Far From Home: The Complete Series

by Tony Healey

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Clayton said. “He doesn’t have long.”

  He let go of her, dug his hands into his jacket pockets.

  She walked past him and knelt by Singh’s side. He looked up at her and smiled. He was burnt all over. She fought to hide her horror. Jessica knew the Captain needed to see all the strength she could muster.

  The mangled mess of his legs. The blood pooling from his mid-section. His face grey, washed-out. Tears streamed down her face.

  Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Please don’t go, please.”

  Captain Singh shook his head slowly. Smiled. “Jess … We each have our time. My own is at an end …”

  “No …” she managed to say.

  Singh reached up, stroked the side of her face. “Now it is your turn to do as much as you can with the time you have …”

  He smiled again, then his eyes seemed focus on something far away. The light in them faded. Singh’s hand fell away from hers and the sound of his last breath issued slowly from between his lips.

  “No …”

  She cradled him in her arms.

  * * *

  “Water, Commander?”

  “Yes please,” King said.

  Admiral Grimshaw handed her a glass. She thanked him and took several mouthfuls of it before setting it in front of her on the desk.

  “Why do you think he insisted on going down there and helping to fight that fire?” Grimshaw asked her.

  King shrugged. “He was like that. He was hands-on. I remember one morning the cook fell ill so he got behind the kitchen counter and made the breakfast himself. That’s just how he was. It’s what made him such a good Captain, in my opinion. He was involved in all aspects of the ship. It’s one of the reasons the crew loved him so much.”

  “Noted,” Grimshaw said as the slightest evidence of a smile touched his lips.

  King closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She felt the weight of her own heart in her chest, fit to burst.

  “I know it’s hard, Commander. But please continue,” Grimshaw said softly.

  King looked down at her hands …

  * * *

  She took a minute to compose herself, to take her grief, put it in a box and lock it away inside until later. She looked on as medical orderlies zipped Singh into a blue body bag.

  “Are you okay?” Dr. Clayton asked her. He looked upset himself.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said. “But … thanks.”

  He watched her go.

  As she ran back to the bridge, she happened to look down at herself. Her hands were covered in a mixture of Lieutenant-Commander Greene and Captain Singh’s blood. It was dry and turning brown on her skin.

  “I’m back,” she said confidently as she strode onto the bridge. Inside her heart was broken. To all outward appearances she gave the impression that she had nerves of granite. The mask of composure would have worked, too, if it weren’t for the redness of her eyes and the tracks her tears had made down her dirty cheeks.

  Later she would inform the crew of Captain Singh’s death, and she would note the recognition in their faces. The understanding as they realised what had gone on in her absence from the bridge.

  She took the captain’s chair.

  They’d been running from the Draxx ship for close to thirty minutes in the hope that at any moment the Jump Drive would be fixed. Jessica opened a channel to Engineering.

  “Chief, where are we?”

  The line hissed and crackled. Severed connections throughout the ship sparked up against one another like blood flying from one open vein to another.

  Chief Engineer Meryl Gunn came on. “You’re gonna have to be patient sir. We’re doing everything we can.”

  Patient? You didn’t just witness the final moments of the Captain’s life, King thought bitterly.

  “ETA?” King asked.

  “A few minutes, Commander. Just give us a few minutes …” Gunn said.

  King looked up at the crew. They watched her intently, looking for a reaction. She made a conscious decision not give them one that would cause them to fear any more than they were.

  “As soon as you can, Chief,” she said coolly.

  “Aye sir.”

  “Ensign Boi, are our co-ordinates set?” King asked.

  Boi turned to face her. “We’re just waiting on the Drive.”

  “As soon as it’s ready, let me know,” she said.

  The viewscreen showed a backwards view of the Draxx battleship coming up on their rear.

  Lieutenant Chang studied her readouts. “The enemy vessel has ceased fire.”

  “I know,” King said, her jaw going tight. “They’re not content with destroying us. They want to capture us and take us for a trophy.”

  “Incoming communication,” Boi reported.

  King shot Chang a look. “See?”

  The display changed to the face of the Draxx commander again.

  “Within moments you will be my prisoner, human,” Prince Sepix said with relish. The leathery skin at the sides of his narrow mouth lifted in a narrow grin. “You will all be my prisoners. Why not give up the chase now?”

  “The Terran Union does not give in to demands, your highness. Not to anybody,” King said.

  “Yes that’s right, Commander. Your race is as stubborn as it is stupid …” Sepix said. “Your biggest fault.”

  “We may be stubborn, as you say, and we may be stupid. But we are not as weak as you seem to think,” King said, her eyes narrowing. “I think you underestimate us.”

  Sepix laughed. It was a horrible, shrill sound. The hairs on the back of King’s neck stood on end.

  “I underestimate your talent for humour,” Sepix cackled.

  King looked to the side. Boi moved aside so that she could see the flashing green light on his panel. The Jump Drive was active. She held up a finger for him to wait for her signal.

  “That’s not the only thing you have wrong about us,” she said.

  “Prey tell,” Sepix said, still chuckling with amusement.

