Tanager's Fledglings (The Tanager Book 1)

by Cedar Sanderson

  “C’mon, then. You can brief the Doc after we’re out.” Moskvin and Jem trotted to the outer hold.

  “I’d like to come.” Jem said as they moved.

  Moskvin didn’t even pause. “You’re too important.”

  “I’m not...” Jem started to protest.

  Moskvin stopped dead and so did Jem, facing him. Moskvin poked him in the chest with a hard finger. “Look. I know you think you have something to prove. I didn’t help by rubbing your nose in it by calling you kid. I’m telling you now: you’re the captain of this ship, and you’re going to act like you’re indispensable, because right now, you are. So get your ass in motion and don’t pout.”

  Jem recoiled, but Moskvin was already running for the hold again. Jem followed. Once there, he handed each man a datagem silently. Most were fully suited, helmets in hand. Barnes looked around the hold.

  “Buddy check.” Barnes said quietly. There was no need to raise his voice, no one was talking. The men paired off, externally checking suits for faults. Moskvin checked Barnes. Jem watched, wishing he was going out there. He couldn’t argue with Moskvin. There was no one else who could fly the Tanager. If... when they found survivors, he would be able to do something. Until then, he’d have to wait.

  Waiting was hard. The men started to file into the airlock in pairs. Jem nodded at them, and they gravely nodded back, and then they were gone. Moskvin and his partner were last, towing the pallet with the emergency tent. Jem went to see if he could help the doctor.

  Doc looked at him for a long minute. “The orderlies have it under control. Can you run infrared scans from here?”

  Jem nodded. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

  “You’re under a lot of stress, all of us are.” The doctor reached out and clasped Jem’s shoulder. “You’ve been... a blessing. It’s quite likely lives will be saved due to your generosity. Don’t worry about forgetting something, that’s why there are a lot of us working as a team.”

  Jem took a deep breath. “I feel odd sitting here safely while...” He gestured loosely toward the outer hold.

  “As do I.” The doctor admitted. “At least you can scan. We can only try to prepare.”

  Jem took the hint and headed for the bridge. As he left, he looked back. “Thanks, um, we were never introduced?”

  The doctor laughed. “My name is Bouler, John Bouler. And I know you’re Jem. We all knew who Walter’s kid was.”

  Jem smiled. He liked the way that sounded, and it wasn’t the time to argue his parentage. “Thank you, Dr. Bouler.”

  Back on the bridge, it only took a minute to look up how to reset the scanner for infrared. He didn’t devote all of the scanners to it - left some on visual, and tracked the new feed to a different screen. He had four screens to put to use, and if he couldn’t use his own eyes, he could use the Tanager’s.

  The comm clicked, and he tapped it. “Tanager.”

  Barnes’ voice, scratchy from being nearly out of range, echoed into his ear. “Barnes. Two survivors on their way to the ship. Bruises, stress, but otherwise okay I think. Pass that to the Doc.”

  “Can do. The split...”

  “Yeah, I can see it. We’ve got a walker coming out to us, he’s going to guide us.” Barnes must have clicked over to another channel, because Jem heard a long moment of silence, then his voice was back. “He says at least thirty are holed up in one of the rock houses. It’s leaking air, so we’re going to expedite any with working suits back to the ship. Others will be cycled through to the medical tent.”

  “The Tanager can handle that many men for the short jump back to Flinders.” Jem assured him.

  “We’ll stay on while you make your run. We’ve got the air if you don’t dawdle.” Barnes muttered, but Jem didn’t hear it.

  “Say again?”

  “Nothing more at this time. Barnes out.”

  The comm went dead again. Jem toggled the intercom. “Two walking wounded on their way in. Thirty more possible following.”

  To his surprise, the nurse’s voice responded. “Copy. Orderlies will be at the hatch for them.”

  Jem hadn’t known the intercom was two-way. He wondered how they’d figured that out, and made a note to look at the system later. Right now, he was watching the infrared for the tell-tale flares of human life. Nothing else on the surface should be warm. He’d mapped the false coloring to red at 37 C, the normal temperature of a human body. Most of the surface was at the other end of the spectrum, a deep violet.

