by Britt Ringel
“Lieutenant?” Gables called meekly as she walked into the narrow hall from the medical compartment.
Dread filled Vernay and she answered, “What’s the word, Denise?”
Gables looked down briefly. “Chief should be ok. In and out. I need to disinfect the wound but I couldn’t find a working shiver-stick.” She stepped closer to Vernay and lowered her voice before continuing. “That’s also why I can’t relieve Vivian’s pain. Hardly anything works in that compartment.”
Vernay’s voice wavered. “Is Vivian going to be okay?”
Gables grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t think so. I think the bullet’s path went through the large intestine, maybe a kidney and possibly even her small intestine. The auto-doc doesn’t work so I can’t see. I tried a visual examination but it’s too painful for her.” She sighed. “The good news is I don’t think any major arteries were hit. She’s not bleeding too badly but none of that matters if a major organ got hit.”
“So what do you recommend?” Please don’t say there’s nothing we can do.
“There’s not much more I can do. I was just an emergency med-tech when I was a damage controlman. She needs a surgeon. My recommendation would be to put her off the ship where she can get real medical care.”
“And if she doesn’t receive it?”
Gables eyebrows furrowed as she lowered her voice. “Then she probably dies. You just can’t recover from a wound like this without proper medical treatment.” She shrugged pathetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Vernay gestured Gables back into the sickbay. “Do what you can for her.” She resumed pacing in the hallway as she deliberated. If I hand her over to the orbital medical facilities, we can’t wait for her. Eventually, word will arrive in Erriapius that she’s an escaped prisoner and she will be arrested. But if I keep her aboard, I could kill her. She kicked savagely at the dingy bulkhead again. Dammit, Stacy, this is your fault! Fix it!
Vernay stepped into the sickbay. Chief Brown was lying on his back, right arm draped over his eyes. His left pant leg had been cut away to the knee. A pale Ensign May lay on her side, half-curled on her bed, holding a bandage in place as Gables wrapped gauze around her waist.
“Hi, Vivian, I’m sorry about this,” Vernay began.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” May said with a wince. “Gabes will fix me up.”
Vernay blinked furiously. Heskan wouldn’t cry, Stacy. She swallowed. “Viv, you need more help than we can give you here. I think we need to get you to a real critical care center.”
May shook her head frantically. “No, ma’am. They’ll find out who I am and then they’ll come and take me back to Bree…”
“Vivian, you’re going to die if you stay on this ship,” Vernay insisted. You’ve killed her, Stacy. Whether she stays or goes, your recklessness killed this woman. “We don’t have what you need here.” You might as well have taken one of the station’s rifles and pulled the trigger yourself. The last thought prodded at her relentlessly.
May’s face contorted. “But, ma’am, you know what’s going to happen if you leave me. Please, don’t.”
Lieutenant Selvaggio stuck her head inside the compartment. “Stacy, orbital control wants to know what’s going on. Are we leaving or not?”
Vernay stared at Selvaggio and inspiration struck. “Wait a minute! Gables, if you had working equipment, could you treat Vivian?”
Gables stared up at the ceiling briefly before answering, “I don’t know, ma’am. I know I could stabilize her but I don’t have the skill to perform the surgery she needs.”
“How long could you keep her stable?” Vernay grasped at straws. “A week?”
Gables hedged. “Maybe.”
Vernay’s eyes bored into the ensign. “Denise, write down everything you need. I want a full shopping list.” She poked her head out of the sickbay compartment and yelled, “Olson! I need my datapad!” Vernay then looked at the injured woman and asked, “Vivian, if I can get what Denise needs to stabilize you, do you want to risk the trip back to Anthe?”
May nodded forcefully. “Very much so.”
Gables, busy compiling her list, warned, “She won’t stay stable forever, Lieutenant. She’s going to degrade without surgery and I’m not a surgeon.”
Vernay looked pointedly back to Selvaggio and smiled, “You may not be, Gabes, but I know one who might help us.”
* * *
Two minutes later, Vernay was next door, triaging the problem of Hussy’s engineer. “So what do we do with him?” Ensign Olson asked as he pointed toward Müller.
