Ghost Ship

by Kathryn Hoff

  “I got you. Just stay limp.” When the tether reached its limit, Archer rebounded, the energy of his initial leap dissipating a little with each recoil. Gently, gently, I gathered in the length of tether, directing his course to me. “All right, stay relaxed. Reach for the grab bar. Right.”

  He settled next to me, clutching the grab bar with both hands. Through his faceplate, his eyes were wide, face grim.

  Through clenched teeth, he muttered, “I…hate…this.”

  Kojo’s voice came over the com. “Patch, will you two stop playing around? We need those mods.”

  “Coming. Decomp complete, opening hatch on Duchess.”

  Duchess’s airlock was much bigger than ours. I secured Archer’s tether inside and held both palms toward him: Stay. He nodded, gripping the handholds.

  One by one, with tiny tugs and pushes I shifted the four power mods to Duchess’s airlock, taking care never to let the velocity of the heavy mods get out of hand.

  “All right. Closing hatch, beginning compression.”

  It took only a couple of minutes for the airlock to match Duchess’s reduced air pressure.

  The interior hatch opened to reveal what should have been a cargo hold, but it was filled with survey equipment.

  The expedition ship was dark and quiet as…well, as a tomb.

  Archer and I floated in, our helmet lights swinging over dark consoles and crates, making shadows that seemed to race across the hold as we moved.

  With nudges and pats, I pulled in the four power mods and resealed the airlock.

  Archer pivoted, his movements sending him into a slow roll. “Gah. Which way’s the engine room? Or up, for that matter?”

  And he bumped into a floating body.

  “Ah!” Archer jerked, driving himself into the bulkhead with a bang.

  “Easy,” I cautioned. “Tiny movements.”

  The stiff, frozen Terran—militia uniform, eyes half-open, bent as if he’d been seated—floated peacefully to the ceiling.

  Archer screeched, “Who the hell left him here?”

  An enviro-suited specter rose from behind a bank of consoles. Davo’s cackle came over the com. “Sorry, boyo. Found him at his station in the engine room, poor sod. Just needed to get him out of the way.”

  “Out of the way of what?” I demanded. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just poking around.” Davo leaned closer to the banks of consoles, his helmet light reflecting on frosted dials and screens. “What d’ya suppose all this stuff is?”

  I swept my wrist light over the equipment. “High-res scanner, analyzer.” Survey drones were secured in a bank by the bulkhead—Barony had equipped Duchess well to find new mining sites.

  “Davo, show Archer the way to engineering,” I said. “I’ll bring the power mods.”

  “Righto.” Davo floated easily out the hatch to the aft passage.

  Archer hand-over-handed himself behind, clinging to consoles and battens, grumbling. “How the hell am I supposed to work like this?”

  Pulling the dead engineer’s body by his collar, I floated down the ship’s dark passage and opened the first cabin I came to—a spartan stateroom with another body reposing in the bunk. I hauled in the dead engineer and strapped him into a chair.

  “We’ve come to take you home,” I murmured. He was faithful to his duty. May his ancestors welcome him with joy.

  “Patch, where are those mods?” Kojo demanded.

  “Coming.”

  I prodded the mods through the passages in slow stages, trying not to let them batter the bulkheads. In the engine room, Kojo and Archer peered at the frozen displays.

  “Where’d Davo get to?”

  His voice came over the mic. “Up on the command deck, trying to make sense of these damn Barony controls.”

  With slow, tight movements, I shifted the fresh power mods into their niches in the engine room. The spent mods, I floated to the cold storage hold—now as frigid as space. The dying crew had left the ion collectors fully deployed, but too few ions from the red sun had reached the ship. The collectors had yielded only a trickle of power—barely enough to power the distress call.

  While Kojo and Archer investigated whether the engines could be brought to an operational state, I floated from cabin to cabin, counting the dead. Thirteen bodies in bunks, including two couples locked together in frozen embraces.

  Other than the corpses, the cabins were tidy and secure. The Barony captain must have maintained strict discipline—no personal mementos, all clothing neatly stowed, no provisions left out to attract vermin.

