Call of Courage: 7 Novels of the Galactic Frontier

by C. Gockel

  “That’s not what I meant, but now that you bring it up, yeah, why shouldn’t we just conquer them? The Keseburg’s not a ship just out of the dockyard. We’re strung together with spit and good wishes at this point. Both the planet and the moon are large. If we find someone, we move, or they do. We’re past ‘playing nice’ or didn’t you get last month’s health census? Half the younger gen is Spindling—”

  “Damn it!” yelled Titov, “I just want a cup of coffee, not a philosophy debate.” He smacked the side of the printer again. Emery crouched down to inspect the extruder. Martham shrugged and turned back to her console.

  “Bad news?” asked Rebecca. She kept her voice low, fiddling with the printer’s supply lines.

  “Peter is probably going to need a mobility suit before we get back. Celia and I— we’ve tried everything. He does more than the recommended exercise regimens every day, wears his Spindling suit constantly, we even moved to Reed ring a few years ago because the rotation slow-down wasn’t as bad. We knew we couldn’t beat it, but I thought he’d at least make it to fifteen before needing the suit.” Titov handed Rebecca his cup when she reached for it.

  Liu squeezed Titov’s shoulder. “This time’s going to be the one, Andrei. I know it. I’ve got a good feeling about these missions. The captains are too worked up for it to be just another resource dive.”

  Rebecca switched the printer back on and black liquid poured smoothly into the cup, followed by a spurt of sweetener. She handed the cup back to Titov.

  “Thanks,” he said, turning red.

  She smiled. “What can I say? I work well with spit and good wishes.” Titov made a face and Rebecca realized what she’d said. “Oh, I didn’t mean that . Not that I don’t wish you well, I do—” she stammered and then sighed. “There’s no spit in your coffee, Titov.” Idiot , she told herself, you’re supposed to be making friends.

  But Martham snorted a laugh and Titov swallowed a gulp of coffee with a grin and the tension eased. The others slowly filtered in, some yawning, others bouncing knees or tapping fingers. It was a big day. Mission assignment day. Nearly fifty had completed the training but only twenty-four slots were open. Two missions, the first in two hundred years, to make an initial survey of the nearby exomoon and planet. Twenty-four people out of thirty thousand would have the chance to set foot on actual soil and stone for the first time in generations.

  Rebecca was nervous. Despite Martham’s assumptions, she had not been a pet pick. She and her colleagues had spent months convincing Admiral Hastings to let her even try for one of the spots on the missions. Rebecca had worked harder than anyone to prepare, but her inclusion was still uncertain. It was up to the captains now. Captain Bruheim was out of the question, she wouldn’t even entertain Rebecca’s reasoning. Captain Stratton seemed hesitant, but he hadn’t dismissed her either.

  She took a seat near Alice Oxwell and Nicholas Spixworth, the three naturally gravitating toward each other as the youngest potential candidates by several years. She picked at her uniform.

  “Relax,” said Alice, “You’re one of the strongest candidates. I can pick out at least twenty that will wash today before you.”

  “That’s still six people they have to cut. And I’m not a biologist or an entomologist.”

  “Aw, I’ll let you help me collect the creepy crawlies, Emery. I know how much you like their tickly little legs.”

  “Thanks, Spixworth. Now I have something else to worry about.”

  He laughed and jabbed her side with his elbow. “C’mon, cheer up. Stratton likes you and he can see the value in having you around if we do encounter something we can communicate with. It’s going to be fine. Maybe you’ll even get lucky and they’ll put Martham in Bruheim’s crew.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Let’s not push it…” She trailed off as the two captains entered the room. Captain Bruheim flipped her media filament up to her brow and her fingers flew through the air as she typed something in. Captain Stratton leaned against a table and resolutely stared above their heads.

  “Your assignments are now available.” Captain Bruheim was brusque but not unkind. She just rubbed people the wrong way occasionally. “For those of you not chosen, the Keseburg is grateful for your service. And should either the planet or the moon prove to be the one, you will be the first crews to colonize. If one or more of the mission participants fall ill, you will be chosen to go in their place. You are dismissed.”

