by S. H. Jucha
“A fight,” Jessie said.
“More important, Captain, a massive fight with weapons the like of which we can’t imagine,” Hamoi added.
“Sirs, you’re implying weapons disrupted the planet,” Jessie replied, sitting up, and a tech hurried to heat some food for him.
“That’s my guess,” Darrin replied, and both Tully and Darrin nodded enthusiastically.
“Darrin, you couldn’t have found us a nice deposit of high-grade metal?” Jessie asked.
“But, I did, Captain,” Darrin replied with a smile. “It’s already refined. Of course, I’ve no idea of its properties. And, better news, the deposit came with its own power supply.”
Jessie swung his head toward Aurelia. She was sitting cross-legged on her cot, her empty meal packets beside her. Ever since they had reached the shelter, he was aware of a constant intrusion into his mind. At first, he thought to object, but his mind was troubled by what they had found and its implications. So, he ignored it, or he thought he had. While he lay on the cot, he relaxed into its soothing presence. As it eased his mind, it allowed him to think clearer. Staring now at Aurelia, who had her eyes closed, the value of her presence aboard the Annie, with Belinda, and with the downside team, struck him. He understood Yohlin’s message on how her crew would react to anyone offering an affront to their empath, much less attempting to arrest her.
-27-
Challenge
“Dingles, I need the spacers in a meeting, now,” Harbour ordered, while she was en route to the Belle. “I’ll be aboard in about fifteen minutes.”
“Aye, ma’am. We’ll be ready,” Dingles replied. He saw his comm link icon blink off before he’d finished his reply. Trouble at the JOS. Imagine that, he thought with a quirk of his lips.
Harbour marched to the usual meeting room for the spacers. She could sense the tension in the room and chose to do nothing about it.
“Captain Cinders and his people are in trouble,” Harbour announced, without fanfare. That brought the emotional level of the room to a peak, and she let it simmer. “Of course, that’s not to say that the captain’s people might have something to do with the commotion,” Harbour continued, adding a bit of humor to her delivery. “It started when the Annie’s crew discovered an alien site on Triton.”
It was one of those rare times for an empath when she could stand in a group of strong-willed people, who were broadcasting little to no emotion. The only time an empath might find the same condition was if the people were fast asleep. These spacers were wide awake, but blinking eyes and open mouths indicated that their brains were working to catch up with Harbour’s words.
Harbour laid out the discovery of the site, summarized the conversation with Pyre’s leaders, and ended with the decision of the three key individuals that a quarantine of six months must be imposed. The spacers were on their feet, angry and yelling, and Harbour let their heated reactions sweep through her. She wanted it, needed it, to bolster her decision, which she’d yet to share with anyone.
Dingles restored order, after the spacers had an opportunity to vent, and signaled Harbour to continue.
“I need a report of the Belle’s worthiness to move,” Harbour said.
Each team leader updated Harbour on everything from comm systems to engines and environmental systems to hydroponics.
“If I understand you right,” Harbour said, when the reports were completed, “the Belle is ready to move, but you’re not confident that we can push the engines past about fifty percent and several systems aren’t ready to go for the year that I requested without additional parts, which haven’t been purchased.”
“Aye, ma’am, that’s correct,” Dingles replied.
“Do we have the necessary crew number to make the upgrades and maintain the systems if we don’t have access to the JOS soon?” Harbour asked.
“No, ma’am,” Dingles replied. “We’re short about eighteen crew members, at a minimum, to accelerate the readiness process and make the repairs. Can we afford to hire? If so, there are retirees, who might wish to help us sail this old lady.
“Give me a list, Dingles, with the coin it would take to hire the personnel for a year,” Harbour replied. “Add to your list any supplies that are necessities. I need everything sourced now … the crew aboard and the goods onboard, as soon as possible.”
“We going somewhere, Captain?” Dingles asked.
“I thought that was obvious, First Mate Mitch Bassiter. We’re going to Triton,” Harbour replied, grinning.