  How sad. I remembered how Papa had raged and fought against the fever that took his life. Had no one on Grand Duchess rebelled against the inevitable?

  Well, maybe a couple had. In the mess hall, two uniformed militia members drifted in midair. A brandy bottle nestled against the ceiling, surrounded by frozen brandy droplets, as if some deity had stopped time in the midst of a drunken hailstorm.

  Somehow, the minor mutiny they represented reassured me.

  I secured the crewmen in their chairs and tucked the bottle under the arm of one of them. To each one, I made a silent promise. We’ve come to take you home.

  One uniformed crew member lay crumpled in one of the observation turrets, the glaring red sun his last view in life. That left two crew members to locate.

  I worked my way to the command deck.

  Davo sat at the command console, fidgeting one-handed with the buttons and dials. The two crew members—captain and first mate?—were there, too, one at the watch station, one left to drift. Both were wearing enviro suits, their helmet faceplates gaping open.

  I could imagine the scene. The rest of the crew and science staff dispersed through the ship, wherever they felt the most comfortable, to face death as they chose. The captain and first mate, sealed into the command deck, using any remaining power to warm and recycle the oxy on that last bit of the ship, hoping against hope for a rescue. Donning enviro suits when the power failed and the command deck cooled and the ambient oxy was used up. And finally, the last of the oxy cannisters empty, opening their helmet faceplates to gasp their last.

  Through the canopy, Sparrowhawk clung to Duchess’s port side. Beyond, the gas giant loomed. We were so close that the planet eclipsed any view of space beyond. Its frozen atmosphere reflected the red sun’s glancing light in a murky magenta.

  As the command deck rotated away from the planet, the view was even more discouraging: the bitter darkness of the Gloom. No distant star’s light penetrated the ether, no moon, no companion planet to brighten the night.

  What a horrible place to spend their last moments.

  “Davo, why don’t you leave that until we get the power up?” I asked.

  Davo jumped. “Ah, it’s you, girl. I plugged in some juice from my suit, just to get a handle on things. What are you doing, sneaking around the ship?”

  “Tidying up.” I snared the captain’s body and secured it into the communications station. “I believe in treating the dead with respect.”

  “Dead’s dead,” Davo said. “They won’t care.”

  Malice seemed to fill the frozen eyes of Duchess’s captain.

  With a shiver, I repeated my silent promise. We’re taking you home.

  Back on Sparrowhawk a few hours later, Charity helped me put out a supper of pasta and peas. Grand Duchess’s blank hull filled the viewscreen until I switched to the portside view. That view was barely better: as Sparrow rotated, the dusky planet was followed by the depressing Gloom in a slow parade.

  Kojo took his usual place at the head of the table. As Archer took a seat between me and Charity, he shot a frowning look at Kojo.

  Damn. That was why I’d hesitated to tell Archer the truth about Kojo screwing up with Ordalo—a feud between the ship’s captain and engineer was a recipe for disaster. Archer was a long-thinking, slow-burn kind of guy. I didn’t think he’d confront Kojo about putting me in danger, at least not right away, but he wouldn�
�t forget about it, either.

  Lost in his own disappointment, Kojo didn’t seem to notice Archer’s surliness.

  “I don’t think we can do it,” he said, pushing pasta around on his plate. “Grand Duchess won’t be able to break away from the planet using normal propulsion—she’ll need a long thruster burn. The problem is, her power mods were completely drained—that red sun hardly gives enough ions to keep a kitten warm. We just don’t have enough mods to spare to give Duchess that kind of push.”

  Hiram scowled at Davo. “Maybe if you’d told us your derelict was a whale and not a minnow, we’d have brought a few more mods.”

  “We could try, though, couldn’t we?” Charity asked. “Put as many mods as you can spare and run thrusters till they’re drained?”

  Kojo shook his head. “If we try to break her free and fail, it could make the situation worse.”

  Charity harrumphed. “How can it be worse? They’re all dead.”

  “Could make her orbit even less stable.” Kojo stabbed a pea with his fork and circled it around a pile of fusilli. “The problem is gravity. If we push Duchess out, but not enough, she’ll fall back—and maybe spiral right into atmo. She’ll be crushed along with whoever’s aboard her.” He whirled the pea inward until it disappeared into the pasta.

