"I wanted to get to a new colony, a place with fewer machines and computers and technology." He looked at me. "A place where I could help not hurt, Dex, where I could belong."

  "You could have got us killed," Fallon said. "Isn't a space ship a dumb place for you to work?"

  Murphy shook his head. "I've had it under control for years. I learned how to focus whatever's inside me, to keep it damped down, quiet. I thought I could control it for the trip."

  "So what happened to change that?" I asked.

  His face clouded. "Mrs. Thorburn."

  "Huh?"

  Murphy sighed. "My problem first appeared when I was about James' age. My parents—" His voice got harder. "My parents decided that the best solution was to keep me isolated, away from other kids, from people, from machines. From the world. They kept a normal life by taking mine away from me."

  "Like Mrs. Thorburn is doing to James," I said.

  "Seeing what she's doing to that kid brought back all my old anger, made me remember what it was like being cut off from the world."

  "Well, that explains the incidents with her. But what happened in navigation?"

  Murphy shook his head. "This thing inside me has got stirred up too much. I can't control it right now. I will eventually, but it could take weeks of meditation."

  I sighed and turned to Fallon. "How bad is it?"

  She shrugged. "The navigation computer's toast. But our course was set, so we'll make the colony. We can fix it there if they have parts, else we'll have to wait for a supply ship."

  I groaned. "I'd better tell Henshaw."

  Fallon brightened. "Can I come? That should be very entertaining."

  After confining Murphy to his quarters, I went to Henshaw's cabin, accompanied by Fallon despite my protests. Henshaw was working at his desk. We sat down, and I cleared my throat.

  Henshaw looked up at me and swore. "Oh, crap."

  "Sir?"

  "You always clear your throat before telling me something I don't want to hear, Dex. So what's wrong?"

  I related the navigation situation and the story of Murphy, with Fallon happily adding any embarrassing details I omitted. Henshaw shook his head. "You're telling me that you hired a crew member for a space ship who cannot come in contact—"

  "Or even close proximity," Fallon added in a helpful tone.

  "—with anything mechanical, electrical, or computerized," Henshaw finished, glaring at Fallon.

  I swallowed. "'Fraid so, Cap."

  "Jeez, Dex. Good move."

  "Well," Fallon offered, "at least Dex didn't stick him in Engineering. We'd have blown up by now."

  Henshaw glared at her again. "Thank you, Chief Engineer, for that perspective." He rubbed a hand through his thinning hair and sighed. "All right, Dex, see that Murphy stays in his cabin and away from anything we don't want going perflooie."

  "Is that a technical term, sir?"

  "Shut up, Fallon."

  I cleared my throat again. Henshaw groaned. "What else?"

  "Well, there's MCE's HR policy memo number 1394-A," I replied.

  Henshaw frowned. "Number 1394-A says we must maintain a minimum crew complement. So? Murphy brought us up to minimum, and he's still part of the crew on our records."

  "Ah, but there's also the more recent and much beloved memo number 2405-E. The Min-Max Memo," Fallon added with a smile. She was enjoying this far too much.

  "The Min-Max Memo?" Henshaw repeated.

  I sighed. "Memo number 2405-E requires that crew members log a minimum number of hours in order to count in our complement, and that no crew member's hours exceed the safety maximum in our insurance policy. Murphy won't meet that minimum sitting in his cabin, and those of us covering for him with extra duty will exceed the max."

  "So whoever covers for Murphy logs some hours against his I.D.," Henshaw replied.

  I shook my head. "Time logging works automatically. The system scans our biometrics at whatever station we're working at to positively I.D. us and then logs the time we spend there. We can't fake being Murphy."

  "Who would want to be Murphy, anyway?" Fallon said.

  "Shut up, Fallon." Henshaw banged his fist down on the desk. "Damn it, Dex! You brought this albatross onboard. You fix it! And I mean now!"

  I looked at Fallon. She shrugged and bit her lip, any trace of a grin now gone. This was serious.

  * * *

  Dex paused to drain his glass, and then considered the circle of faces surrounding him in rapt attention like a ring of human moons captured by the gravity of his tale.

  "So there I was," Dex continued. "My back to the proverbial wall, and a wall containing a roaring fireplace since my ass was getting well roasted. It was then, gentlemen and ladies of this dubious and overpriced establishment, that I came up with the most brilliant and surprising solution to our predicament, an idea that not only saved my career and our ship, but also quite possibly our entire species."

  "That must have been some solution," Silverstein said. "So you gonna tell us what it was?"

  Dex raised an eyebrow at his empty glass, and Crash leapt up to refill it. Once Crash returned, Dex took another long swig. "Ah, that's better. Now, where was I?"

  "Your brilliant freaking solution," Stumpy growled.

  "Right. Yes, friends, it was a solution destined to become renowned not only for its sagacity, but also, like many of you present, for its simplicity . . ."

