by Britt Ringel
Brewer dared not speak as the cobra on his screen coiled.
“You tell me that my Republic is in jeopardy, Sebastian. Either you will excise the tumor or I will be forced to remove the limb… no matter how ably it’s served me in the past. I won’t fall prey to base sentimentality.”
* * *
The solitude of tunnel space allowed routines to form on Hussy. Her galley was a turnstile of humanity. The kitchen, which had been designed to serve a thirty-five person crew in shifts, was now serving six times that many. Although trash was easily disposed of and Hussy’s water production could keep up with demand, the volume of hungry crewmembers combined with the limited galley space resulted in people eating in nearly every compartment of the ship.
Heskan looked sadly at his meager portion as he walked back toward the bridge. He was due to stand watch in twenty minutes but he first needed to have a critical counseling session with his first officer. The first two days in tunnel space had been mercifully quiet. After the dive, he sent Vernay immediately off the bridge to get some much-needed sleep. Heskan had taken the first twelve-hour watch despite being awake for the previous seventeen hours. When his watch ended with the appearance of a refreshed first officer, he had almost staggered to his cabin to slip into a deep slumber.
As he slept, Hussy’s crew adjusted to the new lifestyle required on the modest freighter. Privacy became a distant memory, and twelve-hour shifts were supplemented with cramped conditions yielding nothing to do but reflect upon the pangs of hunger in each crewmember’s stomach. Two holo-players, moved to the aft and center holds, were the only sources of entertainment. Throngs of viewers sat on the cold, scuffed decks to watch sports, movies and news from Hussy’s standata.
Chief Brown had augmented the ship’s two sonic showers with simple buckets of water to assist with personal hygiene. Doctor Timoleon had lectured Heskan that while sanitary waste was easily jettisoned, the crew’s cleanliness was paramount and could rapidly become a health issue.
Heskan was still eating from his tray as he walked onto the bridge. Lieutenant Vernay was sitting, dutifully, at the captain’s station. A Hollaran sensorman, with no real responsibilities in tunnel space, was playing a card game on his console. A more attentive engineer sat next to Lieutenant Selvaggio, who looked to be deeply engrossed in the indicators on her sailing board. During the first hours in t-space, she had told Heskan that sailing was both thrilling and boring at the same time. The subtle adjustments required with each passing compression wave in t-space seemed unending. Modifying even a single smartline helped shape the ship’s sails into the best configuration given the size and strength of the current compression wave. These adjustments, by themselves, were so minor that their corrections bordered on the inane. However, a careless hand on the smartlines could rapidly twist the sails, causing damage to the physical masts or even the entire ship. Selvaggio had compared it to riding a horse. The docile creature usually suffered the rider without complaint but there was always the knowledge that the tremendous beast could break free at any moment. Heskan took Selvaggio at her word, having never seen a live horse in person before much less ridden one.
“Diane…” Heskan’s voice broke the silence. “Can you watch the bridge from your station, please? I need to speak with Stacy for a moment.”
Selvaggio replied in the affirmative while a curious Vernay rose from the squeaking captain’s chair and moved toward the chartroom. Once Heskan was inside and seated, disappointment washed over him as he realized his plate was already empty. He pushed it aside and looked at Vernay silently. There’s no reason to beat around the bush about this, Heskan thought. May as well just say it.
“Stacy, I’ve felt an undeniable friction between you and Isabella.”
Vernay stiffened at the words but looked away guiltily. “We’ve never seen eye to eye, sir. She’s a Hollaran komandor and I haven’t forgotten that.”
The statement sounded like a vague accusation to Heskan. “I thought you two settled your differences.”
Vernay nodded noncommittally. “That was before…” Vernay closed her mouth and stared at the tabletop before finishing, “…all of this. I understand why we’re doing what we’re doing. I agree completely with your actions and you know I have your back, sir. Just…” She struggled for words.
