Jeopardy Chapter 10

“This is our engine room,” Quixote said to his party of four. “Maria Mitchell is equipped with Ion Fusion Cascade propulsion. We are able to exponentially increase speed from about Mach 100 to traversing a light year in 200 hours.”

The Zlōgers soaked in the view with their chameleon eyes. The engine, relatively quiet as they approached the planet, hummed a perfect middle C. The reptilian commander could determine their speed with reasonable accuracy just by the resonance of the impulsion chamber.

“Your team going to bring our equipment to machine room for fixing?” Quixote glanced at Chief Bowen.

“We weren’t aware any of your equipment was broken. Isn’t it a hull breach? Painter and Byrd can fix that easily,” he said.

“We have a schedule to keep,” Quixote reminded them. “We are duplicating emergency supplies for the civilization on Beta Hydri Four. To stop and make a single component is highly disruptive. The EBM has to be cleaned of one material before we can create something from another material, and that takes time we don’t have. I’m sorry.”

“We have fatigue. We can stay aboard Maria Mitchell and resume tour when Captain Jackson returns?”

“I believe that will be acceptable. Mr. Bowen, would you show the group to a guest stateroom so they can rest?”

“Follow me,” he said with a wave of his hand. Quixote watched the blue legs slapping along behind Mr. Bowen, their tapping claws growing fainter as they vanished around the corner and the door shut behind them. Xe sighed and touched an intercom call button.

“Galley.”

“Bailey, dear, can you concoct a celery juice for me? I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Sure, Commander. Will the Zlōgers be eating with us?”

“I am trying to get them off the ship as soon as possible, but whatever you served before, this time just put the garnish on the plate. It seemed to be their favorite.”

On xs way to the galley, Quixote stopped at the machine room to collect Mr. Chin for company. Zlōgers were the hot topic of conversation during their brief journey.

“They give me the heebie-jeebies,” Mr. Chin admitted.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever heard that term before.”

“They’re so squishy. Their eyes are always moving. I don’t know, they just give me the willies.”

“They are a bit taxing, but no doubt we are odd to them as well. I will be happy when the environment is back to just 20 percent humidity and a little warmer. I’m going to have to fetch a wrap or go to my sun room pretty soon.”

“It’s a lot like the rain forests on Earth in here, but no snakes or trees or screaming monkeys.”

“Draconia succumbed to desertification a several millennia ago. Our oxygen levels and humidity are below 20 percent planet wide.”

“Do you have any oceans? I… I’ve never been there.”

“A few saline lakes, but primarily our water sources come from springs out of the water tables. Water is for farmlands. We don’t waste it as is done on Earth, for fountains, swimming pools, swaths of grasses, bathing tubs, and the like. But then, Earth is 70 percent water.”

“I learned something today,” Mr. Chin stated. They came upon Bailey and Harchett fussing over food preparation in the galley. An open flame licked at a huge pot with a coffee colored stock simmering inside.

“Here, Commander. Hi Chin, what can I get you?”

“Whatever’s in that pot. It smells divine!”

“Divine is for dinner, but I just made a fresh batch of coffee.” A satisfactory option, Chin took his coffee, Quixote took his celery puree, and they sat near a window in the mess.

“It appears we should enter orbit soon,” Quixote said, nodding out the window at a green and white planet, still a million kilometers off.

“I can’t see the Zlōger ship from here.”

“The towline is close to the keel.”

“How do you think those Zlōgers became space faring? They don’t seem to have dexterity on those single claw-limbs.”

“I observed one of them grasping an instrument earlier. Its limb seem to mold, or, conform, as needed. The end of his appendage simply encompassed the casing like soft gum. They appear spineless and boneless. Ms. Rianya had a term for them but I don’t remember it; ‘cordless’ or something like that.”

“Commander, I was thinking of organizing a card game tomorrow, before we get to Beta Hydri. The morale the last couple days, well, no one is smiling.”

“It’s hard to be cheerful when we have a serious job ahead and are diverted for something trivial in comparison. I don’t think Captain Jackson would disapprove if it’s not disruptive.”

“Thank you, sir. Well, I should get back to the EBMs. I have a hundred barrels and am starting on solar panels in that unit. When the blankets are finished I’ll be moving on to tents.”

“Very good. Carry on, Mr. Chin.”

