by F. E. Arliss
Tate, dragging Daer along to the bridge as though she was so much flotsam, shoved her into a seat along the hull, snapped her safety harness without looking, then flew into a seat at the controls alongside his mother.
“Security alert! Security alert! We have pirates breaching the starboard side of the Gem,” came the nasal voice of ‘the dumps’ security monitoring system. “Minefield in that area is not active,” it continued. “All crew with available armaments fall into safety positions. All other crew, please strap in and lock all access doors.”
“Shit!” Daer shouted, “I need to get back to my teammates!”
“Sorry, Daer,” Commander Quirke stated calmly. “You’re not going anywhere. Setting back down would endanger my load and my crew. You’re with us for now,” he added, not even bothering to turn his head towards her.
A wave of anger swept over Daer. A moment later she acknowledged that it was stupid. The Commander was right. The safest place for all of them was up and away. She’d get back somehow later on, or be given up for dead if the Clyde got plugged. He was riding heavy now, fully loaded. She wondered how much armor and armaments he had. Daer hadn’t really been paying attention when she was loading Clyde. She had just focused on the load.
Sitting back against the hull, snuggly strapped to the wall, Daer watched Moira Quirke deftly maneuver the Clyde up and away from the explosions. Once the minefield had been breached, the pirates again targeted one area in the dome shield. Daer wondered about the coordinates. Why were they targeting that area? Was there a weakness there? Possibly.
A few seconds of quiet maneuvering had the Clyde.3 hovering just to the side of one of the largest ore silos. Seconds later the dome shield fell. Moira Quirke quickly gained them space from the structure, clearly intent on setting the Clyde up for a fold space jump.
A small fighter blasted towards them, photon cannons roaring. It struck a few hits, causing the Clyde to wobble precariously. “Get us outa here, Moria,” Commander Quirke rapped. In one fell swoop, the Clyde jumped out of the sector. They were away. No damage, or so she thought. Daer simply sat stunned.
“Can you pick up any comm traffic?” she asked worriedly. “I need to hear what’s happening!”
“Put it on speaker, Tally!” Commander Quirke barked, his voice tense. “Let’s hear it.”
The following minutes were a cacophony of noise as various snippets of communications washed over the channel. It was chaos. The shield had fallen. While the new turret cannons had fired as planned, there were simply too many pirate ships. The denizens of ‘the dump’ returned fire. Crews rushed to repair the dome shield. Eight minutes later it was all over. The pirates had come and gone, leaving a mostly destroyed platform, dozens of wounded and only a few unscathed survivors.
“Maintain radio silence and mask our signature, Tally!” Quirke said brusquely. “We can’t chance the pirates picking us up.” Turning his chair to face Daer, he said simply, “I’m sorry. We can’t go back. It’s too risky. Once we arrive on Renegar, we’ll send a message about your whereabouts. Ok, girl?” he questioned a numb Daer, snapping his fingers at her to break her trance of shock.
“I am not a dog! Do not snap your fingers at me!” Daer snarled, eyes narrowing in anger. “I heard you. I understand.” she stated, getting her emotions under control.
The entire bridge crew froze. People did not snap at Commander Quirke. While he could be charming if needed, his orders since the incident began made it clear that on the Clyde, his word was law. The mangled hand halted in mid-air as Quirke swiveled to face her once again.
Daer held his gaze. She was not afraid. She was mad. Not at Quirke or the Clyde. She was mad at the damn pirates. Friggin’ bastards.
“I will not apologize. I am not a dog,” Daer repeated, calmly now.
“Good. Worried you’d shriveled up in shock and lost yer gumption,” the old man growled. “Tally’ll show ya yer bunk. Rest. Get something to eat. It’s a lot to take in when you’ve lost friends,” he added softly. “I’m sorry for that, lass.”
Before Daer could even process his words, Gavin Doyle’s panicked voice echoed through the comms. “Commander, I think you need to come down here. Several of the containment fields have breached and are leaking product.”
Heaving himself out of his command chair, Dermott Quirke turned to his wife and said, “Quarantine the cargo bay, Moira.” His grim countenance did not reassure anyone. Tate followed his father out.
Tapping frantically away, Moira Quirke tapped her comms a few minutes later and said, “It’s quarantined, love.”
A long, tense silence followed as the women on the bridge looked at each other uncertainly. “What’s in the containment fields?” Daer asked cautiously. Eying the tense and subdued mother, daughter duo.
“Weird shit!” Tally Quirke snarled suddenly at her mother. “I knew we shouldn’t have joined this Alliance.”
“Quiet!” Moira Quirke barked back at her, using a violent gesture of her hand to stop her daughter’s tyraid.
“Moira, seal the secondary cargo containment field,” Commander Quirke’s grim voice brooked no refusal.
“Daer, you may as well get some rest. We’ll figure out what’s going on in a couple of hours,” Moira Quirke said quietly. “You go on now and get some rest. You’ve lost a lot of friends. You need time to process.”
