just don’t like it.”

  Lee got up from his chair and stood looking down at us for a moment. “Holloway’s not a bad man, Gerard. I don’t like his little lies, but I can’t believe he’d kidnap anyone or sabotage anything, which is what you’re suggesting.”

  “I didn’t say that,” the Doctor protested.

  Lee just looked at me, his eyes seeking validation of his interpretation.

  “You didn’t say it aloud,” I corrected.

  Now the Doctor shrugged. “You haven’t known him long. Men often seem trustworthy when they’re not.”

  “So you’re admitting you suspect him?” I tried not to sound accusing.

  “Yes.”

  “But Doctor… we have no proof that he did anything wrong.”

  “And plenty of reasons to think that he has.”

  Feeling my cheeks flush, I jerked a thumb in Lee’s direction. “And what about him?”

  Lee froze. The Doctor’s frown deepened. I felt small with both of them looking down at me that way, but I looked the Doctor stubbornly in the eyes.

  “What about me?” Lee asked slowly.

  The Doctor sighed a bit, and turned from me to face Lee. My cheeks still felt hot.

  “Lee, why didn’t you get warp stomach along with the others?”

  Sliding back into his chair, Lee shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured I’d just traveled more recently than the others.”

  “You said it had been about six months,” I pointed out, sounding much more accusing than I’d intended.

  Lee turned his blue eyes on me again and my cheeks burned hotter still.

  The Doctor laid a cool hand on my arm. “Thank you, Lee.”

  “I really don’t know why I didn’t get it—” Lee began, but the Doctor cut him off.

  “I know. Thank you.”

  Standing up again, Lee said, “I’ll see you later, Gerard. Miss Andi.” He started to turn away, then turned back and leaned his palms on the back of his chair. “I forgot— anything I should worry about from that blood test?”

  I averted my gaze. “No. You’re fine.”

  “Good to know.” I could see his smile out of the corner of my eye. “I was wondering though… who told you about my flu? I don’t remember mentioning it to anyone…”

  I looked at the bridge of his nose so I wouldn’t have to actually meet his eyes. “I don’t remember.”

  “Ah. That’s fine. Thank you.” He nodded, still smiling kindly, and walked away.

  After he was out of the mess hall, the Doctor let go of my arm and looked at me. “Did anyone tell you about it?”

  I looked down as I spoke, my cheeks still burning a bit. “No sir. I was just taking a chance on that to test his blood. It worked out, though.”

  “You lied?”

  I jerked my head up to look at him. “I… you told me to get him in there somehow…”

  “But I didn’t tell you to lie, Andi.”

  Annoyance bubbled up inside my chest. “How else was I supposed to do it? I didn’t hurt him.”

  “Now you’re thinking like Trent.”

  I pinched my lips together and closed my eyes for a second. “No, I’m not.” I opened my eyes again. “And besides, even if I were…”

  “Andi, you can’t do evil that good may come.”

  “Evil? Doctor, you told me to get him in there, and I did.”

  “But you lied.”

  I looked him in the eyes for a moment, feeling the skin under my eyes tighten in frustration. Then I looked down and picked at my soup with my spoon, appetite suddenly gone.

  There was a moment of very awkward silence, then he stood up. “I’m going down to sickbay. Come along when you’re finished.”

  I nodded, not looking up, and listened to his footsteps retreating away from the table.

  When he was gone, I threw down my spoon in disgust. He’d told me to get Lee in. I had done it. I wasn’t a habitual liar. I had just made a guess and pretended it was true. It was for the good of the ship. And he’d told me to!

  My anger simmered down within minutes, and I sighed, looking at the blemished reflection of my face in the soup.

  I agreed with him about lying. Why should I be so upset with him when he pointed out my inconsistency?

  And he had a very good point. Napoleon’s position did merit suspicion. But what about Lee? He had the serum in his blood. He had to be lying, too. Why hadn’t the Doctor said anything about that?

  Maybe there was no reason to suspect Lee of sabotage... but then, there was no reason to suspect Napoleon, either. He had no reason to want to keep us from being able to travel. And besides, he was—he was Napoleon! I couldn’t stop a quiet chuckle as I remembered his naïve smile, his chivalry, and his chipper, pleasant mood. I couldn’t associate any kind of deviousness or scheming with him.

  Doctor Pearson, now...

  I thought about the night when he’d come into the lab and made sure I was away before he began his work. I recalled the strange expression of his unusual eyes.

