A stocky machinist mate passed her and nodded respectfully on his way out. She returned the nod, wishing she could remember the man’s name. A fleeting thought slipped through her mind that Captain Hill would not only have greeted the crewman by name, but would have known some detail of the man’s family or life to inquire upon. Before she could think further along that train of thought, Ryan Hill walked into the laundry facility.
The captain’s younger brother was shorter than the captain and less well muscled. He was not, however, bad to look at. Maggie had to admit that he was actually very attractive. He did not give off the cold stand-off-ish vibes that the captain so often did, and that made Ryan Hill more approachable and inviting. His dark hair was longer and curled more. His eyes were the same startling blue. They twinkled, and his mouth slipped into an easy grin when he caught her stare.
“Good afternoon, Commander. My brother has released you from your incessant duties long enough to wash your clothes, eh?”
The comment, even said as it was in a light conversational tone, inexplicably rankled. “My duties are not as demanding as you seem to think. The captain—we—work hard to make sure that the crew have time for personal tasks and relaxation.”
His grin did not slip. He moved with panther-like grace and slipped his own bag of wash off his shoulder. “All work and no play, something like that?
“Something like that.” She turned back to her machine, hoping her tone and physical aloofness would end the conversation there.
Ryan Hill had other ideas. “The preparations for the first jump are going well, I think.” He paused, obviously expecting a comment. Seeing the commander’s jaw clench, he continued. “This must be a very boring assignment for a top gun like yourself. I cannot imagine piloting this old girl is a very… stimulating… task.”
Resigned to the fact that she would be forced to carry on the conversation until her clothes were finished, Maggie shrugged. “There are plenty of challenging tasks involved with this mission. It was an honor to be chosen.”
Ryan’s smile slipped slightly, and his gaze sharpened. “Was it? I wonder if you will think that in a few months time.”
Before Maggie could inquire what he meant by this cryptic statement, the younger Hill turned to greet another colonist. “Finally, Weathers. I thought I was going to have to wash these clothes myself. Well, here they are. Marissa will have your credit when you return the bags to our quarters.”
Ryan turned back to Maggie. “I’ll pass on my compliments to your father. Good day to you, Commander.” He was out the doorway and up the tube before Maggie could respond. She stared at the young man now loading the Hill’s wash into the machines.
“He
pays
you to do his
laundry
?”
Weathers did not even turn his head. “Yup. No skin off my back. If he’s so lazy that he wants to pay me to do his wash while I do my own, no worries for me. Besides, he’s vice chancellor of the colony. He’ll be a good man to have on my side, you know?”
The pilot of the
Hudson
absorbed his words in silence. She wasn’t aware there were sides to be on.
***
When O’Connell returned to her quarters, she was shocked to find Dr. Ruger awake. “Hi. Didn’t expect you to still be up.” She dropped her load of laundry on the bed and flung her lanky frame down beside the pile.
Cassie finished pulling a tank top over her head and then crawled into her bed. “I wasn’t until a machinist mate closed his hand in a hatch.”
“Ow! Bad?”
“Had to glue a few lacerations but nothing was broken.” The doctor considered her roommate with a professional eye. Maggie lay sprawled out with her legs hanging over the side of the bunk and one arm covering her eyes. “You look exhausted, again. Doing laundry shouldn’t be so tiring.”
With an exaggerated groan, O’Connell sat up and began folding the clothes she had stuffed willy-nilly into the bag. She hissed in exasperation over a small yellow stain on one tank top. “Technology to redefine the universe and catapult us past the speed of light, but still no effective way to remove a mustard stain. There’s a deeper meaning there, I’m sure.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it’s not doing laundry that’s exhausting. I went a couple rounds with Tony today.” She grinned when Cassie groaned in response. “Yeah. Couldn’t let the co-pilot upstage me, of course. He has a nasty uppercut.” She paused and smoothed at a wrinkle in one of her uniform blouses. “Did have an interesting conversation in the laundry, though.”
“Oh?”
“Captain’s brother.”
Cassie rolled over to face Maggie, but kept quiet. She kept her face emotionless, giving nothing away.
