The Science Officer (3 page)

Wonderful. Another concussion. He hated getting concussions.

You felt like you were standing three feet behind yourself and a little to one side, watching everything like it was happening to someone else.

Remote. Hard to process things in real time. Another really bad drunk. Punch drunk. The worst kind.

Javier kinda fish–eyed her as she grabbed him by the front of his tunic and hefted him upright. She looked closely at his face. He might have even talked, although nothing really coherent was going on behind his eyes, either.

Hallway.

Corridor lights.

Pretty music, but that might have been in his head.

Med–bay.

They were the same on every ship in space. Maybe one factory built them all and just slapped on different name plates.

Small room. Three meters by five. Two beds. One big console between them with robotic spider/waldo examination arms that did stuff to whoever you dropped into the bed.

Javier found himself on his side on the port–side bed. Hands were still manacled.

Cold, proby thingee stretched out.

Bright light in each eye.

Cold something on the back of his head to make the bad go away.

Sting in the shoulder when the spider/waldo thingee bit him.

That was rude.

Oh.

Warm.

Happy thoughts.

Binary chemicals achieved medical significance.

Conscious thought.

Javier sat up with the fading remains of a bad hangover. Or something. Four minutes had passed. She was still there, glowering. With the other guy. You–something?

Javier blinked.

Blinked again.

They were both still there.

“Ow. Was that necessary?”

She leaned in extra close. Even leered. Someone had been chewing wintermint gumdrops. “Necessary, Aritza? No. Fun? Absolutely. Feel free to keep mouthing off to me. Medbay’s not far away, as long as I don’t do anything the med–bot can’t fix before you bleed to death.”

Javier tried to concentrate on the freckle on the left side of her nose. Kissing her suddenly at this moment, as much fun as the look on her face would be, would probably get him killed. “I will try,” he finally said, with some modicum of normalcy, “to keep that in mind. Where were we?”

He was almost back to competent when she pulled him off the bed and propelled him back into the hallway. Silver linings.

Ξ

Engineering on the old Osiris–class heavy corvettes was mainly on C deck, with a secondary–level catwalk down on B deck following the curve of the lower hull and allowing an awkward access to engineering spaces. The whole thing appeared to have been designed by circus contortionists who wanted to stay in practice while on duty.

Javier followed the skinny Asian guy through internal airlocks, with Sykora’s hand heavy on his shoulder. She was holding him upright while he wobbled forward, as much as keeping him from running away.

Honestly, where did she think he was he going to go?

The equipment one C–deck made his heart sink. The Osiris boats were a bad tradeoff to begin with, adding guns and armor to a design that would have been better off with bigger engines to run away from capital ships. Someone had decided to fix that here. But they did it by adding a couple of auxiliary power reactors, one of which seemed to be bolted down exactly where you wanted to be sitting to work on the environmental systems.

Javier considered teaching the engineering crew new swear words, but he decided they probably already knew most of them, if they had to keep this mess running.

Javier watched Yu flag down a petite woman wearing the uniform of the Balustrade Imperial Navy, deepest green with yellow piping. “Chief, we’re back.”

The short woman kept her red hair medium length. Javier looked closer and realized she must have come from a high–gravity world originally. She wasn’t squat, but had a perfectly proportioned body that had been stretched sideways and hung over heavy bones. Not bad, she but only came up to his nose, and even then she might have out–weighed him.

She never glanced up at them from her portable computer and appeared to process the situation by reading their shadows on the deck plates. “That’s good, Yu,” she said diffidently. She glanced up for the briefest moment, studied Sykora. “Will it be safe to have him in here, Dragoon Sykora?”

Javier heard her voice right in his ear. “I’ll keep close watch on him, Chief.” He felt her pinch his shoulder to drive the point home. As if he was likely to forget.

They moved down a ladder/stairwell to B–deck. Yup. Just as bad as it looked from above.

Javier took a deep breath and turned to the guy. “We’re gonna need a triage camera, a number four toolkit, and as many towels as you can scrounge up.”

The man looked at him with concern and confusion. “What’s a triage camera?”

