Firmament: Radialloy

by J. Grace Pennington

  “Erasmus—you can’t. We need it!”

  Cold washed over my heart. He was telling me not to go with my father, not to let him help me. Could my father be right? Could he—want to keep me for himself—want the radialloy for himself?

  Feeling like crying, I reached my free hand towards the command button on my wristcom.

  With a wild cry, the Doctor caught my wrist, gripping it hard. “Don’t... listen! You can’t do this.”

  His eyes were wider than I’d ever seen. As I stared into them, I saw an empty darkness that I didn’t recognize.

  I pulled my other wrist up to my face and jammed my chin on the button before he could stop me. I forced out the words, trying not to choke on them. “Captain Trent, I’m—sorry to report that I have found—Doctor Lloyd unfit for duty.”

  XV

  We just stared for a moment, then I whispered, “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

  He let go of me abruptly, just as the Captain’s voice answered. “If you’re sure, Andi. I’ve sent security. Let me know the details later.”

  He trusted me. I’d just told him that his best friend was unfit for his lifelong work, and he believed me without question. I felt dazed, and helpless. This was a nightmare.

  The Doctor just dropped to the cot opposite me and stared, his eyes still wide, but saying nothing. I tried to speak, failed, and then jumped up, turned, and fled.

  At first I didn’t know where I was running, but before long I found that my legs were taking me to engineering, a place I’d been only twice, both times when the ship was in spacedock. I had to talk with my father. I had no one to turn to right now, no one knew what had been happening except him, and I couldn’t tell anyone else. These problems were my own, the Captain, Guilders, and Almira, the only people I would have trusted enough to talk to about it, were all too busy. They had to worry about the ship, not my personal family struggles.

  When I was safe inside the elevator, I dared to breathe, gasping in a lungful of oxygen before saying, “E-Deck,” and letting myself be carried down.

  I took deep breaths as I moved down the ship, focusing intently on the indicator lights all around the tiny room.

  God... oh God! I tried to pray, but had no words. What’s happening? The Doctor... my father... the radialloy... what are You doing? I’d always been told that He knew what He was doing, that He had a plan. That all things would work together for good. How can anything ever be good again? Had He made a mistake?

  The elevator doors opened out onto E-Deck, and I hesitated before stepping out. It was highly unlikely that the radiation would do anything to my knee. I wouldn’t stay long.

  I put my boot forward and placed it onto the smooth metal floor in front of me, then began walking resolutely forward.

  The large, octagonal room was empty. I looked around at each station, but no one occupied them. The giant reactor in the middle glowed faintly, and I saw a makeshift aluminum plate covering an area that I assumed was the hole.

  I frowned at the silence, but walked forward, my boots ticking on the floor with each cautious step. Once again, something just wasn’t right. True, I’d never visited engineering when it was in operation, but I’d heard the Captain call down there from the bridge. Every time, there had been sounds of talking and general working in the background. Now, it was too quiet.

  I stopped about a yard from the reactor, hesitating to approach it. As I stood, unsure what to do, I heard a faint voice from somewhere ahead. It was low and gravelly.

  My heart rose in my throat, but I sidestepped the reactor and tip-toed in the direction of the voice. It became clearer as I approached, and when I’d come about two feet from a metal door labeled “Fission Control Chamber,” I could make out the words.

  Commander Howitz was speaking with controlled determination. “I’m not sure, but I’ll need at least a few days. It must not be repaired before then.”

  Another voice grumbled. “You still haven’t explained why this is so important.”

  When the Commander’s voice answered, it was harsh. “It’s important to you because if you don’t comply, there will be consequences. If you do, there will be rewards. That is all that matters.”

  A youthful cry broke in. “What are you talking about? What is this?”

  “How did you get in here? Who are you?”

  “He’s a thruster repair man...”

  “Hurry, get him, men! He’ll tell Trent! You know what that will mean for everyone!”

  There was a rush of boots towards the door, and I whirled on my heel and ran, ran for all I was worth, back towards the elevator. The metal floor was slippery, and I couldn’t seem to move quickly enough.

