by Tony Healey
“Yeah . . .” Dollar said. He looked away.
Jessica chose to move away from the subject. “This whole situation must have been so strange to begin with,” she said. “But you’ve dealt with it well. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Do you ever, you know, think about . . . them? That whole time?”
It was, perhaps, the most awkward question she’d ever asked him. But late at night, when she was at the point of going to sleep, Jessica pondered it too. As if the video message had not been enough, here was Gerard “Hawk” Nowlan, a once-famous hero of the Union during the heyday of the Terran-Draxx war. Son of the infamous rogue the media had called “The Tattooed Man,” back in the day. Now he went by the name Dollar. And he was undeniable proof of another timeline. Proof of a version of herself that had lived and died in the service of the crew she loved.
I will do you proud, she’d once told herself, late at night, as she lay contemplating what had happened. You died for them. You died for me. I will not let all of that be in vain.
“I think about it sometimes,” Dollar admitted. “But I try not to. It’ll drive yuh mad, y’know? I can’t say I don’t miss ‘em from time to time though.”
She didn’t press him on the matter. Some things were best accepted… and left at that.
“Oh, and your trusty kataan? You don’t miss that?” Jessica asked him.
To this Dollar gave a sly smirk. “Well, there’s some things it’s hard to give up. There might be a storage container somewhere on this ship with a kataan in it, but I couldn’t honestly say I know what you’re talkin’ about, Cap.”
She shook her head. Picked up her drink and took a sip. “Cowboys . . .”
17.
“Any aches and pains?”
Jessica shook her head. “It’s like I don’t even have it. It’s weird.”
Dr. Clayton checked the readout. “You seem to have taken to the medication well,” he said. “In fact you’ve responded more than well. The treatment has been kind of miraculous. Blood pressure’s higher than normal, though, but in all fairness that’s probably to be expected.”
“Oh, really? Does it do that?” Jessica asked him.
Clayton smiled. “No. Not the medication. I meant the stress you’ve been under.”
“Right.”
He put his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat and regarded her as a wizened adult looks at a child. “When was the last time you put your feet up and just relaxed?”
“Doc, really, I don’t need –”
He held up a hand. “Save it. I’m ordering you take a few hours off. ASAP. As your ship’s surgeon, you do know I can have you removed from command for being medically unfit, don’t you?”
“Are you implying you’d start an insurrection?” King asked him. “Have me thrown in the brig?”
“Sure will if you don’t do as you’re told, for chrissakes!” Clayton said. “Now do what your doctor orders and take the night off. Have a goddamn drink. Dance. Have a doze on the sofa. Read a novel from the ship’s library. Whatever it takes to relax.”
“Okay. Point taken,” she said. “I’ll admit I don’t give myself enough time off. Maybe I should.”
“You definitely should.”
“And I will do, Doc. Tonight,” she assured him.
“Good. Now, you do remember what I told you, don’t you? This stuff won’t cure you. But it will deal with the symptoms… fingers crossed, of course. What does that mean? Well, it means the MS will always be there. You’ve got it the rest of your life.”
“I know . . .” Jessica said softly. The implications of her condition weren’t lost on her. “It’s nice to be able to forget it’s there, though.”
“And to know you probably won’t end up in a hover chair in ten years time,” Clayton said. “However, I’ll make the point about the stress thing again. Don’t give yourself enough time off, get yourself too stressed, and the symptoms of the MS will most likely make a return. Forget the medication. There’s only so much it can do for you. You’ve gotta help it along, too.”
“Understood, Doctor,” she said and hopped off the edge of the bed.
“Where’re you going?”
She headed straight for the door. Thanks to Clayton, she’d not felt so good in a long time. The drugs were working. It was a kind of remission – one she hoped her condition would never return from.
“Me? I’m off duty as of now, Doctor.”
18.