Javier counted to five in his head. He’d already had one concussion today. “How long,” he asked, wincing already in his mind, “have you been a Machinist’s Mate, Yu?”

The man lit up. “Oh, I haven’t passed the exam yet, sir,” he smiled. “I’ve been an apprentice for four months now.”

Javier nodded sagely. This was the way he got another punch in the face. He turned to the giantess. “And you’re sure you won’t let me in there to do this?”

Her smile was way too pleased with herself. “Absolutely,” she purred. “Shall I tell Captain Sokolov you refused to help?”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. “Will you hold the portable computer with the schematics loaded while I yell across the room?” Javier knew what refusal would buy him at this point. “And if we’re gonna do brain surgery by remote control, can I have a comfy chair?”

In response, Sykora pushed him to the deck and leaned him against the bulkhead. “This looks comfy.” She did at least pull out a portable computer and flip on the three–dee projector.

Javier reached into the beam and flipped the schematic projection around to face him. He sighed.

“Okay, Yu,” he started. “After you remove the six bolts holding the primary panel in place, we’ll need to disable the through–put and drain the primary system. You’ll be looking for a blue pipe and a manual cutoff valve…”

Ξ

Javier wiped the sweat from his forehead with both wrists still manacled together. At least he wasn’t completely covered in muck and grime like Yu was. And how a black Norwegian rat ended up dead and wedged in the transverse coolant well might end up being one of those mysteries he wanted to ask God about when he died. But the machine was finally working.

He tried to stand, found that his feet, legs, and butt were asleep. He made it about halfway up the wall when he started to tumble over. Sykora nearly dislocated his shoulder when she jerked on the chain.

“Give it a rest, lady,” he snarled, forgetting where he was in his tired state.

Sykora was quick to remind him. She grabbed him by the throat with her other hand and spiked him to the bulkhead hard enough to make his skull ring. Again. Yu sidestepped and just kind of stood there with a shocked look on his face as Sykora leaned close.

For a moment, just a moment, Javier considered biting her. It had already been enough of a day. Maybe things should go out with a bang.

“What did you say, punk?” she whispered. She was close enough to kiss, but Javier was dog–tired and cranky. She was close enough for a swift kick, too.

He took a deep breath. “I said I’m tired. I need a shower, a meal, and a nap. Your damned machine is fixed. Can we go now?” Dark and terrible thoughts swirled in the back of his mind right now, not the happy, relaxed place he normally inhabited. This was closer to the bad old days before the Academy. Javier thought he had put all that behind him.

Sykora watched him for a second longer, alpha dog making a point, before she stepped back and moved to one side. “Let’s go, Yu.”

Javier followed the man out of engineering and up a deck to D. They both staggered like drunks, holding onto the handrail lest they slide all the way back down the sharp staircase.

Sykora led him back to his cell and shoved Javier in. She disconnected the manacles, and flipped an energy bar, the kind that tasted like sawdust and raw sewage, onto the bed before activating the force field.

Javier was just happy that the field was in place. It would keep him from doing anything terminally stupid at this moment. Not that he didn’t consider it. “How about a shower?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard.

She smiled, a content little giant princess in her castle. “There’s a sink,” she said. “The bed has a blanket.” And she was gone.

Javier sat on the center of the bed. That wench was seriously messing with his
wa
. He folded up his legs and began to meditate.

Part Three

Javier wasn’t asleep.

He had bathed in the sink and then cat–napped and meditated for several hours. Homicidal tendencies had been pushed well to the back of his mind.

For now.

Not forgotten.

He wasn’t that person, any more. They wouldn’t make him go back there. Not today.

Escape was primary. Vengeance could come later. But first he had to survive.

A knock at the doorway brought him to the surface. “Javier?” It was Machinist’s Mate Yu.

Javier cracked an eye, saw a shadow outside the force field. The cell was dim enough that he was almost invisible on the bed. He started flexing muscles to loosen everything up without visible motion. Sykora was not to be seen.

“Javier,” Yu called again, louder. “Time to wake up. Captain wants to see you.”