  There was a murmur as people switched on their filaments and pulled up the assignments screens. Eyes flicked quickly as each candidate scanned images only they could see. “Good luck,” said Spixworth. Alice squeezed Rebecca’s hand and began scanning the document. Rebecca read it slowly, unwilling to come to her own name. Gradually, the room emptied around them as the unlucky departed. She held her breath as her name scrolled to the top and paused. Stratton’s crew. Rebecca was headed for the planet.

  She was pleased to see Alice and Spixworth were on the same crew. The others were also familiar, they’d been mostly in the same training group. It made sense, they’d worked well together except for Martham’s occasional resentment and Titov’s quick temper. Liu, Al Jahi, and Leroux were all part of Stratton’s normal flight crew. It was no surprise to see them on the list. Martham and Oxwell for the biology department, Spixworth for entomology, Dr. Cardiff to keep them all sane, Blick for the botany— Rebecca knew it was really Blick that had allowed her to join. He and Alice had arguably the most vital jobs for the mission. He could easily have requested an assistant. Titov for the chemistry lab and— Rebecca stopped as she reached the last name. Dorothy Hackford, the geologist. They all knew she’d had difficulty with the psychiatric screening, some of the candidates had even whispered that Hackford had outright failed them. She was meant to be a standby, only. At best, a reluctant member of the moon crew. Rebecca looked over at her. Cardiff was speaking quietly to her, but Hackford was sweating and wringing her hands beneath the table.

  Bruheim gathered her moon crew with a solemn handshake for each and sent them to the training courts for mission details. Captain Stratton waited until they’d left, still leaning against the table, his arms folded over his chest. “Get the door, would you Blick?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” said Lionel Blick, rising to close the door behind him. He came to sit closer to the others, bunching up near the front now that everyone else had gone.

  Captain Stratton let a slow smile stretch over his face. “Congratulations planetary mission X-seventy-two. I got the pick of the bunch and I want you to know each one of you truly deserves to be here. We’ve got one more month to train, but I know you’re up for it.” He clapped his hands together. “But not today. And enough speeches. Who’s thirsty? First round at Zachery’s is on me!”

  The room broke into easy laughter and conversation all around. Except for Hackford. She still sat frozen in her seat, except for her hands which had progressed to a relentless rubbing of her legs. Rebecca waited until the others rose and wandered away before plopping down beside Hackford.

  “It doesn’t seem real. Almost an earth year we’ve been getting ready, and it’s finally here,” she said, not looking at Hackford, giving her a chance to recover.

  “More,” said Hackford at last. “Our entire lives. And our parents. And their parents. All getting ready for this. Thousands and thousands of us. Why did they pick me ?”

  “Because you are excellent at what you do. Because we need you.”

  Hackford shook her head. “It should have been Paulo.”

  “But it’s not Paulo, it’s you, Dorothy. It’s us .” Rebecca reached out and grabbed the other woman’s hand, squeezing it. “We’re going to walk on real dirt. Big mounds of it.”

  Hackford laughed. “Hills, Emery. You mean hills.”

  “Yes. Hills. And there’s going to be so much we won’t see the edge. No walls. No edge—” Rebecca stopped because Hackford had started hyperventilating. “It’s okay, Dorothy, it’s okay, lean forward—”
r />   Hackford curled over her own knees, gasping.

  “Slow down. It’s okay. Flaming core, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that— I’m so stupid sometimes.” Rebecca knew she was rambling but she wasn’t certain what to say. She wasn’t even certain which part had caused Hackford’s panic attack.

  Hackford squeezed her hand. “I’m alright, Emery. Talking about it helps. Really. In a month I’ll have to physically step foot outside the Keseburg. I just need to get used to the idea.”

  “Maybe— maybe you should talk to Dr. Cardiff about some medication.”

  “We have. The microbursts through the feeds have been okayed, but nothing synthetic. Not until we know more about the surface.”

  Why are they sending her? Rebecca wondered. “Not that I’m disappointed— I’m glad you are going to be on the crew with us— but why isn’t Paulo going?”