“You let me go back to where I belong and I start repairing the mixture controls, ja?” The man shifted nervously from foot to foot while Vernay looked on.
“I don’t want a pirate on board if I can help it,” Vernay answered.
“Nein, I am not a pirate!”
“We’ll have to put the captain’s body in one of the holds,” Vernay said, ignoring the protest.
“Gnädige Fräulein,” Müller said deliberately, “I am not a pirate.”
Vernay glanced at the man and said sarcastically, “Oh sure, you just happened to walk onto Hussy by accident, huh?”
“Nein.” Müller shook his head. “They walked onto Das Flittchen and took her from us. And why do you wish to hide the kapitän’s death? I, for one, am pleased to see him gone.”
Vernay blinked and turned her full attention to Müller. “What do you mean, ‘they took her from us?’”
Müller looked into Vernay’s blue eyes with his own. “I was the Oberingenieur, the, uh, Chief of Engineers for this ship before she was taken as a prize by the Roberts Clan. I worked for Volkmancht-Kaufmännisch in the Aurelios corporate system. We traded between our system, the Federation and the Republic, ja? Seven years ago, we were boarded in the Boxer system by these pirates.” Müller shrugged. “We were only merchants. Spanners are no good against handguns. The kapitän gave us a choice: join him or be set off in a lifeboat.”
Müller shook his head fiercely. “This, I cannot do. My contract with Volkmancht makes me liable for Das Flittchen’s loss. I would bankrupt my family if I returned to them while Das Flittchen was taken. Volkmancht could even place my family into debtor’s prison, or worse, give them indentured status. However, if I were reported dead as the result of piracy, my family would receive a large insurance inheritance.” Müller looked into Vernay’s eyes wistfully. “So, the choice was made for me and several others of Das Flittchen’s crew. The ones who left promised to report our deaths.”
A deep, lasting sigh escaped Müller. “The remaining crew was split up but when they tell me it was time to leave Das Flittchen I said, ‘Nein.’” The aged engineer brought his hand about in a chopping motion. “I will not abandon my lady. She is all I have left.” Tired, cobalt eyes returned to Vernay’s as a weathered hand reached out to stroke the trim around the galley hatchway. Müller repeated quietly to himself, “She’s all I have left.”
“But you engineered a pirate ship…” Vernay declared.
“Ja.” Müller’s voice was laced with thick regret. “But we only carry cargo; we never hurt anyone. I was still a merchant but with a different cargo.” His eyebrows arched upward in realization. “And now that time comes to an end. What are your intentions with Das Flittchen now?” His eyes narrowed as he cautioned, “I cannot return to Aurelios.”
“We are…” Vernay trailed off as she searched for the right phrasing. “Headed in a different direction, Mr. Müller. A direction that is fraught with danger, I’m afraid. I should insist that you be removed; however, my engineer is laid up in sickbay.” Vernay took two strides to stand next to the man. Although the top of her head only reached the man’s chin, her presence pushed him a half step backward. “Mr. Müller, do I have your word that you will follow my orders as if I were the captain?”
The brown-haired man smiled knowingly. “It seems that everyone follows your orders, Gnädige Fräulein, and Das Flittchen must h
ave a kapitän. Ordnung muß sein!" The man snapped to attention and rendered a heartfelt, if sloppy, salute.
Vernay had no idea what the engineer had said but recognized sincerity when she heard it. She stuck a hand out, which was shaken vigorously by Müller. “Lieutenant Stacy Vernay, Mr. Müller.”
“Guten Tag, and please,” Müller added, “call me Joachim, Dame Vernay.” He spun in place and began to walk out of the galley. “I go now to fix the mixture controls, ja?”
* * *
Vernay sent two pilots to assist, and watch over, Müller and his repair effort. She then climbed the stairs just aft of the center cargo hold. The top deck of the aged freighter was quite short, consisting only of a bridge, chartroom, wardroom, navigation compartment and captain’s quarters. The bridge superstructure and her twin cargo cranes rose from the main deck into space, fore and aft, adding further to the antiquated look of a merchant marine ship.
