Firmament: Radialloy

by J. Grace Pennington

  Doctor Holmes warned Crash, and then some scientists that Crash didn’t like left Earth. That didn’t sound all that suspicious to me, especially since there were a lot of people my cousin decided not to like, and not always for good reasons.

  A thought hit me. “You don’t think that it’s the Howitzes, do you?”

  The Doctor shook his head. “Impossible. They’ve been here for almost a month, and these men left just two weeks ago.” He shrugged and stood up. “It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing.”

  “Do you have to go?” I begged. I didn’t understand why I wanted him there so intensely, unless it was just the lingering memory of that terrible pain on the bridge.

  “I need to check in on sickbay, but I’ll come back down here to make out my records if you want.”

  That wasn’t entirely what I wanted. I’d far rather he stay close to me—talk to me, sit with me. But I knew that was selfish, and he had struggled the past few weeks with finding time to make out his medical records.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I’ll be back soon.” Turning, he left the room.

  I tried to relax, listening to the soft whirring of the life support systems that always lulled me to sleep. My thoughts drifted to the puzzling, frightening incident on the bridge, and I began to ponder Crash’s actions again. He was angry at the Captain and Guilders now, I knew, and wouldn’t speak to them for several days at least—or however long he stayed on board, whichever came first. He probably wouldn’t stay long. He never did.

  Guilders would act like nothing had happened, in his usual stoic way. The Captain would be frustrated, but as long as Crash caused no more trouble, he’d keep his temper.

  I remembered well the first time Crash had visited us on the Surveyor, the first confrontation between himself and our helmsman. Crash had challenged him to a maneuvering contest through the “hazard zone”—I hadn’t known what that was at the time, but later Guilders explained to me that it was a network, almost a maze of trash pockets, so confusing that even seasoned pilots were often lost there. Crash had been twenty-seven at the time, and even more cocky than he was now, and hadn’t taken his loss very well—yes, of course Guilders had beaten him. What did he expect? Guilders had been maneuvering since before Crash was born.

  Since then, it had been one big contest after another with the two of them. At least through the years Crash had come to have genuine respect for Guilders, but even so, he got angry with him frequently. The two of them just had such different outlooks—not only with regard to piloting, but life in general. How Guilders felt about Crash was unsure, but it was my opinion that he merely tolerated him.

  The Captain was easily frustrated with Crash as well, and was significantly more outspoken about it than Guilders. However, he had an open respect for the younger man’s abilities, and in fits of admiration had declared that Crash would be an asset to the crew. Fortunately, Crash never accepted. We all knew that with him on the crew for any extended period of time, the Captain would be driven mad. Crash was his own authority, and had never been one to bow to anyone’s superiority in any area.

  The door slid open as I concluded these thoughts, and I half sat up, then recognized the Doctor with a smile.

  “Everything fine up there, Doctor?”

  He nodded, and I noticed a large record pad tucked under his arm. I stifled a sigh. It was a good opportunity for him to get his work done. Usually I didn’t mind, but—I shuddered. I wanted someone to talk to, and who better than my dear Doctor?

  Settling himself in the chair across the room, he turned on the pad and began making out his reports.

  I fidgeted for a few minutes, wishing I could get up and do something. I wasn’t used to inactivity. The Doctor had said I needed rest, though. Perhaps I could read?

  My thoughts were interrupted by a beep at the door. “Come in,” I called.

  The door slid open, and young Lieutenant August Howitz walked in, balancing a covered metal tray in his hands.

  The Doctor looked up from his work and frowned. He laid the pad down and stared at the newcomer.

  August looked back and forth between me and the Doctor with slight embarrassment. “The cook needed someone to bring up your dinner,” he explained, “and the Captain chose me.”