  Knowing where Barnes and his men were, Jem looked for them as a baseline. They were easy enough to find, glowing orange on the screen in roughly oval shapes, moving slowly. He started looking elsewhere. He didn’t have a good angle for seeing into the split, which was an accurately named gash in the surface of the planetoid. But he found a faint smudge of yellow in the shadow of the rim.

  “Barnes,” Jem called over the comm. “I think I found something on infrared.”

  “Damn. I didn’t realize... Can you send the coords to me?” Barnes sounded even more distant than he had before, and Jem wondered how far before they lost communications between suits and the ship. He read off the coordinates to Barnes, and then changed frequencies.

  “Flinders Habitat, this is the Scarlet Tanager. Do you read? Over.” Jem waited for a reply, which came after a minute lag.

  “This is the Hab. Go ahead, Tanager.”

  “Hab, we don’t yet have numbers. I will update shortly with those. I’m calling to ask about something more long-range than a suit comm. I’m afraid we’ll lose contact when they go into the split here. Over.”

  There was a longer silence this time. Finally, Jem heard, “Tanager, this is Hab. We will find something for that. Good idea. Out.”

  His board flashed, and Jem switched back to Barnes’ channel. “This is the Tanager.”

  “Barnes. Tanager, we have one survivor walking to you. We’re headed into the rock house next, but will probably lose comms. I’m going to try to leave a man on the rim to relay, but we may need him in there. Over.”

  “I spoke to the Hab about a better comm. I’ll update them on casualty numbers as soon as possible.” Jem said.

  Barnes’s voice crackled. “More air, too.”

  “More air, I read.” Jem didn’t hear another reply.

  A crackle, then a new voice came over the comm. “Tanager, this is Vincet, on relay.”

  “I read you, Vincet. Tanager over.”

  Jem toggled the intercom. “Dr. Bouler, could you send one of the orderlies to me?”

  Jem didn’t know who was on his ship, and wanted to speak without making survivors nervous. The man showed up at the open hatch a moment later. Jem turned in his chair. “I’m Jem, and you are?”

  “I’m Sykes. You might need me as a runner, Doc says?” The big man smiled and shook Jem’s hand.

  “Yes, how many are aboard?” Jem asked.

  “Three so far. No serious injuries, but it sounds like some o’ them are coming. What d’ye think?”

  “I think,” Jem sighed. There had to be others who knew more than he did - Moskvin, or the Doc. Barnes, even this man Sykes! - but he carried on. “I need a list of what we’ll need to get from the Hab, so when we get there it’s ready to load. We’ll have to make a quick turnaround. But it’s not as urgent as Moskvin thinks. I have air.”

  “What’s that?” Sykes looked startled.

  Jem sighed and stood up. “The Tanager carries a rather large reserve of air... Walter, my ah...”

  Sykes filled in Jem’s awkward pause. “Yer Da was a good man, and that careful. Doesn’t surprise me. But are you sure?”

  Jem nodded sharply. “Men may need it. I can replace it later.”

  “All right, then. Tell me what to do.”

  Jem gave Sykes directions on how to locate and remove the air tanks. He didn’t want to leave the bridge with his connections to the comms and screens. He wasn’t quite finished when the frequency he’d devoted to Barnes blipped
.

  “Tanager, this is Vincet.”

  Jem tapped the button. “Tanager here.”

  “Casualty report. Thirteen alive. Barnes says we’ll keep bodies here for now. Moskvin says eight can move, the others we’ll stabilize until we have transport.”

  Jem met Sykes’ eyes. “This is...”

  He nodded. “Why you need a runner. I’ll git, and let them know what’s coming. Then we’ll get the air bottles.”

  “Thank you.” Jem sat and connected to the Habitat to let them know what he did. He didn’t know what was too often to talk to them, but it would help them to hear something, anything. He knew he was antsy enough sitting here in the ship rather than being out doing... something.