  Hackford sat up and pulled a small kerchief from her pocket, wiping the sweat from her face as she calmed down. “Paulo’s daughter isn’t doing well,” she said.

  “Spindling?”

  “Yes, it has taken a turn for the worse. He formally pulled out of training a few months ago. And the other geologist— Belham, he just completed his apprenticeship. They wanted a non-Spindler with some experience who wasn’t already engaged in long-term resource extraction projects. So— that’s me.”

  “Well— I’m glad you’re going with us, Dorothy. It will be nice to have a friendly face around.”

  Hackford laughed. It was shaky but calm. “I think you’ll have more friends than you know, Emery, now that the competition for spaces is over. But come on, enough worry, this is supposed to be a happy day. Let’s go find the others and forget about Spindling and hills for a while.”

  Chapter Three

  Zachery’s was the oldest bar on the Keseburg. Tucked into an oversized storage locker in the aft cargo hold, it had been a notorious secret during the Fi-Gen Rebellion until the Admiralty had done away with the Keseburg’s strict alcohol prohibition. It stayed in business even after the slick nightclubs and cozy pubs of the upper decks opened to compete with it. Zachery’s had the hardest liquor, the dirtiest gossip, and the best fights. The corrugated metal doors had been welded permanently open, and the place was never empty. Gabriel Stratton’s crew was spread out along the dingy steel bar, leaning on the cracked vinyl bar stools. Legend had it that somewhere there was an original piece of leather on those stools, a real artifact from earth. Rebecca doubted it. But rumor was that when the last bit of leather in Zachary’s barstools disappeared, the Keseburg would find its new planet. Chione Al Jahi had rubbed each one for luck, laughing as Spixworth teased her. Her daughter, Noura had escaped the Spindling, but her toddler, Dia, had not. Like Titov, the mission was personal and it drove her during training. Al Jahi, Liu, and Joan Leroux made up the flight crew. They came as a unit, several hundred hours of flight time under their belts with Captain Stratton. But like the others, this was the first time they’d set foot on a planet instead of using remote mining equipment on sterile asteroids and moons for resource grabs.

  Titov saw them and waved to Dorothy from the end of the bar. Hackford and Titov had grown to be close friends as they had to share lab space, and Rebecca suspected Titov was more successful at keeping Hackford on an even keel than Dr. Cardiff was. Not that Rebecca had much confidence in Cardiff, to begin with. The woman seemed far more interested in research than in her colleagues, and Rebecca suspected she only took the position in order to advance once they returned to the Keseburg. But then— that was true of many of the candidates. No one really expected to find anything on the planet. Not even a hint of a habitable planet in sixteen hundred years, why should this one be the right one?

  “Glad you made it to Stratton’s crew, Emery. Knew you would.” Lionel Blick patted her shoulder and winked before lifting his glass.

  “I wasn’t so sure,” said Rebecca, “but thanks. Did you tell Agatha yet?”

  “Yes, she’ll be down after her shift. The cotton crop had to go in this week or we’d have to reset the entire subclimate. It was bad enough I had to set up the special tanks for both missions. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for going without her.”

  “You’ll have to bring her back some flowers.”

  “Don’t think that’s going to cut it. Going to have to bring her back an entire planet,” said Blick.

  “That’s the plan. Maybe you can find a spot for a vacation home, Lionel,” said Liu. “Thinking about surprising Jared with some oceanfront property.”

  “You and everyone else,” laughed Rebecca.

  “Hey, Cap— dibs apply, right?” Liu shouted over the bustling bar. Stratton just grinned and waved him off. “Martham wants a whole mountain range named after her.”

  Rebecca choked on her beer.

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” said Blick. “If she had her way, the entire planet would be named after her.”

  “Now, now, don’t be catty on my account,” laughed Rebecca, “We’re all here now, and we’re going to have to coexist for a few months. I’m sure she’ll come around.”

  “Did you tell your lab yet?” asked Liu.