Chapter Ten
Consigned to the Clyde.3
Daer’s bunk turned out to be a narrow fold-down cot in small closet off the maintenance bay. Maintenance closets were beginning to be a thing with her, she thought with a sad smile. It didn’t look like she’d be seeing Digger any time soon. With a sad sigh, Daer fell onto the skinny slab of a bed and fell instantly asleep.
The following morning, Daer tabbed open the door that Tally had indicated was the mess area and stopped stock still in the door. It was the last thing she’d expected to find aboard a rough looking hauler like the Clyde. It was an oasis. One entire wall was filled with a hydroponic system. Plants dribbled in cascades of greenery. A mister was spraying microscopic droplets onto the pockets of greenery and corner planters each held a Meyer lemon tree and a blueberry bush. It was heaven on a wall.
The rest of the area as set up with a serviceable picnic-type table and several well worn soft sofas. It looked like a comfortable, lived-in space. Moira Quirke was at the table sitting in front of an enormous pile of what looked like egg substitute, scrambled.
Glancing up, she gestured to the counter area where a food synthesizer and drinks dispenser lined the wall. “Help yourself to coffee or whatever…,” she trailed off with a shrug. “We’ll need to discuss duties for the trip to Renegar. Even with fold-space drive it’ll take us several weeks. And now that we’re short-handed, we’ll need you very much,” she added grimly.
It was then that Daer noticed Moira’s red-rimmed puffy eyes. Drawing up short, she said, “What’s happened? Was the containment dangerous? What do you mean, short-handed?”
“Please, get yourself something and then sit. I’ll explain everything,” Moira said listlessly.
Pouring herself a cup of tea, Daer was shocked to find it of the highest quality. Good tea was as rare as clean air. Almost choking on it, she raised her eyebrows and asked, “How in the heck? Where did you get this fabulous tea? Is this from Uzi?”
“Yeah, yeah it is. Uzi has almost everything you can think of as far as crops. Nobody bothered to bring the crap stuff as there wasn’t room. It’ll take a while till they mess it up with trying to cut costs with bad farming or manufacturing practices,” Moira finished with a grimace. She clearly was as cynical as Daer.
“Have you always lived out here?” Daer asked, her curiosity urging her on, as well as her need to find out what had happened in the cargo bay.
“Yeah, I was born in space. Our family was early off the mark getting into the market for Uzi and the Frontier Station, the first deep space platform the Orbit Guard used. We Quirkes were the first suppliers in space actually
,” she finished, an obvious note of pride in her voice. “Dermott’s grandpa got us going with that before he died,” she added softly. “I miss him. He was one cantankerous old cuss.” Her face drooped with sadness as she said it.
“I’m sorry about your grandpa in-law. But it sounds like he was quite a legend,” Daer replied softly. “I’m sure you’re very proud of him.”
“Yeah, I am. He was a tough as nails Commander and kept all his sons in line. Don’t let Dermott hear you say that,” she added with a mischievous grin, then burst into tears.
“What’s going on, Moira?” Daer asked, worried now. “What’s happened?”
“The containers that broke the energy fields were containers of an alien organic product that was meant to be used in a cutting-edge armor prototype. When they broke open, they somehow combined with some of the new ore dust that we’d loaded on Gem 8. Tally has looked at the science all night and though she understands most of it, she’s doesn’t have a complete grasp of it either,” Moira added forlornly.
“Gavin, Molly, Tate and Dermott are gone. We’re not sure how. Something about the dust seems to have disintegrated them,” she choked out. Then, wailed in a contorted vision of grief, “We’ve lost them. Lost them to this damn cargo.” Folding her arms on the table, Moira Quirke bent her head into them and sobbed heart-brokenly into the dented old table.
Daer helped Moira to her feet and half carried, half dragged her to her quarters. Lowering her gently to the bed, Daer covered her with a blanket, then forced a sedative tablet down her throat with a juice pack and, sitting with her, waited till she slept.
Climbing the ladder to the bridge deck, Daer found Tally Quirke still tapping frantically away at her console. “Tell me what’s going on,” Daer said quietly to the clearly desperate young woman.
Tally turned slightly wild, bloodshot eyes to Daer and asked, “You saw mom?”
“Yes, I saw your mom in the mess. She said everyone’s gone but the three of us. Is that correct?” Daer asked, trying to state things quietly and calmly in order to maintain Tally’s delicate thread of control.
“Yes! Yes! They’re gone and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. None of the cargo is dangerous by itself, so it has to be the combination of things. All my tests are proving inconclusive. It shouldn’t have made the air poisoned or anything like that! I’m so confused,” she wailed. Then launched herself into Daer’s arms for a good long sob.
Once again Daer led another Quirke to their quarters and put her to bed. Having gotten the command codes out of a practically incoherent Tally, Daer mounted the steps to the bridge determined to find out where they were going and what the condition of the Clyde was. She also wanted to locate information on the damage at Gem 8.
