StarShip Down

by Darrell Bain

  “I don't particularly like committees,” Grindstaff countered. “Too much wasted effort.”

  “True, but unless we have more than the ones we nominate, we'd soon be accused of stacking the deck. From there, no telling where things would go. I can think of a lot of outcomes that wouldn't be very helpful.”

  “So long as we have to have them, I have one name I'd like to propose,” Sissy said. “She's a professional politician but I think we can trust her to do what's best for all of us.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Melanie Mannerheim.”

  “I know her and I agree,” Brandon said. “She's no wild-eyed radical. In fact most of you probably know she was sent along on this circuit as a troubleshooter. She's been looking at problems on some of the colony worlds and recommending solutions.”

  “Alright, that's one name. Others?”

  Three others were suggested and approved then the debate returned to a landing time.

  “I personally think the sooner the better, consistent with having the ship ready for the contingencies we discussed,” Terrell said. “The longer we wait, the more nervous we'll be and the more impatient the passengers and crew will get.”

  “Brandon, how long do you think to get the ship ready?”

  “If James will give me a set of parameters on what he wants secured and how, I'd say no more than a week or ten days.”

  “I've already started work on that. The short answer is everything that's loose.”

  “How about a tentative date of ten days from now?” Travis proposed.

  “Suits me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sure, sooner done, sooner settled.”

  “Anyone opposed?”

  There was no one. Travis was glad to see everyone in agreement. Even if the date couldn't be met, it would give them something to shoot for and securing the ship would keep everyone busy. Soon afterward the meeting was adjourned.

  * * * *

  Travis was up late, working at his desk. He had just finished the summary of food supplies, new rationing proposals, prospective planting and harvest dates and an extrapolated date for when the colony must begin supporting itself. It was all very complicated and tied in with graphs and charts of various supplies and foodstuffs versus seeds, estimated growing season and many other variables. He had spent most of the day in conferences with groups of passengers after Brandon, newly promoted to executive officer, had gotten a lot of background information from them on education, talents, hobbies and anything else he thought might be pertinent to a new colony. Brandon had done an excellent job.

  Now he was in the process of encouraging everyone to cooperate in the new ship's organization before he had to order them to. Mostly he'd been successful although there was still some grumbling.

  When he was finally satisfied that all that could be done with the files on supplies and such, he closed them and loaded the next item. It was Grindstaff's suggestion on who should be allowed to bear arms, when and under what circumstances, all of which they both knew were little more than guesses. How do you know who should be armed when you had no idea of what sort of hostile fauna and possibly flora would be encountered? You don't, he thought. There were weapons enough for almost everyone to have a gun if necessary but he knew that arming every single adult would inevitably wind up wasting power packs and cartridges at the least, and cause a number of accidental deaths and injuries at the worst. Or possibly not even accidental. People with hot tempers and unused to carrying weapons could very easily become a problem. And that wasn't even counting the shortage of females to foment trouble or how the needs of the colony were probably going to impinge on his personal belief that any responsible adult who chose to should be able to arm themselves.

  His thoughts turned for a moment to the gossip he'd overheard about one of his weapons techs taking up with a set of twins who were enlisted army. Now if more of that sort of thing happened, it would certainly ease the problem of surplus men, wouldn't it? On the other hand it would probably aggravate a lot of narrow-minded individuals and cause trouble there. He sighed and glanced at the time. He stood up and was on the verge of turning out the office light when the chime rang.

  Puzzled, he reached for the touch plate to open the door. Now who could be coming to see him at this time of night? he wondered. As it swung open he stared in open-mouthed amazement at Sissy. He barely recognized her and tried to remember if he'd ever seen her in mufti before. He didn't think so and decided immediately that he and the other men onboard had been missing out on a delightful vista.

  She stepped inside and closed the door behind her then stood silently, returning his gaze. She was wearing a simple white short-sleeved blouse and a knee-length skirt, both of soft material that clung to her body alluringly. Her wavy blond hair fell past her shoulders. One wayward tress curled down over her right breast.