  When I reached the elevator, I pounded the button, praying for it to come quickly.

  Before it did, a door behind me burst open, and I turned to look over my shoulder. It was the door to Fission Control, and crewmen spilled out of it. In front, running, was a young man, younger than myself, his eyes wide with fear. The eyes met mine just before he was grabbed from behind and pulled back. Out of the crowd, I saw Commander Howitz’s dark eyes, staring at me. I didn’t move—I couldn’t think. I couldn’t understand the expression on his face—it was somehow dark and seemed forbidding, yet sorry. He started towards me, and I heard his voice rise commandingly out of the chaos, but I couldn’t understand his words.

  As the elevator door finally opened, I heard a sharp cry of pain, which seemed to unlock my muscles. I jumped in and almost screamed, “A-Deck!”

  The Commander bounded forward, calling to the others. I let out another scream as he came nearer, but the doors closed in his face and I was sped upwards.

  He was an engineer. He’d try to stop me. Heart racing, I called, “Cancel. D-Deck.” A second later, the elevator stopped, and the doors began opening. When they were halfway open, they died, leaving a space just barely wide enough for me. I squeezed through and rushed the few feet into the other elevator across the corridor. “A-Deck,” I instructed, adrenaline pumping. It pulled me upwards.

  I leaned impatiently against the door when it stopped, and nearly tumbled out when they slid open, revealing the short A-Deck hall. Righting myself, I rushed towards the bridge, feeling like I wasn’t getting any nearer.

  At last I reached the doors and they slid open. Not waiting to use the proper protocol, I yelled, “Sabotage!”

  Silence reigned. The Captain swiveled his chair to look up at me, his eyebrows raised. Everyone else turned to me, too, with looks of mingled surprise and expectation on their faces.

  “It’s sabotage,” I said, forcing myself to speak calmly and coherently, yet still with a thread of urgency. “The power failure—Commander Howitz did it. I just heard him talking to the mates and engineers.”

  The Captain’s eyebrows lowered. “What’s going on, Andi? You call me to say your father is unfit for duty, and then when I come down to talk to you about it, you’re gone. Now you come rushing in here...”

  “There’s no time to explain!” I cried, jumping down the few steps into the command pit and gripping the arm of his chair. “Something’s happened to the Doctor... I don’t know what, but something’s wrong with him. And Commander Howitz sabotaged the reactor. I don’t know why, but he did.”

  I remembered Peat and Sigmet’s claim that they’d come to arrest Commander Howitz, and how they had to wait for the ship to get back in communication range so it could be verified. Could he have performed the sabotage so that the ship wouldn’t reach that point? Did he really have something to hide?

  That possibility had probably already occurred to the Captain. He jumped up and began speaking. “Mr. Guilders, slow to propulsion zero. Mr. Ralston, shut down automation immediately, go to all manual. Andi, you’re sure about this?”

  “Yes sir. He knows I heard him, he’ll be up any minute...”

  “Ralston, seal doors immediately.”

  “It’ll be a minute sir.”

  “Mr. Yanendale, contact the Alacrity I and inform th
em that we are...”

  The door at the back of the bridge burst open, and I jumped, letting go of the Captain’s chair like a guilty child caught in the sweets.

  There stood Commander Howitz, a charged blaster in his hand. Behind him were some men—I couldn’t tell how many—also with blasters. The Commander’s face was set and hard, and he looked at the Captain, not at me.

  “There will be no messages sent, Captain Trent.” His low, gravelly voice seemed to fill the bridge somehow, settling in every corner.

  A creak made me turn my head, and I saw Mr. Yanendale leaning forward urgently to press a button. I couldn’t see what button, but I guessed that he was sending out an “emergency” message, so that the Alacrity I or any other nearby vessel would receive it and get word that we were in trouble.

  Commander Howitz saw him, too. Before Yanendale’s finger could come down on the button, the Commander fired, and a blast of energy spurted from the gun and hit the comm marshal in the chest.

