Authors: Robert Culp
I board the launch and instruct the pilot to take me back to
the ship. “Would you care for the side seat up here, ma’am?” he asks. “The
padding is a little better.”
“No. I’ll ride back here.” I call Engineering on the way
back to the ship. “Unless it’s an emergency that can only be repaired here, we
won’t be making this our pit stop. If you need any parts, pass your list on to
Athena. If she can find them, she’ll buy them. If not, maybe Viggo can
fabricate a useful substitute until the real deal can be acquired.” Ginny
agrees with me and tells me he already has a few projects.
When the pilot announces the shuttle is secure on
Night
Searcher,
I go to the Bridge to address Malcolm and Aria. “You have the
ship. We will conduct no shore leave operations here. Get the other launch
and personnel back as soon as practical. As soon as everyone’s aboard, we
continue towards Atlas. If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters. Try not to
need me. Spend some time in the sensors. Find us a habitable planet at least
a week away. Assign it to the navigator and as soon as possible lay in a
course. Get us underway.”
“As you wish, ma’am,” the first officer responds.
On entering our—my—cabin, I see Gwen left her teddy bear,
Mr. Snuggles, on the bed. There’s a note beside him.
I think you’ll need
him now more than I will.
Once I’ve stomped out all the brush fires I can
think of, I curl up on my bed—with the bear—and cry myself stupid. Maybe two
hours later, my clerk knocks on the door. If she chimed, I didn’t hear it.
“Captain? Chief Sergeant Call and Lieutenant Landers are here. They won’t
leave.”
I do my best to wipe tears from my eyes. “Let them in.” I
step into my ’fresher and splash water in my face, then look at myself in the
mirror. It didn’t help that much. I try to be chipper. “So what do you
slackers want? Nothing important needs your attention?”
“No, ma’am,” Freddie replies. “Nothing more important.”
Shawna speaks up: “We thought you might need help crying.”
“Because…well, you have a habit of screwing things up,
y’know?” Freddie adds.
You got that right, sweetheart.
I can’t even get it
out. I thought I was all cried out. I just fall into Freddie’s arms. Shawna
joins in as best she can, her arms around the two of us. I’m surrounded by two
of the best friends I’ve ever had. And I miss a third terribly. And I haven’t
known them much longer than a year yet.
Aria announces Transit. But I barely register it.
A week later, I’m at breakfast with Avi when my perCom
chirps. “Engines are secure, ma’am,” Aria reports. “We have established orbit.”
“She’s on her way.” Avi says into my perCom. I don’t know
how she does it, but anytime something important happens, I’m usually in the
middle of a trivial but unstoppable task. Today is no exception. I’m still
chewing when he hands my perCom back.
“Thanks,” I mutter around a gravy-laden piece of biscuit.
“No problem. It sounds to me like we’ve both got to go to
work. I’ll see you later, ma’am.” He knows I hate it, but we are in a public
area and appearances must be maintained. Besides, whatever we had must have
fizzled out. Neither of us looks at the other the way we used to. I still
wear the ring—if for no reason other than to remind me of what we had. He goes
to the medical bay, I go to the bridge.
“Where are we, Aria?”
The navigator answers first: “Archives call it ‘Dabria,’ ma’am.”
Aria finishes the report: “A class M planet, approximately
seventy percent water, breathable atmosphere. We have detected no artificial
structures. We have detected numerous herds of large life forms on land and in
the seas.”
Did she just shoot the nav a dirty look? I didn’t think androids
could get offended.
“Earth without people? Nice. Send down a reconnaissance
party. This may be where we take our well-needed rest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Captain, Engineering.”
“Go ahead.”
“Will we be here a while, ma’am? These drives are way
overdue on several services.”
“That’s the idea. When the recon team gets back, we’ll make
some firmer plans. In the meantime, do what you can with what you have, but do
not take the drives off line. Be advised, we have detected no industry. Viggo
will be doing plenty of fabricating. Captain out.”
An hour later, “
Night Searcher
, Athena. We have
detected no threats. All indications are that the biosphere is compatible with
human life. I recommend foraging parties be sent down as soon as practical.”
“Athena,
Night Searcher
Actual. Roger, out.”
