Torchship Pilot

by Karl K Gallagher

  “Only as a visitor. Most of our diplomats are persona non grata now. I’ve brought a library with biographies of those I hope to meet on our mission. Studying that will take most of my time on the trip.”

  “Of course,” said the captain. “But since this is a small crew we still need everyone contributing to keeping the ship running.”

  “I understand, Captain.”

  Schwartzenberger turned his attention to the next most senior newcomer.

  Pilot-Decurion Hiroshi didn’t like the spotlight. He still stammered out some words about growing up on Shishi and coming to Bonaventure for advanced pilot training.

  “Wait, I recognize you,” said Bing. “Weren’t you court-martialed?”

  “It—I wasn’t—” said Hiroshi.

  Simultaneously Spacer Apprentice Setta burst out, “They didn’t!”

  Hiroshi swallowed as Setta subsided. “I was acquitted,” he said.

  That sparked Mitchie’s memory. “Are you the bridge guy?”

  The co-pilot turned beet red.

  Guo placed the refilled rice bowl between himself and the ambassador. To keep the conversation moving he asked, “Which bridge?”

  Hiroshi took a deep breath. “I flew a cutter under Gold Street Bridge in Commerce City.”

  “That must’ve scared hell out of some civilians,” said Guo. “Any accidents?”

  “Nobody was hospitalized. Our instructor challenged us to do it. Well, he said he was joking but several of my classmates testified that he said it seriously.” Hiroshi finished the practiced line and looked around defiantly.

  Captain Schwartzenberger broke the silence. “Good thing for you there’s a war on, son. If we didn’t need every pair of boots so badly the board might have been rougher on you.”

  Hiroshi clenched his jaw.

  “But we’ll be careful what jokes we tell, so don’t worry,” finished the captain.

  Bing took the chance to follow up with Setta. “Why did you think I was talking to you, dear?”

  The new deckhand looked down. “Taking this assignment was part of how I avoided a court martial.” She turned to face Bing. “But it wasn’t my fault, I swear! I checked.”

  “Checked what, dear?”

  Setta decided to tell the whole story. “I’m in Supply, or was. Everyone always holds back some key parts, not in the database, for emergencies. But when the emergency happens half the time you need a different part. So we talk to each other and barter for what we really need.”

  “Happens everywhere,” said Captain Schwartzenberger.

  He’d encouraged her to talk faster. “I’d kept in touch with everyone from my training class, and I’m good at making new friends, so I had a lot of contacts to barter with.”

  Mitchie looked over the deckhand. Taller than Guo, perfect skin, and the sharp features of her warrior-caste ancestors. Yes, she had no doubt Setta could talk bored Supply NCOs into trades.

  “We found a container with some amazing stuff in it. Luxury furniture, paintings, comm gear. My boss asked around. Nobody knew where it was from. Finally they decided it must have been collected by some guy who’d retired and told me to trade it for what we needed. It went fast.”

  She sipped her juice. “Then the Fleet Master Chief came back from leave. Turned out it was his private scrounging stash. Which he’d been saving up for the change of command ceremony. My boss lost a stripe, his boss lost a stripe, my great-grandboss got a letter, and I went from being up for PO to spacer apprentice.” She shrugged. “Could be worse.”

  “Is everyone on this ship fleeing some punishment?” rumbled Ambassador Bakhunin.

  “I don’t know, sir,” replied Bing. “What did you do to get sent to the far side of enemy territory?”

  Lapis System, acceleration 0 m/s2

  The safe-passage instructions had a frequency and password. As soon as they passed through the Lapis gate Captain Schwartzenberger broadcast it. A prompt reply ordered them to drift and prepare for an inspection party.

  The boarders were Fusion Marines in full battle armor. They ordered the crew to the galley. One Marine was stationed there to watch over them. He didn’t move or talk except to order them to stay silent.

