OK, you'll be happy to hear that from here on in (for a while anyway) we will have one narrator and one thread. You'll also be happy to hear that I've finished chapter 20 and I'm posting it here, now.
So come on, who can tell me where she is this time? I've left at least three possibilities open in the text of this chapter.
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Othaglot & Cane Chapter 20 (
read chapters 1-19 here )
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I hate zero gravity.
I watched Cane float at the opposite end of the room. He was unconscious, having been sucked toward the doorway by the decompression. The door had then closed, and he had struck it head first. I was tired and hurting, but I had to go to him. Unconsciousness in zero-g carries certain medical risks for Cappans and I had to assume the same for humans. With a sigh I pulled out the tubes recently inserted into my tentacles and pushed myself away from the bed on an intercept. Once you launch yourself from a surface in zero gravity, you are set upon an unalterable course until you collide with something else. It is this lack of control that I dislike, but I ignored it as I coasted toward Cane, wrapping a few tentacles around him as I passed. My movement interrupted by the interaction, we fell into a tumble until I brought us to a mostly-controlled halt on the far wall. His breathing was unobstructed, so I secured the stricken human to one of the beds with a length of medical dressing.
My energy was all spent and my old wounds were hurting nearly as much as my new ones. Despite my best efforts to stay awake I soon drifted into senselessness, dreaming of being swept up in an irresistible tide.
I came round after a long time under, taking some time to remember where I was. I was also gently tied with bandages in just the way I had secured Cane, and he was floating freely in the far corner, wrapped tightly in the skinsheet that had previously been on a frame in the corner. He smiled briefly at my groggy confusion, then adopted a more stern countenance. He confirmed that he wasn’t badly hurt, but seemed reluctant to talk about anything else.
I told him how dangerous it was for me to lose consciousness without gravity, and he told me he would stay awake and monitor my breathing. I quickly slipped back into sleep. When I awoke for the second time he told me that 20 or more hours had passed, and that there had been “a lot of noise from the walls”. He explained, rather indifferently, that it was either the remains of the ship breaking up, which would mean certain death, or a rescue attempt. He then said he’d like to sleep if I was able to stay awake.
The noise turned out to be the Endeavour rescuing us, although I learned later that it was a difficult process. Although it carried independent life support, the medbay had no airlocks and because we lacked spacesuits inside it, the only way to get us out without fatal exposure to space was to bring the entire medical unit into one of the Endeavour’s pressurised cargo holds. Unfortunately, this meant cutting the room free of the Marilyn’s remains, because the cargo bay doors were only just big enough to admit it. Apparently we had been almost thirty hours in there. I was feeling slightly improved when the doors were forced open and we were greeted by Commander Lock, the Endeavour’s second in command. He briefed us on recent events.
“Your fugitive closed the plasma venting apparatus on that old hulk’s engines. Engines built in those days were made to withstand just about anything, so they contained a massive pressure build up before they finally blew and ripped the ship wide open. Of course there should have been safety overrides and warnings, but she disabled them. We think that’s why she killed the junior engineer on the bridge.”
“How many casualties were there?” Asked Cane.
“We have you two, and two survivors from the Marilyn’s crew. One of those suffered severely from exposure and probably won’t ever regain consciousness. The Endeavour wasn’t damaged, but we had a lot of crew over there assisting with the search. Most of them were armoured or at least suited so casualties weren’t as bad as they might have been. Still, many of our people were close to the engines at the time of the bLast or hit afterwards by debris. We’ve confirmed eleven deaths from our crew, including the Captain. We still have a half dozen unsuited personnel still missing. Without the communications equipment on their suits, they will be very hard to find.”
There was a pause. I had built up a certain amount of respect for Lock during my time on the Endeavour, and although he made no outward display of it I could see that the loss of his Captain and other comrades grieved him greatly. I didn’t know what to say or do, and the silence became awkward. His mouth twitched briefly before he continued.