  Travis felt his eyes drawn in that direction. With an effort he looked back up at her and forced his mind out of its trance. “Sissy, you shouldn't be here.”

  “Yes I should be. Travis, you're working and worrying yourself to death and not getting any relaxation at all. When was the last time you sat down with someone and had a friendly drink?”

  “I don't remember but it doesn't matter. You still shouldn't be here.” His voice was husky with tension and he felt a fine tremor come over his body. Why was she doing this to him?

  As if she hadn't heard, she stepped past him to the small bar, a privilege of his rank.

  “You like brandy if I remember right,” she said.

  “I ... Sissy...”

  She produced two glasses from the small buffet then searched and found the bottle. She pulled out the glass stopper and poured generously for both of them while he watched, unable to bring himself to speak again. She brought the glasses over to the couch and placed them on the small coffee table then sat down and looked up at him.

  “For goodness sake, sit down, Travis,” she said, patting the seat beside her. “You look like a scarecrow standing there.”

  He forced a smile. “I haven't heard that term since I read The Wizard of Oz as a kid." He stepped over to the couch and stood for a moment then shrugged his shoulders and took a seat beside her.

  “What brought this on, Sissy?”

  “You did. I couldn't stand it any longer. And don't tell me again that I shouldn't be here. In a few days we'll be on the ground and no one can say a damned thing. In the meantime, if you don't relax, you're going to start making bad decisions.” She took a sip of the brandy.

  Travis picked up his glass and imitated her. He knew he should run her off but found himself powerless to do so. Maybe I am tired, he thought, but that's still no excuse. If we weren't lost, I could be fired for what I'm thinking. And then he realized he was thinking of Sissy and not as one of his officers.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “No, I'm just wondering how long it will be before this is all over the ship.”

  She smiled mischievously. “I doubt anyone will ever hear of it. Or rather only one other person will. I had someone jigger for me to make certain I wasn't seen coming into your cabin.”

  “What about when you leave?”

  “I doubt anyone will be awake at that time. Anyway, don't worry about it. If we are found out, what's going to happen? No one can fire you.”

  He grinned. “Great minds. I was just thinking the same thing.” He took another sip of the brandy and felt its warmth spread through his body. He began searching for the right words to retract what he'd just said but she interrupted.

  “Good. And don't start feeling guilty. Under the circumstances I have a hard time thinking we're doing anything wrong. And just as a note, I'm not proposing marriage, you know.”

  “You're not?”

  “Who would marry us? You're the captain and we don't have a chaplain.”

  He laughed and finally felt some of the tension leaving his body. It did feel good to let himself go in a way he hadn't been able to
since the ship had gone astray and he had taken over running it. At that moment he knew Sissy was right. He glanced at her as she drank. Her eyes met his over the rim of the glass. As he watched, she set it back down and moved close to him.

  He put his arm around her and pulled her close. The first kiss was slow and gentle. Her lips were soft against his and her body suddenly felt warmer than his own. It was such a pleasant sensation that he could practically measure the tension flowing out of his body, making him feel as if his muscles were losing a part of their strength. It didn't last. A surge of desire washed over him, returning the potency of his body. He tightened his arms around her and began moving his hand over the curve of her hip and down her thigh to where the hem of her skirt had risen. Their kisses became harder, more urgent until finally Sissy broke away. Her hair was mussed from where he had run his fingers through it and her clothes were in wild disarray.

  “The bedroom,” she gasped.

  He was more than ready and had already given up any thought of resisting or whether it was right or wrong. He knew he loved this woman and wanted her permanently. He stood and pulled her to her feet and led her into the bedroom. Moments later they lay together on the bed, their bodies touching. He stroked her breasts and thighs and nuzzled her neck with his tongue.

  “Oh God, Travis, I've waited so long for this.”

  “I have, too.”

