Blue Shift Protocol, page 2
Trenton gave a thumbs-up. “It’s at the top of my list.”
“Good. Don’t drag your feet.”
“Lucjan, wait. I need to ask you something.”
“I’ve got a full schedule getting the shuttle’s software in sync with the flotilla. Make it quick.”
“During your regen cycle, did you experience anything unusual?”
“I woke up, I felt like crap, and my skin burned. What else do you mean?”
“Did you hear or see anything? Did you dream?”
Lucjan wrinkled his nose. “You know we don’t dream. No one does. This isn’t the vids. Monty said you asked him about this too and mentioned you got weird.”
“It’s a simple question. No voices? No images?”
“Nothing. Get your head out of your ass, Trent. Now excuse me, I have work. How about you focus and take care of that airlock thing?”
Alone again, Trenton was about to return his attention to his terminal when the accordion door across from the tool crib slid open.
Saanvi stepped into the corridor from the port-side head. She wiped her hands with a moist towelette. “You save his life and that’s the thanks you get?”
“I asked for a sloppy kiss and was rejected. I didn’t even want tongue.”
“What’s with you asking about dreams?”
“It’s...nothing.”
“He still shouldn’t treat you like that. I’m going to go talk to him.”
“Don’t. Seriously, I don’t need you or anyone to say anything. If there’s a repair to be made, I need to hear about it.”
“Does he or Monty even know what happened before they woke?” she asked.
“Somewhere down in their bones, maybe. But they’re up, we’re all alive, and we have a job to do.”
“Captain had a good talk with you, huh?”
He wasn’t in the mood for a fight. “Toussaint knows we have work. And if I want to keep Nightingale from giving anyone else a really bad ride, including you, I need to get to it.” He noticed she wore her flight suit. “You and Lucjan are taking the shuttle out?”
She shoved the towelette into a disposal chute. “What do you think? Let’s hope Little Bird is working as well as the rest of this heap.”
THE AIRLOCK MONITOR was a simple swap-out. Of greater concern? Two of the four EVA suits failed pressure tests. Bright white dots on bone-colored polymers marked previous patch jobs. With three new dabs of fast-drying epoxy, they were good to go. For good measure, he flooded the suits with ozone to get the lingering spacer sweat smell out.
Just below him, Lucjan and Saanvi sat in the shuttle running preflight. Unhurriedly cycling between systems, with Little Bird making all the right noises.
“Crew, prepare for maneuvers,” Captain Toussaint said over the coms.
Operational lights went yellow.
After securing the patch kit back in the tool room, Trenton pulled a seat open from the nearest wall and strapped in. He keyed his com to the XO’s voice channel. “How long in the couch?”
“Five to six hours. Matching speed with Kingfisher.”
“Roger that.”
He got comfortable. Moments later, less cozy as the ship accelerated. Nothing too extreme, but enough that being up would make any task a challenge.
The chatter from the shuttle stopped as they too were likewise waiting out the burn. He wasn’t looped in on the operation channel. Fine by him. After three hours with nothing to do, Trenton napped.
His com crackled.
“Hey Trent?” Saanvi called. “This is Shuttle. We’ve got preflight clearance for our pods and I’m getting a battery warning on Pod Two.”
“I’ll check it out. XO? Trenton. Going to the shuttle for a pod issue.”
He moved easily, not bothering to clip himself in, yet always keeping a hand on a wall. He maneuvered into the shuttle and past the two pilots. Lucjan looked asleep. Saanvi gave him a thumbs-up.
The shuttle’s rear bay had four pods. Each spherical unit had its own propulsion and suite of tools and could operate remotely, piloted directly, or by program. Mini-shuttles, essentially. None of the pod’s auxiliary modules had been unpacked. These would extend the pods’ range or allow them to perform a myriad of tasks, including repair, salvage, or rescue.