  “We’ll always beat you in a race,” King said. She nodded at Ensign Boi. He threw the switch. The Jump Drive activated and in the space of a millisecond they were millions of miles away. Sepix disappeared from the front display.

  The bridge crew cheered. King hung her head in her lap, heartbroken as much as she was relieved.

  4.

  Admiral Grimshaw sat with his arms folded across his chest. He let the air sit for a moment before he spoke. He turned to the note-taker.

  “You may leave now. Thank you. I believe we have everything we need,” he told her. She nodded silently, got up and left without a word.

  When the door closed, and it was only King and himself, he let out a sigh and eased back into his chair.

  “I know this is a difficult time for you. I know from reading your file that Captain Singh was a great influence on you, in terms of joining the fleet and making a career for yourself,” he said.

  King nodded, her eyes fixed on the Admiral.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And I know the weight bearing down on your shoulders right now,” he said. King looked at him. “It’s the weight of men and women. The crew of the Defiant … of those ships that were lost from the convoy before they could get away. I’ve felt that weight myself before.”

  King nodded. “Yes.”

  “I feel it even now …” Grimshaw said. “And if you think it will go away, it won’t. You just get used to it is all. The weight. But it stays there.”

  “I understand,” King said. “Or I’m starting to.”

  Grimshaw cleared his throat. “King, I had time to talk to the Commander-in-chief and Rear Admiral Scholte beforehand. In light of recent circumstances my colleagues and I are in agreement that your actions were not only justifiable and correctly impassioned, but in the finest tradition. We are impressed with how you dealt with the situation, and moreover we are impressed with how you have taken the responsibility and consequen
ces of command in your stride. We feel it is only right that you be promoted to the rank of Captain, with immediate effect. We feel it is the natural next step for you. A step you have already taken.”

  King looked at him in shock. “I couldn’t -” she started to say.

  Grimshaw stood, straightened out his uniform jacket. “It’s done. Please stand.”

  King stood.

  She felt her whole body shake. “I don’t know if I’m ready - ’ she said.

  Grimshaw fixed a gold pin to her breast pocket.

  “That doesn’t matter. You’ve proven that you are. Report to the Station Master in two days to oversee the repairs to Defiant,” Grimshaw said.

  King looked down at the gold pin.

  “Congratulations, and good luck Captain Jessica King,” Grimshaw said, his voice filled with pride.

  King remained silent and saluted.

  * * *

  On her way back to her quarters aboard Defiant, Jessica felt numb. If the circumstances were different, she’d have been elated.

  The command of her own starship.

  Something she’d always wanted. Her dream. But coming so soon on the back of everything else … it was too much to take in. Her thoughts raced from her fear to her pride, to her sorrow at losing her mentor and friend.

  She managed to slip into her quarters without having to speak to any of the crew who were still on board working on repairs.

  Jessica kept the lights low and stripped to her underwear. There was half of a bottle of vodka under her desk. She poured herself a glass of it, drank it straight then poured another. She collapsed into her chair.

  His words came back to her, in the shadowed quiet of her quarters.

  “Don’t be so impulsive,” he said.

  She was just a girl. No ambition. No prospects. No direction. A cadet who tried to make it in the Academy but dropped out.

  “You know nothing about me,” Jess said.

  Singh laughed. “I know more than you think. I know you have no family. No parents. I know that if you continue the way you are, you’re going to end up either dead or imprisoned. And I know that you agree with me. I can see it on your face.”

  She looked down at the ground, felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

  He was right. Everything he said was right.

  “And what?” she said.

  “I’m saying we can be your family. The fleet. If you’ll let us. We can give you a life, give you a purpose,” Singh said.

  Jess shook her head. “I’m not good enough. I’ve tried already. I don’t have what it takes.”

  Singh tilted her head up, his hand under her chin. “With my help you will have. If you’ll trust me …”

  She knew that when Singh had said, “We can be your family. We can give you a life,” he’d meant “I can be your family. I can give you a life.”

  And the sentiment was genuine. Singh became the father figure she’d been sorely lacking. He guided her, supported her. She progressed in rank, but not through any involvement from his end. Purely on her own merit, off the back of her own hard work.

  Singh was the Father she never had. And now he was gone.

  The view port in her quarters offered a view not of the station, but of the stars. Endless and mysterious. She stood and leaned against it, her forehead on the cold glass. She closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I miss you already,” she said.

  It was then that she realised, finally, she was alone again.

  5.

  “I’m not looking forward to this,” Lisa Chang said as she buttoned the tunic of her dress uniform and looked at herself in the mirror.

  Her roommate, Selena Walker, looked at her in the mirror. “Well, you look the part to me. Very prim and proper.”

  Chang sighed. “I just wish it was for something else. A graduation ceremony. An Ambassadorial function. Anything but this. You know, something not so … upsetting.”

  Selena went the bathroom they shared and filled the sink with warm water.

  “What can you do though, eh?” she said as she cupped her hands into the water and proceeded to wash her face.

  Chang looked at herself again, then checked her watch.

  One hour till the memorial service for Captain Singh, she thought. I’m not looking forward to this.

