Kitra, page 7
Pinky stopped stirring and turned to look at me. His whole body, not just his eyespots. “Something wrong, Kit?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking at him. “It’d sure be nice if someone had any clue where we’re going.” I regretted the words as they came out. It wasn’t fair.
“Kit, I can do all the math in the world,” Pinky said calmly, “but we could be heading anywhere in a ten light year radius from Vatan. Without stars, I’ve got nothing to go on.”
“I know, I know. It’s not just that.” I bit my lip. “Marta came looking for reassurances the other night, and I wasn’t able to help.” I paused, then decided to tell it all. “We hugged. There were feelings.”
He raised a couple of palms up, a Pinky shrug. “What else is new?”
I gave him a gentle shove. “I’m serious. Nothing happened, but I think she’s embarrassed.”
Pinky’s rubbery flesh pulsed subtly. “Are you embarrassed?”
“Oh, a little bit. I don’t know. Things haven’t exactly been normal since we took off.”
The alien nodded. “That’s right. Things are weird. So people are going to act weird.”
“What do I do?” I asked.
“How should I know? But whatever you’re doing, it’s not working. Try something else.” He turned back to the pot. I frowned. Pinky was no help at all. And now he was ignoring me, like everyone else. I glared at him, ready to give him a piece of my mind. His next move stopped me short. He was inching his big fingers toward the garlic again. Slowly. Deliberately. I pushed his pseudopod away from the jar. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Who, me?” He slithered his pseudopod over my arresting hand like only one of his kind can do, again threatening to put in more garlic.
“Are you trying to ruin dinner?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed some… oh Lord, really? Anise? Why did we even have that on board? Pinky knew I hated the stuff. Now I was fending off two of his pudgy arms. He held the spice jars threateningly above the sauce and started saying, “Oooh! Oooooh! They’re gonna fall in!”
Pinky had clearly gone crazy. I grabbed him around the middle and pushed with all my strength. It was like hugging a giant gum eraser, the kind used for art. He let me drag him away from the pot, and I saw his skin tinge brown with amusement.
“You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?” I accused.
“Am I?” he said drily.
Right. Pinky was doing what he always does. Like when I was six and had scraped my knee, and instead of letting me cry, he’d turned himself into a ball and bounced around me until I was thoroughly distracted, the pain forgotten. I scrunched up my nose and made a face at him.
He wriggled the top of his “head” at me, Pinky’s version of a wink, I guess. I snorted, feeling my lips curving into a smile despite myself. I rubbed Pinky’s head affectionately. “All right. Point taken.” Then my eyes widened as my freed up mind started working again. Of course! We were worrying for nothing. And if I’d spent less time moping and more time thinking, I’d have figured things out a long time ago.
I stood up straight, feeling better than I had since the trip had begun.
“Let’s get dinner cooking and everybody together. I’ve got something to say.”
Chapter 7
Looking around the wardroom table, it was hard to believe that this was the same crew that had laughed around the party table just five days before. Peter sat in sullen silence, his unbrushed hair limp over his forehead. Marta looked at him and then me without expression. Fareedh’s face was a mask. Only Pinky showed interest, his coarse skin mauve-tinted and restlessly twitching.
Well, there was still time to fix things.
“All right, everybody. Listen up.” My tone was sharp, for my benefit as much as everyone else’s. I was done being passive. “We’ve spent the last five days worrying about what’s on the other end of this Jump, letting our imaginations run wild and expecting the worst.” I paused.
“Well, I know where we’re going, and we’re going to be okay.”
Fareedh raised an eyebrow. That had got his attention. Peter was looking at me now, too.
I went on. “We’ve been thinking that because we didn’t plan this Jump we could be going anywhere. That isn’t actually true.” I stressed the last four words. “Peter. Based on our hydrogen consumption, how far are we going?”
“Like I said. It’s a max-Jump. Around three parsecs, give or take, if we’re going anywhere.”
