Dremiks (43 page)

I was so close to escaping. How did I let a hoyden and a pixie draw me back into this world?

The German stood, put on the face of an old man un-beset by the cares of the universe, and returned to his dwarf-corn experiments, resigned to a tangled fate.

Chapter 25

“I relieve you as officer of the deck, sir.” Ensign Chi saluted Lieutenant Guttmann.

“Aye, aye, Ensign. I’ll make a turn of the decks and record my findings in the log. Have a pleasant watch.” Swede returned the salute and pivoted away.

The ship was quiet; everyone not on duty was asleep. It was just after midnight, and Swede’s favorite time for a deck-by-deck patrol. He could be alone with his thoughts and observe the ship’s workings without constant interruptions from crew and colonists. The soft hum of the carbon dioxide scrubbers and the slightest vibration in the deck from the idling engines resonated in his ears. Despite the turmoil among her crew, the
Hudson
herself was a happy ship, at present.

The lieutenant stopped at a sensor panel on the engineering deck to check power levels and system parameters before he actually entered the engineering spaces. The engine room watch knew he would be coming by and would be ship-shape in preparation. He wanted to find any issues that had arisen, without their explanations. One reading blinked at him and caused creases around his mouth. Someone was running a system that required fluctuating power levels and computer memory. That someone had been running the same program for the better part of three hours.

Inside engineering, everything was exactly as it should be. Swede stood patiently and received the petty officer’s report. He heard every word she was saying, but his eyes and thoughts were fixed firmly on the corner where the simulator rested. Glancing down at his tablet, Guttmann confirmed receipt of the watch report from the petty officer. He took a deep breath and walked, slowly, to the simulator.

“Ma’am”

O’Connell had the good grace to look guilty when her head snapped up to stare at him. She quickly recovered; her features returned to a frustrated grimace. She still favored her left arm and shoulder, holding them protectively against her with a bare minimum of contact with the flight controls. Her hair was escaping from a ponytail and her uniform was rumpled. She looked frazzled.

“Swede. Your watch is over already?” She glanced down at her wrist to answer her own question.

“Time flies, ma’am.”

“Time, but not me.”

Having arrived at the topic, Guttmann forged ahead. “Forgive me, ma’am, but are you sure this is a wise course of action? I thought the captain had… Well, that is to say, I understood that he had…”

“Banned me from “
even so much as thinking about flight controls, simulators, or the confines of a pilot’s chair,
” at least that’s my recollection of his words.”

The lieutenant cleared his throat. “Yes. So, then…well, ma’am, you’ve put me in a rather difficult situation. I can’t imagine the doctor has cleared you for something as rigorous as a three hour simulator test.”

“Two hours and thirty-seven minutes, Lieutenant. And that will be enough. The last thing I need is another damn nursemaid.” She shifted in her seat and winced. “I’ve been replaying the damned crash in my head since the moment it happened.” Her green eyes cut sideways to glare at him. “It hasn’t been a productive use of my time. Price located the lander flight-recorder logs. I thought running the simulation might help.”

The lieutenant waited. He watched emotions of disappointment and vexation flicker across her narrow face. Her right hand clenched spasmodically on the flight controls.

“It hasn’t helped at all. I’ve checked and rechecked the avionics software. The simulator is replicating how the lander is supposed to fly. I’ve reprogrammed the environmental controls.” Her voice rose in volume. “I’ve run this again and again and again. I
cannot
replicate the crash.”

“If I might speak freely, ma’am?”

She made a gesture that Swede took to mean acquiescence.

“After two hours and thirty-seven minutes,” he ignored her wry glance and continued, “you aren’t going to figure anything else out. You couldn’t possibly fly anything, simulated or otherwise, as tense and cramped as you must be. Go to bed, ma’am. Please.”

Maggie tipped her chin and looked up at the lieutenant. “That sounded like pleading, Swede.”

He smiled. “Consider it a personal plea, for my sake. The captain will have my hide if he hears about this.” The engineer sighed. “Rather,
when
he hears of this.” He held out a hand and helped pull the commander to her feet.