  The Doctor raised his eyebrows, and I sighed. I did wish the Captain would give up his matchmaking on my account. But then, knowing it wasn’t the Lieutenant’s fault, and not wanting to make him feel bad, I smiled. “Thank you. I am getting hungry.” I reached for the tray, glad at least that the Doctor was there. I had a definite feeling that he wouldn’t have liked me to be alone with the young man.

  “Well,” said the Doctor. “You’ve done your duty, Lieutenant.”

  The lieutenant flushed. “He told me to stay and wait for the dishes, so the cook wouldn’t have to bother with them.”

  I glanced over at the Doctor, who frowned again. I couldn’t help smiling—I foresaw a decided talk between him and Captain Trent in the near future.

  “I suppose,” the Doctor said at last, “you have to do what the Captain orders.”

  August nodded. “I’m sorry, sir...”

  The Doctor gestured to the chair that I usually occupied. “Have a seat, boy.”

  Looking more awkward than ever, the young man sat down. I knew the Doctor meant to be kind, and I tried to straighten out the situation.

  “I beg you, when you see the Captain again, tell him from me that he needn’t worry about my situation any more... I’m quite happy as I am.”

  His relieved nod was almost amusing. “I’ll tell him.”

  There was a moment of silence, until the Doctor asked him, “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much better, thank you, Doctor,” he said. Then with a moment of hesitation, he turned to me. “And you, Miss Andi—I heard you had an accident?”

  “I’m feeling fine now, thank you.” I finished my soup and began to nibble the bread. “Where were you when we hit the asteroid?”

  “I was actually asleep in our quarters. The crash woke me, and I had to get up and take care of some of my father’s things... He has a lot of tools and machinery in there, and they got knocked around a lot.”

  “What does your father do?” I asked.

  “Here he’s the first engineer. On Earth he was—an inventor.”

  “Andi’s an inventor,” the Doctor said.

  August’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  I smiled fondly, but shook my head. “Just a hobby. I don’t do much with it.” I paused to take a drink. “What has your dad invented?”

  He shrugged. “He doesn’t really make things for the general public. Special computers and service technology, that kind of thing.”

  “And what about you?” the Doctor probed.

  August frowned. “I’m a navigator. I’ve done a little electrical engineering, but nothing like him.”

  “Do you always work together?” I asked, swallowing the last bite of bread, and watching as he stood up.

  “No.” He walked over and took the tray from me. “After I graduated I went to space alone—I was a navigator on the Beagle. He came and picked me up about a month ago.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “He’d heard that your engineer was on extended leave for his honeymoon and decided to take the position, and he heard that your navigator had died as well. I guess he just thought I’d be good for the position.”

  The Lieutenant shifted the tray to a more comfortable position as he stood talking, and I thought I detected a wistfulness in his voice, as if he hoped his father thought he’d be good for the position, but rather doubted it.

  The door slid open as he finished, and Crash strode in. “Had your dinner And... Well, who’s this?”

  August turned to face him. “Lieutenant Howitz, navigator, sir.”

  “I don’t remember seeing you on the bridge.”

  “He was resting, Crash,” I explained. “Health problems. Lieutenant, this is my
cousin, Eagle Crash.”

  August’s eyes widened, and he balanced the tray on his arm, then carefully put out his hand to shake Crash’s. “A pleasure, sir.” He turned back to me. “Eagle Crash is your cousin?”

  Crash grinned, as he always did when any reference was made to his fame. “She’s lucky that way.”

  His grin faded when August turned to face him again, and he peered at the pale face and dark eyes for a moment. “Have I met you somewhere?”

  “No sir, I’m sure I would remember meeting you.”

  Crash straightened up. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Howitz, August Howitz.”

  “Austrian, are you?”

  “I grew up there, sir, but I am a United States citizen by birth.”

  “I see. Well, you don’t have to ‘sir’ me.”

  “Yes sir. I mean no sir. I mean...” August flushed, and I stifled a giggle. He stood up a bit straighter and shifted the tray to a more comfortable position. “I suppose I should be taking this down to the galley.”