“We definitely are,” I said. “Fuel consumption doesn’t lie. If we were going nowhere, like Pinky suggested, or to somewhere close, we’d have used less fuel when we went into hyperspace. And I’ll bet my mother’s teacups that the insertion back into normal space, when we use the same amount of fuel going out of Jump, will prove me right.”
“How does that help us?” Peter asked. “The odds of us coming out of Jump next to a star, much less an inhabited one, is essentially zero. Space is big.”
“Yep. Nevertheless we are going to come out near a star,” I said triumphantly.
Fareedh was leaning forward now, bony elbows on the table. His dark eyes were fixed on me. “How do you figure?”
“You gave me the clue, Fareedh. You told me that Majera Jumped to coordinates that were already in the old Nav system.”
“Sure, but I don’t know what they are.”
“It doesn’t matter. We don’t have to. Just the fact that they exist is enough.”
“I don’t follow…” But I saw Fareedh’s eyes go unfocused with thought.
I waited a moment, wondering if he’d figure it out. Then I plunged on anyway. “That coordinate library is like the quick-contact on your sayar. They’re places the ship used to go the most often. Now, it’s clear the old Nav system knew where we were coming from because it waited until we were the exact minimum safe distance from Vatan before throwing us into Jump. And wherever we’re going, it’s got to be a place Majera has been before. Otherwise, why set up an automatic routine?”
“Oh!” Marta got it first, her eyes wide. “It’d have to be a place with a port, otherwise why go there so often? So we just need to find which inhabited system is exactly three parsecs from Vatan, and we’ll know where we’re going. You’re brilliant, Kitra!” I felt heat in my cheeks. It was great to see her really smile again.
Pinky held up an overlong finger. “That only gets us half-way. Space is big. And there are, assuming some margin of error since fuel use isn’t precisely correlated to distance…” he was silent a moment. “…four settled star systems at a distance of three parsecs from Vatan. One of them is Sennet.”
“So we plan for all of them,” I said. “It still means we’re going to be fine.” I put my hands on my hips. I was pretty proud of myself.
“Just one thing,” Marta noted. “These are old coordinates. The ship’s sayar was programmed who knows how many years ago. Haven’t the stars and planets moved out of place by then?”
I thought a moment. There was always a damned catch.
“Majera wasn’t retired that long ago,” Fareedh said. “The coordinates can’t be that old.”
“Still, we don’t know for sure,” Pinky said. “Stars move relatively quickly, even in just a year. They’re all in orbit around the galactic center, after all.”
Peter cleared his throat. We all looked at him. He looked alive, like he had woken up from a nightmare and realized it wasn’t real. “Look, I’m normally the downer here, but I think you’re right, Kitra. I think we’re going to land bullseye in a system.”
Marta smiled and put her hand on Peter’s. “Why’s that?” she asked.
He turned to face her. His eyes had lost their haunted look. “The system that threw us into Jump was designed to be automatic so you wouldn’t have to update coordinates every time you went somewhere. Otherwise, what’s the point? It wouldn’t Jump us into a planet or a star or something. It’s got to keep itself updated as to where all these objects will be at any given time, right?”
I looked at Fareedh. He nodded. “Sure, that makes sense. It’s not even that difficult a program. You’re probably right.”
That’s what I needed to hear. I thumped my fist on the table. “All right, then! Here’s what I want us to do.” I pointed at Pinky. “You call up maps of all the systems we might be going to. Figure out which planets are likely destinations.
“Fareedh, when Pinky’s got his coordinates, see if you can use them to crack your code. I bet they’ll be a key to understanding how the old Nav system worked.”
I turned to Marta. “In the best case scenario, we end up right off Sennet or wherever, and we’re done. But if we pop out far away from our destination, we need to be prepared for a long trip in real-space. So no more haphazard meals. Let’s make a real plan, count our calories, and eat scientifically. Enough to last however long it takes us to get to port. Call it a week?”
“You got it, boss!”
