Reel

The next morning found Reel hard at work on the landers. She’d finished all of the maintenance on Lander One the day before, and had scheduled a test flight for it today. Laying on her shell, she worked at the underside of Lander Two, wrenching the last of its four main engine pods off. The other three lay lined up on her workbench, three big off-white egg shapes with a few wires trailing out of the gimbals at their tops. She almost had it free when the familiar sound of scraping footsteps made her pause.

Argo’s wrinkled face appeared under the edge of the lander, upside down from her perspective. He scrutinized her, eyes roving across her face and the empty engine housings, his expression faintly disdainful.

“I thought you had the engine checks done already?”

“For the first lander,” she answered with a grunt, twisting hard at a bolt. It resisted her, clinging to its recess. “Now I have to do the second one.” She hammered at the end of the spanner with one fist, trying to break the bolt loose.

“So Lander One is ready to fly?”

“Nearly.” She brought her fist down hard and the bolt broke free with a jerk. She let go of the spanner, pushing hard on it, and the long handle swung in a wide arc. It nearly took Argo in the face, forcing him to jerk back to avoid it. That was satisfying, in a petty sort of way. “I have to do the final engine stress tests, and it will need to be provisioned.” She grabbed the spanner handle and finished pulling the bolt out.

“Yes, I saw that you had signed it out for a test flight this afternoon.” He paused, eyeing her again, and then went on in a much quieter voice. “What in the black were you thinking, girl?” He asked softly.

She stiffened, stopping with the spanner on the next bolt. “Sir?” Did he know, somehow, what she’d heard? What she was planning?

“You’re getting off lightly, you know.” His eyes glittered. “Because you’re his daughter. If it were up to me, you’d be scrubbing every tile in this tub by hand.”

She twisted savagely at the next bolt. It turned with a loud squeal of protest. “I’m very sorry for speaking out of turn, sir.” she said. The words sounded flat and mechanical, even to her own ears.

“Oh, I’m very glad to hear it,” he replied, returning all her sincerity. He leaned closer, steadying himself with one hand on the lander, his eyes star-bright. “You want to fly the contact mission?”

There was no point in denying it. “Of course I do,” she snapped at him, her hand clenched tight in a fist on the handle of her tool.

Argo gave her a hard, angry smile. “Then prove that you can be trusted. Prove you can follow directions, without stepping outside of your assigned task or causing any…incidents.” His eyes flicked to the back of her skull and back, deliberately. “You haven’t managed that yet.”

Her cheeks burned. “As you say, sir,” she managed to choke out. Turning back to her work, she applied the spanner again. She knew she wasn’t fooling him, that he could see her shame plain as the black in the way she attacked the last bolt. That only made her angrier. The final bolt came free, and she pulled the engine pod loose from its mounting gimbal to thud on the ground, the wires trailing after. She yanked the clamp holding the wires to the ship free. “Excuse me, sir; I need to slide past you.”

“Of course, of course.” He stepped back and watched as she clambered to her feet. Lifting the pod required an awkward squat, and her arms didn’t reach all the way around it. Another pair of hands would have made it easy, but Argo made no move to help. She managed it with a grunt, heaving it up onto the bench alongside the other three. “I’ll leave you to your work then. Let me know when you need the provisions.” He offered her a mockery of a smile, as sweet as Meal 3, and took his leave, stumping out the door.

For a long minute after he had gone, she stared out the door after him, anger roiling in her stomach. Why did he always seem to have it out for her?

Because he’s right. A nagging voice in her head whispered. If you had just done your job, the way they asked, you’d be the one flying down there. The thought had a certain appeal; doing what she was told, and only that, was certainly the safer path. She shook her head to clear it, decision firming. Crack that. No, that would mean giving up, and she couldn’t bring herself to quit, not now. So instead, she grabbed the first of the engines and got her arms around it with a grunt. Stepping around the workbench, she hauled the pod towards the open ramp of Lander One.

