Black Box

by Ivan Turner

  The three sat in silence for sixty seconds.

  Next came the two new officers, Sam Ukpere of Science and Humphrey Applegate of Records. Physically, the two were polar opposites. Ukpere was tall, at least six foot seven, and thin as a rail. His features were classically African and his skin was so dark that his contrast with the pale Applegate was almost blinding. Applegate, for his part, was a large and sweaty man. He carried around a handkerchief that he repeatedly daubed against his forehead, but into which he would never blow his nose. That would be disgusting. The rumor was that he showered at least once between each shift he was not working and anyone who knew him could attest to the fact that the man always smelled of soap and aftershave. Ukpere also wore large round glasses which made his eyes look gigantic whereas Applegate’s eyes were small and nestled within tiny folds of flesh. The two entered the room muttering to each other under their breath. Ukpere’s expression was stern as he listened to Applegate. When they took note of the other people in the room, they instantly hushed and found seats.

  Together, but clearly apart, the Valor’s Infantry Sergeant, Navigation Officer, and Lieutenant arrived.

  Fifteen years older than Beckett himself, stronger, faster, and better than any soldier in the UESF, Anabelle Rodrigo took the seat immediately to Beckett’s left.

  “Hi, Ted,” she said to him and he smiled at her.

  It had taken him almost seven years to get her transferred to his command once he’d become captain. On his first assignment as a foot soldier, she had been his Sergeant and he had learned what it meant to respect a superior in the Space Force. There were things Rodrigo had taught him that he could have learned from no one else. But she’d never learned the machines. She was a soldier through and through and it had put a wall up in front of her as far as advancement. Early in her career, the Admiralty, the old Admiralty, had recognized her leadership qualities and tried every which way they could to get her an officer’s commission. They’d offered her training at full pay. They’d even offered her a teaching position so that recruits could enter the service with some respectability. But she had turned every opportunity down, content to be a sergeant, proudly watching her soldiers advance ahead of her. She was like a mother hen who could kick the crap out of any fox that got into the coop.

  Beckett’s executive officer was Allison Dorian. Allison had started her career as a hotshot stunt pilot for Miller Aerospace. They hadn’t appreciated it when she’d crashed one of their prototypes, proving it to be a faulty piece of machinery. During a legal screaming match that had been turned into a public fiasco, Dorian had lost her job and Miller had lost a ton of its financial backing. No one came out of it smelling like roses. A friend of hers in the Admiralty had offered to accelerate her advancement if she signed on as a pilot in the UESF. Historically opposed to the military and military opinion, she had declined. But the real world had a way of creeping in on idealism. Due to the fallout of the Miller fiasco, Dorian couldn’t find work. As good a pilot as she was, she was trained to do nothing else. The UESF turned out to be her only option. True to his word, Admiral Price had pushed her through the ranks. Within two years, Dorian had made first officer and been assigned to the Valor. Why the Valor? Because no one else wanted the friend of an Admiral as a first officer.

  Beckett hadn't wanted her either. It was a situation that very much mirrored the one he faced now with Lara Tedesco. But in the eighteen months in which he had worked with Dorian, he had found her to be an exceptional pilot and a valuable right hand. Her input was generally intuitive and he found, much to his surprise (considering their opposing backgrounds), that they agreed on most things.

  Then there was Tedesco, who sat as far away from him as she possibly could. She looked up at him with hatred and then turned to her computer screen.

  Jack Tunsley showed up right after that. Though he was relatively new to the Valor, Beckett had served with him just before his promotion to captain. Tunsley had also subbed in on the Valor a couple of times throughout the years. He was a short man with big hands and wiry fingers. It was true, he could build anything. But five minutes of conversation with him could make anyone run screaming for the hills.

  The only one missing was William Boone, who showed up a few minutes later huffing and puffing.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said. “I had to wait for relief.” For William Boone, being an officer on the Valor was more difficult than any assignment he’d ever had. And his job was harder than everyone else’s also. Beckett was not an easy commander and his infantry background meant he knew Boone’s job better than Boone.