There was a stunned moment before the spacers erupted in cheers. The nearest spacers to Dingles pounded him on the back, and the others chanted “captain,” over and over, to Harbour.
Harbour raised a hand, and the spacers quieted immediately. It occurred to her that the title of captain had been fully awarded her by men and women who’d served under those individuals. “We’ve work to do,” Harbour said quietly. “Keep this announcement to yourself. We don’t want anyone interfering with our plans, and you know who I mean.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Dingles replied, touching two fingers to the brim of his cap.
“Finish up here. There’ll be a general meeting soon, which you’ll need to join,” Harbour said. As she turned to leave, the spacers jumped to their feet. I guess if I’m the captain, then they must be my crew, Harbour thought, and she experienced a moment of trepidation at the extent of her inexperience to successfully manage the job.
* * *
Harbour called a general meeting of the Belle’s residents. The only place that could hold the nearly 3,000 individuals was a central staging hold for freight. Gravity was light in the massive area, and, while there was air, it was far from warm. People showed up swathed in combinations of skins, leggings, trousers, heavy work boots, and coats. Many had taken to wrapping their heads in scarves or shirts.
“I’ll make this short,” Harbour said, opening the meeting, while stragglers were still arriving. “Earlier, I let it be known that this ship might be moved for a period of time, and some of you told me you would need to relocate to the station to accommodate your patrons. It looks like everyone has to rethink that announcement.”
Harbour shared with the contingent the same story she related to the spacers. When she was finished, the empaths felt a mix of emotions — concern, fear, anger, and excitement.
“Why you?” Arlene asked. She was one of the more outspoken artisans, always requesting better accommodations, more heat in her cabin, and access to more coin from the general fund.
“Why me what, Arlene?” Harbour asked. She could sense the animosity from Arlene, who sat near her.
“Why are you able to dictate where we go? There are three thousand of us. Who said you should be in charge?” Arlene jumped off her crate and walked to the middle of the assembled residents. “I say that we of the Belle have a right to elect our leader. Harbour protects the empaths, but she shouldn’t speak for all of us, especially when she intends to put us at risk for maybe thirty spacers.” Arlene rounded to face Harbour and stared defiantly at her.
Dingles stepped into the center and eyed Arlene, who gave way so that he could have the deck. “I’m new here. So, maybe I don’t understand everything that’s going on aboard the Belle. Then again, maybe I understand a great deal more that’s going on out there in the JOS and downside. If you think the governor and commandant’s quarantine makes sense, think again. They’re targeting one of the most successful captains of the spacers, and if he and his people are left out there to die, they’ll use the event as an excuse to tighten the controls on all spacers. After that, who do you think will be next?”
“Is Dingles right, Harbour?” asked Makana, the artisan who decorated Harbour’s skins.
“I can tell you two things, Makana,” Harbour replied. “The first ship on Triton was the Annie. She’s been there for weeks. According to Captain Cinders, the crew isn’t suffering any maladies or showing any odd symptoms. And, second, I have heard proof that Commander Strattl
eford is colluding with Governor Panoy and was doing so before the arrest of Markos Andropov.”
Arlene strode to the center again. “How do we know Captain Cinders is telling the truth? He would say anything to have the quarantine dropped or to be delivered supplies.”
That comment caused such an uproar from the spacers that Arlene backed away. The crew was irate at her impugning Captain Cinder’s honor. Dingles’ whistle cut through the chilled air, and the spacers quieted.
“Arlene, you don’t know how far you are from the truth,” Harbour replied, laughing at the thought that Jessie could be characterized as a liar. “I can say that I know Captain Cinders well enough to tell you that he’s blunt, hardheaded, and utterly faithful to his people, but he’s not dishonest. In fact, I would say that if I were to call him and offer assistance that he would refuse it.”