Heskan had never seen this person he had come to rely on at such a loss before. Stacy Vernay spoke distillate truths in the simplest terms. “Just what?” he prodded.
Vernay sighed audibly. “Look… Garrett. Seeing a dark side to the Republic doesn’t change what the Hollarans are. Komandor Lombardi was trying to kill us four months ago.”
“That’s the nature of war,” Heskan protested.
She nodded her head in frustration. “I know that, but my point is just because the Republic has hurt us doesn’t mean the Hollarans won’t.” Vernay glanced upward at Heskan before looking away. “It’s my job to protect the ship, Captain. That means protecting you even when you think you may not need it.”
Heskan carefully parsed her words. Is she talking about my relationship with Isabella? He thought about the Hollaran woman. The exhilaration he felt when she was near him on the bridge or brushed casually past him in Hussy’s corridors was indisputable. It was both maddening and a blessing that real privacy was impossible on the ship. Stacy can practically read my mind at times so I guess her concern only makes sense. If Stacy Vernay is one thing, it’s loyal. Does she think Lombardi is playing me for a fool? Heskan nodded with acceptance. “I hear you, Stacy. If you’re worried about me, personally, I appreciate your concern.” He smiled self-consciously. “From your perspective, I can understand the, uh, apprehension.” He felt his cheeks begin to flush. “I’m a big boy, though, and it hurts me when there’s such tension between my closest, most trusted friend and… well, her.”
The junior officer seemed unable to look at him directly. “I promise I’ll do my best to reduce the strain between her and me.” She stifled a dramatic yawn. “Anything else, Captain?”
“No, get some sleep,” Heskan replied. “I’m glad we had this talk.”
“I’m glad you’re glad, sir.”
* * *
Ensign Gables shuffled down one of Hussy’s corridors. “…They said I had a grade two hematoma on my coccyx,” she said loudly as she carried buckets of water with each hand. “The doctors wanted to know which upperclassmen were abusing me. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them no one was.”
Podporucznik Marynarki Tomas Denu smiled as he walked behind the ensign carrying his own load of water. “What changed their minds?”
Gables stepped over the doorsill of the forward cargo hold, careful not to slosh the buckets. She said with a laugh, “I just took them back to the dorm and let them watch firsthand how hard we lowerclassmen were slamming our backsides against the halls to let the upperclassmen pass.” She looked back to her companion with a smile.
“So, your Officer Training School was a bad experience?” he asked.
“Oh, no!” Gables replied quickly. “Well,” she said after further consideration, “it was the greatest thing in the world that you’d never want to do again.”
The pair laughed together before Gables turned to face forward and walked into a barricade of muscle and sinew.
“Pardon me,” Starzy Sierzant Vidic apologized before recognizing who had walked into him. His eyes narrowed considerably before moving from Gables to Denu. Vidic launched into a verbal barrage in a language she did not understand before marching past Gables and into the forward hold. Denu replied tersely back at him and then looked at his fellow water carrier. “Wow, he hates you,” he said simply.
“What’d he say?” Gables asked, feeling lack of sleep and food stirring her ire.
“Uh, I would prefer not to say.”
Gables dropped her buckets, the water splashing from them as she raced back into the hold. “Hey!” she screamed. Conversations in the entire compartment ceased instantly. Every person, save o
ne, had frozen.
Gables, red-faced, screamed louder, “You! Sierzant!” She stomped over to him. Finally, he turned to face her. He was a mountain in comparison. “What’s your damned problem, Vidic?” she spat. She knew everyone was staring at her but she did not care. The pressure inside Hussy had been slowly building over the last four days in tunnel space and it felt good to relieve some of it.
The mountain erupted. “You are the problem! You casually discussed your destruction of my home world over lunch on Kite and now you are somehow the injured party?” Vidic towered over the ensign as he ranted. “And now I have to live in this sardine can knowing that you’re in here with me.” He pointed at her while boldly proclaiming, “This ship is not big enough for the two of us, ‘Vic.”