Vernay walked onto the bridge to find that the front bulkhead contained archaic twin wall screens set to window mode. The view was impressive. Extending one hundred meters past the bridge and ten meters down, Hussy’s hull was a complex jumble of antennae, cargo hatches, stabilizer arrays and thrusters. Her yellow-painted forward cargo crane towered above the bridge, jutting thirty meters over the deck of the ship. At the apex of the crane, a small operator’s compartment was a bright contrast to the dark void of space behind it.
If the view outside the bridge was imposing, the interior of the bridge itself was an enormous letdown. Smaller than that of even Anelace, outdated control boards and station panels packed the tiny bridge. The captain’s console stood less than a meter ahead of her. The oversized chair was an obvious replacement that had been crudely bolted to the bare, slightly rusted, metal deck. Ahead of the captain’s station, a longer, curved bank of stained computer consoles split in half for the helm and engineering stations. The dust and grime accumulated between the stations made Vernay’s head spin. Lieutenant Selvaggio occupied the navigation seat while Ensign Sullivan manned the engineer’s station. To Vernay’s right sat Lieutenant Truesworth and the communications and sensor controls. Opposite of that station along the port side of the bridge, a bandaged Chief Brown sat in front of an auxiliary control station. The ancillary console could be used in the event a primary station was inoperable. A single portal on the right side of the room led to the captain’s living quarters while a portal opposite provided access to the freighter’s chartroom.
Lieutenant Selvaggio turned awkwardly in her chair to face Vernay. Also a replacement, her seat appeared sloppily welded to the deck. “Um, Captain, orbital control wants to know how long our medical emergency is going to be. They say our departure clearance expires in fourteen minutes.”
Captain. Vernay could not resist smiling. This really is my ship… Captain Vernay. She shook off the revelry. “We’re ready to cast off, Diane.”
Ten minutes ago, Vernay had communicated with Ensign Franks, the Brevic military liaison on the orbital, and secured the medical equipment on Gables’ list. She dressed Franks down brutally for the apparent security leak that gave Hussy advance warning of Vernay’s mission. She threatened that even the appearance of any lack of additional support from Erriapius would result in dire consequences for Franks and Owens when the second I.S. team arrived in-system in forty-eight hours. With a renewed gusto, Franks offered all possible aid and the requested medical supplies arrived in record time.
When Truesworth told the orbital security-police to escort Hussy’s crew to another waiting area, the pirate crew’s protests were easily quelled by the brandishing of multi-rifles. The junior grade lieutenant’s last act had been to lock the docking tube closed and set Hussy’s airlock to departure status.
Inside the freighter, the pair of pilots assigned to watch over Müller had also been tasked with wrapping the body of the freighter’s former captain and placing him in the aft cargo hold. Vernay was undecided as to whether she would simply open the hold to space in transit to the Narvi tunnel point or wait until the ship was in t-space. The remainder of Hussy’s new crew was busy acquainting themselves to the various jobs of the freighter: propulsion, operations systems, life support, and so on. Each crewmember had been told what general task he or she would be responsible for but until the specific freighter had been commandeered, no detailed training could be accomplished. Individuals across the ship now scrambled to familiarize themselves with performing the jobs they would fulfill during Hussy’s journey.
Vernay stepped to the faux-leather captain’s chair to sit down. A wide gash in the bottom of the faded, red seat had been sloppily covered with an adhesive. Will I stick to the seat if I sit down? she wondered. She risked it. The seat did feel a little gummy. “Diane, are you confident you can pilot this ship to the tunnel point?”
Selvaggio looked at Vernay quizzically. “Navigating is no problem, Captain. That’s the same no matter what you’re in. But…” Selvaggio turned dramatically to her panel and placed her right hand on a large dial. She turned it carelessly back and forth. “This? I have no idea what this does.”
Vernay felt her heart leap into her throat at her navigator’s recklessness. She reached out in alarm when Selvaggio burst out laughing.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Selvaggio said penitently. “That’s the fo’c’sle articulating fore-thruster control. This piece of crap only has four thruster arrays.”