  Mitchie studied the Marine. He was in a Hunter-7 suit. She’d studied its specs. The helmet was solid titanium. The vision display took views from a 360-array of cameras ringing the outside of the helmet. Like the rest of the squad the Marine had fought the insectile appearance of the helmet by painting a skull over his face. This one had pointed teeth and long fangs but no lower jaw.

  The rest of the Marines slammed through the ship checking every compartment. Metallic pops from the bridge hatch meant they’d forced the access panels open. Eventually the mob descended to the cargo hold. Banging from there was muffled.

  Mitchie’s speculation on how much of a mess the Marines had made was answered by one of her teddy bears bouncing out of her cabin into the corridor. The black-furred plushie was intact, googly eyes in place and seams whole. She looked back at the Marine. “May I grab that before it shorts something in Hydroponics?”

  The skull face didn’t move but the shoulders gave a slight shrug. Mitchie released her seat belt, kicked off of the chair, grabbed the bear, and bounced off a bulkhead. She tossed the bear to Guo so she’d have both hands for getting back in her seat. Once she fastened her belt he passed it back to her.

  “Thank you,” Mitchie said to the Marine.

  No response.

  The sounds of armored fists on container walls faded away. Hopefully they’d be gentler in the converter room or a safe passage wouldn’t do them any good.

  After far too long the squad came back to the main deck. The sergeant ordered his men back to their shuttle. “You’ve passed inspection. You’re clear to proceed to the Danu gate. If you deviate from your filed flight plan you will be destroyed.”

  “Understood,” replied Captain Schwartzenberger. The crew all kept their seats until they heard the airlock close and shuttle detach. “All right, let’s look over the damage. Just worry about the fragile stuff. We can finish cleaning up when we’re under thrust. Long, update our course to the gate.”

  “Aye, aye,” said Mitchie.

  Lapis System, acceleration 10 m/s2

  Mitchie had bridge watch when the signal came in. Since analog ships couldn’t receive data directly the Fusion mail boat had a text to voice bot read it out over the radio. She scribbled frantically to get down the several hundred characters. The automatic repeat let her fix her mistakes. When she was finished she pressed the intercom switch for the converter room.

  “Yes?” said Guo.

  “Either a random letter generator is sending us love notes or there’s work for the code clerk,” said Mitchie.

  “I’ll be right up.”

  The mechanic made good time to the bridge. He stole a kiss from his wife before taking the message. “Thanks.” He stepped back to the hatch.

  “Not going to decrypt it here?” she asked.

  He just shook his head with a smirk and slid down the ladder.

  ***

  The message didn’t come up again until halfway through dinner. Captain Schwartzenberger said, “Heard we got a note from home.”

  Mitchie didn’t pause in chewing her bread but her attention locked on Guo.

  Her husband replied, “Routine administrative stuff, sir. Nothing we need to know about.”

  “Okay. Let me know if we get anything interesting.” The captain went back to slicing his meat.

  That’s it? Mitchie carefully controlled her expression. There was nothing to be gained by showing how amazed she was at the captain’s lack of curiosity.

  ***

  Between the routine of cruising and having some new crew on board the newlyweds had gotten their schedules synched up all the time. Mitchie gave her husband a little time to unwind after getting off shift before bringing up her concern.

  When he laid down in bed she snuggled up. “Have any trouble wi
th the decryption?” she asked.

  “Nope,” answered Guo smugly. “Had a clean copy on the first try.”

  “Interesting reading?”

  “Nah.”

  “What was it about?”

  “Can’t say,” said Guo.

  “Sure you can.” Mitchie pressed her naked body a little more firmly against his.

  “It’s classified.”

  “I have clearances.”

  “You don’t have Need To Know.” Guo enunciated the capitals clearly.

  “Ship’s officers automatically have Need To Know.”

  “Just the commander and XO.”

  “I’m XO!” protested Mitchie. “I’m the second ranking officer.”

  “No, that’s Bing. She has the slot.”

