A Light In The Dark

by Lowell, Nathan

  “For crying out loud, Bjorn. You’ve got a hard head, but it’s not that hard. He smashed the side of your skull in! Your eyeball was crushed. The auto-doc worked for four standard days pulling all the little splinters of bone out of your brain.” She said it all gently, softly. “Another few millimeters—another erg—and you’d be in a body bag right now.” Her voice caught in a half-sob. “We almost lost you, you oaf. It’ll take it out of a man. Even you.”

  Gunderson felt the strength leech out of him, even as he felt a renewed resolve. He closed his eyes for a few moments and blew out a long breath through his nose. “Okay, you’re my first mate. I trust you to do what’s right for the ship.”

  A look of relief washed across her face.

  “But I’m starting now, and I’ll be on the bridge by this time tomorrow. When I get there? I want to know what happened to that life-pod”

  “We don’t know, Captain.”

  “Collect all the data we have. Scans, telemetry, computer records, all of it. There has to be something there.”

  “We’ve been through it all, Captain.”

  “We’ll go through it again. We’ll keep going through it until we find something.”

  “Why are you so sure that there’s something to find, Skipper?” Her voice betrayed her curiosity.

  Gunderson smiled. “Because he disappeared in less than four standard days, right?”

  Nancy nodded and gave a little so-what shrug.

  “We should have been able to track him for at least a week. Maybe two.”

  “Yes, but not if something happened, Captain. If he lost power, or his beacons died...”

  “But if they had, don’t you think we’d have seen something? A scanner ping? A telemetry burp? Something?”

  Nancy thought about it for several long moments, her frown deepening as time went by. “It does seem like we shoulda seen something,” she said at last.

  The terminal on Gunderson’s desk caught his eye. “Belay that. Where’s Ernest?”

  “On watch, Skipper.”

  “Tell him I want it all, I want it now, and I want it there!” He jabbed a finger at the screen on his desk. “If I’m going to be sitting here, I may as well start being useful.”

  “But, Skipper, your eye.”

  Gunderson looked up at that. “Which one? The good one? Or the crushed one?”

  Nancy blinked several times at the matter-of-fact response. “You’re right, Captain. I’ll get right on it.” She turned and left the cabin.

  Gunderson leaned forward and logged into his command console while the unwinking stars watched over his shoulders.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Deep Dark: December 7, 2333

  Gunderson spent half the morning turning his head sideways and brushing at the bandage on his head while trying to read the screen. At 11:00, with the headache from hell pounding under the bandage, he went to the head and stepped into the shower. The hot water pounded onto his back and shoulders, releasing some of the tension there. The headache subsided a bit but he could still feel his heartbeats throb under the bandage. He put on a clean shipsuit and shambled out of the cabin for the first time since he’d been pulled from the auto-doc

  He crossed to the ladder leading up to the bridge and stood at the foot, looking up. It didn’t seem so high, but he turned to the longer ladder leading down to the main deck—and the auto-doc He got a good grip on the rail and worked slowly down the ladder, stopping every few steps to make sure his legs weren’t too tired. If he fell, the bruises would be embarrassing on top of everything else.

  Eventually he made it to the deck. He turned and looked back up the ladder. After lunch mess, he’d try to climb back up but in the meantime, he needed medical assistance. He entered the med bay and started the diagnostic query interface, following the instructions, and allowing a variety of devices beep, scrape, press, and prod him. When it was over, the device instructed him to sit in the pod for treatment. He did as instructed and the device cleared the outer bandages from his head, irradiated the area with a blue-ish light, and a nozzle at his shoulder gave him a hyper-velocity injection. It left the sealed bandage over his missing eye, but buzzed to let him know it was done.

  A message on the console read, “Revisit in 36 standard hours.”

  He pressed the acknowledge button and secured the station.

  He sat there on the stool for a few ticks while the drugs took hold and looked at his reflection in the polished chrome of the auto-doc pod. He couldn’t see very clearly and what he could see was distorted. His fingers found a deep soreness around his left temple and the warped reflection showed yellowish bruises across the side of his head and across the bridge of his nose.