“How does she change heading with only four?”
“The arrays rotate so I still have a full range of motion,” Selvaggio explained as her face registered distaste. “But, yeah. Primitive.” She pointed to the drive controls, centered between the helm and engineering stations. “What, is this positioned here so the helmsman and engineer can hold hands while operating the drives?”
“Hey now,” Truesworth called out from his corner of the bridge. “Don’t get any ideas, Diane.”
Vernay grinned as she reached down to the panel in front of her. Unlike a navy ship, Hussy’s gaudy captain’s chair was positioned behind a control panel. Consisting mostly of status displays, the right side of the console also had a communications suite while the left held a tiny tactical touchscreen for ad hoc navigation computations. The myriad of status displays relayed information about not only the freighter’s status but also its cargo. There appeared to be a standard container in the forward cargo hold. Vernay assumed the green highlight around the container’s symbol meant it was properly secured. I need to find out what we’re carrying although I think I already know. She selected Hussy’s main engineering compartment and pressed a comm button. “Mr. Müller, is Hussy prepared for open space?”
“Ja, Dame Vernay. My lady is ready. Auxiliary mixture controls will be restored shortly.”
“Thank you, Joachim.” Vernay released the communications button but saw it was stuck in the depressed position. She wiggled it until the button popped up.
“Okay, Jack,” Vernay said, “if Diane thinks she can push us from the orbital without any major catastrophes, then inform orbital control we are casting off. Break our moors, navigator. Lateral thrust X plus two-thousand meters.”
“Confirm pressure status,” Selvaggio said.
“Green, Lieutenant,” answered Ensign Sullivan next to her. “Hussy is airtight.”
“Captain, we are cleared to cast off,” Truesworth confirmed.
“Cast us off, Diane,” Vernay ordered.
“Acknowledged,” Selvaggio’s easy reply echoed. “Breaking the moors.” A slight tremor rippled through the freighter. “We are drifting, Captain.” The navigator’s deft hands danced over her panel. Several of the labels underneath the most commonly used controls had been worn away with time. “Bow and stern thrusters aligned… thrusting to X plus two-K meters.”
Hussy’s enormous dorsal thrusters on the front and rear of the ship rotated ninety degrees before firing to push the freighter away from the orbital. As the cargo ship moved safely away from the space station, the thrusters began to rotate once
more.
After several failed attempts, Vernay changed the wall screens from window mode to display the system status of Erriapius. A Brevic patrol craft was in orbit near the station. Two others were in transit between the primary planet and the Narvi tunnel point. The system’s sole corvette was orbiting with the tunnel point. Vernay zoomed the display to center on Hussy and provide a 5lm (light-minute) view around her. She would eventually scale back the display, but for now the traffic congestion around the orbital warranted a more focused view.
“Make way for the Narvi tunnel point,” Vernay ordered.
“Aye-aye, Captain.” Selvaggio worked her console before adding, “I’m just using the Allison CTs, ma’am. I’d like a little more time to look over the sail controls.”
Hussy’s twin Allison CT-B20 drives were ancestors of the ubiquitous T-22 drive used across the Republic. Their “C” designation labeled them as civilian-equivalent drives. The venerable B20 variation was no longer in official production but the -20 line series of drives were so successful that maintenance and repair was still not difficult to obtain.
Hussy’s navigator took one last look at her panel before announcing, “Green departure code from the orbital beacon, Captain. Course laid in. Bringing us up to point one-five-C.”
Nine days until we reach Anthe, Vernay thought with more than a little anxiety. I hope Garrett is ready for us.
Chapter 6
The animosity between Agent Jennings and Commander Heskan had only increased over the last two weeks. Each day that Truesworth’s renegades continued to elude authorities brought an increasing amount of hellfire upon Jennings from Secretary Brewer. In contrast, Brewer had nurtured his relationship with Heskan over the same period and, as one toy was pushed aside in favor of a new one, Jennings’ growing resentment was tangible.