  “Maybe there’s an alternative,” I said. “We could convert one of Sparrow’s holds to cold storage and bring back the bodies and personal effects. And the survey records, and as much of the equipment as we could manage. That would be worth a reward to Barony, wouldn’t it?”

  Davo scowled. “I didn’t bring you all the way here to pick up dead meat. There must be a way. Kwame woulda…”

  “Kwame’s gone,” Hiram snapped. “You needn’t be invoking his name like he’s a genie what’s gonna pop out and grant your every wish. Kojo’s captain on this ship and you’ll treat him as such.” He glanced over at Kojo, whose eyes were wide in astonishment. “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain.”

  I was astonished, too. I’d been expecting Kojo to lose his temper with Davo, but Hiram? I guess the old history of rivalry between them wasn’t quite dead.

  Kojo tweaked a smile. “Davo, Hiram’s right. We all would appreciate if you stopped presuming to know what my dad would do, especially since your last words with him were nearly twenty years ago. As for Grand Duchess, we just don’t have enough mods to power her thrusters. Patch’s plan might be the best we can do.”

  I’d been keeping an eye on Archer. He stared at his plate, using his fork and knife to divide his food into precise rows. Under the table his left knee bounced.

  I nudged him. “You’ve got something on your mind, I can tell. Spill.”

  He looked up. “I think…actually, I’m pretty sure we can get her out. We can use jump cells.”

  Davo snorted. “You’re daft. Ain’t no jump gate in the Gloom, boyo.”

  Kojo’s brow furrowed. “Spell it out for me.”

  Archer turned his focus back to his plate, partitioning off a line of peas. “It’s kind of roundabout. Duchess was configured for sublight travel only, she relies on power mods, doesn’t even have jump cell bays. All her mods are drained, and we don’t have enough mods to power a ship that size long enough to break her free of orbit and get us all back home. But we do have jump cells. About twenty?”

  “Twenty-one,” I said. Enough for us to sail comfortably through the star corridors from Kriti to the Saipan system.

  Archer nodded, subdividing his peas. “We used a cable to transfer power from Sparrow to Duchess’s airlock. I could extend that system, use heavier cables. If we load up all four of Sparrow’s jump cell bays, I could send the charges directly into Duchess’s escape thrusters. It will probably blow out her propulsion within a few seconds, but those few seconds could give Duchess one big kick—enough to get her out of orbit.”

  “That’s crazy.” Charity’s expression wavered between puzzlement and amusement, as if she wasn’t sure whether to laugh. “Daddy, maybe we should just leave and come back with more power mods.”

  Davo shook his head emphatically. “This is our one chance, girl. Not sure I want to waste it on a cockamamie scheme, though. I always heard that jump technology and power mods can’t be mixed, that being why they have separate bays and all.”

  Archer waggled both hands and all his fingers. “That’s the blowing-out-propulsion part. If Duchess runs full-bore thrusters, five seconds, that ought to be enough to get the joined ships out of orbit.”

  I winced at the thought of enduring that much thrust, even for five seconds.

  Kojo’s face scrunched. “How? To keep the cable connections, the two ships would have to stay linked. Do you expect Duchess to drag Sparrow along behind her at full-bore thrust? The grappler struts will shatter in a nanosecond.”

  “Of course not. Both ships will run thrusters at the same time.”

  Kojo turned to me, one eyebrow raised.

  I shook my head, unconvinced. “Archer, supposing we succeed in blasting Duchess away from the planet, what about afterward? If Duchess’s propulsion is blown, Sparrow will have to tow her all the way to Barony. If the course to Barony is as rough as the course we took to get here, I’m not sure we can manage it.”

  “The course ain’t so bad,” Davo said. “A bit of turbulence, and a couple of hard turns around grav hazards. My skimmer can do it easy.”

  Archer bobbed his head. “Even without main propulsion, Duchess’s maneuvering rockets should still be available. With a few of Sparrow’s power modules, we can keep Duchess aligned with Sparrow during any sticky bits.”

  He sat back, as if all that were perfectly reasonable.