“And Peter…” He’d sunk the lowest. I wanted to make sure he was the busiest. “For the same reason, you should dig through that junk pile you brought on board. Make a manifest of anything that might be useful. Then run the engine and antigrav through every diagnostic you can think of. Work with Fareedh if you need to. I want to know that our systems will be online and reliable when we leave Jump.” He nodded enthusiastically.
“Finally, starting tonight, after we know where we could be going, we’re going to run simulations. With the autopilot off, I want us to be able to fly anywhere on the list blindfolded. When we pop out of Jump, we should be ready for anything.” I balled my fists and rested them on my hips. “Who’s with me?”
The effect was electric. Marta was already half out of her chair. Pinky was bright magenta.
Peter nodded, jaw set. “Let’s do this.”
Launch Plus Seven (Standard)
“Green light!” Pinky called out triumphantly. He looked up from his panel, formed a big fist and offered it to me. I thumped it with enthusiasm.
I looked through the Window at the simulated starport. The re-creation was hyper-real, even down to the little virtual family looking at us from beyond the landing pad, and the sky traffic zooming back and forth amid the high Sennet skyline.
“How did we do, guys?”
Fareedh’s voice answered, “Four minutes off optimal for approach, 14.8 seconds off optimal for landing. About as close to perfect as we’re going to get.”
He was probably right. This was the seventh landing run we’d done for Sennet. It wasn’t the flying that was so hard, it was following the complicated Space Traffic Control rules. Or, at least, the ones that came packaged in our simulator. I had to assume they were close to the real thing.
“Marta did the work,” I said, giving her a thumbs up. “She handled the communications beautifully. I just had to ride the guidance beams.” Marta gave me a grateful smile. “Anyway, it’s good we did so well. I don’t think there’s time for another run.” I glanced at the Jump clock display, its numerals counting down one by one. There were only twelve minutes until we left Jump.
“Wow. We have cut it close.”
I leaned back in my chair, clasped my hands and cracked knuckles. The last two days had been a lot more fun. Our activity had kept us too busy to worry about stupid stuff like dying in the middle of space or overlong hugs.
“So…” Fareedh began, wearing a sly grin. “Who wants to put money on where we’re going?”
“You don’t think it’s going to be Sennet?” Marta asked.
“I’m just saying, there’re four options.”
I swiveled my chair to face him. “What’s your guess?”
“I’m thinking Yavuz,” he said.
“You’re hoping Yavuz,” Peter teased.
Fareedh raised his eyebrows and his tone was exaggeratedly hurt. “There’s more to Yavuz than the Red Light district, you know.”
“Not the way you’ve described it,” Marta giggled. I looked dubiously at Fareedh. I’d missed this conversation. “You’ve been to Yavuz?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Of course not! Just read about it. Anyway, I’m picking it because it’s a good stop for Navy folks wanting some R&R.”
Peter stood and stretched his brawny frame, then took a second to straighten his shirt. “As long as it’s not St. Helena. It’ll take a week just to get fueled at that one-tank base, let alone serviced.”
I had to smile. A couple of days ago, we had all been in the dumps, convinced that a dire fate was inevitable. Now we were complaining about being planetside at a small colony for a bit. Honestly, I kind of liked the idea of an unspoiled, half-explored world to play on. Provided I had enough money to rent an air-car that long. My account balance had gotten pretty low, and banks tended to be stingy with credit if you didn’t keep funds at their planetary branch, which made sense when every star system was a week away, at minimum.
I caught Marta looking at me. She looked down, then at Peter. Fareedh saw the exchange and gave me a questioning look. I pretended not to notice. It would be good to get off ship for a bit, away from everyone. I needed to put things in perspective and figure out where all of these relationships were going.
“I for one will be happy to breathe fresh air again,” Marta said, a touch too lightly, still clearly nervous. “I can’t wait until we get out of Jump so we can turn the engines on and get somewhere. Right, Peter?”
“That’s a fact.” He took her hand and squeezed, and she gave him a little smile. I swiveled back to face the Window. Yeah. A few days off on my own sounded like a great idea.
“Ten minutes,” Pinky announced.