  With a sigh he stood and left the med bay. “Time for lunch,” he muttered. “Hope nobody’s squeamish.” He ran a hand over the tender flesh at the side of his head.

  When he stepped onto the mess deck, the chrono clicked over to 11:30. Vasily stood at the cook top stirring a pot of something. He turned and smiled. “Captain! You made it down by yourself?”

  Gunderson walked to his seat at the table and tried not to fall into it. “Yes, I did.” He turned his head to display the bruises. “How does it look? I haven’t found a mirror yet.”

  Vasily eyed the captain with a small frown and tilted head. “I’ve seen worse, Captain.”

  “Alright, then. I’ll just sit here if it’s alright. Lunch mess will be served soon?”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  At 11:45 Ralph stumbled onto the mess deck. He stopped short when he saw Gunderson at the table. “Captain! You made it down by yourself?”

  Gunderson gave a half shrug. “Well, yeah. Nancy told me if I wanted to get back on the bridge, I needed to get to three meals under my own power.” He shrugged again. “Here’s one.”

  “That’s great.” Ralph crossed to the coffee pot and drew a mug, sipping with a look of relief on his face. “That means I can stop standing bridge watches soon?”

  “Probably,” Gunderson agreed.

  “Not so fast,” Nancy Gaston’s voice came from the passageway before she stepped through the door, followed by Gail Kravitz. “He’s still got to make it to three meals in a row. This is only the first.” Her tone was severe but she had a smile on her face.

  “I’ll make it,” Gunderson said. He shot a quick glance at Ralph before winking at his first mate. “Although, coming down the ladder did take a lot out of me. Maybe I should take it easy for another week or so...”

  Ralph flinched so much he slopped coffee over the rim of his mug. When he looked to the captain, he realized the joke. “I don’t know how you people can live like that,” he grumbled.

  “Like what?” Nancy asked. “The watch-standing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You were a watch-stander at some point, weren’t you?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah, I was,” Ralph said. “But it was a long time ago and far away from here.”

  Gunderson smiled at the engineer. “Thanks for helping out, Ralph.”

  He shrugged and nodded. “No problem, Skipper, but when’s lunch?”

  “Right now,” Vasily said. “Let’s eat.”

  Gunderson caught Nancy’s eye. “Would you do the honors, Nance?” He nodded at the serving line.

  “Of course, Skipper.” She stepped up to the line and was first through as acting captain.

  Gunderson waited until Kravitz was mostly through the line before heaving himself up and shambling to the counter. He took a bowl of soup and some bread back to his seat. When he got back he found a fresh cup of coffee waiting and the crew smiling at him.

  “Good to have you back, Skipper,” Nancy said.

  “Good to be back.” He met the eyes of every one in turn. “Thanks,” he said at last. “Now, let’s eat.”

  He dunked the heal of bread into the soup and popped it into his mouth. Vasily had delivered meals to the cabin but being on the mess deck made Gunderson feel like he was back home, in an
odd way. He reached for his coffee cup but his hand bumped the handle and tipped the mug, spilling coffee down the table. Vasily was first to toss a towel on the growing spill and contained the mess while Nancy got up and refilled the mug.

  “Sorry about that,” Gunderson said. “This is—um--going to take some getting used to.” He rubbed his temple gently.

  He didn’t miss the look that Ralph gave Nancy or the small shrug she gave in return.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Deep Dark: December 22, 2333

  Gunderson spent his watches walking up and down the ladder to the bridge. He made it a point to go up and down four times every stan. Kravitz spent most of the watch staring out the armor glass watching for more flickering stars.

  As Gunderson topped the ladder for his eleventh cycle of the watch, Kravitz said, “Skipper? Don’t you think you’re back in shape? You’ve been doin’ that for two weeks now.”

  Gunderson crossed to the duty station while he thought about it. “Yeah. Probably,” he said after a few heartbeats. “But what else is there to do?” He winced mentally for saying it.