  He kissed her again then moved over her. A moment later they merged. The first coupling was urgent, their bodies demanding release from repressed desire that had been held in check too long. The rush of their passion made it a hurried union but exceedingly enjoyable for all that. The crucial moment of climax was so intense that Travis could barely separate the sense of his tightened, straining body from hers. He gasped and heard himself cry out in concert with her for what seemed like forever before they were finally still.

  Afterward, he lay propped on his elbow and admired her slim body and firm breasts with the tangles of her hair adding a sensual touch to the view. He started to berate himself for giving in to temptation but then remembered what she had said. Don't start feeling guilty! And surprisingly to him, he didn't.

  “You're beautiful,” he complimented her. He leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on first one then her other nipple.

  She snuggled against him.

  * * * *

  Sissy didn't leave until early morning. Before she did, she gazed down at his sleeping form and thought of how wonderful it had been. He is a good and gentle man, she thought. Once we land, I'll be damned if anyone is going to stand in our way.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Travis woke and was shocked by how late it was. The control room! He should already be there! He sat up in bed and started to swing his feet to the floor. Then he remembered what had happened the night before. He lay back down and stretched then relaxed. His whole body tingled with vitality and good health. Or good sex, he thought wryly. No, make that great sex, with a great woman. He began going over every detail of the previous night in his mind. Occasionally he smiled while remembering a particularly poignant moment. After a while he prodded his conscience but it was singularly unresponsive. He gave a mental shrug and climbed out of bed. He was grateful now that Cathy had decided to drop any further attempts to embarrass him, just in case his relationship with Sissy did become public.

  After showering, he rubbed off his beard. It reminded him that in the not-too-distant future he would have to either begin shaving or grow a beard. Eventually Carlsbad's chemical fabricator might be able to duplicate the ingredients used in beard cream but he doubted it would come soon. It made him wish now that he had bought the gene treatment to permanently eliminate the whiskers but he hadn't. He had thought he might want to grow a mustache or a small beard one day just to see what he looked like with one. Too late for gene treatments now and he might just have to grow a beard to keep from slashing his face to pieces. He was notoriously inept with a razor. Maybe the electric shaver the captain's cabin was equipped with? While the power lasted.

  As he donned his uniform it brought another thought to mind. As it stood now, the ship's laundry took care of clothing almost automatically. But just as the razor depended on how long the power lasted, so did the laundry. Hell, what if the power core that was the source of spinning up the impellers, instigating the inconstants, and keeping the recyclers and all the other functions of the ship going was damaged during the descent? Wouldn't that put a damper on our efforts? Or suppose it goes completely out of control? In that case there would be no further problems.

  Stop it! he told himself sternly as he did each time he began worrying over things he had no control over. Just do your best; that's all anyone can ask. He checked the bed before leaving to eliminate any traces of his and Sissy's night together then departed for the control room. Before he was even halfway there he found himself whistling.

  * * * *

  “Hey, the Blond Bombshell!” Morehill called enthusiastically as Sarah Justman made her appearance with the breakfast trays.

  She grinned at the big convict and felt her pulse increase. She had easily gotten herself permanently assigned to the feeding detail since no one else particularly wanted it. On each round now she gave Morehill his tray last so she could stay and talk with him for a few minutes without any one noticing.

  “What's the good news, BB?” he asked as he accepted the tray with a flirtatious wink that caused her to blush.

  She looked around then back through the bars at him. “They're going to put all of you down on another continent. Mister Masters already has a detail working on one of the tenders, fixing it up for prisoners.”

  “Damn. You mean we're going to be a whole continent away from each other? That's a bitch.” He pretended he hadn't already heard that bit of news.

  “I agree but I don't know what I could do to change it.”

  “Who's going to be in charge when the boat leaves with us?”

  “The army is going to handle the transport is what I hear.”

  “Could you get yourself assigned to it?”

  “I don't know. Maybe. Why?” She drew a deep breath, already suspecting what he was after.