  Davo rubbed his stiff hand. “Hmm. Done this before, have you, boyo?”

  “Never. But in theory, it should work.”

  “Well, then.” Davo grinned. “That’s more like it. Good thinking, boyo.”

  Kojo shook his head. “It’s an interesting idea, but I don’t see any need to take the risk. We’ll do like Patch suggests, restore the ship’s logs and the crew’s remains to Barony. With that proof, Davo, if they still want the hull, they’ll probably be happy to pay you to lead a better-equipped expedition to salvage her. If they work fast, they can get Duchess out before she slips into atmo.”

  Hiram sighed. Charity slumped, no doubt seeing her chance at flight school fading away.

  I looked at Kojo in surprise. I was supposed to be the cautious one. Part of me was pleased that Kojo was finally beginning to show a little common sense, but part of me was annoyed—I’d expected more of a fight from Kojo. I might even have given in. We wouldn’t get anything close to fifty thousand if all we could provide Barony was bodies and records.

  Archer glared at Kojo—whether because he was disappointed at Kojo’s nixing his idea, or because he’d remembered he was mad at Kojo, I couldn’t tell.

  I patted his hand. “It was a good idea,” I whispered.

  We stood to go to work.

  “Wait,” Davo said. “You don’t understand.”

  Hiram growled, “Seems to me we understand pretty good, Davo. Unless you’re holding something back.”

  Davo sighed. “I didn’t want to have it come out like this, but…there won’t be any second expedition. I won’t be around to lead one.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Spooked

  We sat again.

  Charity took her father’s hand. “I knew it. Didn’t I fuss at you to see the doctor on Kriti?”

  “Aw, girl, the doctors can’t do anything for me, too much damage done. I did see the doc on Kriti. She told me straight out, if there was anything I’d left undone in my life, the time to do it was now. Gave me some treatment that will keep me going a few more weeks. Well, I’ve lived my life, no regrets, except for one thing. That’s you, girl. I got to provide for you. Bringing Grand Duchess out of the Gloom is the one thing I can do to leave you with something more than bad memories.”

  Charity’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Daddy.”
>
  “Aw, don’t fuss.” Davo turned to Hiram. “Maybe you don’t like me much. What happened back then is history, I can’t change it. But we was shipmates once and I got nothing but respect for you, and that’s the truth. There’s only one thing I ask of you: see that my girl’s done right by. Pull Duchess out of the Gloom, collect the reward, and see that my girl gets her fair share. I ask no more than that.”

  Hiram nodded solemnly. “What’s done is done. I’ll see Charity’s treated right, as far as I can. But it’s up to my captain and Patch here whether to risk Sparrowhawk to salvage Duchess.”

  They all turned to me and Kojo.

  “Please, Kojo,” Charity said, her eyes brimming, face hopeful. “We’ve come all this way. Please, let’s try it.”

  Kojo rubbed his jaw, with a soft glance toward Charity. “Our jump cells to power Duchess’s thrusters…that would be a cute trick, Archer. If it works.”

  “It’ll work.” Archer’s right hand rapped lightly on the table. “The question is whether Davo can lay in a course so that a five-second thrust gets us somewhere useful.”

  “Don’t worry about the course, boyo. I’ll take care of that, just make sure you know what you’re about.”

  “What about damage to Sparrow?” Kojo asked.

  Archer bobbed, setting his curls bouncing. “I promise, no serious damage to Sparrow.” He turned to Davo. “Mudpuppy will have to separate. Your skimmer can get out on her own, can’t she?”

  “’Course she can.”

  Kojo touched his ear, signaling he was willing to risk it.

  Davo’s quick glance went from Kojo to me. He knew that signal, too, the bastard.

  Hiram had sat back, his face neutral, but a crinkle flickered across his eyes, just the barest hint of a smile. He wanted to do it, if only to show Davo what Sparrowhawk and her crew could do. And Archer—both feet under the table were tapping. He was probably already figuring out how to rewire Duchess’s propulsion consoles.

  Charity’s pleading eyes were on me.

  If anyone was going to stop this mad scheme, it would have to be me. I was the one the crew counted on to be the cool head to temper Kojo’s gambles.