  Kravitz’s face showed no reaction. She just gazed past him, scanning the Deep Dark.

  Gunderson noted the tightness around her eyes and mouth never seemed to relax any more. He turned to follow her gaze. “How many more of those occlusions have you seen?”

  “I have no idea, Skipper. Probably hundreds. It’s crazy really.” Her voice had a distant, dreamy quality to it. “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s my eyes playing tricks. Seeing blinks that aren’t real just because I’m looking for them.”

  A ruddy star appeared to blink on and off twice while Gunderson watched. “Like that one?”

  “Yeah, like that.” She paused. “I think it’s getting more frequent, sar.”

  “Really? How much more frequent?”

  “Dunno, sar. It’s just a feeling—a sense I have of them. When I first started seeing them the blinks were really fast. So fast I was never sure I’d seen one. Now? Seems like as much as a full second sometimes. And there’s doubles like that one, even triples.”

  Gunderson frowned and looked at her. “Anything else changed?”

  “Well, sar, when we started seeing them, the flashes all happened within a few arc-seconds of each other in the distance. Now? You might see one almost anywhere off the starboard quarter.”

  Gunderson swiveled his head looking all around the ship. “Conclusions, Ms. Kravitz?”

  She refocused to look at him for the first time since he’d come on watch. “We’re getting closer, Skipper.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “Makes sense, but why don’t they respond to hails?”

  “Maybe they don’t know we can see them,” she sad with a matter-of-fact shrug. “Maybe they don’t want to be found.”

  Gunderson bobbed his head. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too, Ms. Kravitz.” He turned to look out at the starboard quarter again. “But why...?”

  “Aliens, Skipper?” Kravitz’s voice carried a tinge of humor.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Probably not, but you’d think we’d have found somebody else out her by now, wouldn’t you?”

  “Dunno, Skipper. Humans have only been in the Deep Dark for a couple centuries and it’s an awful big place.”

  “True.”

  A ping on his console drew Gunderson’s attention from the ports. “Incoming message” flashed on the screen.

  He sat down hard, slapped the keys to open the message and read, “Prepare to be boarded.” The message was signed: “Smitty.”

  “What is it, Skipper?” Kravitz asked.

  “I don’t kn--” he started to say before the proximity alarms went off and nearly deafened them.

  He slapped the keys and pulled up a radar display.

  “Skipper?”

  “We’ve got company, Ms. Kravitz. Mind your helm. I think Captain Smith is coming for a visit.”

  “You don’t sound happy, Captain.”

  “I’m not sure that he’s here to rescue us, Ms. Kravitz.”

  “What? What else would he be doing?”

  Ahead of them, the shapes of four large ships suddenly loomed in the darkness, their hulls blotting out the stars, running lights blinking into view all at once.

  “Good question, Ms. Kravitz, but I think Captain Smith isn’t coming for tea.”

  “He can’t be coming for salvage, Skipper. The ship’s not abandoned!”

  “Not yet, it’s not,” he said.

  Kravitz looked to him, her eyes wide. “They’d kill us?”

  Gunderson took too long to reply and just shook his head as Ernest and Nancy pelted up over the ladder. “What’s going on, Skipper?” Nancy said before looking out to see the approaching ships.

  “We’re having guests, I think. Ernest, would you coordinate docking with Virginia Deere, please?”

  “Aye, aye, Cap.” Ernest took his seat and fired up his console.

  Nancy stared at the approaching craft for several long moments before turning to Gunderson. “Well, this will be interesting, won’t it?”

  Gunderson snorted a short laugh. “You know that’s a curse, right?”

  Nancy gave him a wan smile. “Yeah. That’s how I meant it, too.”

  Ralph joined them on the bridge, nearly out of breath. “What--?” He saw the ships and bit down on the question he was about to ask.

  Gunderson keyed the mic to the intercom. “Vasily? Would you put on a fresh pot of coffee? We’re going to have company.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. It would be my pleasure.” Vasily’s voice sounded tinny on the small speaker but it didn’t hide his excitement.