Gables dared to raise a hand to the giant and pushed off him while roaring, “Damn straight it isn’t and do you know why I’m in this can?” She rose to her tiptoes and shouted, “I’m here because I didn’t fire on your planet!” A finger jab to Vidic’s broad chest punctuated her sentence before she turned and stalked out of the hold. She tromped through the spilled water past Denu and said, “I’m gonna go get a mop.”
* * *
In an isolated aft compartment, Heskan and Lombardi stared at a two-meter long cylinder covered in brown and yellow algae.
“It’s completely dead,” Müller said. He ran a hand over the structure and then shook off the water. “It will take ten days to regrow it, if I can regrow it.”
The rotating drum powered by cascading water was an essential part of Hussy’s life support system. Without the six large cylinders that housed the algae used to convert carbon dioxide into oxygen, Hussy’s atmosphere would grow increasingly toxic.
Heskan and Lombardi exchanged a look of dread. “What killed it?” he asked.
“Impurities, Kapitän. Ammonia, acetone, methane… people all produce these and our filters are overwhelmed. My ship can’t support this many people,” Müller bemoaned. He walked to a second cylinder and pointed out the brown patches. “They’re all suffering from extreme stress and now that one’s failed completely, the others will die even faster.”
“How long do we have, Mr. Müller?” Lombardi asked. She longed for a military ship with mechanical proxies for photosynthesis.
“Less than a week, I’m afraid.” Müller shrugged. “We can extend our atmosphere with the oxygen candles Hussy has in storage but we must find a way to scrub our atmosphere of these impurities.”
Heskan admitted that the ship was beginning to smell rank. The last five and a half days had been some of the longest of his life. Originally, he looked to t-space as a sanctuary but each day brought new and growing problems to his attention. The crew was cramped, hungry and restless. The ship was bloated and wearing poorly. He looked at the remaining, failing canisters before asking, “What would you recommend we do?”
“We must stop for supplies,” Müller stated. “Even just docking would allow us to exchange this filthy air.”
“We cannot stop, Mr. Müller,” Lombardi said in frustration.
“Then we’ll be holding our breath soon, Dame Lombardi, and not only because of the smell,” Müller prophesied.
“Wait,” she said. “What about Hussy’s second lifeboat?”
“I’d like to get off this ship too, Izzy, but…” Heskan smiled weakly at his feeble attempt at humor.
Lombardi rewarded him with a smile and continued, “I mean, what kind of life support does it have?”
Müller slapped his head. “Of course! The boat uses mechanical electrolysis and molecular sieves. It’s not a cure-all but every little bit helps.” He rushed to the door. “I go now.”
Heskan leaned against the bulkhead. The noise of water falling over the remaining algae drums was quite soothing. “Well done, Komandor.”
Lombardi looked demurely at him and admitted, “I had hoped for a more satisfying reward than that.”
Heskan smiled but remained immobile. He absentmindedly confessed, “Maybe we should’ve spaced Jennings. I’d have both lifeboats.”
“But no soul,” Lombardi said sadly. After a moment, she smiled warmly at him. “No, you did what was just. Champion of justice, hero of the Republic, savior of the Hollarans,” she teased as she drew nearer.
Her smile was infectious but he pushed off the bulkhead to move toward the door. “I should warn you that my first officer has concerns over the nature of our relationship.”
“As a woman, I understand her concerns very well,” Lombardi retorted hastily but quickly softened her stance. She murmured, “I wonder what Tolya would have said.” The cascading water filled the void of silence between them. Dark hair curled around her face as she dipped her head humbly. “It is possible that she is right. You have enough responsibilities without me adding distractions.” After a moment’s pause, she raised her head and her eyes flashed playfully as she promised, “But I warn you that you will not escape my clutches so easily when we reach Hollara.”