  * * *

  "What?!" Henshaw roared.

  "Dex, that's brilliant!" Fallon cried.

  "Brilliant? It's bloody insane! Are you totally spaced?" Henshaw said.

  I shrugged. "It works, Cap."

  Henshaw glared at me. "You want to make Murphy . . . captain?"

  "Captain is the only position not required to log time," I replied. "So the computer wouldn't need to scan Murphy's biometrics. And you'll be available to help the rest of us out so nobody exceeds the maximum hour limit."

  "You don't do anything important anyway," Fallon offered.

  "Chief Engineer, you aren't helping," Henshaw said. He turned to me. "Do you really think that this ship can function without a real captain?"

  I bit back my first thought, as Fallon covered a smirk. "Only because you've done such a great job of building your team, Cap," I said.

  "Ass kisser," he replied.

  "And we'd still rely on you for direction, sir," I said.

  "As we always have, Captain," Fallon added with a straight face.

  "Shut up, Fallon," Henshaw snapped. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "But what jobs would I do? I mean, my technical skills are a little . . . rusty."

  "Oh, we're so under-crewed that there'll be plenty of ways to help out, sir," Fallon offered with a grin. I knew she was imagining Henshaw on latrine duty.

  "You could assist Mrs. Thorburn," I offered.

  Henshaw glared at me. "I'd rather clean the latrines," he said. Fallon's grin broadened.

  I got the task of telling Murphy. I sat him down on my bunk, far from my computer console, com link, and coffee maker. Especially the coffee maker. I considered some technology more crucial than others.

  "Captain?" he said. "Me? I don't know anything about being a leader." Murphy sat hunched over, looking even more insignificant and inconsequential than when we'd first met.

  "Neither does Henshaw. Murph, it's the only solution. Don't worry. You won't have to make any decisions. We'll still take everything to Henshaw. It's just for the ship's records."

  Well, Murphy wasn't very happy about it, but by then I'd decided that he was never really happy about most events in his life. So on the ship's roster database, Murphy became captain of the Restraint, the rest of us returned to being overworked, and I returned to feeling pleased with myself.

  Wrong again.

  We were a week out from the colony when the entire ship shook like a die in some cosmic crap game. I was on the bridge, and my first thought was Murphy. My second was that we were going to die. Then I looked at the view plate to where a Gorund destroyer the size of a small moon had just materialized. My first thought disappeared, but the second one stuck around.

  The Gorund boarding party herded everyone on the Restraint into one of our empty cargo bays, empty because the Gorunds had appropriated its former contents and transferred them to their ship. I was trying to figure out why we were still alive.

  Now for those of you who have never seen a Gorund, and I wish I was included in that group, I'll try to describe one. There is ugly. There is butt ugly. Then there is a Gorund. They look like God tried to build the rear end of a Seroptian slime beast using nothing but the product from the rear end of a Seroptian slime beast, then He decided it was a bad idea and tried to rub out the whole mess but that didn't work so He just kind of left it unfinished.

  Ugly.

  And they smell bad.

  And they are really, really big.

  Their captain was also, in that moment, really, really angry and was directing that anger at a half-naked human they'd brought with them. I guessed that he was a prisoner from one of our colonies that the Gorunds had trained as a translator. The translator listened and cowered, cowered and listened, then shuffled over to where we were being kept in a tight little knot surrounded by Gorund troopers. The poor soul explained that the Gorunds had scanned our ship's computers and were a little miffed to find that the navigation database had been erased. Unless we restored the database, we would all be killed.

  "And if we do restore the database?" Henshaw asked.

  "You'll all be killed," the translator replied. "But with less pain."

  "Really?" I asked.

  "No," the translator admitted. "Actually, it'll hurt just as much."

  "They want the location of our colonies. And Earth," I whispered to Henshaw.

  "I figured that out, Dex," Henshaw rasped back.

  "We can't give it to them, sir."

  Henshaw stared at me. "I'm proud of you, Dex. Take one for the human race, eh? Sacrifice ourselves for the greater good. The needs of the many—"

  "Actually, I meant we can't give it to them. Murphy toasted the entire navigation system and the backups."

  "Oh." Henshaw actually seemed disappointed.

  "Don't worry, sir. There's still the opportunity of resisting under torture," Fallon offered.

  "Shut up, Fallon," Henshaw said, but his heart wasn't in it.

  "They won't need to torture us."

  We turned to see who spoke. It was Murphy. He stood there, still looking insignificant and inconsequential, still almost invisible and easy to overlook, but the sadness in those eyes seemed even deeper than ever.

  "What do you mean, Murph?" I asked.

  "They'll figure it out. Our ship has no FTL drive, and the only colony within range of our fuel is the one ahead of us."

  I saw what he was driving at. "They'll know we used a worm hole. And all they'll have to do is back-track along the vector we were on to find the hole."

  Henshaw swore. "And once they're through that hole, they're in the middle ring colonies."