  Then it was back to his scanning. He could see the big emergency tent, now, glowing faintly yellow on the infrared. Curious, he accessed his databank to see if he had information on the size. If it was the most common sort used, he discovered, it would easily hold ten men on cots. More than that and they’d be lined up on the floor. But it would hold Barnes and his men, if they could transfer the badly injured to the Tanager.

  Jem toggled the intercom. “Sykes, when you can, report to the bridge.”

  Sykes didn’t work for him, but he thought they had a working relationship. And the doctor was a very smart man, unless Jem missed his guess. Between them, there had to be some option for gurneys or stretchers with an air bubble. If, that is, the doctor didn’t already have something like that.

  Sykes rapped on the hatch, even though it was open. Jem, watching the screens and reporting any changes to Vincet, was grateful for the warning. He swiveled around. “Sykes, do we, er, the Doc have something like stretchers?”

  Sykes shook his head. “There are such things, but they were here, at the Lode.”

  “So we might find them, and might not.” Jem rubbed his head. He could feel the fatigue when he stopped and thought about it. He tried not to think about it. “I have an unorthodox idea, but he may not like it. Walter and I transport... I still do... some large livestock.”

  Sykes chuckled, a rough noise. “We found the critters in the other hold.”

  “The beeves. I need to feed them in the morning. They’re harmless if you don’t climb in with them.” Jem shook his head. He’d almost forgotten them. “I carry smaller animals usually. And I have stasis boxes.”

  “Sized for people.” Sykes caught on. “I think I read about...” He fell silent for a moment. “I’ll talk to the Doc. You’re right, I dunno what he’ll want to do.”

  Sykes started to leave, then stopped and stared at Jem. “You’re just opening up your house to us. To...”

  Jem shook his head and shrugged. “You’d do it.”

  Sykes looked like he was going to say something, but instead he turned and left. Jem went back to his boards. He didn’t want to think about what this would cost, but he couldn’t not do it. At the moment there was nothing much he could do. He was watching the men come up over the rim of the split, using ropes. The tent was brighter now that it was full. And there... a few men left it and were coming toward the Tanager.

  Jem started the sequence to warm the engines. Once they had everyone onboard he wanted to be on the way. He hesitated. He didn’t need to be in the bridge, he had the earbud for the comm. He did need to make sure Sykes got the air bottles for the emergency tent, and to see what the doc thought of his idea for injured transport. He suspected another pair of hands was going to be needed as well.

  Jem headed for the impromptu sick bay. It was quieter than he’d expected, and the Doctor looked up from the man he was examining and nodded. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Captain.”

  Jem, still experiencing that slight sense of unreality he always had when called by his title, backed out of the hold. He saw Sykes coming toward him, supporting a man in a battered suit. They were both covered in dust. Jem stepped forward and took the man’s other arm. He groaned. Jem flinched, and Sykes grunted. “Keep going, kid, he’s about done.”

  Almost on cue, the man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he sagged. Jem braced under the weight, and helped Sykes get him into the nearest empty cot. The nurse hurried over. “Sykes, help me get him out of this suit. Jem, could you take this man,” she pointed at a man sitting on a cot, “to the other hold, please? We’ll reserve beds in here for the most injured.”

  Jem nodded and the man followed him to the other hold, staggering a little.

  “Are you ok?” Jem asked.

  He nodded and slurred a little “Fatigue. S’ok. I’m alive. I made it out...” He shuddered, missing a step and nearly falling until Jem caught him. He managed to get the man’s arm over his shoulder and they kept going. Jem was beginning to regret not opening a closer hold. “So. Many. Dead.” The man mumbled in his ear.

  Jem lowered him as carefully as he could onto a cot, and the man’s eyes fluttered shut. His mouth was still moving, but no noise came out. Jem straightened up and looked around the room. There was a double row of cots set up, the gear was neatly stowed against the inner wall, and there were four men, counting the one he’d just brought, lying asleep in them. The hatch started its cycle, and he went to wait by it. Sykes walked up behind him.

  “Captain.”

  Jem looked at him, but there was no trace of mockery on the older man’s face. “Ah... I need to make sure you can find the air bottles. Once the next group comes in.”