O’Connell rubbed at her left shoulder before tugging her uniform back into place. “You’re off to finish your rounds?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll power this down and save all your work to your personal file.”

She considered him for a moment, her features betraying nothing of her thoughts. “Thanks, Swede,” she whispered before walking off.

Guttmann saved all the program permutations and powered off the simulator. He checked a few other stations in engineering before bidding the watch good night and heading to his own bed.

***

A miserably short six hours later, Guttmann flung his pillow across the room at his roommate. “I swear to God, Tony, if you don’t learn to be quiet in the morning I’m going to kick your ass.”

Tony flung the pillow back and missed. He laughed when Swede had to lean out of bed to retrieve it. “Not my fault you were out late. I hope she was worth it.”

Swede, remembering his conversation with Maggie right before bed, sat up and turned to stare open-mouthed at the other man. “What? What do you know about that?’

Tony doubled over with laughter. “Give over, chap. I was only funning. You took forever to get in last night. I was
hoping
it was because of a woman.” He cast a considering look at his fellow officer. “So, was she worth it?”

Understanding that Tony was just being Tony, and had no idea about his conversation with O’Connell, Swede flopped back down. He covered his head with the pillow, muffling his response. “I was on duty, you ass.”

“Ah, sweet duty. Well, I’m off to the surface. I think the captain might let me salvage Lander 1.”

Something that sounded suspiciously like, “I hope you crash,” came from underneath the pillow covering Guttmann’s head. Price was already out the door.

The captain sat in the officers’ mess eating breakfast and reading logs. O’Connell glared at the back of his head as she walked in. She knew that he could have just as easily, and more comfortably, eaten his breakfast in his office. Captain Hill chose to eat his meals in the mess to watch the comings and goings of his officers and to appear more personable. It was an affection of attitude that Maggie had little patience for at the moment. She swallowed her irritation and walked past him to the sideboard. Proud that she had managed the distance without limping or wincing, and distracted by the choice between a blueberry muffin or wheat toast, she failed to notice the consideration the captain was giving her appearance.

“You look like hell, Commander.”

The blunt comment got her attention. She quickly turned her head. “Sir?”

“You look like hell.” He enunciated each word very clearly, as if she was hard of hearing. She was shocked to see that he was actually frowning at her with an expression of anger.

“My apologies, sir. If the captain would be so kind as to excuse me I’ll remove my repulsive appearance from his presence.”

Captain Hill’s expression turned stony. “At ease, Commander. Your tone is
not
excused.” He swallowed some coffee before continuing. “You aren’t on the duty roster today.”

Maggie was still too irritated with his comment on her appearance—if he had any idea how hard it was to put on a uniform with a stiff and aching shoulder and a still swollen ankle he’d stow his damn comments—to concentrate on what the captain had said.

“Are you?”

“Sir?”

Hill sighed as if suddenly presented with a particularly troublesome toddler. “You’re not on the roster for today. Why are you up this early?”

O’Connell opened her mouth to snap an angry comment at the captain and then thought the better of it. Then she thought of a stinging retort and opened her mouth again—only to snap it close and simply glare at him while her temper cooled.

To her aghast dismay, he broke into hearty laughter. “That,” he said between chuckles, “was an impressive display of restraint, especially for you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Any further discussion was delayed by the arrival of Lieutenant Price. Characteristically oblivious to the angst in the room, he sailed in with a chipper grin and an exuberant greeting.

“Good morning, sir, ma’am. Ah, muffins, excellent! The coffee smells divine. Your brew, sir?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Hill hadn’t broken off his staring match with O’Connell.

“Capital!” Tony stuffed half of a muffin in his mouth before becoming aware of the tension of the officer standing beside him. “I say, Commander, you look a bit pale.” He yanked out a chair. “Please sit down.”

The captain’s left eyebrow rose an inch. O’Connell’s jaw clenched as she ground her teeth. “Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant. To what do we owe your sunny mood?”

“Just grabbing a bite before leaving for the surface. I’m off to retrieve a few more bits of your lander.” Price was busy watching O’Connell’s face for any sign that his verbal slight had hit home, and so, missed the captain’s cold glare turning to focus on his back. The captain certainly hadn’t missed the clenching of Maggie’s hand around her water bottle or the hitch in her breathing.