Now it was for real. I swallowed. “Let’s start running exit checks,” I said
“Ship’s sayar reports nominal function, all components,” came Fareedh’s report.
“The engines are warm and ready,” Peter said. “Assuming we make it out, they should work.”
Pinky punched his panel and a real-time projection of the local part of the galaxy came to life in front of the Window. The Majera’s original position, Vatan, was a blinking dot surrounded by a transparent sphere, three parsecs in radius. Four star systems glowed brightly on the surface of the sphere, all on the coreward side, away from the Frontier. Our destination could be any of them. “Navigation controls are still locked,” Pinky said, “but I’ve got courses plotted for all possibilities. Fast courses. Slow courses. Dinner courses. Golf courses. You name it.”
I sighed. “Thanks. Pinky.”
“Our air recyclers are working fine, and oxygen and carbon dioxide levels are well within safe limits.” Marta said. “Though I wouldn’t mind getting them professionally overhauled. It’s been getting a bit whiffy despite my efforts.”
“Con-flatulations,” Fareedh murmured. I put my head in my hands. Yep. Two Pinkies.
I started paging through diagnostic displays, just to double-check. I couldn’t find anything wrong. The “Tree” was decked in cheery green lights.
“Hey, do you think the Navy’s going to want its Drive back?” Marta wondered aloud.
I barked a short laugh. “They sold it ‘as-is.’ I’d like to see them try to take it.”
“They’re lucky we don’t sue them for reckless endangerment,” Peter added.
I felt a rippling that began at my toes and fingers and worked its way inward. My inner ear fluttered. It was entirely different from the feeling of going into Jump. Not exactly pleasant, but less nauseating, at least. I hadn’t felt it in almost a decade, but it was entirely familiar.
I heard Peter shift in his chair. “Energy to Drive increasing,” he said. A pause, then, “Power usage within normal tolerances.”
“Is it supposed to feel like this?” Marta’s voice trembled.
I gave her a nod and a smile over my shoulder, both as reassurance and trying to make up for earlier in the week. “It’s just fine,” I said.
I reached for the controls. They were dry, as if I hadn’t spent the last several hours sweating on them. The Jump clock showed less than two minutes to egress. Its numbers counted down, green and luminous.
My eyes were glued to that chronometer, hypnotized, the buzzing in my bones increasing. At some point, I discovered my lips were moving, mouthing out the remaining seconds. Thirty-four. Thirty-three. I shook my head to clear it and took one last look around the bridge. Peter’s eyes were locked onto his screen, a schematic of the engine glowing in neon orange. Fareedh had that spider-like ship’s sayar diagram up again. Marta stared anxiously at the blank Window, chewing her lip. Pinky had braced himself three-handedly against his panel.
The buzz became a whine in my ears, slowly sliding up the scale from subaudible to near dog whistle. The clock showed ten seconds remaining. I went back to calling out the time, out loud this time.
“…Four. Three. Two. One.”
A brief sensation of falling, and then the Window suddenly flickered to life. I gasped with relief. Stars! Black space crowded with stars! I kept my hands on the controls, ready to thrust the ship away from any obstacles. The whine had faded away. Now, my ears strained for the sound of a collision alarm.
Nothing.
I dared to take a breath. One hurdle down. We were alive in normal space.
“Did we make it?” I asked, half to myself.
“See for yourself,” Fareedh said. He got out of his chair, rested a hand on my shoulder, and with the other pointed out the Window at the small full disk of a planet sliding into view. It was fiercely bright against the star-speckled background.
“Woohoo!” Marta squeaked. She jumped up and gave Peter a big hug. “We did it!”
I looked back at the world in the Window, a yellow-tinged circle swaddled with orange clouds. Two moons hung in view behind it, one large and close, the other distant. My smile slowly faded. I tapped the panel, angling the view until I saw the source of the planet’s illumination. There were two suns, closely orbiting, one dark orange, the other red. I sat down heavily in my chair, suddenly drained. I looked over at Pinky. He looked up from his panel, met my eyes, and nodded.