  “Well, for one thing we could get to see each other one last time. But ... Sarah, honey, I sure wish it didn't have to be the last. Know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I know,” she said, her voice barely audible. Honey. He was calling her honey.

  “They're going to just throw us out in a jungle, aren't they? Leave us to die like damned animals. Don't they think we have feelings?”

  “Crag...” She felt her eyes beginning to blur with the wetness of tears.

  “Hey, BB, don't cry. Listen, let me think, okay? Maybe I can come up with a way for us to be together.”

  “Really?” She felt a sudden surge of hope mixed with desire but she was afraid of what he was going to propose. Nevertheless she stood still as he rubbed his chin and wrinkled his brow. She couldn't stop herself from listening when he began whispering to her.

  Morehill talked urgently. Presently be beckoned to her with a motion of his hand and she felt an atavistic thrill as she stepped closer and crossed the forbidden yellow line on the deck. He reached through the bars and touched her cheek. He trailed his hand down the side of her neck and on to her breasts. He could barely reach them through the barred window but it was enough. She trembled and closed her eyes but she was unable to move away while he caressed her and talked urgently in a low voice. By the time she left, she was trembling with desire and ready to do almost anything he asked of her.

  * * * *

  The big space liner wasn't designed to be flown manually any more than it was made to land on a planet but Sissy and Terrell had rigged up an override to the computers in case they malfunctioned during the descent.

  “I don't really know if it would help,” Sissy told Travis as she showed him the controls, “but when you only get one try, it's better to b
e prepared for every contingency you can think of.”

  “I couldn't agree more. Is everything ready to go on the next orbit?”

  “As ready as we'll ever be.”

  “Okay, let's do it then.” He thumbed the all-ship com. “Attention, all hands! Secure all loose objects and strap in immediately for deorbit! This is no drill! We are ready to enter atmosphere and land on New Earth.” He set the announcement to repeat every five minutes until the first maneuvering jets fired. Each time he heard the name the planet had been given, he smiled wryly to himself at the triteness of the name but it certainly hadn't been his idea. He didn't know whose it was. The name had simply popped up and began being used and he finally gave up and made it official.

  Sissy nodded and touched the computer, setting the precalculated deorbit in motion. The timer began blinking and she began securing her safety harness. Others in the control room followed her example.

  If staring at Sissy while she kept her eyes glued to the makeshift manual controls in case of final need would have helped the ship on its descent, all would have gone perfectly. He couldn't move his eyes away from her hands, only inches from the new and improvised switches, levers and joysticks. They were attached securely to each padded armrest with safety tape that was strong enough to hold down a restive gorilla.

  As the big liner entered the atmosphere, it began shaking, the consequence of protuberances that couldn't be removed. A deep humming noise permeated the ship, barely audible over the rumbling of the craft being shaken by compressed air, even though the angle of deorbiting was much shallower than it would have been for a ship truly designed to function in atmosphere. Sissy and Terrell had told him privately that it would be a contest between time needed to get to the ground and the ship shaking itself to pieces. They had conferred endlessly on the parameters before agreeing on the final figures that went into the computers.

  A bang from somewhere echoed through the control room. Travis couldn't tell whether it was something coming loose from the exterior and hitting the hull or an object that hadn't been secured as tightly as thought and had come loose somewhere inside the ship. He held his breath for a long minute then finally released it when nothing else happened. Nothing other than the continued shaking that seemed to grow worse by the second and Sissy's increasingly strained appearance. He watched tensely as she started to reach for the manual controls when the shaking reached a shrill crescendo then backed off when it lessened momentarily. The humming grew loud enough to almost drown out other noises from the crazily vibrating ship. He had no idea which was worse or if either was when another reverberation began, an irregular drumming that sounded as if a dying monster was trying to crawl into the control room with them. He tried to make himself relax, knowing there was nothing at all he could do to alter the situation no matter what happened. Sissy's slim fingers and hands, resting just short of the manual fixtures were all that controlled their destiny. Those hands and the figures she had programmed into the computer.