He opened Pod Two’s access panels and right away saw the issue with the primary battery. Its safety seal had tiny holes in one corner. Mice, he thought glumly, before finding a leaky hydraulic line. Caustic fluids had dripped and damaged the seals.
Out went the battery. In went the replacement. He swapped the leaking hose before placing a new seal over the battery. A test gave him green lights.
On his way out of the shuttle, he stopped at Saanvi’s flight chair. “All set.”
She hit a switch on her console. “Confirmed. Pod Two is good to go.”
“None of the pod kits were laid out. You want a hand with that?”
“We don’t need them yet. Probably won’t.”
“Saanvi...” Lucjan said in a warning tone.
“What? As soon as we launch the shuttle or a pod, Trent’s going to be looped in.”
“Operational protocol.”
“Give me a break, Luc. So what if we have a rock to go look at? Kingfisher’s got lead. We have nothing to do but sit and let them take samples.”
“Then why the hard burn to get here? We do things right. And that means he goes back to his station.”
Trenton raised a hand in surrender. “No problem, I’m going. I didn’t check the other pods and it’s something that might be worth doing later. I’ll leave you both to it.”
He made a show of fixing his tool belt as he scanned the console. Preflight checks were complete. The computer showed the shuttle was ready.
If Saanvi was right, they were there for a rock and nothing more. Yet he couldn’t dismiss Lucjan’s observation. The stress on ship and crew during a hard burn just to intercept an asteroid?
The radio had power, yet the speakers were off. Neither shuttle pilot nor copilot had their headsets on. Ship coms only. Which meant they knew little more than he did.
He went forward to Ops. Boredom showed on everyone’s faces. The radio panel was lit up and receiving, blinking like a strobe. Corey, the IT tech, was busy on his wrist device playing a game. Also, he had no headset on.
Would it be the same up on the bridge? And why not keep everyone abreast of what Kingfisher might be saying? Because orders...
The XO turned to look at Trenton. “Shuttle problem cleared?”
“Yeah. If we’re locked into this course and speed for another hour, I can start chipping away at my to-do list.”
“Negative. We’re not sure what’s coming our way. Might get bumpy.”
“Fair enough. I see we’re not prepped for sample collection or material recovery.”
“Return to your station.”
So he did, leaving only a nagging uncertainty that they had come this far, this fast, only to follow Kingfisher in on an intercept, with coms off. Essentially flying blind.
If it meant fancy maneuvers, EVAs, or every pod out the gates to assist in the op, the Nightingale wasn’t ready for what was coming.
Chapter Four
Arock.
They had come all this way for a rock, according to the tracking monitor Trenton glanced at in Ops.
The Dragonfly, Nexus’ logistics and science vessel, launched probes ahead of the other ships.
The Otter and Cyprus, both tugs, followed closely behind, with Kingfisher looping in obliquely for the initial approach of a crewed vessel. Any two of their flotilla would be sufficient in a grab or divert mission.
The Kingfisher was best suited for transport. A space bus, essentially. For it to be the lead vessel, it meant they likely had a crew on board ready to land on whatever was coming their way.
Which meant someone had decided that the rock needed a finer touch than sending a fleet of remote pods to do the scut work. White glove service.
Action stations. Everyone was at their post.
Trenton scrolled through the Nightingale’s status feeds. Everything looked normal.
“All personnel, prepare for operational maneuvers,” Captain Toussaint called. “Shuttle crew prep for launch. Robotics team and Doctor Tan to the shuttle. Let’s get those pods ready.”
The shuttle’s service feed went into overdrive. The smaller craft detached from the Nightingale’s power and life support, now on its own air supply and battery. Once the pod team boarded, they’d seal her up. Soft shudders vibrated through the floor of the ship.
Trenton felt a giddy rush. Even though he wasn’t going with the shuttle, every system he had checked would be tested, with six crew members depending on each of them for their survival.
The crew’s pressure suits came online.
