“Bowen to Captain Jackson.” He stretched from his seat at the head of the table in the captain’s mess to reach the intercom button.
“Jackson.”
“I have some interesting findings, sir. You might want to review these as soon as possible.”
Jackson looked at Rianya, Adams, and Ferris seated around the table. The afternoon meal was almost over.
“Meet me in the doyen’s office in 20 minutes, Mr. Bowen.” He turned back to his guests. “At least I got through the entrée,” he chuckled and excused himself from the party.
“Mind if we tag along?” Adams asked.
“If you’re interested in engineering analyses, you’re welcome to join me.” All three followed Jackson out the door and up to the bridge level. He pulled his jacket on while he made the journey along the corridor and buttoned it in the elevator.
“What do you think Mr. Bowen found?” Rianya asked. She had to hustle to keep up with the captain’s stride, as did the two doctors.
“These days I don’t even try to guess. It’s rarely what I expect so I just suspend my imagination anymore.” He smiled at his attendants and shook his head slightly.
“Good evening, Captain,” Lieutenant May called out.
“Nice to see you, Jay.” The small party passed through and into the doyen’s office. Mr. Bowen hadn’t arrived yet. “So, everyone please take a seat.”
“They haven’t indicated any medical issues?”
“No, Doc, seems it’s only their ship.” Jackson chuckled. “Would you know what to do with them?”
“No, but I bet these two might,” Adams said, nodding at the women. “You have a biologist and a veterinarian sitting right here.” Rianya and Dr. Ferris looked at each other.
“We haven’t met them,” Rianya told Adams.
“I think they’re highly sophisticated amphibians.”
“Frogs?” Dr. Ferris said with a smirk on her face.
“Frogs that are more like octopus,” Adams explained. “Or maybe squid.”
“Amphibians are famously adaptive animals,” Ferris said.
“I’d say space faring is adaptive,” Jackson said. The doorbell chirped. “Come in.”
“Captain, doctors, Rianya,” Bowen said, nodding at the party. Since Rianya didn’t hold rank or another title, the crew usually referred to her casually as opposed to calling her Ms. Jackson. The captain had considered finding an honorary title for her but hadn’t quite thought of something appropriate.
Bowen handed a data reader to the captain, standing at the edge of the table. Jackson scanned the data then looked up at Bowen with a question on his face. He nodded to a chair; Bowen sat and joined the pending discussion.
“Alpha particles? But only a one kiloton TNT blast?”
“Yes, sir. Still hot with decay.”
“It hasn’t reached its half-life mark,” Jackson muttered. He looked at each person around the table, briefly, a solemn alarm reflected in their eyes. “Polonium. Pegasi use polonium in their short-range torpedoes. It was all over Maria Mitchell’s hull after the accident.”
“No one else uses it?” Adams asked.
“It’s rare everywhere but the Iota Pegasi system. Only about 10 kilograms are produced on Earth each year.”
“The Pegasi attacked them, too? Why didn’t they say anything?” Adams asked.
“Good question, Doc. Let’s find out.” Jackson stood up and the rest followed his lead. Jackson and Rianya stayed behind after the room emptied.
“Quixote here.”
“Commander, I need one of your engineers to join my scout party. I’m going to the Zlōger ship and I need someone who can substantiate the Pegasi weapons signature on their hull.”
“Kym Byrd is currently on shift.”
“Have her report to the shuttle bay at 16:00.”
“Pegasi?”
“I’ll explain later. Jackson out.”
“You’re going back over there?” Rianya asked. Her soft eyes and lack of smile made Jackson take a second thought.
“Come on.”
In their quarters Anne Wallace greeted them. The girls were glued to an entertainment module. “Goodbye Captain, Rianya.”
“Thank you, Anne,” Rianya said, walking her to the door.
While she managed an appliance to heat water for tea, Tom sat in the overstuffed chair to think about the Zlōgers’ deception. If they’d been hit by Pegasi at close range, there’d be no doubt as to the cause of their hull breach.
“Here, Mylan,” she said handing him a cup of strong tea. He took it, realizing his jaw was clamped tight with retrospective irritation at his own credulity.
“They don’t trust us? They don’t want us to know they had a fight with someone? Maybe they think it will show their weakness in defense? Maybe they initiated the attack on Pegasi like they did on us?” Tom tasted the tea but it was still too hot. He thought about her words.
“They don’t trust us.”
“Maybe the Zlogers think we might be pirates that want to take something from them, not help them.” Tom glanced up at the woman, the teacup at her lips, and inhaled sharply.
“Pirates don’t play games, they just take what they want and don’t waste time. If we were pirates we would have taken the booty already. We didn’t stop to help them, they stopped us to help them.”