  * * *

  The orderly helped Lieutenant-Commander Del Greene into his dress uniform. Under the guidance of Dr. Martinez, the chief medical officer of Station 6, the medics had treated the wound on his head with a fast-acting repair agent. Although there was no longer a hole in his head - not even a scar to show he’d ever been injured - his head hurt worse than any bender he’d ever been on.

  “I still can’t coordinate my arms and legs properly. It’s like the wiring’s all screwed up,” Greene said.

  “I’m going to liaise with Dr. Clayton myself, see to it he gives you the appropriate after care. Sometimes these ship-bound practitioners play it a little fast and loose with the quality of their bedside manner,” Dr. Martinez said.

  “Not Clayton, doc. He’s a good man,” Greene said. “Now what about my arms and legs? They -“

  Dr. Martinez chuckled as he shook his head. “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay. We predict full recovery in the next couple of days. Minimal lasting after effects. You should be dead, you know. Sustaining a head injury like that, it’s amazing you’re still with us …”

  Now it was Greene’s turn to laugh. “That’s the advantage of having a thick skull, doc.”

  * * *

  Although it was only nine in the morning, Kyle Banks was already dressed and walking the Station’s promenade. There were a few people wandering about. Most of the stores, bars and restaurants were closed. But at the end of the promenade he could see the flashing blue neon sign of Mickey’s. Its proprietor, Mickey Robbins, insisted on keeping his place open all day and all night. He knew his market. When Banks had been a green cadet stationed at number 6, he spent a lot of his down time in Mickey’s.

  He grinned as he neared the entrance. Ensigns Olivia Rayne and Jack Boi waited for him outside.

  “Lads and Ladettes!” he said in his thick Scottish accent. “Ye come.”

  “We said we would,” Boi said.

  “Who are you calling a Ladette?” Rayne asked him. She had her blonde hair pulled back tight. Only once had Kyle seen her with it down. It fell in curls down to her shoulders when she let it. But most of the time she was very much the tomboy.

  It was something he found incredibly attractive about her. She was strong, plucky. Feminine when she wanted to be.

  He shook his head theatrically. “I meant Jackie boy here. He’s definitely the Ladette out of you two.”

  Rayne shook her head with a sigh. She was used to his ribbing.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea having a skin full before a funeral?” Boi asked.

  Banks looked shocked. “What is this? Mutiny? Where I come from we see the departed off in style. And that starts with a drink.”

  He slapped them both on the shoulder and led them inside. They stood at the bar. There were no other patrons in there. Popsynth music played low, without any bass. Everything was awash with neon light, exactly as Banks remembered it from his cadet days. Mickey’s had a robotic barman. It whirred toward them.

  “What is your order gentlemen?” it said in a flat, artificial voice.

  Banks turned to the other two. “So? What’ll it be?”

  They looked at each other. “Something not too strong,” Rayne said.

  Banks turned to the barman. “Don’t listen to him. We’ll have three Blazing Saddles with whiskey chasers. And keep ‘em coming pal, okay?”

  The barman set about fetching their drinks. In a moment they were on the bar top. Banks lifted his glass.

  “Comrades, a toast.”

  They reluctantly lifted theirs as well.

  “To Captain Singh.”

  The three of them clinked glasses and then downed their d
rinks. Boi and Rayne fell against the bar, choking. Banks wiped his mouth and slammed his glass down.

  “Barman, another,” he said.

  * * *

  Meryl Gunn was clean for once. It made a change for her to walk into the mess hall not covered in grease and dirt from the engineering section. The galley cooks were cooking breakfast. Meryl put in her order and sat down at an empty table.

  “Not good enough to sit with am I?”

  Meryl looked up. It was Del Greene holding a tray of food.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you sitting over there,” she said, using her foot to push out the opposite chair. Greene sat down in front of her.

  “How are you?” he asked her.

  “Okay I suppose. You?”

  Greene carefully slid a forkful of eggs into his mouth. She noticed he did so slowly and with some degree of concentration. She also noticed the bruising to his forehead from the knock he sustained in the attack. He shrugged. “You know …”

  Meryl nodded. “I do.”

  The silence hung between them. A tray of food appeared in front of her, followed by a black coffee. She thanked the cook then set about sprinkling salt and pepper onto her breakfast.

  “I thought I’d come in here, have breakfast before the service. I could have had it on the Station, but I like how they do it here,” Greene said.

  Meryl knew what he meant. “You get used to it.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Institutionalised,” Greene said. “How are the repairs coming along?”

  “Teams are working around the clock. Good at the moment. She took quite a beating, though,” Meryl said. “There’s some major work to be done.”

  She bit into a slice of buttered toast.

  Greene sat back in his chair and regarded her for a moment, a smug look on his face.

  “What?” she asked him, miffed.

  “Do you know, that’s the first time I’ve seen you like that?”

  Meryl frowned. “Like what? Clean?”

  Greene chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no. I mean, looking like a lady.”

  Meryl blushed. She couldn’t help it. She sipped her coffee. “You mean I don’t look like a lady the rest of the time?”