When the forward motion ceased, the gravity dropped enough that were it not for the hunk of metal tubing he’d broken off a panel, he would have probably started to rise from the floor. As it was, he no longer needed to maintain his balance on the decking.
“Come on you green bastards,” he uttered barely loud enough for himself and a fly on the wall to hear. The vessel bumped into something, most likely the mother ship. He heard the clamps’ actual mechanisms engage above his head out of sight. And now the ship began to move again. A distinct stop then start, as if they were running a relay and slowed to a stop to pass the baton to the next runner.
Doors clanked and slammed on the other side of the wall. Footsteps, low chatter, more indistinguishable racket. Then only silence. A faint squeak of doors opening then shutting, he suspected the hatch. They’d left. A crew would be coming on board to prep it for the next trip. He set the pipe down quietly and waited for the door to open. Surprise would be on his side; he sank into the shadows of some machinery.
A minute went by, then another. He touched the signal box in his pocket, a quick wireless switch activator he’d rigged to blow the plasma conduit with a feedback loop. All he had to do was open the circuit and goodbye FTL capacity and landing ability. The box in his pocket burned in his hand.
Still no one came.
Why didn’t they land in their shuttle bay instead of using a docking port? Tom was certain he’d heard docking clamps, not landing struts. He slipped out of the shadows and tried the door, which opened! All doors unlock when the shuttle is docked for safety, but not always when floored.
Nothing in the little corridor. He stepped out, listened hard but heard nothing, and took another couple of bouncing steps, opening the door he’d jumped into before, the brig. On the wall he flung open a closet door and savored a moment of triumph. He’d found the weapons locker. He took a small laser pistol from a hook and shoved it inside his jacket, then another and crammed that one in the waistband of his trousers.
The cabin was empty. The hatch was closed. Switches on the wall, white and red, open and secure. The red one obeyed and the door opened into - Maria Mitchell’s airlock!
A laser blast shot by his shoulder and he hit the deck, pulling his weapon, searching for the trigger when another scarlet beam of light razed his head.
“Captain!” Jackson looked up. A meter ahead of him Dukvita and his green cohort lay on the deck, face down, unconscious from the electrical zap of a laser rifle.
“York!”
“Oh, my god, I’m sorry Captain, I thought you were another Pegasi!” The young woman ran to Jackson and grabbed his arm, helping him off the floor. “Are there more?”
“I’m not sure. I think there’s just the two.” She leapt to an intercom and banged the bridge button.
“Captain Jackson’s on board!” she fairly shouted. “Sir, it’s so good to see you!”
“Likewise, Cat. What are you doing here?”
“Captain!” came another shout, this one from Wagner. He also ran up to them but Jackson was on his feet by then.
“We didn’t’ know how many might be coming aboard, so I had everyone here,” York explained.
“Captain!” shouted Mr. Mills as he and Mr. Campbell came up the corridor with a gurney. Mr. Harchett and Mr. Bowen also rolled up a moment later.
“I thought you were on the planet,” he said to Wagner. “Did Dr. Gregory get up here?”
“No, sir, he’s the only one not accounted for, now.”
“What’s our status? Where’s Quixote?”
“Bridge, sir,” York said. Jackson sprinted up the corridor with York behind him. He pulled the Pegasi weapon from his jacket handing it to York, and the other he kept for himself.
“We’re in orbit of Cinco’s big moon. The Pegasi mother ship is orbiting the planet. The shuttle came at us and demanded we leave, but we’re here.”
“I left Dr. Gregory on the planet. We can’t leave until we find him. Make that top priority. And get that Pegasi shuttle off my ship. Set it adrift, I don’t care, but I want it gone.” The elevator stopped and three were on the bridge.
“Skipper on the con!” Rougeau shouted. Watson jumped to his feet. Quixote stepped toward him and laid a claw on Jackson’s shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, sir,” xe said. “Were you on the Pegasi shuttle?” Jackson nodded briefly. “Glad I didn’t fire on it.”
“Me too. It’s good to be here. Sit down, Stu, we’re too busy for protocol right now. Status, Quixote?”