Chapter Eleven
Left for Dead
Sliding into Commander Quirke’s command chair, Daer punched in the sequence of codes that allowed her to access Clyde’s logs and databases. After perusing the current status of the Clyde, Daer could see that something had disintegrated all organic matter in the cargo bay. Once the first and secondary containment shields had been raised, the contamination seemed to be confined to just that hold.
Clearly, at some point, they’d have to vent the bay and allow the decontamination bots access. When, was a whole other matter. There was the contents of the bay to consider. Where could they vent the bay without causing dire consequences to the surrounding environment? How far would the contaminants disperse? Could they then use micro-bots or nanites to clean the vented atmosphere? It was a mess, Daer thought miserably.
On top of that, the casualties on Gem 8 were enormous. Supervisor Ward and Director Kapour had both been declared dead. As, to her surprise, had she. So far, no one knew anything about how the attack had been made, though clearly, once again, the pirates had received inside information.
Daer wondered tiredly about Digger. Then was reminded that she didn’t even know where they were going. Taking the following half hour to read about Renegar, their destination, Daer wondered if they were jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. As far as she could tell, Renegar was an independent, free world, with an almost feudal ruling system.
They had a Queen, a Prince, and various Generals and Commanders. The shipping contract for the ore and other organic shipments were all in order. Loss of all or part of the contract was covered by insurance, so that was a relief. Though most of the cargo was actually intact. On the other hand, they had four dead crew members. It was a mess.
Daer spent the rest of the night, if one could call the dark of space day or night when in fold-jump, acquainting herself with Clyde. Then she sent messages to the contractor on Renegar about the current situation, and forwarding a message to Digger Cole about her whereabouts and how she came to be on the Clyde.
When Moira Quirke finally stumbled back to the bridge twelve hours later, the Clyde was on a quietly accurate trajectory to Renegar and all the report logs had been completed. Daer swept her into a tight hug and rocked her back and forth.
Disengaging with a wan smile, Moira said, “Tally is up too. She’s in the mess. Thank you for manning the bridge.”
Hurrying to put things back on an even keel, Daer explained to Moira her news that she’d been reported dead, and grimly updated her on the pirate attack on Gem 8. Then, continuing with her train of thought about the cargo’s instability, she laid out a plan she’d developed while the two other women slept.
“Since the ore and other organic compound need to be vented before we run a micro-bot cleaning, we need to find a place where the venting of the substance it’s created won’t cause widespread damage. We can then use nanites to clean the atmosphere around the Clyde and contain this stuff. I’m not sure where that would be...a containment field around the Clyde; an asteroid cavern? Frankly I’ve got no idea. I thought maybe you could run it by Tally and see if you two can come up with any idea where we could find that kind of containment,” Daer said, winding down her summary.
“I will talk to Tally about it when she comes up from the mess. Go get something to eat and we’ll all just try to absorb what’s happened and where we should proceed from here,” Moira murmured quietly.
“I’m not sure it’s actually absorbable at all,” Daer said bluntly. “This whole thing is very strange, and we’re dealing with properties of these substances that are un-researched and simply unknown. It was a risk to transport it, but someone had to. We didn’t know the pirates would attack and even though all proper safety measures were taken, no one could foresee this series of events. I’m sorry.”
Moira simply nodded. “That’s all true. It doesn’t lessen the grief, or the rage I feel.”
Daer inclined her head. “I get it,” she said simply, then left the bridge for some much needed food of her own.
Chapter Twelve
Life Goes On
After a heaping plate of scrambled protein, Daer made her way to the bridge. A brief, but concise overview of the mission and duties aboard the Clyde had her on as pilot at 1st bell for an 8 hour shift. That she could manage easily. She also volunteered for anything else that might be needed, including changing the sani-systems’ filters. No one wanted that job and Daer could tell that notched her up a few places in Tally’s eyes.
Daer was happy to learn that they also had regularly scheduled training and self-defence bouts and she reported to the area above the cargo where a small platform hung suspended over the hold. Moira Quirke was already there and worked a suspended punching bag in a brutal workout with both hands and feet.
Stopping briefly to wipe sweat from her forehead with a towel, Moira motioned Daer to her, “How are you this morning?”
“Fine. Thank you. Though I feel I should be asking you that. I’ve got my work assignments lined out with Tally and she’s loaned me a tablet. I’m on the rotation for sani-system filter clearing. So far, so good,” Daer said with a grin.
Moira motioned to the workout area. “Any particular poison that you enj
oy for your training sessions?” she asked. “We do self-defense on a rotating basis with different partners. Though we don’t have much to offer for variety now, with just Tally and I as your opponents,” Moira said, clearly fighting tears for a few moments. “Feel like you’re up for a little sparring?” she asked with an effort at a grin. “I’ll take it easy on you for your first go-round,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows.
Daer looked over the First Mate’s slenderly muscled physique. Moira Quirke looked like she could dish out the punishment. Fast too, Daer figured. Only one way to find out. “No worries. I’m up for it!” she said. “Any particular rules or brand of fighting?”
“Nope. Fight dirty, though I do loathe hair pulling. Whatever you want! I can take it all,” Moira said laughing slightly at Daer. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