“He’s an odd duck. I’m convinced one of them is adopted. They’re a perfect personification of yin and yang. One’s cold and calculating and completely, stultifyingly, proper. The other is all emotion and naked ambition. Disturbing, though.”
Cassie re-arranged her comforter and switched off her lamp. “Which one is disturbing?”
In the act of hanging up her dress uniform, Maggie paused. “Well, both. But Ryan Hill…” She shook her head. “Maybe I’m just tired and jumpy. He sets my nerves on edge. This tickling in the back of my mind, like something dangerous is coming up on my six but I can’t quite see it. You know what I mean?”
“No idea, sorry. I’ve barely met him. You’re probably just imagining it. You do tend to jump to conclusions about people. Maybe the dichotomy between his personality and his brother’s is causing your misgivings. You’re seeing deceit where nothing but honest differences exists.”
Maggie frowned. “Maybe.” She flicked off the lights on her side of the room. “Get some sleep.”
Cassie turned her head and peered into the darkness. “Where are you going?”
“Watch patrol. Chi has the con and I’m senior officer on watch. I want to check on him before I turn in. I’ll wake you for dinner.”
***
Ben Fortunas made Dwax nervous. There was an underlying current of intellectual skepticism and suspicion that the scientist’s outwardly jovial and grandfatherly appearance could not completely hide. Even as an alien still adapting to the behavioral intricacies of the human species, Dwax knew when someone didn’t believe him. The worst of it was, Fortunas had every reason to be suspicious and Dwax had every reason to be nervous. It made for a tense partnership.
Fortunas had been studying every scrap of information available about the planet Dremiks since the Dremikians arrived in Earth orbit. His immediate family died during the war, leaving him with no ties to any place or person. A German by birth, the doctor liked good German wine, and good, warm, beer. He was a biologist by training but had solid backgrounds in mineral sciences and meteorology.
The lights flickered in the science bay, but Fortunas didn’t glance up from the screen in front of him. Underneath the lens of a powerful microscope sat a precious sample of Dremikian soil. The doctor knew by heart the mineral content and atomic weight of the contents. He was content, for the moment, to examine the physical characteristics of the fine granules. He told Dwax that a great deal could be learned from simple visual observation. All Dwax saw was sand.
Dwax thought humans curiously precise in their varying terms and definitions for dirt. In his native tongue there was no differentiation between granular rock deposits like those the doctor was examining and loamy clumps of rich soil. It didn’t seem to matter what language the humans spoke, there were always several words to describe the same concept. It made for difficult communications and left what humans euphemistically termed “room for interpretation”. That potential chasm of differences lent itself to deception.
“I know you’ve seen such samples before, this being from your own home-world. You’ll note that the grains are roughly formed and irregular—indicating an uneven wearing and shaping over time.” While the scientist was speaking, the bits of sand jumped and slithered across the screen. Fortunas sighed. “The electronic charge of your soil doesn’t seem to agree with the current charge of this room.” The lights flickered again; this time the doctor did notice. “I wish he’d hurry up with these infernal tests.”
Dwax, happy to have something else to discuss, clicked his tongue. “The captain assures me the tests are necessary to fix any problems before we jump.”
“Yes, strange how our honored flagship, a testament to the engineering partnership of two great species, can’t keep the lights on.”
Dwax tried to think of a witty response but failed. He clicked his tongue in meaningless syllables and changed the subject. “Your plants are doing well, yes? I am liking these that you call elephant ears. I think they will look very nice in my mother’s garden.”
The scientist turned back to examining the sand. He waved his hand in the air over his head. “They’re a hearty bunch. I will, of course, provide samples for your dear mother. I think she will enjoy the spider plants as well. That is, as long as she doesn’t try to cross them with your
gun-cho
vines. That could have disastrous consequences.”
Definitely on firmer ground, Dwax encouraged Fortunas to elaborate. He spent the rest of the hour learning about a curious plant called kudzu.
***
“Good morning, ma’am. Up early today.” Chief Turner fell into step beside the commander. He was sipping from a steaming mug of coffee
O’Connell laughed. “Up late, actually. I had the night watch, remember?”