The landers were nearly identical, barring the engines missing from Lander Two. They were far larger than the tugs used for construction, but lacked the heavy gravity projection and manipulation capabilities of those craft, with only one small tractor beam instead. Where the tugs were little more than cylinders, the landers had a sweeping, powerful shape to them, with a thick body drawing down to a blunt wedge in the front. Two short, stiff wings projected out from the sides to aid atmospheric flight, with an additional pair of fins in the rear for stabilization. Blocky stubs marked the recesses for the engine pods, projecting underneath the craft. Those engines sat in gimbals that let them turn freely, so the pilot could apply thrust in any direction required. At least in the simulations, the ships felt incredibly nimble, even in thick atmospheres. Reel felt a little thrill run through her; it was time to put those simulations to the test.

The ramp of Lander One clanked underfoot, and she had to feel her way along with her feet as she stepped into the craft, unable to see past the bulk of the pod. She picked her way over the lip of the airlock, and then tottered down the corridor to the storage bay. There, she tucked the engine pod in among the rations that she’d retrieved from the kitchens early that morning. She cinched the strap of the webbing down and shoved hard at the pod. It resisted her, the restraints tight and secure.

She hurried to load the other three. If Argo were to return and ask what she was about, she wouldn’t have any good lie for him. As she worked, she delved into the memories in her implant.

Lander operation…maintenance no, I’m done with that…there, preparation for departure.

A checklist blossomed in her mind, as clear as if it was on a screen in front of her. She ran through it for the hundredth time that morning, confirming that she’d completed everything. Secure supplies, she was doing that right now. Confirm routine maintenance, well, she’d done that herself, no need to confirm it. Submit flight plan to navigation…She felt a brief pang. She’d sent the test flight plan she’d prepared to Yerry this morning. Hopefully she’d forgive Reel for what she was about to do.

She skimmed the rest of the list as she secured the last of the engine pods. They lined up neatly on their shelf, and she grinned at them; it would take them weeks to build new engines for Lander Two.

Taking her seat in the cockpit of Lander One, she reached out with her implant, pinging to open a Link with the duty officer. “Navigation, this is Engineer Reel on Lander One. I’m initiating the test flight I filed this morning.” Her voice echoed dully in the confines of the lander’s cockpit.

A voice chimed back in her head, clear as day. “Engineer Reel, this is Ganse with Navigation.” An image of Ganse flashed into Reel’s mind. A scrawny male wearing coveralls with a single green slash across the front and a pinched, worried face. “We have your flight plan. Please confirm, engine and navigation equipment testing out past the platform assembly area?”

“That’s right.” Hearing her voice bounce in the cabin while Ganse’s didn’t was a strange experience. If it weren’t for that difference, she’d have thought he was sitting right next to her. “I’ll be checking in with you to confirm navigation data.”

“No problem, Reel. You are cleared for launch. Opening the bay doors now.”

“Thanks, Ganse.” She leaned back in her seat, listening to the lock between the ships and the workbenches ratchet shut. Distantly, she heard the hiss of atmosphere being pumped out of the lander dock. She hoped Ganse wouldn’t get into too much trouble for this. Through the front viewport, the shadows in the room shifted as the outer airlock began to open, letting in the starlight.

By the black, it felt good to be doing this for real. How many times had she run this simulation? She ran her hands over the switches and the control sticks, feeling them for the first time. They felt wonderful, hard and cold and real under her palms. Reaching across the board, she twisted the main power switch and watched lights dance across the consoles as the system booted up.

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By the time the outer airlock was open, Lander One hummed with life, the consoles and control boards lit in half a dozen colors and the engines thrumming as they spun in their housings. Grabbing the control sticks, she eased the throttle up until the ship lifted clear of its maintenance cradle. She held it steady over the deck plating, watching the feedback from the engines. All showed green, without as much as a flicker. The ship, she was sure, was in perfect working order.

“Ganse, can you give me a position and velocity check?” She asked.

“We have you at 0, 0, 3.156 Reel. Relative velocity is zero.”

