De Silva suspected he would get limited duty as soon as he took off his shirt to go in the MRI. The bruising was all over his shoulder and upper arm, and there was probably more that he couldn’t see on his back. It didn’t hurt when he lay in the machine for examination though. But he was still feeling dizzy, and light bothered his eyes.
Patterson would find and treat the full extent of his injuries. Like all rescue ships, the Ugarit class had outstanding hospital facilities. The Nineveh had a host of analysis equipment available and could manufacture most medicines. He had never had to personally use these capabilities before, outside of routine physical examinations.
She showed him the extent of his bruising, pointing out that it extended down to the periosteum. And she told him he had a minor concussion. She gave him painkillers and put a cold pack on him, showing him how to wrap and place it. Sure enough, she ordered LLD.
“It’s light and limited duty,” Patterson said. “If you want to sit in the briefings or on the Bridge then do so. Just let them bear the stress of responsibility.”
De Silva understood that she was resorting to standard precaution. But ten days seemed excessive. There was nothing he could do though. He couldn’t disobey her directive and, since Chandna was the junior Sci-Med officer, he couldn’t get it modified. Still, he pleaded with her. “What if I come back here in forty-eight hours and things are looking good? Would you shorten it?”
“No,” she said. “But I might extend it if I see any swelling within the skull, or if you report headaches or other symptoms of pain.” She sat down on the desk across from him. “Zhu and Holly know what to do. And the boarding is still almost four weeks out. The ship needs you at your peak later, not now. You don’t have to treat this as a problem.”
He leaned forward with his hands resting on his knees and sighed. “You’re right.”
“Anyways,” she said, “the nanites I injected will help manage inflammation and give me an alert should anything unexpected develop.”
“But you’re expecting a quick recovery?”
“If you’re careful about not disturbing the injury. You’re starting to get on in years. Be careful.”
He slowly got up to his feet, being careful not to stress the muscles in his arms or back appreciably. He perceived her being ready to assist him but he managed on his own. He felt vindicated. “I heard that you really had to work to convince Stocky. I appreciate that. You did really well.”
“I hope it helps.”
“Everyone seemed to be working well together, from what I could tell. We can refine the rough edges, but we had to evaluate the basic ‘go/no go’ criteria, and we seem good to go.”
He slipped on his command jacket. He was already getting stiff and so she helped him. Like with the pain, that was something else which would get worse over the next day or so. He began to accept that she was right. “How long do I have to refrain from exercising?”
She forwarded him the digital hospice report and gave him a container of pills. “That’s going to be a while. Come back in ten days and I’ll examine you again and give you an estimate.”
He could read in between the lines. It would be a lot more than ten days. And out here – with no news, sports, stock markets, email, or even company operations briefings – there wasn’t a whole lot to do. He could look forward to stiffness, pain, and lots of boredom. “Moussa will miss the competition.” He knew he would miss it more.
“There’s the whole crew. Just take care of yourself.”
He thanked her and went to leave.
“You’re quite welcome. Let me know if Chandna or I can help with applying cold packs.”
He promised he would do so. But he hoped he could manage.
----------------------------------------
Holly passed into Habitation Gate on her way to the Mess the day after the crew finished cleaning up from the drill. Her duty shift was uneventful (they were getting more boring every day) and she left the Bridge to grab a short lunch. She immediately smelled the soup of the day. The warm notes of ginger and cinnamon – a luxury out in deep space – was delightful. It smelled of something middle eastern or maybe north African.
She heard some of the crew talking about the recent events in the Mess as she was nearing it. One of them was telling the others about the Captain’s bruises. Some of the crew were still awed by their loss to the Aggressors. Patterson had darted between places of cover with incredible speed and agility, and they still didn’t understand how Stocky had broke out of the Gate. And the physical beating that Robbie and De Silva took rattled their nerves further. They soon became aware of her presence and greeted her, saying nothing more about it.