“Well, Harbour, what about the general fund?” Arlene shot back. “Your empaths generate the majority of monthly coin. How are you going to get clients if we move this ship to Triton? For that matter, how are the artisans supposed to get supplies to deliver on our consignments?”
“Our income,” Harbour replied, indicating the empaths, who surrounded her, “will probably be curtailed, in the near future, especially after I threatened Lise Panoy.”
Heads whipped toward Harbour. She was known as a level-headed and even-tempered woman. As one of the strongest empaths, it was a prerequisite for leading the empaths. Hearing that she threatened the governor shocked some, but brought chuckles from others, who felt no love for the downsiders.
“It’s already begun to happen,” Yasmin announced. “Downsiders have been canceling for the past few hours.”
“Residents of the Belle,” Harbour said, raising her voice, “I’ve not taken this decision lightly. With the help of our spacers and tech teams, we’ve worked to ready the ship. We’ve made upgrades to many of the systems, stocked up on equipment and parts, and we’ll be hiring additional spacers to maintain the ship. As for the general fund, the empaths and I have been working diligently to build it up. And, not to put too fine a point on it, I don’t think Captain Cinders will appreciate being in our debt for his rescue.”
“Got that in one, ma’am,” Dingles said loudly, and the spacers heartily agreed.
“I imagine Captain Cinders will do whatever it takes to reimburse us for our investment,” Harbour finished. “What you need to know is that this ship is ready to move. I believe it’s critical we save the spacers at Triton. We can’t let them be sacrificed to the governor’s power play.”
“I say it’s too risky, Harbour,” Arlene yelled. “We have a right to elect a leader who has the general population’s interest at heart.”
The assembled were too great and diverse to allow Harbour to sense the mood of the crowd. For the moment, she was taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might face a general uprising from the residents.
Yasmin had worked her way over to a crate at the far left of the assembly, while Arlene spoke, and a young tech was happy to boost her on top of it when she pointed. “I agree with Arlene,” Yasmin called out from her perch. “An election is fair, and I propose we decide the question now. Those who wish to elect Harbour as the Belle’s captain come to this side. Those who wish to hold a general election walk to the other side.”
Yasmin’s proposal froze the residents. This was happening too fast for them to process. Nadine ended the standstill when she announced clearly, “I stand with Harbour,” and the residents watched the empaths follow her, as Nadine made her way through the residents to stand beneath Yasmin’s crate.
“The spacers stand with Harbour,” Dingles announced, and he and the crew took up places next to the empaths.
When Pete Jennings, the propulsion engineer, made his vote known, the engineers and techs followed in his wake to side with Harbour.
The empaths, spacers, and technical people were a small minority of the residents, but they were critical to the Belle’s operations.
“Time to decide,” Yasmin announced.
“Okay, let’s vote,” Arlene called out, galvanizing others. She walked to the right side and crossed her arms in defiance. Some residents, mostly artisans, came to her side. Their number equaled those opposing them.
Harbour wanted to plead her case, but something made her stay quiet. Conversations were taking place in small groups. People kept mixing and reforming, sharing their opinions. The first residents to move made for Arlene’s side, and Arlene smiled in victory at Harbour. The number of dissenters slowly increased to nearly twice those who faced them across the deck.
After the initial mixing of the residents, they formed larger and larger groups. People could be heard arguing their cases, but the number of voices didn’t allow the words to be understood by Harbour.
A group of more than two hundred residents, who were close to Harbour, stopped talking and turned to regard her. Harbour kept her face neutral and said clearly to them, “Vote your conscience.” The residents turned and worked their way over to join those supporting her.
One by one, the larger groups made up their minds. A few individuals left to side with Arlene, but most took up a place with Yasmin. The center of the deck was cleared, except for a blind artisan, Yardley, who worked in metalcraft. He was quite renowned for his work.
“Yardley, you have to make a choice,” an artisan, standing next to Arlene, yelled out.
“I believe I’m making my choice known by standing here,” Yardley replied.