The chief shook his head ruefully. “My apologies, ma’am, I’d forgotten that you changed the roster due to these electrical tests. I’m headed to the bridge myself.”
“And I’m off for breakfast and a run before bed. I’ll check in with you this evening.” She nodded in parting and slipped into the tube leading to the lower decks. The chief continued toward the bridge.
He found the captain, Lieutenant Price, and Ensign Robertson, there. Robertson was bent over his navigational gear and barely spared a glance for the chief. Price was in the co-pilot’s seat looking distinctly bored. He nodded to the chief in greeting without speaking. Captain Hill had been reading something when Turner entered. He looked up.
“Good morning, Chief. How’s the coffee today?”
“I made it, sir. I trust that speaks for itself.”
The captain chuckled. “If you made it, Chief, then the coffee, in the finest tradition of the naval services, probably speaks and
walks
for itself.”
“As the captain pleases. Shall I fetch a cup for you, sir?”
Hill shook his head in the negative. “I think I’ll stretch my legs. I’ll take your status report when I return.” He raised his voice slightly to announce “Lieutenant, you have the bridge,” before departing.
The running lights along the baseboards flickered while the captain was walking to the officer’s mess. He frowned and stopped to check the chronometer on his wrist. Guttmann had another twelve hours to finish his tests before the deadline. Just as he stepped through the door to the officers’ mess, the lights went out completely.
“Well, shit,” a feminine voice said from the far corner of the room.
“I concur, Commander.”
O’Connell laughed, a hearty sound in the blackness of the room. “I wonder if this means he found the short or created a new one?”
Captain Hill tried to feel his way to a chair and bumped into the hard corner of the table in the process. He cursed softly. “I’m afraid to say it, but probably both scenarios are correct.” He paused as he groped for a chair. “There should be emergency lighting in here.”
“I’ll make a note to tell him.”
“I’ll tell him now,” the captain said, crossly. He raised his wrist to key the communicator device just as the lights snapped back on. He blinked as his eyes adjusted.
O’Connell was perched on a countertop nibbling on a croissant and sipping from a bottle of water. She shrugged in response to his raised eyebrow. “Seemed safer than trying to find a chair; I knew where the counter was.” She jumped down. “I’d avoid the coffee, sir. Chief made it.”
“I came here precisely
for
the coffee. Aren’t you off duty?” He poured himself a cup, his immediate need to berate Lieutenant Guttmann momentarily forgotten.
“Yes sir. Just grabbing a bite to eat before catching a nap. We have a status meeting with the department heads at 1500 and then the weekly colonial delegation meeting.”
Hill sipped the coffee and sighed in appreciation. “The chief is a good man.” He focused back on the commander. “I’ll see you at 1500 then. Carry on.” He abruptly turned and left.
Maggie was a bit bewildered by his gruffness but attributed it to a need for caffeine. She finished her snack and made her way to the work-out facilities.
When the captain made it back to the bridge, it was substantially more crowded. Swede was bent over the co-pilot’s seat conferring with Price while the chief and Robertson seemed to be debating a navigational point. All snapped to attention as he entered.
“As you were. Progress, Swede?” Hill didn’t miss the nervous exchange of glances between Price and Guttmann.
“Yes sir. I was enquiring if it would be possible to take the navigational aides off-line.” He winced at the captain’s immediately obvious displeasure. “Just for a few minutes, sir. I’ve localized the short.”
“How many minutes, Lieutenant?”
“No more than fifteen, sir. I need to take the whole system down, check some independent wiring and power sources, re-power it, and run a diagnostic.”
The captain made a few mental calculations. “You have to do this now? You can’t wait for another three hours until we are closer to the Uranus buoys?”
Swallowing his irritation, the engineer responded, “It would be better to do this now sir, if I’m to maintain the schedule you set for me.”
“There won’t be any necessary course changes during that time, sir, and the steering capacity won’t be affected at all,” Lieutenant Price interjected. He immediately wished he’d stayed quiet, when Captain Hill slowly turned his head and fixed that coldly attentive gaze on him.
“Yes, I am aware of that. Thank you, Lieutenant.”