“About half a minute before the explosion we detected one of the Marilyn’s escape pods launching. It was heading toward New May.”
Cane started visibly, and my mind darkened.
“That’s weeks away. You could catch her easily in this ship.” Said Cane.
“It’s a decoy. We scanned the pod and it’s empty. Twelve seconds before the explosion, a second escape pod launched back toward the Outlier point, and that one was definitely occupied. We’re guessing she hoped to slip out unnoticed in the chaos and send us chasing after the decoy.”
“Even so, you would still have time to catch the decoy, turn around and capture her.”
“You’re right, but it was a desperate manoeuvre from a cornered criminal. She’s inventive and completely ruthless. I can see why you’re so determined to find this woman, Mr Othaglot. I’m certainly looking forward to catching up with her.”
There was a predatory glint in his mind as he said this, but it disappeared in an instant.
“Where did she learn how to detonate the engines like that?” I asked. “The timing of the escape pod launches indicate that she knew almost exactly when the explosion would occur. That implies a very precise knowledge of some antique alien technology.”
“Stevv gave us tours.” Said Cane. “He was very proud of that antique alien technology. He was a good man.”
Cane looked away angrily. He was still not in control of his emotions, and seemed to be laying much of the blame for recent events on me. Sensing the hostility, Lock changed the subject.
“While the cutting crew was working to bring you aboard, we had a second team repressurise the Marilyn’s bridge section. It has its own airlock, so it will serve as a base of operations for the search team we’ve left behind to recover our Last six crewmates. We’ve been in pursuit of the escape pod since bringing you aboard. She’s got twenty-eight hours’ head start on us, but the Endeavour can be on her in fifteen hours or less. Now you two should probably get some medics to look you over and then try to relax. Mr Cane, I must ask you to forgive me. I’m needed on the bridge, so I cannot formally welcome you and show you to your quarters personally. I’ll send someone down immediately. Mr Othaglot, you remain our guest of course.”
Lock nodded courteously and turned to walk back toward the bridge, even in this situation the image of cool, rational humanity. After a few steps he stopped and turned, and for a moment emotion slipped onto his impassive features.
“I’m glad you’re both well. We’ve lost too many good people today already.” He turned again and was gone.
For some reason this brief expression touched me, and I thought about it all the way back to my quarters, and then again as I slipped once more into sleep.
I slept for a long time in my makeshift hammock, and when I awoke went to find Cane. Apparently he was with Loorl and refused to see me. Before I could pursue the matter further, I was called to the bridge. Commander Lock was looking at a small, shiny object in the middle of the viewscreen.
“The escape pod.” He said.
One of the bridge crew added, “Sensors still indicate someone alive on board, Sir.”
“Bring her in.” Said Lock, gravely. “Security, send a suited team to cargo bay two. Mr Othaglot, if you’d care to accompany me.”
I had to borrow Loorl’s space-suit, my own having been lost on the Marilyn. I wasn’t really fit for this, but I had to be there. I stood before the escape pod with a half-dozen heavily armed humans, waiting for the escape pod to be lowered to the floor while the cargo bay was pressurised. Irritated by the layer of unfamiliar clothing between my tentacle and my bLaster, I gripped the weapon more firmly. I wondered just what her reaction would be. She didn’t seem the type to submit quietly. I fully anticipated resistance, and despite my injuries I was relishing the thought of confronting her.
The air pressure attained a breathable level just before the pod reached the floor, and I reached out with my mind to locate the occupant. The security squad opened the door, but before I could see inside I knew something was wrong.
The inside of the pod was streaked with red, and the controls and communications equipment had been deliberately destroyed. The crumpled form within was not the Cue Cappan fugitive we had been looking for, but a breathless and bleeding Captain Frasier.