  “Who relieved you?” Rodrigo asked.

  Boone looked up at the sergeant. She was completely out of line. It was none of her business who relieved him. She was just another reason his job was so hard. Though he technically outranked her, she treated him like a subordinate. And an incompetent one at that.

  And yet he answered her anyway. “Burbank.”

  “Let’s get down to business,” Beckett interjected. The last thing he needed now was to have to referee an argument between Boone and Rodrigo.

  Dorian cleared her throat so that she could take the floor. “Captain, I was wondering why you’d ordered a patrol course and called this meeting instead of resuming the landing.”

  It was the question on everyone’s mind, which was of no surprise to Beckett. Looking at the faces of the men and women around him, he knew there wasn’t one of them that understood.

  “You’re not thinking of scrapping the mission, are you?” Tunsley asked.

  Beckett took a breath. “I was, in fact, considering it. I’ve got us in a holding pattern so that we can discuss it. I’m hesitant to try another landing when we’ve just been attacked.”

  “Ghost attacks are random and insignificant,” said Tedesco. “It could be argued, sir, that we could have continued the landing procedure and avoided combat altogether.”

  Beckett kept his voice neutral. “As a navigator, you should know that there is very little room for flight variation during a landing procedure. That particular Ghost ship could have hovered just outside of the atmosphere and focused its heat ray on our ship, doing significant damage in a relatively short amount of time.”

  “But there was no way you could have known they had a heat ray since the weapon types on Ghost ships vary dramatically.”

  “Which is precisely why I couldn’t chance a landing. Surviving a Ghost attack requires responding to their unpredictability. While this particular ship proved to be no match for us, we could just as easily have been locked into a very deadly duel.”

  The room went silent for a moment as Tedesco, her face red, digested the rebuke. She realized that her inexperience had shown in her impetuous comments. She understood now that Beckett was stalking her, waiting for her to make a mistake that could finish her.

  When it was clear that she had nothing else to say, he turned his attention back to the group.

  Sam Ukpere took the floor. “Captain Beckett, you can’t abort the mission over a Ghost attack. There’s no precedent.”

  Tunsley snorted. “Yeah, how could you have that on your otherwise spotless record?”

  “You’re out of line, Jack,” Beckett said even though he realized that Tunsley was giving him his own backhanded version of support.

  “Sir, do you understand what we might be giving up by leaving?”

  “Mr. Applegate, my instincts tell me this was no random attack.”

  “All Ghost attacks are random,” Applegate breathed. “I’ve survived four of them myself, two by the skin of my teeth. By the way, sir, I was very impressed with the way you handled it.”

  Beckett refused to be cowed by the flattery. “All Ghost attacks, to date, have been random.”

  “And individual,” Ukpere said. “No one’s ever seen more than one Ghost ship at any one time.”

  “Which means what, Sam?” Beckett was always amazed at the way Tunsley could get on a first name basis with someone he’d just met. S
omeone who clearly didn’t like him. “Lightning never strikes twice?”

  “After more than a century of Ghost attacks, I think it’s fair to rely on our information.”

  “How many of those attacks have come without final reports from the dead? How many of those attacks have come without data? Don’t be a fool.”

  Ukpere drew himself up in an expression of pure dignity. “Mr. Tunsley, there’s no need to be insulting. The success rate of Ghost attacks has been declining dramatically over the last four decades. By switching to ballistic weapons, we’ve taken a tremendous advantage. Or don’t you read the news?”

  Tunsley harrumphed. “I live the news, Sammy. When a species shows that kind of a technological range, you take them seriously at every turn. Period. I say we know zilch about them.”

  Ukpere shook his head in admonishment. “That’s a very narrow minded view.”

  Tunsley gave him a raspberry.