Discovered by the starship Avalon and named by Captain Laurie Plutom herself three centuries beforehand, the Rift stretched like a belt across several systems. Consisting of corrosive nebulous gases and boiling plasma, the Plutom Rift proved a challenging prospect for any and all who dared to cross it. Many ships had been lost to it, but a full three centuries later, the Rift had finally been conquered. A starship travelling at just the right speed, following the correct route and fitted with the correct kit could traverse the Rift without incident.
And so it was that the Defiant ploughed its way through the incandescent extremities of the Plutom Rift, the glowing green energies parting along the Defiant‘s bow, like waves of phosphorous breaking before a ship on the open sea.
As it cruised the Rift, encountering the occasional pocket of turbulence as the Defiant‘s passage caused one gas or another to react in a mildly explosive manner against the hull, it was not unexpected for the crew to dim the lights and observe the light show beyond the porthole.
As Captain Laurie Plutom herself had noted, three hundred years earlier:
“. . . at no other time was I so reminded of that bygone age, when men and women – shackled to our native Earth as they were – travelled the seas of our world. And where they encountered strangeness, where they met with the unknown, they similarly found themselves on the high tides of majesty. In the presence of such beauty, one can only feel humbled at our small, insignificant place in the galaxy…”
* * *
“She said it’s some kind of tradition,” Commander Greene said as he and the Chief approached the door to Captain King’s quarters. “Some old maritime thing.”
“Has she ever sailed on the water?” Chief Meryl Gunn asked him.
The Commander laughed. “No. But maybe she’s read about it.”
They signalled at her door, and then stepped in. King had the lights down in there, but it was in no way dark. The bright green glow of the Rift itself filled the room.
“Come in. Have a seat,” Jessica said.
Commander Chang was already there, nursing a glass of something neither the Commander or the Chief could readily identify.
“Hey,” Chang said.
“What’s your poison?” Gunn asked as she sat.
“Sake,” Chang said. “I’ve not had any in ages. Miraculously, the Captain had a bottle stowed away.”
“Oh really?” Greene asked.
Jessica shrugged midway through fixing their drinks. “What? A girl’s not allowed to have a hobby?”
“Collecting different liquor ain’t no hobby, Captain,” Greene remarked. “It’s a worry note in Doctor Clayton’s file.”
“Oh shush,” Jessica said. She handed him and the Chief a glass each of Sake. “Get that down you. And less of the Captain, Del. There’s no ranks in here tonight.”
“Rank free, eh?” Gunn asked.
“Uh-huh,” King said. She indicated the cards on the table. “And no quitters allowed.”
“What’re we playing?” Greene asked. He sipped his drink with trepidation but evidently found it agreeable, since it didn’t end up spat out. “Snap?”
“No. It’s a little something I’ve been wanting to try for a while. It’s called Quadrille. Ever heard of it?” she asked them.
Chang shook her head. “No, but now I see the significance of there being four of us here.”
“Traditionally, it was a ladies’ game, so apologies for that in advance, Del,” Jessica said. “It dates back to antiqui
ty but I think you’ll enjoy it, anyway.”
Gunn slapped his arm, laughing. “Oh, he’s nothing but a big girl anyway. You really think it’s going to bother him he’s playing a ladies’ game with a bunch of women?”
“Oit…” Greene said.
“And I’m afraid there won’t be any dressing up,” Jessica said.
The Commander rolled his eyes. He said “Oh right…” in a defeated tone of voice.
“Ah, now you’ve ruined his whole evening,” Gunn said.
Lisa Chang just sat there sniggering to herself.
“Picking on a boy, three onto one . . .” Greene said.
Jessica drank her Sake, then sat down next to Chang. “Right, shall I tell you all how it’s played? As I said it was a ladies’ game. It originates from eighteenth century France. Like I said, antiquity.”
They all knew France and much of Spain had been wiped from the face of the Earth by an asteroid impact in 2930.
“Can I have another drink?” Greene asked, defeated.