She acknowledged them (Fuller, Garvey, and Ginting) and mentioned that the room smelled wonderful. They told her the soup was harira. That will be good. She didn’t say anything about the conversation she had overheard. De Silva had picked the Aggressor team with the intention of opening the crew’s eyes. They could have beaten the Aggressors if they had all attacked them simultaneously. But they went in small groups which were easily picked off in humiliating fashion. And that was the point – don’t underestimate the unknown.
The shock she had felt earlier had worn off. Stocky could do things that no human could think of doing. He had superior senses and was certainly stronger than the rest of them put together. Had to have been since he set the kinetic impact accelerometers off with a punch – an impressive feat even considering his size. That had scared her the most – the momentary belief that they had struck something and none of their external sensors had detected it.
Stocky had shown that he was very different than a human being. That’s why replicants’ mental state had to be conditioned and controlled. It was wrong for mankind to do that to them, she knew that. But, if they didn’t, humanity would be an endangered species within a generation. Fallen angels.
Those like Patterson appeared more threatening to her though. Patterson wasn’t under anyone’s control. She was aware of her superiority, and cordially working with lessors was simply charity on her part. And she had shown herself to be quite the killer too. She would be frightening if she ever turned away from the faith.
She filled her thermos with hot coffee and added a spoon of sugar to cut the bitterness. She then pulled a storage bowl out of a cupboard and filled it with a generous portion of soup. Plenty of warmth for a long watch. She sealed it with the lid and said, “I don’t think you should worry about that last drill. We won’t put Stocky and Patterson on the same team again. And we’re changing the physical contact rules.”
“Are we expecting combat situations going forward in our new role?” Ginting asked.
That was a complicated question. The Marco Polo job had involved an unplanned scuffle (a rarity), and now De Silva was upping the ante on the security drills. It wasn’t that they were looking for conflicts. But around half of all starships operating in the Outers were engaged in some illicit activity. He father called the Outers “thug country” for that reason and others. However, it wasn’t quite that bad.
De Silva and the other Captains with the company kept a policy of “blind help.” If a ship appeared to be doing a little side business, then that was for the customs agents to discover. They would charge the ship for hauling the unregistered mass by citing something vague like “maneuvering complications”, and never ask questions about it. The Nineveh’s business was rescue and salvage.
However, some starships conducted truly dark work. And in those cases, where the assisted vessel’s activities either endangered the Nineveh’s crew or was immediately harmful to human beings, they had to apprehend the vessel until the proper authorities arrived. And there might be more risk for such occurrences with high value tasks. “No,” she answered, “there’s no reward for us. But we will be ready for one.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Then why are we now pulling so many splicers and replicants?” Ginting asked.
She saw the others watching intently. The truth is that people like you and I are becoming obsolete. That was the main reason.
She couldn’t say that, of course. Never do anything to undermine morale. She understood his concern – she knew that fear. And it was certainly shared by others. Fuller joined the crew before she did, and then Patterson and Stocky after her. She didn’t like the pressure that caused either. She had sought a job in the Outers because she had believed there would be less competition from splicers and replicants. It had seemed like a good place to build a reputation, but she wasn’t as confident about that now. She hoped that they would hire an ordinary human to permanently fill Chandna’s position.
“De Silva hires who’s best for the ship. It’s still the same standard.”
“Is it?” Garvey asked. “The last three we’ve brought aboard are unusual.”
“I got hired right before them.”
“And I was hired before you,” Fuller reminded them. “Most Genetically Modified Humans are like me. We’re not naturally great at everything. Even Patterson’s not. The only reason why she can do what she does is because she knows how to optimize the process.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Stop worrying about your careers.”
The room became silent from the directness of his statement. She appreciated the support from Fuller but thought it best to leave. So she began to quietly walk out.
“Hey, there still aren’t any Elios, right?” Ginting asked.
“Everything is quiet and good. God has blessed us. Stop worrying about things.”
She went back to the bridge and unstrapped a tray table and pulled it up to her console, and she tried to forget about their career concerns. She sipped her coffee while she laid her dinner out and then she took a bite from her soup. It was meaty from the grasscutter (which gave savory depth even if it was not a traditional ingredient) and the spice had an invigorating kick. Still, she wished that she had added a pinch of salt.