For a moment my bewilderment almost tipped into panic. Lock didn’t even flinch. “Medic!” He called, stepping forward to help the ragged human before him. The security squad began a detailed search of the tiny vessel, two of them flanking Lock protectively. Frasier was badly hurt, but was able to tell his brief story before he was rushed off for medical aid. The murderess had been on top of a cargo crate, and had managed to shoot him in both legs and disarm him before he even knew what was happening. Then she had simply wrapped herself around him and squeezed until he passed out. The next thing he remembered he was aboard the escape pod, with no sign of the Marilyn or the Endeavour in any direction. Frasier had patched up his wounds as best he could with the escape pod’s limited medical supplies, and then spent more than forty painful hours travelling through space, unable to alter his course or call for help. I wondered who would have the task of adding to his trauma by telling him that his ship and crew were nearly all gone.
I also wondered what had happened to the killer. Once Frasier had been hurried off by the medics, Lock asked me to join him and his senior staff for a discussion of that point. As someone who knew her well, Cane was asked to attend, but he replied flatly he didn’t know her at all and so it would be pointless him being there.
“The obvious implication”, I began “is that this was another decoy. We’ve spent fifteen hours recovering Frasier, and will have to spend another fourteen returning to the remains of the Marilyn. Add to that the thirty hours spent cutting Cane and myself free from the medbay, she could easily have made it to the Ceres warp point or be well on her way to some other location in this system.”
“I disagree.” Lock replied. “She activated the escape pods mere seconds before the explosion, and they had been docked near the front of the cargo bay. She would have probably avoided the bLast there, but she must have known that the cargo bay would almost certainly be torn open to space, and she couldn’t possibly survive that. Her actions were suicidal.”
“What about Frasier though? I can imagine she might prefer death to capture and try to take us with her, but in that case why spare him? She has never been bothered about mercy before.”
“Maybe she was prepared to die, but wanted a decoy to divert attention away from something other than herself.” Suggested Lock.
“Possibly, but what would she be willing to sacrifice herself to protect? It doesn’t fit with her behaviour. Everything I’ve seen from her so far has been utterly self-centred. I believe she’s alive somewhere.”
“Where then?” said Lock. “Could she have been in that first escape pod after all?”
“Only if she was dead, Sir.” replied the sensor specialist to whom the question had been directed. “Our sensors registered no life in that pod, and the sensors are in perfect order.” No-one bothered to ask if he had checked them- obviously a Terran Officer would never make such an assertion without being sure.
“Could the sensors be fooled?” I asked.
“They get their information from the energy emissions of the pod’s life support system. Those readings tell us exactly what the life support is doing, and that depends entirely upon the pod’s occupants. Theoretically, the life support system could be modified to fool our sensors, but it would make them virtually useless and it would also require time and tools she didn’t have while we were hunting her.”
“Perhaps she set it up in advance.” Said Lock. "She had weeks' of opportunity during the voyage."
“Possibly, but that would still require an awful lot of expertise and suspicious behaviour. I think it’s unlikely Sir, but it might be worth looking into it.”
“Any other possibilities?” Asked the acting Captain, massaging his forehead. “The freight containers?”
“Most of them are airtight,” offered another officer, consulting the Marilyn’s cargo roster “but none of them had life support. She’d run out of air pretty quickly, and the temperature would drop rapidly out in space. She’d be lucky to Last two hours in one of those.”
“Perhaps she was in a third escape pod.” I suggested. “Could she have waited until we’d gone, then launched another pod?”
“No.” Said Lock. “Those old pods launch automatically the instant the door is closed. If she didn’t close the door, then she would have been exposed when the cargo bay opened up. Back to square one.”
“Then we are returned to suicide, but I just don’t like it. I won’t be happy until I’ve seen a body.”
“I share your feelings, Mr Othaglot, but I can see no other possibility. In the meantime, I’ll get in touch with the Ceres warp station and tell them to look out for her. Then we’ll pick up the rescue team at the wreckage and drop off our casualties at New May. We can pick up the first escape pod on the way there, just in case.”
The meeting was ended with a heavy air of dissatisfaction.
Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread
). Everything else on your site still works fine for me.
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