  I screamed, the Captain leapt forward, and Yanendale gasped and fell back. I started toward him, but the Commander’s voice barked at me, “Stay back.”

  Blindly, I kept going forward for a moment, but the Captain grabbed my arm and yanked me back, clutching me to him. I felt his chest moving quickly in and out.

  No one moved. The Commander turned his weapon back on the Captain and myself.

  “Over by the fore window,” he ordered, beckoning with the blaster. “A single line.”

  The Captain let go of me, and I followed Guilders out of the command pit. August didn’t move from his seat, but he stared at his father with wide eyes, and the color had drained from his face. That worried me.

  “Quickly!”

  We lined up: myself, the Captain, Ralston, and the gunner and monitor.

  “Martin,” the Commander ordered. “If any of them have weapons, take them.”

  Mr. Martin, an engine technician, stepped out from behind him and advanced. Mr. Yanendale groaned.

  “Dad,” August began, but the Commander shot him a warning glare. August was silent.

  Martin walked down the row, checking for weapons. He took them from the Captain and Guilders, not changing his expression one iota.

  “Is this mutiny, Commander Howitz?” the Captain fumed.

  “Indeed it is, Captain Trent.” He beckoned for Martin to take the weapons away. “Or it will be, unless you cooperate.”

  “In what way?”

  I kept my eyes trained on August. He was paler than ever, and his mouth was slightly open as he stared at his father. I didn’t know if it was open because he was shocked or if he might start hyperventilating, but I watched him just in case.

  “I would like to be taken to my speeder, which has been programmed to autopilot and is waiting for me in sector four-thousand. Orbit five, the Demeter system.”

  “Not so fast, Howitz,” came a deep voice from behind him.

  I nearly fell over as Peat and Sigmet stepped out from behind him. They had caught him! But—why hadn’t he seen to it that they were in the brig, or otherwise taken care of? What was he doing, anyway? Was he really a criminal? My head spun.

  “What do you mean?” asked the Commander, not lowering his weapon or taking his eyes off of us.

  “We had an agreement,” Sigmet spoke up, his strange, high eyes suspicious.

  “I had to act earlier than planned,” Commander Howitz assured, just looking over his shoulder for an instant before turning back to us. “Circumstances made it necessary.”

  Peat grumbled, but Sigmet nodded, his eyes narrowed.

  “Wait!” I cried. “I thought you said he was a criminal and you were here to catch him?”

  “Andi.” The Captain put his arm out in front of me. I fell silent.

  “Our reasons are our own,” said Peat haughtily. “We will take care of him in our own way.”

  They left, casting a glance at the Commander before walking out.

  “You can’t be serious about this, Howitz,” the Captain said.

  “I am.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “First of all, you’ll be sent to the brig along with anyone else who gets in the way. Secondly, it might interest you to know that if we don’t get to my speeder in twenty hours—by twelve o’ clock tomorrow—your friend Doctor Lloyd will be permanently insane.”

  I felt him stiffen beside me, but I was too shocked to take notice of this. What? What did he mean? What was he—did he have anything to do with—

  “Dad, you promised!” August cried, standing up.

  “Sit down, August, or I’ll have you up here with the rest of them,” the Commander ordered.

  August didn’t sit down, but he paled until he was nearly white.

  I looked pleadingly at the Captain. I didn’t care what was going on here. We couldn’t let the Doctor go insane. He had to be all right.

  “All you want is to get to your speeder in less than twenty hours?” the Captain said slowly.

  “I want that, and I want my daughter.”

  “Your... what?” the Captain cried.

  I gulped. My brain wasn’t working... I was too stunned—I tried to sort out the situation. The Commander had come aboard looking for me, and somehow, somehow, he had found me, and now wanted me back with him. He wanted me so badly that he’d take me by force, mutiny, sabotage—anything it took.

  There was only one reason for this that I could think of—he had lied to me. He wanted the radialloy as much as Peat and Sigmet had. Realizing that they had put me on my guard by both speaking to me as they had, they’d agreed to work together, probably planning to cut each other out at some point.