She instinctively set her comms station to scan for news while she started reviewing the newest astrometric information from the spy probes. Nothing was particularly informative, and the Nineveh was now collecting superior quality information than the probes. But it was still reassuring to have another asset report no contacts. The silence soon remined her of how alone they were, and she killed the news channel sweep.
She had half eaten her lunch when Zhu and Samoylova came to the Bridge.
“Whatcha got?” Zhu asked.
“The latest update from our probe. There’s nothing interesting.” Her voice conveyed her boredom.
“No, I know about our Triumvirate friends,” Zhu said. “What are you eating?”
Triumvirate, Triumvirate. All of you in the Outers obsess too much about us. We aren’t scheming against you all the time. “They have harira on the Mess.”
“Ah!” Zhu said. He sat in the Captain’s chair and began to pull up logs. Probably the same “Triumvirate” report. “Is the coffee fresh down there?” he asked.
“I think so. To tell you the truth, I don’t notice it that much. It always tastes the same out here. Kind of meh.”
He nodded like he fully understood. “Well, we haven’t had time to build enough O’Neill cylinders to support all the growing environments and roasters. Abbasid Arabica won’t have a monopoly forever.”
Apparently, it all came from the same source.
Samoylova sat in the other forward station and said, “NAV, how about we take a flight in the Piloting Module.”
“I can support that. Do you need time logged?”
She nodded.
“If you gals are going to fly out,” Zhu said, “try to get a decent look at the hull. We still need to perform the EVA hull inspection before we hit that debris field. It would help us if you could point out any focus areas for the Whipple shield.”
“It’s late in the watch to start a hull inspection.”
“You still have half of it left,” he said. “And you don’t have to get too precise. Just get a full panoramic and I’ll be able to blow up the digital imagery for detail. It’s up to you, of course, but you can do it.”
“Sure, ENG.” I’ll do it on the next one. She spooned another bite of harira in her mouth and looked back at Samoylova, who stared at her. “You want to go now?” she mumbled while chewing a piece of rat.
“Yeah, let’s do it now,” she said. She opened a comms channel and said, “Nieves, get dressed for a flight. We’re going out.”
Holly sealed up her lunch and got up with Samoylova, and Nieves answered that she would be there shortly. Zhu wished them a good flight as they walked to the very back, past the Navigation plotter. They pulled down the overhead hatch and she looked up into the long tunnel while the ladder extended down. TURING told them that lighting and ventilation had been started for them.
Holly climbed up through the restricted tunnel to the Piloting Module at the center of the ship’s wheel. She opened the hatch on the other side and pushed herself into the zero-gee environment, floating her way through the cramped confines (the Piloting Module was large, but it was mostly a rocket and with very little habitable volume) up to the cockpit controls.
The Piloting Module was a ship in its own right. It could assist in maneuvering evolutions for docking and it also functioned as a lifeboat. That lifesaving role wouldn’t help them out here in Delta-Hydri. It lacked an FTL drive. Still, it was a great way of getting another vantage point at a target without having to move all the mass of the Nineveh.
Samoylova sat beside her and asked if they should start up the Americium reactor. Holly told her that they would use the fuel cells (only a short-term power source but it took a lot less time to startup than the reactor) and they worked together, stepping through the procedure for systems verification and launch. Holly gave the verbal cues and Samoylova performed the actions. Nieves secured the hatch behind them a couple minutes later and took a back seat. Holly studied the control indications on her displays.
“Did ENG really task us this late in the watch?” Nieves asked.
“I sent us out here,” Samoylova said. “We’ll talk more in a few minutes.”
That’s intriguing.
Nieves said nothing back and calmly strapped herself in
Holly looked at Samoylova. “We’re good for launch. Warm up the maneuvering thrusters and I’ll retract the docking clamps on your command.”
