A Light In The Dark, Page 2

  Gunderson laughed softly. “I’m sure she does. And you had your heads together—talking about books? She just happened to mention that they’re running light?”

  Ernest nodded. “Yeah. Sorta.”

  “When was this? Yesterday?”

  Ernest mumbled something.

  Nancy said, “What’s that, Ernest?”

  “Last night,” he said, a blush creeping up his neck.

  “Huh,” Gunderson said and turned to consider the distant vessel once more..

  Nancy looked at him with a broad smile on her face. “That’s all you got to say? ‘Huh’?”

  Gunderson stared out the armorglass for a few moments. “Yeah. Why?”

  Nancy gave an exaggerated shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. Cargo master on your buddy’s ship is robbin’ the cradle here. Thought you might have some words of wisdom for your second mate here about the dangers of predacious women.”

  Gunderson laughed and even Ernest smiled a little. “How old are you, Ernest? Fifty-eight?”

  Ernest nodded. “Class of ‘98.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Gunderson said. “You graduated the year before I got there.”

  Nancy asked, “And what class was Martha?”

  Ernest mumbled something again. He looked around and repeated it more firmly. “Eighty-six.”

  Nancy started to laugh but Gunderson gave her a sharp look. “Nancy? Is there something wrong with Ernest seeing Ms. Thompson?”

  She smiled at both men. “No, actually, I think it’s wonderful.” She paused. “But I just had to give Ernest a little ribbing, Captain. Here, all this time, I thought he just hung out and read all the time. Now we find out he’s got a sugar momma on the sly.” She turned to the grizzled second mate. “Sorry, Ernest, I really am pleased for you. If you’re both happy, who am I to say anything.”

  The systems’ console pinged an alert and Ernest turned back to it. “Tug’s getting ready to let us go, Skip.”

  “Thank him for us, Ernest.”

  Ernest tapped a few keys and send off his message as the power coupling indicators went dark on the console. “Sent and acknowledged, Skip.”

  “Thanks, Ernest.” He paused for two heartbeats. “And, Ernest?”

  Shackleton looked up at the captain.

  “Congratulations. I’ve known Martha for a long time. I thought she had better sense than that,” he grinned broadly, “but there’s no accounting for taste.”

  “Thanks, Skip.”

  Gunderson turned his gaze out in the direction where the other ship had faded out into the Deep Dark. His forehead furrowed in concentration as he pondered.

  Chapter Four

  Welliver System: June 19, 2333

  Gunderson climbed the ladder to the bridge just as the chrono clicked to 11:30. He took his seat and nodded to his second mate. “We already to bend a little space, Ernest?”

  Ernest looked up from his console and gave a wink. “You betcha, Skip.”

  Gunderson turned to the first mate. “Nancy? Would you do the honors?”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” She clicked on the ship’s comm and announced, “All hands to navigation stations. All hands to navigation stations.”

  Nobody on the bridge moved. In a half a tick, Nancy clicked a key on her console and said, “Engineering reports manned and ready, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Nancy. Any change in Virginia Deere?”

  “Nothing new, Skipper. She’s loafing along a few hundred thousand klicks in that direction now.” She indicated with a jerk of her chin. She snapped a few keys on her console and the overhead repeater showed the long-range scanner displays. One bright point flashed on and off. “That’s him.”

  “Ernest, you sure he’s running light?”

  “All I know is what Martha told me, Skip. He’s running only two and a half cans. Some high priority load on a private contract.”

  Gunderson frowned and muttered, “Then why hasn’t he jumped yet?”

  “Dunno, Skip. What’s it matter?” Ernest asked with a small frown of his own and a glance at the first mate.

  Gunderson shook his head. “I don’t know, Ernest. I just don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but --” He cut off the sentence with a shrug. “None of my business, I suppose. He’ll be buying the beer.”

  “Assuming he gets in before we leave,” Nancy pointed out.

  Ernest laughed. “He’s probably planning on dragging his heels just enough to miss us.”

  Gunderson snorted. “I don’t drink that much beer.”

  Nancy joined Ernest with a chuckle of her own.

  “What?” Gunderson said. “I don’t.”

  “Sure, Captain. Sure,” she said with a broad smile.

  Gunderson laughed along. “You wound me.” He placed the back of one hand against his forehead and struck a dramatic pose.

  Even Kravitz on the helm laughed at that.

  “Okay, Ernest. What’s our jump look like?” The Captain turned to his second mate.

  “Clean in and out in the Deep Dark, Skip. We’ve made this double so often, I think we got it down to a science by now.”