His feed included biometric data. Elevated heart rates, increases in blood pressure and core temperature, and decreases in blood oxygen saturation as nerves caused them to breathe too hard. Dozens of drills didn’t change physiology. And the nerves ran high for everyone, including the captain and those remaining behind.
The biometric history ran back to regen. It begged the question: why were Toussaint and Isles jittery this early on?
Chatter filled the coms as the teams coordinated their prep.
Then they waited. Hours passed. Nervous conversations, banter, even music, jokes, and someone eating something crunchy over the general com.
XO Isles interrupted. “Clear channels for an announcement from Captain Toussaint.”
“Hello, crew. I’m looping everyone in as we’re on-task as of this moment. We’re prepping for recovery and rescue. The Kingfisher was tasked with sending a live crew down to a small rock. There was an explosion. We’re still piecing together what happened.
“Otter and Cyprus are in place to handle the asset. Their mission specifics will remain eyes-only for command.
“The Kingfisher is dead in the water. They were mid-maneuver and getting close to the rock. Our mission is to bring them here until we can assess whether their ship can be saved.
“A reminder that details of the mission aren’t to be entered into your permanent logs. Usual op security is in place.”
Trenton hit his chat button. “What caused the explosion?”
“Unclear. Likely a mechanical failure, but we’re waiting to hear from Dragonfly in case there’s gas pockets or something else we need to worry about coming from the asset.”
“Any details you can share about this rock?”
“That’s need to know, Trenton. Now let’s get to work.”
THE SHUTTLE RETURNED five hours later with one survivor.
Trenton met them at the airlock. The trauma gurney looked like a stretcher jacketed in cling wrap. A fist-sized monitor flashed essential data and none of it looked promising.
The containment dressing was thick with fluid. Trenton could barely make out the human shape beneath.
He cleared the way for Doctor Tan and one of the pod jockeys to bring the gurney along. He folded up the wall-mounted consoles and chairs so they had a straight run to the Nightingale’s sick bay. It was little more than a closet replete with med-tech. Tan and his assistant clicked in the gurney. The room lit up as the autodoc came to life.
IV lines snaked in. Fluids flowed through the tubes as the body convulsed.
Decompression injuries. Tissue necrosis. Massive cellular damage. The ID tag on the gurney read Stanwich, Emma Jane. She was the Kingfisher’s captain.
Trenton gathered up the gurney’s cut-away trauma jacket. “Anyone else make it?”
“KIA or missing.”
“What happened?”
The doctor’s face remained grim. “Something on the rock exploded when the Kingfisher got close. Shrapnel tore it to shreds.”
Lucjan called over Trenton’s com. “Cleaning unit is jammed in the shuttle. Get down here.”
“Roger that.”
Blood spattered the inside the shuttle’s crew prep area. A shredded pressure suit and discarded medical waste lay everywhere. Bits of blackened, dried skin and other unidentifiable, congealed fluids littered the floor.
When it came to accidents in space, bring a mop.
AFTER HE FINISHED AND washed up, Trenton made a last pass through the shuttle. Everything was spotless, with the cleaning bots on their third pass. He tried the bay terminal but was locked out. The propulsion system worked through its cooldown operations. Everything looked normal, yet he was reluctant to leave.
The pod team had packed their gear. No pods deployed.
Saanvi plopped back down in the shuttle’s cockpit. “How are we looking back there?”
He came forward and sealed the payload bay. “Your rig’s clean. Just need to spritz some air freshener and Little Bird is good for another run.”
Hard creases marked her face as she backed off her flight recorder. The rest of the systems were going through final diagnostics as the Nightingale’s ops team took over remotely.
“I didn’t mean to joke,” he said hastily.
She waved the comment off. “If we don’t laugh, we cry. Right now, I can’t do either.”
“I’ve been out of the loop. We were the only ones on recovery?”
“Yeah. Eight spacers gone, just like that. I knew a lot of those people. I’m sure you did too.”