  He was a scientist. He would want that space matter, want to be the one to discover it, to find out how to use it. He would want to get to the galactic center far more than his happy little captain would.

  But then—there was still the problem of how on earth taking out the tracking mechanisms could possibly help him get to the galactic center. That would hinder our progress instead.

  A voice spoke over the intercom on a nearby wall. “Attention, crew. Lieutenant Unkrich is still missing, however, his place has been filled by Doctor Rogers of the Copernicus. All personnel are to return to their duties; security, continue to be on the lookout for Lieutenant Unkrich.”

  The voice ended.

  Where could Lieutenant Unkrich be hiding? Could he have any motivation to take out tracking? I couldn’t think of any, but I didn’t know him very well. The couple of times I’d met him he’d struck me as firm, upstanding, and serious about his work.

  Certainly I hadn’t had the feeling that he’d stoop to sabotage or giving into bribery. But again, I hardly knew him.

  As I cleared the trays and took them back to the galley, I occupied my mind by thinking of places where he could be hiding—or hidden. It seemed a reasonable assumption that his disappearance was related in some way to the failure of the tracking systems.

  I sighed, and shook my head rapidly. There were smarter people than me already working on the problem. I didn’t even know what was wrong with tracking. I didn’t even know how it worked.

  Sickbay. That was where I belonged.

  I walked back there and looked in, but the Doctor was nowhere in sight, and there were no patients. Maybe the Captain could use my help.

  On my way to the bridge, I passed a lounge and heard loud voices. Two crewmen. I stopped when I caught the word “Unkrich.”

  “I still say Unkrich sold the code,” one of the voices said, “and then headed out.”

  The other scoffed. “Where exactly did he go, and how do you think he got there? There are no pods jettisoned.”

  “He could be hiding in the waste to be picked up when the next freighter comes by.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m just saying there are other ways.”

  “Well, don’t try to tell me that Unkrich would ever give out that information. I know the guy. There was nobody more loyal.”

  I heard the squeak of weight shifting off one of the vinyl chairs and I darted away to avoid detection, not stopping until I reached the elevator.

  There I stopped and stood breathing heavily.

  What code were they talking about?

  August would know. But I couldn’t just go up on the bridge and talk to him during his duty hours. And, by my wristcom, it was more than two and a half hours until lunch time.

  I dialed his frequency on my wristcom and spoke. “August, are you busy?”

  When the familiar Austrian accent came through, the voice sounded hesitant. “Yes. Why?”

  “I want to ask
you something.”

  “Hold on.”

  The call was put on hold, and I waited for a moment, catching my breath, presumably while he asked the Captain’s permission to take a snack break.

  His voice came through the tiny speakers again. “Alright. I’ll meet you at the bar again.”

  I terminated the call, then hurried to the abandoned mess hall to wait for him.

  I didn’t have long to wait. Less than five minutes after I’d seated myself again at the empty bar he trotted in, panting. “I don’t have long,” he said. “Only ten minutes. What did you need?”

  I took a breath. “Can you tell me more about what happened? What’s wrong with tracking? I heard some men talking about a code. What is the code for?”

  August licked his lips and thought for a moment, blinking as he sorted out information. “Well, tracking is partially fixed now. It’s not fully functioning, we haven’t been able to get the ISA tracking signal to connect, but we have enough signal to be able to navigate again.”

  I pondered this. “So ISA doesn’t know where we are? They can’t sense us?”

  “They can’t, but we’re staying in contact with them, so they know where we are.”

  “So what’s the code for?”

  August paused again before answering. “Well, the tracking station requires a code. Only the technicians, the Captain, and the first officer are supposed to have clearance.”

  I nodded. “So… nobody except Unkrich could mess with it without the code? So he must have either tampered with it himself or given the code to someone else?”

  He shrugged. “Or it malfunctioned. McMillan can’t seem to trace the source. I think a couple other crewmembers have clearance, though. I‘m not sure who.”

  I thought about this, then asked, “Do you know Unkrich?”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “And do you think he could be persuaded to give someone the code?”

  He shrugged again. “I don’t know. He didn’t seem like that kind of person, but there are all kinds of whispers going around. It’s odd.” He glanced at his wristcom. “I’m going to have to go, Andi…”

  I put my hand out to stop him as he began to stand up. “Just one more thing. The Doctor thinks that Captain Holloway must have something to do with it. Would it do him any good to have tracking out?”