“Maybe the Zlogers think we are friends with Pegasi? Maybe it’s another alien with the…po-low chemical, not Pegasi?”
“They’d have no reason to suspect we’re allies.” Tom tried the tea again. “As for the polonium, that’s possible. Either is possible.”
Rianya revisited the kitchenette and returned with a shallow bowl of crispy, yellow cookies, lemon flavored with a white, powdery, sugar coating that were irresistible, sugar be damned.
“The weapons or attack might be valid, too," he muttered. Meager weapons would be a good thing to hide, and so would be their aggression if they initiated a battle with the Pegasi.
She left the cookies on the chair-arm, touched the top of his head, then drifted away. Tom heard her words but he wasn’t listening. His thoughts rumbled with blue amphibians tottering behind Quixote in his engine room.
“Rianya,” he called.
“I’m still here.” He broke his attention away from nothing and focused on the woman who filled an integral part of his life, a part he’d never known was empty before he’d met her.
“Thank you. Your … insights are unique on this ship.”
“Everyone on the ship has a unique perspective to offer. Even the two in the next room.”
“Yes, but I trust you more than anyone else on this ship. You tell me your honest thoughts whether I’ll like to hear it or not, and always kindly.” He blew her a kiss as she walked away.
þ
Jackson was ready to face the Zlōgers at 16:00 as scheduled. Their ship was still in tow, tethered to the Maria Mitchell on the way to the outermost planet of the nearby white, F class star.
“Still point nine hours from planet orbit, sir,” Ensign Rougeau answered from the bridge.
“Reduce speed to zero point eight of ISS.”
“Captain?”
“Zero point eight of ISS.”
“Aye, sir.” As the ship slowed, the momentum from the Zlōger ship slackened the cable briefly, tugging on Maria Mitchell like a trailer without brakes. She stabilized momentarily and Jackson nodded.
“Captain,” Watson said. “I’m getting an incoming message from Space Admin. This is coming in oddly, sir. It’s not streaming in real time, it came in a text file.”
“Route it to the doyen’s office, Mr. Watson.”
Good morning, Captain.
You are no doubt wondering why you got this message, but I think you can appreciate that it is being sent via quantum transport to your transceiver via a booster in place around Tau Ceti at a distance of three astronomical units. Please check your chronometer. It should read about 16:10 2166 June 04.
Please confirm the exact time you received the message. It was sent at 17:00 2166 June 3. Of course, we know you don’t have the transmitter to respond at the same speed, but we nevertheless await your reply.
In the meantime, the BH Four Science Team has requested your immediate arrival. They discovered a an asteroid is on collision course with the planet. They don't have the equipment to make a satisfactory survey. You're hereby directed to proceed at best possible speed with orders to divert it, if at all possible. The camp coordinates have changed from the original location of the colony, the beach where you were marooned, and are at the end of this file.
Please tell my daughter that her mother and I miss her. Godspeed, and good luck as you start the new assignment.
Sincerely,
Admiral J. P. Wallace
Jackson wasn’t sure he’d read the date stamp correctly. The file had arrived in 23 hours. That was impossible. They were 23 light years from Earth. A light year in an hour? Granted, it was data, not people, but a light year in an HOUR? Jackson opened a visual com to the bridge.
“Mr. Watson, when exactly did that file arrive?”
“It came in at 08:02.”
“What’s the transmission date?”
“It’s stamped 2166, June … third?” The officer turned his head, slowly, and frowned at the captain. “Yesterday?”
“I was expecting Wallace to be pulling a joke but it seems to be true. He hasn’t received our communiqué about the Zlōgers, yet.”
“Captain, 23 hours to receive a message? It should take 23 days at this distance. What’s going on?”
“Apparently, quantum data teleportation. We can’t reply back so fast, obviously, but I’m guessing we’ll be seeing a retrofit when we get back home.”
Jackson headed for the shuttle bay to lead the repair team assigned to the Zlōger ship, but the gravity of the accomplishment was almost unimaginable. Had that quantum technology been available just five years ago, his life might have been completely different today. They would have known quickly, in a few days, if a rescue ship would be sent, and when. The uncertainty would have been replaced with knowledge that they weren’t forgotten, stranded, perhaps forever, on an unexplored planet around Beta Hydri.
He might never have met Rianya, probably not married her, Zalara wouldn’t have been born, the genetic disaster on Earth would perhaps still be raging away, killing adolescents by the thousands. Faster than lightning communication across vast distances would have been a boon at the time of the shipwreck and, paradoxically, a tragedy, for him personally, and for all of humanity.
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