  The cuddle had been abandoned. Mitchie was sitting up cross-legged. Guo rolled onto his side to face her.

  “I can order you to tell me,” she said.

  “No, you can’t.” Guo’s voice shifted to a formal cadence as he quoted the regulation. “Code clerks must only divulge classified information to the proper recipients. Rank does not provide access to restricted information”

  Her glare made him look away. So when she pushed him onto his back and kissed him hard he didn’t see it coming.

  ***

  Guo’s panting had slowed. He still wasn’t going to be saying anything more without major effort. Mitchie studied the cabin’s ceiling. The former dividing wall had met the curving outer hull with a T-flange. Since it wasn’t structural the yard had left some gaps between the welds.

  The gaps were well out of her reach. Guo rolled onto his side to enjoy her stretching. Mitchie unlatched a footstool from the deck and placed it under where the hull met the ceiling. She didn’t bother latching it into place. What was one more broken regulation now?

  Standing on the footstool let her reach up, much to Guo’s enjoyment, and touch the flange. A fingernail made contact with a folded piece of paper and nudged it out of the narrow niche. Once a corner stuck out she grabbed it and had the whole thing out.

  Still standing on the footstool (at grave risk if the ship maneuvered while she was on an unsecured platform) she unfolded the message. “All front-line ships. Rear Admiral Min Chang assumes command of Second Blockade Flotilla effective immediately. By order of Admiral White, Defense Coordinating Committee.” She looked at Guo. “That’s it?”

  He had his breathing back under control. “I said it wasn’t anything we needed to know about.”

  Mitchie hopped down and returned the footstool to its original locked-down position. She sat on the edge of the bed.

  Guo slid over and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Was that worth getting me to commit a court-martial offense?” he asked.

  “No,” she sighed. “Barely worth classifying in the first place.”

  “Then let’s behave ourselves.” Guo pulled her into bed. He pressed the light switch on the headboard. They went to sleep spooned together, not bothering with the mandatory restraining strap to keep them in the bed during maneuvers.

  ***

  Mitchie walked into the Hydroponics room. Hiroshi scraped old algae off a screen to go into the cooker. He was being thorough about it—no specks left to infect the next batch with rot. Exactly as she’d taught the three newbies to do it.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Ma’am?” said her co-pilot. “They’re due for rotation.”

  “I know. Why are you doing it instead of Bakhunin?”

  “We traded shifts, ma’am.”

  Putting her hands on her hips and glaring was only an effective strategy when Mitchie had already intimidated someone. Fortunately Hiroshi fell in that category.

  “Um, that is, he’s paying us to take his shifts,” he said.

  “Us?”

  “Me and Spacer Setta, ma’am.”

  “Uh-huh.” More glaring. “Are you both familiar with the regulations on crew rest?”

  Hiroshi brightened up a little. “Yes, ma’am. We reviewed the regs and schedules to make sure we could cover it all without breaking a rule.”

  Mitchie didn’t doubt that. The crew had been dividing the same work among fewer people before they came on board. She’d be fine with the arrangement if it wasn’t for that arrogant SOB escaping getting his hands dirty. But dealing with the Ambassador was the captain’s call.

  “Carry on,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am!” He went back to scraping.

  Danu System, acceleration 10 m/s2

  Mitchie missed the next classified message’s arrival. She knew when it was decrypted. She and the captain were on the bridge together. Guo came up and handed Schwartzenberger the message. He glanced through it and handed it back.

  “No worries for us,” said Captain Schwartzenberger. “Thanks, Chief.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” Guo gave Mitchie a wink before going below.

  She bit her tongue and tried to concentrate on taking a sight.

  ***

  Two days later she hadn’t said anything about the message. Guo hadn’t used the same hiding spot. Or any other place on the flange. The crannies of the bed and cabinets had no paper in them. Going through his books revealed a possible love poem in classical Chinese.

  Eventually Mitchie wound up eying her teddy bears suspiciously. He’d seen her use them as hiding places. But he couldn’t do seams as neat as hers so there was no need to open them up to check.