  “Doc says the stasis boxes are unorthodox, but probably a great idea, not only for transport, but to keep the bad off until he can get them into a proper theater. He says thank you.” Sykes paused, cocking his head. Jem heard it too. The airlock was being accessed.

  It wasn’t a long wait until the light cycled from red to orange through to green, but it seemed forever to Jem. He’d stood here many times, but this was the first time it had counted, every second a man on the other side was in pain, maybe dying. The lock would only hold three, and the men on the other side were dusty, obvious patches visible on their suits. Two of them supported a man whose suit leg was just... gone. Jem didn’t look closely at the tatters that hung down from the knee joint. Internal valves would have tripped - or he wouldn’t be alive.

  Sykes stepped forward and looped that man’s arm over his shoulder and headed for the sick bay, leaving Jem.

  “Ah, follow me.” Jem suggested. “We’ll get you looked at.”

  They twisted and pulled off their helmets. Jem nodded, and led them to the other hold.

  “Thanks.” One of them said. His face was sunken, almost skull-like. “We thought we were goners, down there.”

  “Were there more behind you?” Jem asked. He was uncomfortable with the thanks. Just doing the human thing.

  “Yeah.” The other one paused and looked back. “I should stay...”

  “No,” Jem said. “Let me get you to the sick bay and I’ll go back to help. And Sykes will be back.”

  The first one rubbed his face with his free hand. “There are men who can’t walk even with help.”

  “We have a plan for that.” Jem assured him, thinking that the odd prejudice against putting people in stasis might be a problem, so he didn’t elaborate. He’d never understood that, unless it was related to claustrophobia. Which he didn’t fully understand, either, but knew it was real enough.

  He left the walking wounded at the hatch to sick bay, and headed after Sykes, who had been walking quickly back the way they’d come. This time, they found two injured miners, and one of Barnes’ men. Sykes took the men toward the doctor, and Jem talked to the rescuer, who’d twisted off his helmet and held it in both his hands, rotating it around slowly while he talked.

  “We have many who are unable to walk.” The man’s face was haunted. “We are only able to bring a few here... there are three who we cannot even take from the rock house.”

  Jem nodded. “We have a plan. Can you take a float pallet back?”

  He tipped his head, considering. “Perhaps. The way to the tent is relatively smooth. B
ut to the rock house, no.”

  “Then you will have to carry them. I know Barnes had ropes?”

  “We cannot move these men. They will die.” Jem could see the agitation in the man’s stance, and the way he now gripped the helmet by the opening. “They are very bad.”

  “I understand. But they will be in no danger once in a stasis box.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Yes...” He slumped a little, relief flooding over his face. “Yes, this will work. Where are they? We must hurry.”

  Jem led him quickly out of the entry hold and turned in the other direction from sick bay. There was limited space on board a ship to stow extraneous equipment until it was needed, so it tended to be tucked into odd corners. Stasis boxes, as they were expensive but sturdy, got put under the floor. Jem counted his paces, then stopped and lifted a flush handle, twisting it to release the decking panel. The panel was heavy, but the other man - Jem thought to glance at his suit and saw he did have a name panel that read Jennings - stepped forward to help him. They set it aside, leaning against the wall. Jem pulled a package out.

  “That is...” Jennings sounded very dubious.

  “Just has to be turned on. The base plate is all you need; you don’t need a box. Sure, you’ll see people use them, but they’re a cost, and once the field is live, you can’t put your fingers in it.” Jem shrugged. “Besides, the field acts like a solid. We stack these when we’re...” He broke off. It wasn’t we, anymore.

  “The float pallet is in there.” Jem pointed. “You pull out what you need and I’ll bring it.”

  Jennings knelt and started lifting out the base plates in their boxes. Jem headed for the float pallet. He took the time to load eight air bottles onto it. They came eight to a case and he had four cases - enough to replenish the Tanager if needed. The emergency tent wouldn’t need that much, but as much activity as they had going in and out, Jem was sure they’d be able to use the air.