“We’re at battle stations, ready to stand down. Where do I begin? Dukvita told us to leave orbit or he’d kill one of you on the planet. So, we’re up here behind the moon, and here he comes back at us.”
“What about the medical situation?” Jackson asked. The crew looked at each other and then at their stations, away from Jackson. He looked hard at Quixote.
“You should go to sick bay, Captain, right away.” A hard ball knotted in his stomach and he looked again at Watson, Rougeau, and York, then back at Quixote. The lizard nodded once and blinked slowly. Tom sprang to the elevator and slammed the button.
“You have the bridge!” The ride down a couple of decks was the longest he’d ever taken. As soon as the door slid open he shot out, galloping down the short length of corridor and slamming the button to open the doors. He skidded inside and glanced at the two Pegasi thugs still unconscious on their gurneys.
“Captain! It’s good to see you,” Adams said, strolling up to meet him, grabbing his hand and pulling him deeper into sick bay.
“Quixote sent me down here stat. Who’s hurt?” he demanded. Adams placed one hand on Tom’s shoulder and led him to the window of Rianya’s room.
“Slow up, cowboy. You’re a filthy mess! Get washed up and then fifteen minutes in UV decon before you touch her. Immune system’s having a tough time.”
Tom’s beautiful wife slept, deeply, her skin sallow and splotchy; her dark hair loose and in odd clumps. Her cheeks were sunken. Assorted monitors and gadgets were attached everywhere, making miscellaneous noise and light. He couldn’t breathe.
“What the hell happened?” he whispered. He clenched his fists, wanting to reach out and pet her but he didn’t dare. He stumbled back and collapsed into the closest chair. He looked at Adams knowing if he kept looking at Rianya he was going fall apart in a huge, emotional, hairy fit. He clamped his jaw against the reflexive wavering hoping that would keep his sight from blurring as well. It was going to be close. He shivered in terror.
“She came down with symptoms, then didn’t respond to the medicine. We couldn’t find anything on board or even synthesize any compound to fight it. And I think we found out why this morning.”
“Where’s Zalara?” Tom’s voice began to break. He held his breath and concentrated on the floor.
“She’s fine, Jack. She didn’t want to leave but we kept her with Honey and Cat.”
“She wanted to cure her, didn’t she?” Dr. Adams nodded.
“I doubt this was something within her abilities anyway.”
“She looks so… pale. And thin. Is she going to be alright?” Tom asked. He didn’t dare think of her dying. He didn’t ask if she was going to live. That had to be a given because he was certain he couldn’t live without her.
“She’s over the worst of it.” Tom could hardly believe his ears. If this was an improvement, what must she have gone through while he was down on the planet trying to save strangers. He should have been here with her. He should have been in sick bay for her.
“This is a convalescence?”
“It was touch and go for a while Jack. I had to operate at one point, she went into shock, bleeding internally, coughing blood, comatose.”
Tom got up and reached out to her without making contact.
“She’s had to fight this without medicine?”
“It’s her DNA, Jack. And let me tell you something. The plague on the planet is not the plague of 1350. What we have now is a mutated version, an extremophile that can encapsulate itself like streptococcus.”
“You said you figured something out this morning.”
“Yes. You’re going to want to sit down for this. Go get cleaned up, say hello to your girl then come back. Unless you need to be on the bridge.”
“I need to be here, right here,” Tom insisted, pointing at the floor in front of the chair next to Rianya’s bed.
“Thomas,” Philip Adams said, putting his arm around the captain’s shoulders. “Pay attention. Look at me.” Tom refused to look at the doctor, focusing on the wall instead. He set his jaw and every muscle was frozen. “I promise I will not leave her side while you spend a few minutes in decon, take a hot shower, and go talk to Zalara. She needs you now, not Rianya.”“She needs me. You have to make her better.”
“Captain, you’re no good to her right now. Go.”
“Since when did you start giving orders on this ship?” Tom muttered, only half-jokingly.
“You’re compromised. My orders supersede yours.”
“Like hell.”
“Go to decon, Jack, now. Right now.” The doctor removed his arm and stepped back. Doctors, doctors, always telling him what to do. On his way out, he shouted back to Adams.
“Someone get these Pegasi into the brig!”
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