I have Ginny get the engines as secure as possible for
the near term, and everyone gets a 24-hour period off the ship. If
Night
Searcher
were smaller, we’d land. But she’s way too big and not
streamlined for atmospheric travel. We could land once. Maybe. But we’d be
here for eternity. Athena and Aria are able to operate the ship in a
station-keeping configuration for the short time we’ll be ashore.
On the beach, Ginny runs down her plan to service the
engines. “And, ma’am, if you can and will, we would certainly appreciate you
making unskilled labor available.” And it’s literally a beach. The recon
party established an outpost on the coast in a warm spot. The ocean sounds soothing
and looks inviting.
“Consider it done. Get with Commander Rangee about how many
and for how long. I know once upon a time I said I would help with such an
effort…”
“Respectfully, ma’am, you have a lot on your plate.”
That’s not really true, but I don’t feel like arguing with
her. I consider going back up, but I get a COM from Rangee asking permission
to start shuttling people down for shore leave, which I approve.
The shuttles start landing within minutes, with crewmembers
spilling out as fast as the doors will let them. It’s almost laughable. As
soon as they drop their rucksacks, most of my crew is shedding their clothes
and diving into the waves. No, it
is
laughable. I can’t stop myself.
A party of six Troopers goes hunting. Within an hour, they
have called for a large GMV to recover them and supper. They bring back an
animal that looks like a buffalo but is the size of an elephant. A large
elephant at that, it would practically be a mastodon. Between the cooks,
medical staff, and the soldiers the beast gets approved, butchered, and
cooked. It will never qualify as
haute cuisine
, but it beats FieldRats
any day. Fortunately, they only kill one. Even so, it makes a lot of steaks.
At the end of two weeks, we’ve run through as many
services to the ship as we can. Lacking finished materials, we have to get
very creative a time or two for fabricating replacement items. It isn’t
pretty, but it will fly. Viggo keeps making reference to “baling wire, tissue
paper, and snot.” I’m not certain what he means, and I’m probably happier that
way.
The day comes when I pass the recall command. The break has
been good for morale. Very good if the rumors of four pregnancies are true.
But no one argues about staying. We all want to get home.
Our flight back to Ramaris passes without incident. It
takes a bit over thirteen weeks. We settle into the tedium that really is at
the heart of interstellar travel. One hundred and seven days have passed since
Gwendolyn left the ship. I am on the bridge receiving a status report one
morning when the navigator announces: “We have arrived at the Atlas System. We
are one hour from orbit.” It’s almost like waking from a dream. A very long,
not always pleasant, dream.
“Mr. Rangee, take us into Atlas orbit. Dry dock is
preferable if one is available. Unless I am mistaken, we are due a major
overhaul. Prepare all ship’s craft for shore leave operations; every swingin’
Richard and swayin’ udder
will
be dirtside for two weeks minimum. I
don’t care when it starts, but you will devise a method for each crewmember to
maintain communication with you, and you will maintain contact with me, or my
successor, as I am likely to be relieved. I’ll be in my cabin if you need me.
Aria, make contact with the Academy of the Ancients and then the Admiralty.
Please confirm we are to pick up Captain Dane. Prepare all ship’s logs for
upload to wherever they need to go. Join me when that is accomplished.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Rangee says.
“Of course, ma’am,” Aria replies.
In my cabin, I review Captain Prowse’s last wishes. I’m
staring at the document when Aria joins me. “I remember him saying he wanted
to be buried on Atlas, but I don’t recall if he had a particular location for
burial, if he wants his ashes scattered somewhere, or are we to dump them in
orbit. Any idea?” I open the safe and pull out the urn. Mack’s is in there as
well. I pull out his and set it beside Captain Prowse’s on my desk.
“The requirement is not specified. I doubt he cared,” Aria
says.
“In his heart, he was a space faring man. To me, it’s just
fitting he spends eternity among the stars. At the very least in space. Very
well. I’ll handle it.” I call ChSgt Call. “I need three Troopers in the
small craft bay prepared for EVA. They are to act as an honor guard for the
dispersal of Captain Prowse’s and Dr. Sinnair’s remains.”
“They’ll be ready in five, ma’am.”