Chapter 15
The New London space traffic controller in the Bree tunnel point orbital took a quick sip of his tea. As expected, the leaves imported from Neso were a disappointment. His console chimed and a new symbol flashed into existence on his pattern control screen. The ship’s green beacon broadcasted her identity as a freighter named MT Perseus, registered to Hantroll Transportation Corporation. He sent an active ping toward the vessel and received a standard communications request to exit the tunnel point arrival pattern and proceed toward New London proper.
Before the controller could finish his second sip of tea, they exchanged standata and after he placed his cup onto its saucer, the controller granted the freighter’s request and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Working arrivals from Bree was taxing but not nearly as exhausting as the departures station. The queue to tunnel toward Bree was already a dozen ships deep this morning.
A warning in the upper right corner of his screen caught his attention. He tapped it and saw a high priority alert appear. His eyes skipped to the message’s author and he frantically called over his supervisor. As the controller waited impatiently, a second freighter’s beacon flared into life onscreen. Its beacon announced it as CSV Hussy.
* * *
Heskan shivered slightly to shake off the effects of Hussy’s transition to n-space. The wall screen displayed the New London star system in all her glory, a binary system hosting a G6V star and an M4VI subdwarf. Neither the nine planets, with their countless moons, nor the thin asteroid belt was of any concern to Heskan. His awareness focused solely on the system’s tunnel points. Seven of New London’s tunnel points, including the one Hussy had just used, belonged to Type A tunnels. All of them except the one to Bree granted passage to minor, or even lifeless, systems. New London’s eighth tunnel point, a Type B, offered instantaneous access to the important provincial system of Carme. Heskan focused his attention on that single tunnel point and cursed.
The Carme tunnel point beacon was red.
“What’s that mean?” Selvaggio fretted.
Heskan ignored the question and searched the other tunnel points. The rest were green. “Options?” he asked.
“We’re cleared to exit the pattern, Captain,” Truesworth said.
“Where are we heading, sir?” Selvaggio asked.
Think, Garrett. Heskan noticed the Bristol tunnel point that eventually led to Carme, but added four days to their escape. We can’t do that. We have to move forward. He searched desperately for the answer. It’s between the Bianca and Chelsea tunnel points, he decided. Chelsea would involve several transits through dead systems while Bianca required but two. A single freighter traveled ahead of Hussy toward Bianca.
“Set course for Bianca, Diane,” Heskan ordered. “Are you sure you can pilot this crate under sail in n-space?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then push our conventional drives hard; fuel be damned. I want at least point one-seven-C,” Heskan demanded. “We have to clear this system.”
Heskan stared at the screen, interpreting the information. The fighters were training near the primary planet and were of no concern. There were also several fast ships and cutters operating around New London proper and her twin space stations. Much farther from the planet, a patrol craft and corvette held vigil near the Carme tunnel point. The three other tunnel points leading “northward” to minor systems had either a single patrol craft or cutter stationed nearby while, to the “south,” a lone cutter orbited the isolated Chelsea tunnel point like an outcast orphan. Heskan crossed his fingers while turning attention to the Bianca tunnel point. He felt his stomach drop as he saw the beacon of a corvette cruising lazily near it. Closer to Hussy, another patrol craft monitored the active traffic patterns to and from Bree with a larger corvette rapidly approaching.
“That is a lot of law enforcement,” Lombardi summarized from behind Heskan. “Where is that task group headed?” She pointed at the Carme tunnel point and then again at a point halfway between Carme and Bianca. “What is that symbol?”
The crenulated square symbol baffled Heskan briefly until he understood what he was seeing. “That’s a defense citadel, Komandor.” The vector line drawn behind it had fooled him. “I’ve never seen one move before. It’s being towed toward the Carme tunnel point.”
The remaining nine beacons of black space ships further portended ill tidings. Vernay focused and zoomed the system plot near the Carme tunnel point and the cluster of beacons separated. The collection of ships included a heavy carrier, a command cruiser, two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, a pair of destroyers and a lone frigate. The task group was proceeding in Hussy’s general direction at .14c.