  They watched in silence as the four ships moved silently into position around them and one familiar hull eased forward, bringing the ships nose-to-nose to mate their cargo locks.

  Gunderson could see into the bridge of the other vessel as it got closer. He could make out the figure of his friend sitting in the captain’s chair across the void. He could make out another figure standing beside the chair.

  “Well, now we know what happened to Jordan,” Nancy said.

  “Yeah,” Gunderson agreed, “but we don’t know why it took them almost three weeks to show themselves.”

  Nancy frowned and nodded.

  “Well, let’s go see what they want, shall we?” Gunderson started to leave the bridge.

  “Should we break out the side arms, skipper?” Ralph asked.

  “Why, Ralph?” He jerked his chin in the direction of the ships surrounding them. “If they want us, they’ve already got us.”

  Ralph scowled but nodded. “Last resort...?” he asked after a few heartbeats.

  Gunderson looked around at the eyes all staring at him. “I didn’t hold on for fifteen weeks in this damn can to kill myself in the end. Let’s see what they have to say before we get too rash, shall we?” He smiled to soften the edge on his words, but nobody on the bridge doubted the metal behind them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Deep Dark: December 22, 2333

  Gunderson watched the big lock door swing up. His eyes went to the seals and he checked the locking dogs one last time. Any flexing would result in both hulls opening up to space.

  “Relax, Gunnie. We're not going to break.” Smitty stood on the threshold with a rack of beer in one hand and Jimmy Jordan in the other. “This one is yours, I believe?” He gave Jordan a little shake.

  Jordan looked a bit worse for wear. One eye was blackened and he had a bruise seeping down his arm at the wrist where it stuck out of his shipsuit. He looked down at the deck.

  Looks like one of mine, yeah. Where'd you find him?”

  “Picked up a disabled pod about a week ago.” Jordan flinched at that but didn't offer to speak. “Found this in it.”

  “He looks a bit beat up about the edges,” Gunderson said.

  Smitty made a big show of examining the spacer in question, holding him at arms' length and turning his head this way and that. “Yeah. H
e wasn't too pleased to be shucked out of his pod. Not sure why.” Smitty shrugged. “Couldn't leave him to drift. He'd have been dead in a week.”

  “Really?” Gunderson said. “I thought those pods were good for a couple of months.”

  “Oxygen was way down.” Smitty shrugged. “He musta hyperventilated or something.”

  “Well, come aboard. Don't stand there in the lock. Let's button up and we can talk.”

  Smitty grinned and thrust Jordan ahead of him through the lock before striding through himself.

  While the lock cycled shut, Gunderson turned to the first mate. “Would you put Mr. Jordan in the auto-doc, please, Nancy? See if he has any other injuries that would get in the way of a captain's mast?”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Nancy clamped one hand on Jordan's upper arm and all but dragged him into the ship.

  “Vasily, would you make sure they're not disturbed?” Gunderson said.

  “Of course, Captain.” He followed the pair down the passageway into the ship.

  “So, young Jordan there had quite a tale of woe to tell, Gunnie. Not sure how much of it is true, but I brought the story-lube...” he held up the rack of beer bulbs. “You got anything going on that would get in the way of us havin' a little sit down?”

  “You're the man with the beer, Smitty,” Gunderson said with a small smile. “And I'd kinda like to hear a bit of your story as well.”

  Smith pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I dare say. Some things I can tell.” He gave a small, apologetic shrug. “Somethings you'd probably be better off not knowing.” He glanced at the overhead as if to indicate the ships on station around the Wanderer.

  “Yeah. I can understand that.” Gunderson jerked his head toward the passageway. “Let's go up to the cabin and crack open a couple of those. Don't want them getting warm, now do we?”

  Smitty smiled and headed aboard, while Gunderson turned to the chief engineer. “Ralph, my compliments to Mr. Shackleton and would you let him know what's going on down here. If he'd cover the rest of my watch, I'd be obliged.”