  “This young lady is my daughter,” the Commander informed, pointing his weapon at me. “When I leave, she goes with me.”

  August cried out, and when I turned to look, he swayed, tried to clutch at the navigation panel, and then dropped to the deck.

  XVI

  I darted towards August with a cry, and this time I wasn’t corrected by either the Captain or my father. I felt over his head, where a bump was already forming, and then grasped for his wrist while I studied his breathing.

  “Well, Captain?” Commander Howitz went on. “Time is wasting.”

  “Andi?” the Captain said in a low voice.

  Feeling August’s skin, I found it to be cold and clammy. His blood pressure must have dropped, making him go into shock. Now the Captain was asking if I would cooperate—I had to. It was all we could do for now, it seemed. Perhaps later we could find a way to save the Doctor ourselves.

  I turned back towards where he stood by the fore window, eyeing me. I nodded.

  “I will do as you ask,” he said through clenched teeth. “On the condition that you do not harm Doctor Lloyd.”

  Commander Howitz made no verbal reply, and I had turned back to August, so I couldn’t see if he made any sign of agreement. August’s breathing was quick and shallow, and his pulse was feeble and accelerated. Urgency showed through my tones as I spoke up. “Commander, he needs to get to sickbay.”

  When I turned to look at him, I found I could not read his face at all. It was like a mask. “Jarvis, carry him down there. Then you may return for Mr. Yanendale.”

  The crewman he addressed walked over and hoisted August up in his arms, then waited, apparently for me to lead the way off the bridge. I did so, my brain whirling with all that had happened. But no. I couldn’t get overwhelmed. My brother needed me.

  And he was not the only one, I realized, when I reached sickbay. Someone else was already there, a young man who’d been dumped on the cot nearest the door. He now lay fighting back groans, with beads of sweat standing on his face.

  “Put him over there,” I ordered, finding that my voice shook frustratingly as I pointed to another cot.

  Jarvis obeyed, laying August down gently. Then he turned and went back out.

  I longed to go take care of August, but knew that I must have a look at the other young crewman first.
From where I stood by the doorway, I could not see the extent of his injuries, but they must be very painful.

  Unbuttoning my jacket on the way over to his cot, I tossed it behind me. I’d pick it up later, and I didn’t have time just now to grab a medical tunic either. My white shirt would have to do.

  Maybe the Captain was right... maybe we do need a nurse.

  But we wouldn’t need one if the Doctor would just get better. What had Commander Howitz meant when he said...

  No. No matter how difficult it was, I had to calm myself and work professionally. I said a short prayer, took a deep breath, and stepped beside the young man’s cot.

  It was the same fellow I’d seen down in engineering, the one who’d been chased out the door. A young mate; and the unnatural angle of his arm told me there was likely a subluxation of the humerus.

  He was probably a couple of years younger than me, and with his eyes closed, his face shining with perspiration, and his hair falling over his eyes, he looked so pitiful that I felt like crying. But I scolded myself again and laid a finger gently on his shoulder.

  His eyes flew open, and a grunt of pain escaped his determined lips.

  I forced my voice to steady. “Your shoulder is dislocated. I’ll take care of it.”

  I reached into the closest medical cabinet for a local anesthetic.

  “Did you warn him?” he asked, through tightly closed teeth.

  “Not in time,” I sighed, filling a hypo with the drug.

  His left fist clenched, while the fingers of the right moved slightly. He groaned again.

  “Don’t try to move,” I urged, picking up a pair of scissors and walking around to the other side of the cot. Normally his shirt and jacket would be removed, but I’d seen easily that that would be out of the question. It would be too damaging to the shoulder, so I’d just have to cut the right sleeve of both off. His jacket was rumpled and torn—he’d have to get a new one anyway.

  After that was done, I injected the anesthetic and waited for a minute.

  “What happened down there?” I asked.

  As he answered, his voice was strained. “I had just come in—for a report—on the broken thruster. Didn’t know at first—what was going on. Guess—I shouldn’t have let them know that I wasn’t one of them.”