  On day three she still didn’t ask Guo about it. She wasn’t talking much though. She’d started to fidget. I must look like Uncle Edwin when he was quitting nicks. The worst part was catching Guo smirking when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  The next day at bedtime Mitchie was brushing her hair before the mirror with excessive force. Guo came up behind her. He took the brush out of her hand. His arms wrapped around her, hands on her breasts, and pulled her tight against his chest. His tongue licked the curve of her ear.

  “You have some energy to work off,” he whispered.

  She looked in the mirror. He still had the damn I’ve-got-a-secret smirk. Mitchie turned around and kissed him anyway.

  He carried her to the bed and tried to toss her into the middle. She’d wrapped her legs around him so he fell over on top of her. Neither complained.

  Some time later they were trying to catch their breath. Mitchie’s fingertip traced lines around Guo’s face, looking for tense muscles. It drifted down his throat. “Talk to me,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  The smirk reappeared. “I’ve got a secret.”

  Mitchie’s frustration broke out. “So tell me!” Her hand wrapped over Guo’s throat.

  “Make me,” he laughed.

  Mitchie climbed on top of her husband and proceeded to make him.

  A couple of hours later, when he could talk again, Guo recited the message. “All front-line ships. Current low level of Fusion activity is expected to continue. Ships may stand down to readiness level three at CO’s discretion. By order of Rear Admiral Galen.”

  “Doesn’t make any difference to us,” said Mitchie. The Joshua Chamberlain didn’t have enough crew to run at a higher readiness.

  “That’s what the captain said.”

  “Why the hell is HQ sending us this stuff?”

  “We’re part of the fleet now,” said Guo. “We’re supposed to know this stuff.”

  She didn’t answer. Guo lay beside her feeling sleep creep up on him. Maybe he could talk her into getting up to put the strap on the bed. Mitchie rolled off the bed and stood at the edge. Guo turned his head and found her glaring at him.

  “Asshole!” The pillow came down on his face so fast only his eyelids reacted in time.

  “Son of a bitch!” He got his hands up to protect his face but the next swing hit his stomach hard enough to force out an “oof!”

  “Jackass!” Guo had pulled his legs up just in time to catch the third swing on his
knees. He curled up on his side, arms around his head, laughing hysterically as pillow and verbal abuse continued.

  When Mitchie paused to think of a new obscenity he grabbed her forearm and torqued it onto the bed like a wrench tightening a fist-sized bolt. “Let’s talk,” he said.

  Mitchie tried to wiggle her arm free. She decided talking was her best option. “You’re manipulating me.”

  Guo met her eyes calmly. “Yes.”

  “You’re flaunting classified information just to mess with my head.”

  “Not just your head.” Guo pulled her onto the bed. This time she didn’t resist. “You see, my lovely cryptosexual, you have buttons. I like pushing your buttons. You like having your buttons pushed.”

  “I don’t like being manipulated,” said Mitchie.

  “Actually you’ve been having a great time.”

  She smacked his shoulder. “Not that. I don’t like . . .”

  Guo filled it in for her. “Not being in control.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’re still the officer, and the pilot, and the one carrying out the mission. That’s a lot of control. You’ll just have to accept you can’t control everything.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

  “I still think you’re being an asshole.” She relaxed into the cuddle. “How in the hell did you get us put on the classified message distribution anyway?”

  Guo shifted uncomfortably against her back. “Well, you don’t have a lot of friends at Redondo Field.”

  “I didn’t enlist to make friends. So what?”

  “So when I mentioned a possible, um, practical joke we could play on you I got a lot of cooperation.”

  “Seriously?” She could feel his shrug. “Okay, I guess I did piss some people off.” Besides the Admiral and the Inspector General and the people who were in my way.

  “I’m not pissed at you.” He was starting to sound sleepy again.

  “I’m not pissed at you either,” said Mitchie. “Much.”