He did. Names and faces, casual acquaintances, friends of friends. Now desiccated lumps of freeze-dried organic matter left behind in the Kingfisher’s wreckage. And all for a hasty mission to collect a block of carbon, silicon, and iron.
No doubt, the Kingfisher would be recovered. A little paint, a little spackle, a pressure wash, add replacement crew, and launch.
Through the viewing glass, he spied a partial view of Jupiter. Its soft colored lines and soothing glow were a constant comfort whenever he could take a moment to soak in the view.
She paused in her work, with a hand on her head and her eyes closed.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Can you sit for a minute, Trent?”
“That’s Lucjan’s chair. I’d hate to upset him.”
This earned a smirk. “He’ll survive,” she said. “I had situation command during recovery. I saw the crew who didn’t make it. It was awful.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’m guessing they didn’t know what hit them. At least it was quick.”
“I’ve always hated that expression. Like there’s such a thing as a good death.”
He knew there was, but didn’t want to contradict her. “It’d be nice if we could erase the memories of terrible events. But we’re not machines. A machine might not have risked crew to save the Kingfisher’s captain. You did.”
“I sat on my ass and managed the recovery remotely.”
“You know what I mean. If I were stuck in a busted ship and could pick anyone to be on the stick of a rescue craft to save me, I’d want you.”
“It sounds dirty when you say it. Look, don’t mention this to the doc or Isles.”
“Afraid they’ll learn you’re human?”
“I don’t want to waste time in counseling when we get back. And you know how creepy Doc Tan gets when he’s concerned about something.”
He gripped her hand. They watched the lights on the console blink as the systems finished their wind-down sequence. A tiny white light on the shuttle’s communication panel blinked just like the one in operations.
“Who’s talking?” Trenton asked.
“It’s a feed we’re routing into the computer. Captain’s ears only.”
“Can you put it on speaker?”
She gave him a reprimanding look. “You know I can’t.”
“So it’s something more than idle chatter from the other ships.”
“All right, we’re done here. Crying time’s over. Get off my shuttle.”
He left.
The mess seats were full as the crew wound down and ate a meal. He grabbed a tea, found a seat, and tuned out the surrounding conversations. Hard not to think how they were parked near a ship filled with the dead. And next to that, a mystery rock. The officers were keeping the details under wraps.
On top of it all, their flotilla continued with its mission. Chats between the captains as if there was a choice besides ditching the rock and going home.
What else were they hiding?
Chapter Five
For the asset recovery, the Nightingale had a show in its position next to the disabled Kingfisher.
Close enough to see the lights of the Otter and Cyprus out the portholes of the rec room. Captain Toussant finally relented and put the view on screen for all to see. The black rock was practically invisible. Pods circled around the thing for over an hour before one touched down. The science crew on the Dragonfly in its distant holding pattern would have their data.
The exploding gas pocket was the official narrative.
Lucjan, who claimed to have nearly gone into geology, opined on the situation. “Water ice, carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, any trapped gas—it all could have gotten heated by solar radiation. The Kingfisher just had the bad luck to be close when it popped a bubble big enough to splinter the rock.”
One of the pod pilots gave up her spot at the porthole. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
“Statistics catch up with everyone. Just be glad we didn’t send teams down to drill. It could have been worse.”
Saanvi leaned in the second porthole. “It could have been better. And this op is just getting started.”
Trenton lounged in one of the chairs. “It’d be nice to know what we’re dying for.”
“I don’t like that rock. Something about it feels wrong. This mission needs to be scrapped.”
“It’s nothing to be scared of,” Lucjan said. “Gas, solids, liquids changing state. In chaos for all time. Adrift for millennia only to now be brought into play.”
Saanvi glared. “So it’s just bad luck?”
“A distillation of the universe for weak minds.”
Trenton popped the knuckles on his right hand. “How about you save your philosophical breakdown of probabilities for another time, Lucjan?”