That matched what she had on her console in front of her. “Confirmed. Heading into the black now.”

She pushed the sticks forward and felt the engines whir to life for a brief instant. The ship slid out the airlock into open space, as smooth as she could have hoped. Keying the consoles brought cameras to life that let her see in all directions from the front viewscreen. Reel tweaked the control sticks a little to the left, centering the craft as it passed through the lock. The tail of the ship cleared the airlock and she throttled up, pushing the craft into the dark expanse.

As the lock dropped away behind her, a vast expanse of stars replaced it, obscured only by the hull of the Old Bug behind her and the processing platform ahead. A little thrill shivered through her. Lander One handled differently than the tugs she’d flown before. Smoother, more responsive. Of course, it matched the simulation. But she wasn’t wedged into a simulation pod this time, and that knowledge filled an empty place inside of her with glee. Grinning, she pushed the control sticks forward, and slid out towards the processing platform.

Ganse chimed in over the implant Link. “Position is 46.15, 82.19, 115.46 Reel. Relative velocity is 8.92.”

She spared a glance for the console that had her location data. “That’s a match, Ganse, thanks. I’m going to push the engines a little harder now.”

Suiting action to words, she throttled up. Lander One shot forward, the half-assembled rings of the processing platform flashing past and then shrinking away behind her. She felt the barest pressure backwards into her acceleration chair.

Inertial dampeners are working. That was the last thing she needed to confirm; she couldn’t test them in the maintenance bay.

Gance broke into her thoughts. “Ah…Hey Reel, I have you deviating from your designated course. Position at 3782, 956.12, 2234.89. Your velocity is up to 328.4. Recommend throttling down.”

“That matches my console display Ganse, thank you.” No turning back now. She swallowed hard, and keyed the message she’d prepared. “I forgot to send this earlier, my apologies; it’s an updated navigation course.”

There was a long moment of deafening silence and then a rising sense of panic over the Link before it cut off. Reel leaned back in her seat, and pointed the lander towards the third planet.

…

“I forgot to send this earlier, my apologies; it’s an updated navigation course.”

Ganse sighed and turned to his second screen. Reel would forget to update him; people were always forgetting that navigation needed accurate logs. This would have to be quite the course, with the speed she was building up. He popped it open, blinking at the numbers.

The course made no sense at all. What were these speeds? Velocities in the tens of thousands, positions that put her days from the ship…What on Old Bug was she doing? With a mounting sense of horror and dread, he tapped on the course details, swiping to put it on a map overlay.

He cut the Link with Reel. “Yerry,” He choked on the name, coughing around it. “Yerry!” He yelled, louder. “You better come look at this!”

…

Arcturus arrived on the bridge in a full-blown run, his knees screaming. He pelted around the corner and nearly trampling two junior crewmembers in the doorway. They scattered out of his way, shouting in alarm. Coming down the stairs in a rush, he skidded to a halt at the navigation station. Yerry stood hunched over Ganse’s shoulder, her face grim, tapping furiously at his screen. On his other side, Argo watched with a pinched expression that Arcturus couldn’t read. He turned and caught sight of Arcturus as he arrived, and a flash of something else passed over his face. It was gone again in an instant, but Arcturus could have sworn it was guilt.

Arcturus cast it from his mind. There was no time to worry about it; he had far more pressing issues. “Where is she?” He hadn’t meant it to be a growl, and it sent all three of his crew flinching away from him.

Ganse pulled up the coordinate map and pointed to a fast-moving dot. “Here sir. She’s accelerating fast, targeting an orbital insertion for the third planet.”

“Can we bring her back with remote override?” He already knew the answer, but he had to ask.

Yerry shook her head. “She’s disabled it. We can probably still disable the ship from here, but that will leave her drifting, and she’s moving pretty fast.”