“Perhaps you should head down and start your pre-flight checks, Price. I’ll join you in twenty.” The captain returned his attention to O’Connell.

Tony knew a dismissal when he heard one. He swallowed the rest of his muffin and topped off his coffee before leaving.

“Sir, if I could—”

Captain Hill heard the plea in her tone before Maggie finished the first syllables.

“No.”

The subjugated, pleading, look vanished from her features. “Sir, it’s my responsibility. I’m still the senior pilot on this ship.”

“At what point since your accident did you form the, erroneous, opinion that my orders were open for debate?” He stood and walked to the counter to refill his coffee. “You’re still on medical mandated stand-down, Commander. I can have the doctor review the terms of that condition with you, if you are somehow unclear about your status.”

She stood and snapped to attention. “Understood, sir. Permission to return to quarters, sir?”

“Go.” He avoided looking at her. He missed the emotional hurt that her expression betrayed and the slouch to her shoulders as she departed. If he’d noticed he might have needed another cup of coffee before joining Price in the flight bay.

“Price, with me!” The captain’s barked order echoed in the mostly empty bay. Price jumped from the open door of the lander and hurried to where the captain stood waiting.

“Lieutenant, if you ever again pull a stunt like that with a superior officer, I will personally see your career ended.”

Tony stopped walking. “Sir? I don’t understand what it is I have done to offend you, sir!” He honestly didn’t believe the captain had noticed his slight taunting of O’Connell. Moreover, Price didn’t think he’d crossed the line between the usual competitive banter between pilots.

“You’re not stupid Price. You know damn well to what and to whom I’m referring. This discussion is over. Any other incident such as this will result in formal charges. Are we clear?”

For once, the calmer, rational, portion of Price’s personality took charge. He knew a serious threat when he heard one. “Aye, aye, sir. Would the captain like to review my flight plan?”

Hill shook his head in the negative. “I’ve read it through twice. Use utmost caution. The value should be placed on crew welfare, not the return of the damaged craft. If there is, at any time, doubt about the success of the salvage, you are to err on the side of caution and return to Dremiks station.”

“Understood, sir.”

The captain stared at the younger man for a moment before nodding. “Carry on. Good luck.”

Price snapped a salute and pivoted away. While the captain walked away, Tony kept himself busy checking Lander 2 for pre-flight issues. He took out his anger on the main hatch assembly. O’Connell could be an insubordinate bitch and crash a lander, but still no one saw through her. He was tired of playing second fiddle to a spoiled brat.

***

The recreation area was quieter with all the colonists on the surface. A few enlisted crewmen worked on the free weights while another used a rowing machine. When Hill stalked into the room, O’Connell was leaning against the free-bag while Swede towered beside her. The captain’s eyes narrowed. Guttmann leaned closer to say something he obviously didn’t want anyone else hearing. She shook her head. As she raised her hand to push her hair out of her eyes, she saw the captain across the room. Their eyes locked.

With a grunt, Maggie shoved the bag back at Swede.

“I’ve got to get back to quarters. Good luck.”

“Good… luck?” The lieutenant watched her leave, then, turned to look over his shoulder. Her meaning instantly became clear. The captain was tying on a pair of boxing gloves while keeping a stony glare fixed on the door that snapped close behind O’Connell.

Hill flicked his gaze over the engineer while he finished tying his gloves. “You’re the second officer I’ve said this to today: you look like hell.”

“Long night and an early morning, sir.”

“Your whining won’t gain you any pulled punches.”

Swede rolled his shoulders and flexed his hands inside his own gloves. “I wasn’t whining, sir, merely explaining why I might leave you a few unbroken ribs.” He met the captain’s glare with one of his own.

Ten minutes later, both men were wheezing heavily and dripping sweat. Swede leaned against the wall, while the captain rested his hands on his knees. When he managed to catch his breath and stand straight, Brett wiped a hand across his mouth and noticed the blood trailing across his glove.