  “Yeah, I called them on the way here. They were disappointed that Webster didn’t make Bruheim’s team, but the moon mission was seen as less likely anyhow. They’re studying the Hardcoop’s photo packet to see if there are any likely structures in our landing zone.”

  “Wow, you guys sure know how to party.”

  “Oh, we’re a rowdy bunch in the anthropology department. Might even stay up all night discussing first contact ethics.”

  “You really think we’re going to find someone down there, Emery?” asked Blick.

  “I don’t think it’s any more unlikely than you finding new plants or Martham finding new animals. Whether or not we’ll recognize another creature as sentient and if we’d be able to figure out how to communicate with another society is far more questionable. For my part, I hope we don’t find anyone down there.”

  Liu glanced up from his mug in surprise. “Really? After all the work you did to get here, you hope you don’t find anyone? I thought you, out of all of us, would be hoping your research uncovered something.”

  She rolled her cup between her hands. “Part of me would be excited to find something, certainly. And it would go a long way toward proving the planet was hospitable to life— or life as we recognize it. But then— humanity doesn’t have a very good track record when it comes to colonization. We don’t treat others gently. Even when they are our own. And I look around and see how desperate people on the Keseburg have become. If we found someone, do you think we’d stop to consider their rights to their own planet?”

  “It’ll be different this time, Emery. We’ve come a long way in the past several hundred years.”

  “I hope you’re right, Liu, I really do.” She let the subject trail away and was soon distracted by the arrival of several friends who had come to congratulate them.

  Chapter Four

  “Take care of Wookiee. And dad. Sometimes likes ear scratches. Uh— the cat, not dad,” Rebecca handed the carrier to her sister. Angie laughed and her father grinned.

  “I know , Beck. Don’t worry, we’ll all be here and happy when you get back.”

  “I’ll miss you,” she said, hugging her sister, and then her father.

  “We’ll miss you too,” said her father. He squeezed her again. “And I’m so proud of you. Now go, before they leave you behind!”

  Angie gave her a gentle push toward the flight ramp and waved. Her father turned away to blow his nose. Spixworth blushed as his own father crushed him in a long hug. Al Jahi cried as she kissed her little girl and stroked her boy’s hair. The observation balcony was packed and Rebecca could see Peter and Celia Titov waving frantically to Andrei who was grinning, happier than she’d ever seen him. The Admiral shook Captain Stratton’s hand, his speeches already over and the Wolfinger stood fueled and ready, its hatch standing open and waiting for
them.

  But Rebecca was not looking at the Wolfinger. She was looking back, at the Keseburg. At all the people she’d ever known. At the only home they had. Dented and scratched, the interior a maze of changing decks and apartments, the ship evolved around them generation after generation. She wondered if there was anything left that the original Earthlings would have recognized. After sixteen hundred years, it was doubtful. She marveled at the kind of courage it had taken to leave their world, to launch themselves away knowing they’d never see it again. Did she have the same courage? Could she bear to let it drift out of sight?

  The Keseburg’s band played an upbeat rendition of the ship’s anthem and Captain Stratton climbed the ladder to the hatch. It was time to go. The sound of cheering was overwhelming until Rebecca stepped into the Wolfinger and the door latched behind Leroux. She strapped herself into her chair as Liu finished his preflight routine and Al Jahi asked formal permission to depart. The Wolfinger growled and hummed beneath Rebecca’s feet. The doors of the Keseburg slid gradually open and the planet swirled gray and blue against the dark blank of space. She resisted the urge to flip the filament on and watch the observation balcony feed. No looking back , she told herself. The Wolfinger slipped out of the flight deck, free and floating and alone.

  Dorothy Hackford began to hyperventilate beside her. Rebecca reached out and clasped the geologist’s hand. “It’s okay,” she said, “this is the hard part. When we get there, you’ll be so busy, you’ll forget to miss it. Liu knows what he’s doing, he’s flown the Wolfinger dozens of time. It’s okay, Dorothy. Take a deep breath.” She rubbed a soothing circle on the back of Hackford’s hand with her thumb. Hackford squeezed back and managed to slow her breath into shuddering gasps.