  "And two jumps away from Earth," I finished.

  "Anybody got an idea?" Fallon whispered.

  I did. I looked at Murphy, but even though it was just one life in exchange for trillions of human lives everywhere, it still wasn't my life. I couldn't bring myself to say it.

  I didn't have to. Murphy met my eyes. And nodded. He drew himself up tall and stepped forward.

  "Murphy, where are you going?" Henshaw snapped.

  Murphy ignored him. He stopped beside me and put out his hand. "Thanks, Dex. For understanding. For being a friend."

  I swallowed. "You sure about this, Murph?"

  He smiled. "All my life, I've been searching for a place where I belonged, where I could do some good instead of just messing things up. Looks like I finally found it."

  I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just shook his hand and watched as he approached the huge bloated figure of the Gorund commander. And as Murphy walked away from us, suddenly very visible and impossible to overlook, I wondered how I ever could have considered him inconsequential and insignificant.

  He stopped in front of the towering alien. "I am Captain Murphy. I can give you what you need."

  * * *

  Henshaw, Fallon and I stood staring at the image on the view plate. A small dot, insignificant and inconsequential, almost invisible and easily overlooked, moved slowly away from the Restraint towards the Gorund ship.

  Murphy's shuttle.

  The ship's records, supported by a biometric scan, verified for the Gorunds that Murphy was indeed the captain of the Restraint. The records also showed that he worked in navigation and was the last person to have contact with the navigation computer. Murphy then convinced the Gorunds that as captain he would provide them with the locations of all human colonies. He'd even accompany them on their ship to assist in that navigation. But he'd only do so in exchange for our lives and freedom. We knew that the Gorunds would just destroy the Restraint—and us—once they had what they needed. But they didn't know about Murphy.

  Murphy's shuttle was almost at the Gorund ship.

  The intercom buzzed. Henshaw answered it. The shrill voice of Mrs. Thorburn filled the bridge, her words incoherent but her tone frantic. Henshaw killed the intercom.

  "We could have sent Mrs. Thorburn, too," I said. "To ensure Murphy was at full power, just to be on the safe side."

  "Tempting. So tempting," Henshaw mused.

  "That ship is the size of Earth's moon," muttered Fallon.

  Henshaw nodded. "Just one of their docking bays could swallow Earth's entire fleet."

  "And their smallest scout ship is ten times the size of our largest destroyer," I said.

  "Each of them carrying a million of their warrior class, any one of whom could take on twenty humans without breaking a sweat. Assuming they sweat," Fallon said.

  "Not to mention their weapon technology that can take out entire planets," I added.

  Fallon shook her head. "And all we've got is . . ."

  "Murphy," I finished.

  We watched as Murphy's shuttle disappeared into a docking bay on the Gorund ship, like a tiny fly being swallowed by a huge bloated toad.

  I shook my head and sighed. "Those poor slimy bastards don't stand a chance."

  * * *

  Dex looked at his listeners. "And they didn't, either. We waited there on the bridge, expecting to be blasted to our constituent molecules any second, when suddenly . . ." Dex paused, and the crowd leaned forward.

  "BOOM!" Dex said, opening his hands up. "No more Gorund ship. It gave us quite a little blast wave to ride out, but that was the last we saw of the Gorunds." He sighed. "And the last I ever saw of Murphy." Dex looked up. People were sitting quietly, looking thoughtful. Silverstein was wiping his eyes.

  Dex raised his glass. "To Murphy."

  "To Murphy," they murmured, glasses raised.

  They fell silent. Then Stumpy looked up. "Say, Dex. What was Mrs. Thorburn so frantic about, there at the end?"

  Dex grinned. "Before leaving, Murphy had paid a visit to the Thorburn's cabin."

  Sly raised an eyebrow. "Did he try to do the old bird in?"

  Dex shook his head. "Nah, but he got up close and personal with every bit of equipment hooked up to young James. He left the field generator and every bio-monitor a smoking molten slag. Mrs. Thorburn was fit to be tied, but James was free and happier than I imagine he'd ever been in his life."

  Dex drained his glass and thumped it down on the table. "Sometimes, folks, it's good to have things go wrong."

  * * *

  [See more of Douglas Smith's work at: www.smithwriter.com]

  The Big Ice

  Written by Jay Lake and Ruth Nestvold

  Illustrated by Dean Spencer

  "Governor-General's dead."

  I glanced up from the disassembled comm-comp I'd been trying to Frankenstein together. The G-G was Core. Unkillable. But Mox didn't look like he was kidding.

  "How?"

  Mox's expression was more intense than during orgasm. "Field Control says the west face of the Capitol Massif collapsed in a quake. Took most of the palace with it."

  A few million tons of rock and masonry trumped even invulnerable immortality. "Shit. Yeah, that might wipe out Core. Wonder what Mad Dog Bay looks like now."

 

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