  “Over the line, Jack,” Beckett reminded him again, although he himself knew that he was more tolerant of Tunsley’s outbursts than any other captain would have been. The truth was, he liked Jack Tunsley. Whether it was because of his respect for the man’s ability or because, as John Poulle had said, he liked a son of a bitch, it didn’t matter. Jack Tunsley fit very well into the Beckett administration.

  Ukpere, unruffled, turned his attention back to the captain. “I’m just saying, sir, that there’s no precedent for abandoning an assignment due to a Ghost attack. I agree that the timing could be construed as either coincidental or suspicious, but I would lean toward coincidental. I applaud your caution, but there has to be some rationale as well.”

  It was a very cleverly disguised insult. Beckett hated new officers.

  “Ms. Dorian?”

  His first officer took a deep breath. “Although I don’t entirely agree with Mr. Ukpere’s assessment, I do support his conclusion. There’s no good reason to abandon the mission and you’re going to catch hell if you do.” That was her way of throwing her support the other way but without the insult.

  Beckett scratched at his ear. She was right. They were all right. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lurking just outside his field of vision. In the end he ordered that they would patrol the area for twenty four hours, at which time he would reevaluate the situation. If circumstances warranted, as he expected they would, they would attempt another landing. At that time, all of his officers would be required to be on duty so they would have to shuffle their shift schedules.

  “Right now, Ms. Tedesco, you go down and relieve Mr. Winkler. That poor kid’s worked an hour past his shift already without a complaint.”

  She nodded curtly and the room began to empty out, William Boone lingering.

  “Something on your mind, Mr. Boone?” Captain Beckett asked, preoccupied with the situation at hand and in no mood for whatever it was Boone was bringing to the table. They were alone now.

  “Regarding the earlier incident on the bridge, sir.”

  “Incident?”

  Infuriated, Boone said, “Yes, sir. You and Mr. Tunsley humiliated me.”

  This was unexpected. Boone was not one to rock the boat. In order for him to confront his captain like this took an awful lot of constitution.

  “You need to know your ship inside and out, Mr. Boone.”

  “If you made modifications to the generators, sir, it was your obligation to inform me as well as your other officers.”

  Beckett now looked up at him, studied him with the careful eye of an experienced captain. He did not like being reprimanded. He certainly didn’t like it coming from a subordinate. It was time to take a new measure of William Boone. Much to his surprise, Beckett found that the man was trembling. There was a line of sweat along his upper lip and his cheeks were flushed. Good God, he could practically see his heart beating a heated rhythm in his chest.

  Beckett stood.

  Despite the fact that there was a table and a whole room separating the two of them, Boone took a step back.

  “Who are you working for, Boone?”

  “Wh...what?”

  “You heard me. Who’s pulling your strings?”

  There was a knife edge to Beckett’s voice that was only partially intentional. He wanted to intimidate Boone, wanted the spineless son of a bitch to wet his pants and tell him what was going on.

  “Sir, I don’t understand,” Boone managed to say with some small degree of dignity. “I only thought...”

  “Don’t bullshit me,” Beckett said in a raised voice. “You don’t think. You don’t ever goddamned think. You’ve been on this ship three fucking years and you’ve never been more than a body in a uniform. Now, all of a sudden you think?”

  Boone gritted his teeth, fought his fear with rage. “That’s an unfair judgment, captain.”

  “The hell it is,” Beckett said. At some point he’d come around the table and was now nose to nose with his Infantry Officer. “You tell me when you’ve ever reported for a mission early. You were late for your first mission. And since when do you conduct inspections? What were you doing in the engine room?”

  Boone didn’t answer. What could he say?

  “So you tell me, you fucking weasel. You tell me who you’re working for.”

  Boone had his back against the door. With little subtlety and even less grace, he managed to shove one hand behind his back and find the door handle. With a tug, he disengage the latch, spun and slid the door open. Then he hauled himself into the corridor leaving Beckett alone to simmer, feeling very much as if he were surrounded completely by strangers.