Quixote finished his drink and headed for the bridge. Upon arrival, he faced the captain’s chair with some disdain. For the umpteenth time, he reminded himself to have a chair sized peg installed. Until then, he would have to continue to stand.

“Any word from the captain?” xe asked.

“No, sir, the party is still on the Zlōger ship.”

“It’s been an hour. Mr. Watson, contact the captain and get a status report. Advise him of the timetable for entering orbit around this planet. I’m sure he’ll want to be on the bridge.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“Bowen to bridge. The Zlōgers would like to return to their ship so a new party may come aboard.”

“Accompany them to the airlock, Mr. Bowen.”

“Commander, I can’t raise the captain or the repair party,” Watson said.

“Keep trying. Mr. Lee, you’re on deck.”

Quixote tapped the claws of his hands against each other on his way to the engine room. Xe focused directly ahead while considering the Zlōgers interest in the ship’s systems. Although xe carried generous respect for Thomas Jackson, xe also held the captain’s penchant for compassion with some disdain. He was a most unusual human in that capacity.

“Mr. Chin,” he called. “Do you have an Injector 33 available on the shelf at the moment? One of my 30s appears to need maintenance and I’ll need a sub while I repair it.” Quixote pulled the suspicious injector from its cradle and tried again. “Mr. Chin?” The man must have stepped away. Quixote set the injector down, then heard the familiar clacking of claws on the deck. Xe whirled around in time to see the largest Zlōger pointing a weapon to his chest.

  

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The Zlōger shuttle returned to Maria Mitchell with three new occupants, the pilot having made the round trip. Each carried a container of different substances and they all spread out in different directions as soon as the airlock closed and locked. Commander Gugnichacrik greeted the pilot before he’d gotten very far.

“Commander, we’ve brought aboard the materials and supplies. They are disbursing to the medical bay, bridge, and engine room.”

“Befriend one of them from the infirmary and have them assist in getting the crew locked into their quarters. Medicals are always reluctant to battle.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“I’ll go to the bridge and take over the helm. It was pure luck that their captain went with the repair team to our ship. It will be much easier to remove the machines if he is not on board to interfere.”

“Agreed.”

“What about that human with the weapon?” The Zlōger directed his swivel eyes at the floor where Mr. Bowen lay unconscious.

“Rotana knocked him down. The one in the machine room, and the reptile in the propulsion room are also knocked down.”

“How many others?”

“Medical crew, bridge crew, a few others. A deca or a few more. Rotana went to their armory and has issued human weapons to our boarding party.” 

“Very forward thinking. Dukvita was wrong about this species. They are not clever at all. This may be the easiest mission we’ve had in a quarter of a lifetime.”

“This is a small ship, only five decks. One is all quarters, so once they’re sealed, we can focus on the machine room.”

“We should not spend any more time. Commence.”

The new Zlōgers clacked away in one direction while Commander Gugnichacrik made his way toward the elevator. Rather than flapping leg after leg, however, he slid each leg like a slug, making less noise and quicker progress. The grooves in the decking offered a superior surface to cling upon, which also retained the clear slime they to ease their locomotion.

In the elevator, the commander didn’t know how to activate it. Each eye swiveled, scanning for clues inside the two by two meter box. The surfaces were smooth top to bottom. He lifted the translation box hanging from one arm and spoke to it.

“Ber-idj.” The electronic voice was sufficient to fool the computer and the alien’s confidence crept up another notch. The door slid open and the Zlōger slid out. Watson, Lee, and Rougeau all turned to see who’d come in.

“Which the pilot?”

“I’m the pilot,” Chen Lee answered, his black eyebrows scrunching inward.

“Keep flying. You and you come,” he told the other two.

“I’m not leaving my post,” Rougeau insisted. The commander raised the leg that held a side arm. A small drip of slime sped to the deck from his claw. Rougeau turned away from him to look at his helm; the Zlōger shot a streak of laser light covered in plasma, hitting Rougeau in the upper back. He shouted out briefly, then slumped over the dashboard.

“You keep flying. You come.” Watson’s eyes darted to Lee’s. Lee nodded almost imperceptibly. The officer stood, tapped a red button on his dashboard and slowly walked toward the commander.

“You get him, and come,” he said, pointing to Rougeau. Watson hefted Rougeau, a man taller and heavier than Watson, over his shoulder, then walked at gunpoint into the elevator with the Zlōger.