  “Yes, I suppose you should.”

  The Lieutenant turned and nodded at me and the Doctor, then hurried out, obviously intimidated by Crash’s commanding, confident manner, as well as his reputation.

  The Doctor cleared his throat and picked up his pad. “If you’re going to be up here for a minute, I’m going to go have some dinner myself.”

  “When can I get up?” I asked.

  He looked at me and thought about it. Then he came to a conclusion. “I’d like you to keep resting for tonight. Later we can talk about you getting up in the morning.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He left the room, and I watched with a slight sigh as the door closed behind him.

  I already missed work, missed eating in the big mess hall with everyone else, missed bantering with the Doctor throughout the afternoon.

  I wanted things to go back to normal.

  VI

  Crash walked forward a few steps. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “I wasn’t mad at you. I just don’t like you to argue with them.”

  “‘Them?’”

  “The Captain and Guilders.”

  He held up his hand. “Please, I just ate.”

  “Crash, that’s not funny! Don’t talk about them like that. It was your fault, you know. The Captain trusted you, and...”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” he protested. “If I’d been in the Alacrity I, I could have...”

  “But this wasn’t the Alacrity I, it was a starship. Why couldn’t you just trust Guilders?”

  In his usual cavalier manner, his answer was to change the subject. “Who was that fellow who was in here just now?”

  I sighed. “He told you. Lieutenant Howitz, the navigator.”

  “You know him?” He pulled a chair closer to me and hung his jacket over the back.

  “I just met him today. I treated him in sickbay this morning, and then he and his dad were with the Captain during lunch...”

  “His dad?” Crash had seated himself in the chair, and now he sat upright. “His father is on board, too?”

  I was puzzled by this line of questioning. “Why are you asking me all this? Do you know him?”

  “I don’t know.” He sat back and threw his arm across the back of the chair. “He reminded me of someone I knew when I was a little kid.”

  “Is that the person you told the Doctor had left Earth?”

  “Oh, so he told you about that?” He stood up and started to pace. “No, he’s not the person who left Earth. His name isn’t Howitz—neither of them are named Howitz. It’s Leeke, and his assistant, Mars. But I haven’t seen them here.” He sat down again and tried to relax. “What do you know about this Howitz?”

  “August... his name’s August. He and his dad have been on the ship a month, and his dad is the first engineer. He suffers from orthostatic hypotension...”

  “Whoa, whoa, don’t be giving me doctor’s talk, Andi. You know I don’t like it.”

  “Well, you know I don’t like you arguing with the Captain and Guilders.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why is it different?”

  “Because I’m older than you.”

  I was about to give some indignant reply, but he intercepted it.

  “I don’t think you understand, Andi. I’m sorry you got hurt, but part of being an adventurer is to take risks. Guilders isn’t willing to do that, and that’s why he’ll never grow as a pilot. He’s afraid.”

  This almost made sense—but it wasn’t right. First of all, Guilders never seemed afraid to me. Secondly—

  “Don’t you think it’s a little presumptuous for you to say Guilders won’t grow? He’s had so much more experience than you...” I wanted to add, “and you’re the one who crashed us, not him,” but I didn’t.

  He smiled patiently. “That’s the point. He is more experienced than me. By virtue of the fact that he was in space when I was in diapers, I know that. But which one of us is better?”

  He expected me to say him. It was logical. He was a famous pilot, with clients lining up for his services. He’d done things no one had done in the history of space travel until he came along. He’d flown jobs for governments, scientists, and lots of jobs he couldn’t even tell us about.

  Guilders, on the other hand, had just been a quiet helmsman on a chartered exploration vessel for thirty years.

  “The Doctor trusts Guilders...” I began.

  “Of course. I trust him—usually. But in the face of an emergency, which one of us is willing to step out do what needs to be done, regardless of consequences?”

  I was confused. Crash was, that was true. But didn’t he have a lot more accidents than Guilders? Was that true courage, or just rashness?