“Let it be known that Yardley abstains,” Yasmin called out, which drew laughter from most of the residents.
When Yardley came to the Belle, he was a shell of a man, who bitterly resented the infirmity that had been inflicted on him in an accident. It became Yasmin’s choice to focus on helping him, and it was her idea that Yardley pick up with what he knew best, metalworking. Instead of thinking of it as building material, Yasmin convinced Yardley to consider metal from a creative aspect.
Yardley’s initial works were crude, but interesting. Throughout the years, his work refined and Harbour gained space in a gallery for a few pieces. Those creations sold quickly and demand soared for his often-whimsical designs.
“It’s been decided by a clear majority of our residents,” Yasmin called out. “We’ve elected Harbour as the Belle’s captain to command this ship.” She emphasized the term command for Arlene and her compatriots’ benefit.
“Those of you who chose to hold an election have had an opportunity to voice your opinions. You might not be happy with the outcome, but I want you to know that I hold no ill will toward you,” Harbour said. “You have a choice to make … stay aboard the Belle or leave. I regret that if you choose to leave, you’ll have to wait until the day of our departure. Those who wish to depart, please submit your name and baggage loads to my first mate, Dingles. He’ll work out a schedule of transfers with Danny.”
In the silence that followed Harbour’s announcement, Dingles, who thought it best to end the meeting on that note, called out, “Captain, is there any other business to transact?”
“No, Dingles,” Harbour replied, and Dingles said loudly, “The residents are dismissed.” It was a reminder from a spacer of the change the ship’s status had undergone in the last several minutes. Stunned, many stayed in place, but the empaths, spacers, and technical people promptly cleared out.
* * *
“How did I not see that coming?” Harbour said to Dingles, when she closed her cabin door for a private conversation with her first mate.
“Command is not an easy thing, Captain,” Dingles replied.
“Maybe I’m not the right person for the job,” Harbour replied quietly, leaning against her food prep surface.
“I’ve seen all types make captain … engineers, rock prospectors, and regular spacers. The individuals who were successful shared common traits. They cared deeply for the safety of the crew and the ship, treated their people fairly, and led, despite the problems thrown at them
. You have all those traits, Captain.”
“I don’t feel like a captain, Dingles. I feel overwhelmed.”
“Yet, the majority of the residents voted you as their leader, as the Belle’s captain. One of the things you have to grasp, Captain, is that you have crew to count on. They’ll have your back if you have theirs. Lip service doesn’t count.”
“Okay, Dingles, enough of my wallowing in self-pity. You wanted to talk to me too.”
“This doesn’t seem like the time to mention it, Captain.”
“Out with it, Dingles. I laid myself bare to you.”
“Well, Captain, I’m grateful for my position, but I wouldn’t take it poorly if you replaced me as first mate. There are two engineers who are better qualified than me.”
Harbour broke into laughter. “Aren’t we a pair?” she managed to choke out. She adopted a serious expression and asked, “Are those engineers from Captain Cinders’ ships?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then I want you aboard.”
“Aye, Captain, latched on,” Dingles replied, touching two fingers to his cap.
“Okay, Dingles, first thing, I need help. Somewhere in this ship’s extensive library has to be the rules and regs for the captain of a colony ship. Where would I find them?”
“We call them the Articles, Captain. May I?” Dingles asked, gesturing toward her desk. “I’ll need your comm unit, ma’am. You have the required access level.”
Harbour unlocked her comm unit, plugged it in to the monitor, and proceeded to make them hot drinks. She set Dingles’ drink next to him and curled up in her reading chair to enjoy hers. She nodded off, while Dingles worked, but woke to his vehemence, which shot through her.
“Sorry, Captain,” Dingles said, when he realized the mistake he’d made. Behave yourself, old man, in her presence, he thought, recrimination rushing through him.
“Easy, Dingles,” cautioned Harbour, sensing the man’s emotional swings. “We’re new to each other, but we’ll learn. What did you find?”