I meet the detail in the small craft bay and don my own suit
of improved armor. They’ve started calling it ‘SoniArmor.’ I have to admit I
like it, but who doesn’t strive for some shred of immortality?
“Five minutes after we
begin our Extra Vehicular Activity,” I tell Aria, “I want ‘Taps’ piped through
the ship and all non-critical activity will halt during this event.” She nods.
Once the four of us are ready, we MagWalk onto the hull and I open the
Captain’s urn and shake out the ashes. On a planet in an atmosphere, this would
be easy. But in no air and no gravity, the ashes don’t want to come out of the
urn. As a second thought, rather than leave him in orbit, I throw the urn away
from the planet. As the ashes drift out slowly, I recite a poem I found in
Prowse’s library.
Now the laborer's
task is o’er;
now the battle day is past;
now upon the farther shore
lands the voyager at last.
There the tears of earth are dried;
there its hidden things are clear;
there the work of life is tried
by a juster Judge than here.
“Earth to earth, and dust to dust,”
calmly now the words we say;
left behind, we wait in trust
till the resurrection day.
Father, in thy
gracious keeping,
leave we now thy servant sleeping.
It was well worn so it must have
meant something to him. If it wasn’t his favorite, I’m confident it had a
special place in his heart. Freddie hands me Mack’s urn. I similarly toss the
cap towards the planet and the urn into deep space. Mack’s ashes stream out
behind the urn like the tail of a comet. We observe a moment of stillness then
return to the airlock. Their ashes are in effect traveling as fast as the
ship. They form thin lines from where I threw the urns, extending outwards,
but still keeping pace with the ship. It’s like even dead they don’t want to
leave. I know how they feel.
The honor guard moves back aboard. While I’m getting out of
my SoniArmor, Athena calls from the Bridge: “We have received direction from
Academy through the Admiralty.
Night Searcher
is to acquire Captain
Prowse’s replacement on Atlas. Captain Dane is no longer available. His
replacement is to be Captain Stanislaus Magus. Shall I COM him and say we are
here?”
“Yes. Feel free to determine if the Academy will consider
leaving me in command.” It never hurts to ask.
Her reply is immediate. “I took that liberty, ma’am. The
request has been denied.”
Not the answer I had desired. I had expected it, but was
hoping against it. “Very well, please make all preparations for change of
command.”
After I stow my armor, I send a message to Uncle Angus’s
contact person, inquiring of his health and stating my intentions to visit. I’m
reviewing the closing reports when Athena calls. “Communication for you from
Captain Magus, ma’am. I’m patching it through.”
“Thank you.”
A tall man in his early fifties appears on the holoCom. He
speaks with a heavy Lemurian accent. “Well, I see you finally got here. The
orders keeping you aboard as XO should be arriving shortly. You will have my
bags sent to the ship. We leave for Rigg’s Station in four hours, continuing to
Neptune Station from there. I will conduct a full Command In Ranks Inspection,
full crew, in one hour. Get moving and don’t give me any pathetic excuses.”
As many asses as I must deal with, I should have trained
as a proctologist.
“Oh I will, will I? I know not who ye are or who ye
think ye are, but I’ll nae be spoken to like that. Not by you or anyone who looks
like you! COM me again when ye’ve found a civil tongue.
Night Searcher
Actual
out.” Click.
My holoCom bleeps again. I’m poised to ignore the message
when I see that it’s Angus’s contact, Connor MacDougal. “Good day, Captain.
I’m currently on Atlas for business and was able to respond to you a bit
quicker than you probably expected. Angus is as healthy as a horse and as
ornery as a mule. He would love to see you, lass. Come by whene’er ye can.
D’you have the coordinates? And yuir own ship I understand. I guess it’ll be
no Purple Heather Inn for you.”
“I’ve a few loose ends to tie up, but I’ll be in Scotia as
soon as possible.”
“If you need me for anything, I’ll be here until the end of
the week. I’m returning to Scotia on
Oracle
.”
“Thank you, Mr. MacDougal. I will probably be here a bit
longer than that but I will see you soon enough. MacTaggert out.” I write a
letter of resignation to the Academy and email it. Their receipt is in my
inbox in a matter of moments. A response follows it. It’s pretty boilerplate,
clearly a form letter. Thank you for your service, blah blah blah.