  I shook my head but didn’t answer. After an awkward silence, a rarity between the two of us, I asked, “How long until we reach Alpha fifty-four-thirty-three?”

  “Too long for my taste. That asteroid damaged the attitude control system, and your beloved Guilders is creeping at a snail’s pace until it’s repaired. It should take a couple of days to get it up and running again.”

  “The Captain’s not happy, is he?”

  “Nope, not one bit. But then, what else is new?”

  “Crash, please...”

  “Sorry, And. I forgot, no captain or helmsman bashing allowed.”

  I didn’t feel like talking to him anymore. “Goodnight, Crash.”

  He whistled, and stood up. “That’s a subtle hint. Well, goodnight, cousin. See you tomorrow.”

  Picking up his jacket and throwing it over his shoulder, he left.

  Sitting up after the door closed behind him, I pulled up my skirt to take a look at my knee. There was no sign of anything wrong, not even the slightest degree of redness.

  With a sigh, I realized how late it was getting, and thought I should get to bed. I was tired, emotionally and physically, and sleep sounded attractive just then. I stood up carefully, wary of putting pressure on the knee. It felt a little numb as I walked to the door to lock it, but otherwise normal. I then proceeded to dress for bed.

  After I’d thrown on a nightgown and brushed my teeth, I knelt beside the bed to pray. My thoughts wandered, however, slipping through the events of the day. Not just my knee pains, though that was enough to think about. Crash played a large part in my thoughts, as did August and his father. There was also Doctor Holmes’s strange warning, and the people that Crash didn’t like who had left Earth.

  I didn’t like any of it. Things had been perfectly fine when I woke up that morning.

  I jerked my thoughts back to my prayer again. Lord, thank you for protecting the ship today. Thank you for—for what? What had I been going to say? My thoughts were wandering again. Was the Doctor really in any danger? Could my knee have anything to do with Doctor Holmes? Surely not.

  I snapped my thoughts back again. Please protect us all, Lord. Don’t let anything bad happen to us. Don’t l
et anything bad happen to us? How flat was that? But that was really all I wanted at the moment. Keep us safe. Thanks. Goodnight.

  As I crawled under the covers, I felt unsatisfied somehow. I called to the lights to turn off, then snarled in the dark, pulling the blankets up under my chin. It was all Crash’s fault, I decided. He’d brought us these silly suspicions and he’d made a mistake on the bridge. But now everything was fine, the malfunctions would be repaired soon, and in the meantime, I should relax.

  Sleep came quickly, and I wasn’t bothered by dreams, at least not that I could remember. When I drifted back to consciousness the next morning, I became aware of a beeping nearby.

  I kept my eyes closed, not moving. The beeping went on, and I pulled the covers over my head.

  It didn’t stop, and I was forced to put the covers down and look around for the source.

  My wristcom. I was being paged.

  Gripping it clumsily off my nightstand, I answered the call. “Yes?”

  “Andi, I’m leaving. I thought you’d want me to wake you up.”

  My brain buzzed tiredly as I tried to place the voice. Crash.

  “Leaving?” I mumbled. “Where—are you going?”

  “Get dressed and come to airlock one.”

  I laid down the comm and dragged myself out of bed. Still half asleep, I went through the motions of pulling on my uniform and dragging a comb languidly through my hair. I was not a morning person—as opposed to Crash and the Doctor, both of whom could jump out of bed in the wee hours of the morning and be fully lucid immediately.

  Forgetting to put my wristcom on, I stumbled out of the room and made my way somehow through the dim halls to airlock one. Dim lights—what time was it, anyway? It must be before six.

  When I reached the airlock, it was open. Crash and the Doctor were inside, speaking soberly. I heard the Doctor say, “I don’t know. I just met him.”

  “He’s altogether too much like Sandison for my liking.” Crash scowled as he said this. “I never did like him.”