“I’m warming them up,” Samoylova said. “We’re set for high specific impulse and low thrust.”
Holly patched in comms to the bridge. “TURING, we’re shifting electrical load onto our fuel cells and are about to disconnect the cabling. Switch to external wireless for comms.”
“I have already made the switch,” TURING said. “I am reading your status on wireless, and all indications are good. Have a nice flight, Navigator Holly.”
You too. As nice as programming allows.
“Stay in touch,” Zhu said.
“Aye, Captain.”
“Engines are warm,” Samoylova said. “Checklist complete.”
“Okay, I’m securing physical connections and retracting the clamps. Go on green.”
Holly reclined in her seat and let Samoylova engage the engines and pilot the ship away from the Nineveh. The zero-gee experience faded into the shifting, low gravity produced by their thrust. She soon heard Samoylova say goodbye to Zhu and watched her switch comms to receive only.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to talk in private. Girl talk.”
Zhu was now calling them and asking what happened.
“We better talk fast.” Holly typed a message to Zhu saying they were fixing a glitch with the microphone, but that they could hear him.
“Listen,” Samoylova said. “We know we can pick up this alien – whatever – now. And I know that we still need to focus on that. But let’s also start planning our leave schedule when we get back.”
“We don’t have to do that now though. And why this crazy secrecy?”
“Garvey proposed to Erica,” Samoylova said.
Did he tell you?
“I overheard him tell Moussa,” she immediately explained. “He’s keeping it quiet – maybe because he can’t really set a wedding date. So, I don’t suppose we should congratulate him.”
“We shouldn’t talk about it then,” Nieves said. “Let’s forget it. The more we think about it, the more we’re likely to spill it later.”
Samoylova glanced back toward Nieves. “You got a point. But this is going to hurt Qureshi.”
Yeah. It hit Holly. She wanted to be happy for Garvey’s engagement, but it also felt wrong.
They were all silent for a moment. “We can’t do anything about it,” Nieves said.
Silence again. And then Samoylova said, “We could get our leave set up so that we could vacation in groups of two or three together with Qureshi.”
“Maybe,” Holly said. She thought about the trouble Qureshi had trying to date over the last couple years. Patterson was right – it wasn’t easy to find a family-oriented man – Christian or otherwise – among spacers out in the Frontier. And most of the male population were spacers. Thug country. She knew associates on the Carchemish and the Pollux. They might be able to network with them to cover more opportunities. And Moussa had said that a few of the Abydos’s crew were Christian. “We do need to work together or the next person who gets engaged will be another male.”
She looked through the view windows as the Nineveh slowly passed over. Samoylova did a good job multitasking between the flight and the conversation. Her past combat roles likely sharpened her mind to focus on more than one thing at once. Wars were almost completely mechanized. Humans just monitored and directed the machines fighting.
“I’ll help,” Nieves said. “I want to help her.”
“Do you know anybody across the fleet who we can add. You’ve been aboard the longest, and I think we can help each other best with a larger network.”
“I don’t, sorry,” Nieves said. “Do you think we should invite Patterson?” she asked.
No, her boobs are bigger than all of ours put together. “That’s the friendly thing. But it would do more harm than good.”
“Yeah, just us for now,” Samoylova said.
She was glad that Sam understood. Going out with Patterson necessarily meant you were competing with her. She wasn’t conscientious about her own figure. She was well endowed herself and could fill a dress with her curves. But they all needed a level playing field. And that meant only normal humans should be in their plan.
She looked back at Nieves. “Are you good with this?”
She nodded. “I’m in.”
“We’ll talk about this more when we’re with Qureshi. I think I know how to get some leverage over Zhu and get him to work with your schedules. I’m going to cut him back in on our comms.”
They agreed and Holly reactivated the cockpit microphone. “Do you hear us, Zhu? I believe we solved the issue.”
“I hear you,” he said. “And I’m already looking over the images. Just keep doing that.”
“Will do. This should be an uneventful flight.” It would just be a quick pass over the Nineveh unless if they found damage to the Whipple Shield.