“In a minute. First you have to hear the rules,” Jessica said.
Outside, the Plutom Rift drifted past. A sea of deep green cloud banks and away in the distance, what could have been mistaken for distant lightning going off like fireworks over the ocean.
19.
The last tendrils of the Plutom Rift parted for them, a curtain of swirling green mist that swept aside to afford them a sudden view of the Namar system.
“Report,” Captain King said as she arrived on the bridge. Luckily, just in time to see the Namar system presented before the Defiant. She sat in the captain’s chair.
“Entering the Namar system,” Chang reported. “I’m plotting the location of the Enigma now.”
“Very well,” King said. She watched as their expected course – and target – appeared as a graphic overlay on the viewscreen. A label identified the moon NA-45.
“Altering course and speed to accommodate,” Banks said.
“Good. Not too fast, Lieutenant. And when we come within five million kilometres, I want you to bring us to a full stop,” Jessica ordered.
The Defiant turned toward the inner planets, and there was a barely perceptible tilt to the bridge as Banks handled her with expert skill. “Aye,” he said.
“Commander, anything in the vicinity?” she asked.
Greene shook his head. “Whole system’s dead, or so it seems. No signs of activity.”
“Until now,” King said.
“Let’s hope ‘The Graveyard’ is just a euphemism,” Greene added.
* * *
“Firing braking thrusters,” Lieutenant Banks declared as he brought the Defiant to a full stop. Up ahead, the Enigma was a small, black oblong crossing the face of the moon around which it was in orbit. NA-45 was a dirty, brown colour, with notes of sulphur in its upper atmosphere.
“What can you tell me about the planetoid beyond?” King asked.
“High speed winds blasting the surface with silicate particles, acid rain, a thin nitrogen atmosphere,” Chang said. “Definitely not a holiday destination.”
“Nice,” King said. “And the Enigma itself?”
“Never seen anything like it,” Chang said. “Not in terms of a starship design, anyway. And certainly not anywhere near that size.”
“Prepare the probes,” Commander Greene told her.
“Aye.”
Jessica accessed her comm. controls. “Doctor Gentry to the bridge, please. Doctor Gentry to the bridge.”
Commander Chang looked up from her console. “Probe’s ready to launch.”
“Do it,” Commander Greene ordered.
“Yes Ma’am. Launching now,” Chang said. There was a soft whoosh from somewhere, and then the two probes appeared on the viewscreen, speeding away from the front end of the Defiant.
“Track them,” Jessica ordered.
“Aye,” Chang said.
“Holding at five million kilometres,” Banks announced as he shut off the braking thrusters.
“Excellent,” Jessica said. She looked across at Olivia Rayne. “Ensign, are you detecting any communications from that thing?”
Rayne shook her head. “No, Captain. Whatever it is, it’s totally silent on all spectrums and frequencies.”
“Thirty seconds until contact,” Chang said. She watched her readouts intently.
The probes’ paths appeared on the viewscreen as red lines, both converging at the same point. The Enigma . . .
“Ten seconds.”
“Talk us through it,” Jessica said.
Chang licked her lips. “Probe One will cover every angle of the Enigma with cameras, holographic mapping sensors and will detect any traces of radiation. Probe Two is using everything in its arsenal to figure out what it’s made of, its velocity, mass. It will also fire its jets at the Enigma to test Doctor Gentry’s theory.”
“What theory’s that again?” Greene asked.
“That the device may be made up of anti-matter,” a voice said behind them. Dr. Gentry stepped onto the bridge. “And if it is, we would no longer exist if we were to dock with it.”
“I thought I remembered something about shooting garbage at it . . .” Greene mumbled.
“Welcome to the bridge, Doctor,” King said. “Take a seat. I thought you’d appreciate being up here.”
“Thank you, thank you, yes,” he said. He picked the nearest seat and plonked himself down on it. “It’s all very exciting!”