  The Fat Man and the Scarecrow

  Besides Sam Ukpere himself, the science department consisted of three other people, all with less than a year’s experience. Applegate’s department was a little better with only two people and the experienced Chester Zephyr. But Zephyr was getting old and had a tendency to be careless in his record keeping. He was a picture perfect wash-out.

  Since neither of them commanded Control crew, they did not have to do any schedule shuffling. It gave them time to grab something to eat while the other officers worked to get their departments in line for the next twenty four hours.

  Ukpere had met Applegate nine years earlier and they had become fast friends. At the time, Applegate had been a lieutenant, pushing himself in directions he wasn’t supposed to go. Ukpere remembered that his friend had been half the size he was now, much healthier and quicker. As a lieutenant, Applegate had tried to master almost every department. He’d been one of those fiery young go-getters that administrators loved. But he could be somewhat abrasive and had angered a few people along the way. Their meeting had taken place at a conference on New Africa, a small planet well out of Earth’s solar system. Ukpere couldn’t even remember the subject of the conference. He and Applegate had been seated together during the opening address and found that they had a number of things in common. Both were extremely devoted to the Earth and what mattered. For Applegate it was history in all of its forms. Human events, animal records, anthropology, archaeology, and whatever else could tell him about the past. For Ukpere it was the hard cold world of scientific fact. His specialty was chemistry but he also held a doctorate in physics and dabbled a bit into biology. Though Applegate lived in the past and Ukpere lived in the present, they both understood that their work led the human race forward. This common thread was enough to bind them as friends for good and all. When the Admiralty had approached Ukpere with the details of this mission, he knew that it was also a stunning opportunity for Applegate.

  The galley was a small room toward the top of the ship. Since there were only forty five crew on the Valor, there wasn’t really any need for a large eating area. Crew were assigned time for duty, for sleep, for meals, and for recreation. Though Applegate and Ukpere were not scheduled to eat at the moment, officers could play fast and loose with the schedule. Besides, most of the crew were busy in the light of recent events and they needed to talk. They took seats toward the rear o
f the room, well away from where food was made available. Ukpere picked at a salad, some freeze dried vegetables and a handful of natural ingredients that could stand the time and stress of space travel. Applegate’s meal was much bigger and much less healthy. He detested the freeze dried stuff, but needed it for basic protein and vitamins. Still and all, he filled up his ample belly with junk that could make the trip. Like pre-packaged boxed cakes.

  “This ghost ship is a damned nuisance,” he muttered over his food.

  Ukpere nodded.

  “They should never have put us on the Valor. Talk about the wrong man for the job. Beckett will abandon it the first chance he gets.”

  “He won’t” Ukpere disagreed. “He’s already had his chance, but he’s still a creature of duty no matter what his reputation is.”

  “I have to tell you, Sam, I don’t like all of this sneaking around. Love him or hate him, he’s the captain. Being on a mission where your captain only knows a fraction of the details is dangerous.”

  “I don’t disagree with you,” Ukpere said.

  “Then why the hell did they send us out with Beckett? They could have picked any other ship.”

  Ukpere nodded but remained silent. He had gone over it in his head a million times himself. He knew the mission; he knew the score. There was a lot to be done and a lot of it was a bitter pill in his mouth. But there was more to it than he had been told and the choice of ship and captain was only a small part of that.

  Applegate had drawn many of the same conclusions and continually voiced them. “They’re trying to kill two birds with one stone, you know. Save the universe and all that for sure but sweep the ingrate out of the way in the process.”

  Ukpere nodded again, adjusting his glasses with his left forefinger. He didn’t like to question the Admiralty, but he was wary. Like Applegate said, the captain was the captain no matter what you thought of him. If he was uninformed then there would be a breakdown of order. That threatened the mission. The Admirals knew that. They knew it well. So why had they chosen this course of action?