That got the eyes open. For the briefest moment, Javier considered overpowering the slim man and making a break for it, but there was nowhere to go. He was a week’s sail to get to anyplace civilized from here, and no boat. Survival first. Still, it was Yu and not Sykora. Silver linings.

Javier climbed off the bed slowly. “Yeah, Ilan,” he called, “I’m coming.” He stretched everything as he approached the force field. He sighed, mostly due to lack of tea to kick–start his morning. That and freshly–pulled honey made things much nicer in deep space.

Yu shut off the force field with a smile. “Ready?”

Javier looked at him sidelong for a moment. “No manacles?” he asked.

Yu grinned and shook his head. “Captain said to ask real nice and you’d probably behave,” he said simply.

Javier felt a chill at the bottom of his stomach. Pirates didn’t act like this, not even the romantic ones in the movies. They were cut–throat professional businessmen.

They wanted something.

Ξ

Javier followed Yu to the Captain’s office and watched him knock. The door slid sideways on silent pneumatics. Javier followed Yu into the room.

Captain Sokolov was at his desk, like before. He looked exactly like a ship’s captain was supposed to, according to all the movies. He still had that charisma–thing captains were supposed to have. Javier had never gotten the hang of it. It probably helped to actually like people.

Sykora had apparently decided to get dressed up this morning. She was wearing a Neu Berne Field Combat Uniform. Considering her size and mass, it was probably custom tailored. Certainly freshly pressed. It came with a pistol and a short saber. Probably for effect. Probably.

Nobody else was in the room.

Captain Sokolov smiled warmly at Javier and gestured to the seat. “Please, Javier,” he said amiably, “have a seat. Yu, don’t go far. I’ll want to talk to you after this.”

Yu did something that approximated a salute in some cultures and skedaddled.

Javier took a long moment to size up Sykora. Not that he intended to do anything stupid. Here, anyway. Mostly just to remind himself not to be intimidated by the giantess with the quick fists. He sat and eyed Captain Sokolov closely. “Captain.”

A long moment passed as the two men judged each other.

Sokolov took a drink from his steaming mug. “I woke up this morning,” he began, “and my head felt better.” He sipped and watched Javier for a response.

Javier blinked once.

The Captain plowed on. “I wanted to say thank you.”

Javier nodded. Still not willing to commit. Something about lack of a shower and hot meal and morning tea and still horribly smelly air caused his manners to be atrocious this morning.

Sokolov seemed to understand. “So now I have a conundrum.”

Javier resisted speaking some more. Sykora in dress uniform might mean she wanted to make nice, and it might be appropriate for an execution. Neu Berne troopers tended to be sticklers for details. He glanced up at her, lingered, returned. She scowled professionally back.

“I spoke with Dragoon Sykora,” Sokolov continued, “and she tells me you handled the bio–scrubber rebuild very professionally, including showing Yu how to fabricate a bypass for a burned out number six lead.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “Why can’t your Engineer keep those systems running?” Javier asked in the pause.

He was rewarded with Sokolov’s awkward glance at Sykora and a deep breath to compose his thoughts. “Dalca is a mid–functioning introvert,” he said, pausing to think.

Javier cocked his head. “So are lots of engineers,” he replied. “That’s why they become engineers in the first place.”

Sokolov nodded. “Correct,” he said, “and she’s quite good. However…”

Javier waited.

“Apparently,” Sokolov continued, “the bio–scrubber
bit
her.”

“Bit her?” Javier repeated. Understanding dawned. “Ah. So now she won’t touch it.”

Javier had never gotten anyone to explain it to him better than that. Something bad had happened to them with a particular piece of machinery, it had bit them, and they would develop what was, to an extrovert like him, a total neurosis. Introverts made great engineers, most of the time. This was the drawback.

Sokolov nodded sagely. “Exactly. I can’t exactly requisition new Machinist’s Mates out here, and she can’t train people.”

Javier smiled evilly. “Good luck then, Captain.”

“Which brings me,” Sokolov said, “to you.”

Javier felt a chill go up his spine. He felt Sykora’s smile without looking over.

Javier blinked.