Commander Greene gave Jessica a look that said, “I can’t believe you’ve let him up here,” but she simply dismissed it.
“Probe Two firing jets now,” Chang said.
“Everyone close your eyes!” Dr. Gentry boomed. All bridge hands turned to watch him cower forward, hands over his eyes, expecting the end of the universe as they knew it.
Nothing happened.
“No reaction,” Chang said with what sounded like borderline laughter.
“Maintain your composure, Lieutenant. All heads forward! Everyone focus on the task at hand,” Jessica snapped.
Dr. Gentry looked up. “Oh, we weren’t obliterated . . .” he said in a tone that sounded almost disappointed.
“Probes holding position around the Enigma, Captain,” Commander Chang said.
“Good. Keep them in a fixed flight path. Why don’t you head on down to the briefing room with Doctor Gentry and collate the data from there? Commander Greene and myself will be along in a few minutes,” King said.
“Aye,” Chang said. Gentry got up and left with her.
Commander Greene walked over to the science and tactical station. He watched on the sensor readout as the Enigma started to drift out of direct line of sight.
“We’ll lose visual soon,” he said.
“Yes, and in a few hours we’ll get it back,” Jessica said. She got up and headed for the door. “That should give us enough time to decide our next move.”
20.
The lights dimmed in the briefing room and the holo-display came to life before them.
“Here is the visual telemetry from Probe One,” Chang said.
The display showed the approach to the Enigma. The sheer size of the thing was awe inspiring. It was truly massive, and as the probe swung about to do a full fly-by, it was clear that the Enigma was precision engineering at an epic scale.
“No blemishes. Nothing to break it up,” Commander Greene said.
“Sorry, Commander, but that is quite incorrect,” Dr. Gentry said. He pointed to the display, rewinding it and slowing the footage to show the side of the giant black cylinder. “Do you see them?”
Jessica leaned forward. “Those lines?”
“Yes. Splits in the hull. From what I saw, those lines cover the entire circumference of the cylinder,” Gentry said. “Perhaps the vessel was constructed in three parts. Or is intended to be separated into three when the need arises.”
“Hmm . . .” Jessica said, lost in her own thoughts.
“Moving on,” Chang said. She s
tarted the display again. The probe swung around the cylinder, then proceeded to map the surface. The video footage cut off, replaced by a perfectly accurate 3D model of the Enigma. “Aside from those lines, there are no markings on the sides of the ship. However, I have noted markings at each end.”
“Propulsion?” Greene asked.
Chang swung the model of the Enigma about, manipulating the projection with her hands. Then she zoomed in. One end of the cylinder expanded until it nearly consumed the entire room.
“These three holes would appear to be vents of some kind. I’d wager that they’re some form of propulsion, as the Commander just posited,” Commander Chang said.
“BUT!” Gentry almost yelled. It made them jump. He took over, zoomed out, then swung the model about to show the opposite end. “Here, at the front, I believe we have a docking port.”
Jessica’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yes, but it will require a great amount of skill to mate the Defiant to it,” Gentry said, almost chuckling at the innuendo. “The cylinder – excuse me, the Enigma – shows a persistent rotation of one gee.”
He zoomed back in, now showing a single circular airlock.
“You know, I’ve seen a lot of weird ships,” King said. “But most have the basics. A means of propulsion, an airlock, a front and a back.”
“Well, we have an airlock. But how do we attach to it? Do we know the composition of the hull?” Greene asked.
Commander Chang consulted the data collected from Probe Two. “An unknown alloy. Slightly rough in texture. Little to no reflective properties. If this thing weren’t in front of a planet, it wouldn’t have been seen at all.”
“Yes, the rough texture no doubt caused by the constant bombardment of micro-meteors and debris,” Dr. Gentry offered.
“Thank you, Doctor,” King said. She turned to Commander Greene. “Have the Chief knock something up. Perhaps some kind of pressure seal.”