“Argo.” His first mate straightened, face blank. “Get one of the tug pilots to Lander Two. They aren’t trained to land, but they can haul Lander One back here.” Argo nodded, turning to give the orders over the Link. The tug bay wasn’t far from the lander bay—they’d be there in minutes. With a deep breath to calm himself, he reached out with his implant to his wayward daughter. “Engineer Reel, you are not authorized to attempt a landing or make contact. Reverse course and return to the ship immediately.”

“Hello Captain.” She sounded almost cheerful. “I’m not going to do that, sorry.”

A vein pulsed in his neck. “You will, Reel.” He snarled over the Link. “You will or I’ll disable that ship and drag you back here like a lump of asteroid.” He said not a word aloud, but his face contorted as he thought the words to her. Ganse leaned away from him, and Yerry looked like she wished she could melt into the deck plating.

Reel waited for a long moment before answering. “If you do shut it down,” she said in a soft voice, “I’ll die out here. Neither of us will be able to start it back up, and the air will only last so long.”

He frowned at that. She wouldn’t die; they’d have her back with Lander Two in a matter of hours. He glanced at Argo, and his first mate caught his gaze and held it, his eyes grim.

“What?” Arcturus snapped.

“Lander Two is disabled.” The older Torellan grimaced and went on. “The tug pilot reports that the engines are all missing. I saw her pull those this morning, for routine maintenance I thought. There may be other issues”

He stared, anger dissolving into horror. “Yerry,” he said, turning to her. “Can a tug reach her?”

She didn’t answer right away, reaching instead across Ganse to the console again. The technician started to say something and then thought better of it, hunching low in his seat. For several tense moments, no one said anything at all as Yerry worked.

“No.” She tried something else on the screen and then shook her head. “No, she’s moving too fast. If we had caught it right away, maybe but now…No.”

Reel heard none of that, but she must have already known it. “Captain, I’m only going to deliver a small communication unit to that research station in Germany, where they’re working on chemical rockets.” She spoke fast, as though afraid that he would stop her if she gave him the chance. “I’ll make a brief contact with them, and then return. That way we can start negotiations right away.”

His eyes narrowed. Had somebody told her what they’d planned? Or…“You overheard us talking about it.”

She didn’t deny it. “I promise, Captain. All I’m going to do is drop off the communication relay so we can talk to them, and then I’ll come right back.”

That had a practiced cadence to it that he liked not one bit, but what choice did he have? The bridge crew stared at him, waiting on his command, needing it, and Reel had left him with only one real option.

“Very well.” He ground out. “You are to deliver the communications relay and return directly.” He acquiesced, aloud for the benefit of the nearby crew. Argo gaped at him in disbelief as he went on. “You will remain in contact, every hour on the hour, and will not make any promises to the locals.” He rubbed at the vein in his neck; anger roiled inside him like a reactor core overloaded, but she flew well beyond his reach. When she returned…well, they would have a reckoning.

“Yes sir, Captain!” It came through with a touch of surprise, as though she hadn’t fully expected this to work. “I’ll make you proud.”

That was too much for him to bear, and he broke the Link without another word to her. He turned to Argo instead. “Get Hark and Roddel to work on Lander Two. We’ll need new engine pods…I want that thing up and running yesterday.”

Argo ignored that. “You coddle her.” He spat, his face twisted and angry. “Any other crewmember and you’d have-”

“I’d have what?” Arcturus roared, whirling on his first mate, fists clenched so hard that he threatened to tear the scabs on his knuckles open again. He wanted to hit the older male, wanted to batter him into submission. That surprised him; he’d never hit anyone, but the surprise was drowned in other emotions. “I’d have let them drift, until they suffocated in the black? How dare you.” The very suggestion enraged him, stoking his mounting frustration to white-hot rage.

His shout echoed on a bridge gone quiet as the black. Argo opened and closed his mouth, but no words came. Instead, he saluted stiffly and turned to see to the task his captain had set him.

Arcturus walked to the front viewport, ignoring the stares of the crew around him. He leaned against the cool glass, one arm over his head, staring out into empty space. The Lander his daughter had commandeered was already out of sight, and far, far out of reach.

Reel you fool, fool child.