  “Vectors lined up?” Gunderson asked. “Any estimate on how long we’ll be in the Deep?”

  “Should be less than one standard day, Skip. We’re punching very close to a direct line to Breakall. We’ll get the normal jump error, but we should be close.”

  “Well, let’s see how well we do. Nancy? Announce stand by, please.”

  Nancy keyed the ship’s comm again. “All hands, stand by for jump. All hands, stand by for jump.”

  “Helm, drop the sails,” Gunderson said.

  “Aye, aye, Captain. Drop sails,” Kravitz acknowledged smartly. Her hands walked across the controls and Gunderson watched the tell-tales over her shoulder as they shrank to nothing. “Sails down, sar.”

  “Okay, Ernest, you and Ralphie work it out between you. Kick it.”

  “Kicking now, Skip.”

  Gunderson saw a green indicator on the main watch-stander console and Ernest punched a key on his console. The star field around the bridge, dim as it was, shifted slightly and some of the fainter stars seemed to wink out – others seemed to shift position.

  “Welcome to no where, Captain.” Nancy said.

  Gunderson nodded and waited for Shackleton to stop hammering keys.

  “Position plotted. Vector established, Skipper.” Ernest said, not looking up from his screen.

  “And...?” Gunderson prompted.

  Shackleton’s nimble fingers danced over the keys and screens flashed open and closed almost faster than Gunderson could follow.

  “And good news, bad news, Skip. Which you want first?”

  “Good.”

  “We’re a little closer to Breakall than I planned. The jump went two percent long.”

  “And the bad?”

  “Looks like about a nineteen hour burn to shift vectors for exit to Breakall.”

  Gunderson and Nancy shared a look. “That’s not bad. Better than some.”

  Ernest grimace. “Yeah, but I was hoping to shave that down. It’s the jump error. It’s just enough to throw off the vectors.”

  Gunderson grunted. “You’ve been doin’ this for how long now, Ernest?”

  “Thirty stanyers – give or take a bit, Skipper.”

  “And you still can’t accept jump error?”

  “Well, yes, Skip, I know but I keep tryin’ to get better.” Ernest looked up with a wry grin and half a shrug. “I keep thinking there’s a secret there. If I just do it long enough ...”

  “You’re up against the limits of our tools, Ernest. Two percent is a pretty good jump. If we weren’t pulling a double, you’d have shaved three days off the run.” He paused and considered. “As it is, we’ll be here less than a full standard day before we have sails up again.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Shackleton’s voice had an almost apologetic tone. “I just was hopin’ for a straight shot through.” He looked out at the surrounding spa
ce. “I never did like jumping into the Deep like this.”

  “We’ll be out soon enough, Ernest.” Gunderson turned to Nancy. “Secure from navigation stations, please, Nancy. Set the next watch.”

  “You’ve got the next watch, Skipper.”

  “Yeah, I know. Let’s make it happen and then we can coast while the kickers get us turned.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” She turned to her duties even as the ship rolled, smearing the distant stars against the armorglass and the heavy thrusters in the belly of the ship began a low growl.

  Chapter Five

  Breakall System: June 28, 2333

  Five days out of Breakall, when Gunderson and Jordan got to the bridge to relieve the watch, Ernest met them with a smile. “Thought you might be interested in this, Skip.” He nodded his head at the pull down screen in the overhead.

  Jordan relieved Curtis on the helm while Gunderson crossed to the display and squinted up at it. “Virginia Deere?” he asked.

  “Yup. Dropped into scan about two stans ago.”

  Gunderson examined the readout carefully. “Is he going a bit slow?”

  Ernest grunted. “Funny you should mention it. I thought so, too.”

  Gunderson took one last good stare at the repeater and crossed to the duty watch station. “Not much but not what I’d expect seeing somebody coming out of a double jump like the one we just did.”

  “Me, either, Skip. His delta-vee over that last two hours get’s him a little closer to profile, but he was just limping along there for a bit.”

  “Curious, don’t ya think, Ernest?”

  “Yup. That I do, Skip. That I do.” The look on his face told Gunderson he wasn’t done.

  When Gunderson got to the duty station he looked at the screen. “What’s this?” he asked as he took his seat.

  “That’s what he filed with Breakall as incoming cargo, Skip.”

  Gunderson frowned at the screen. “Some kind of mistake?”

  Ernest shook his head but shrugged. “Might be, but that’s what they’ll be looking for when he docks.”

  “I thought you said he was running light.”

  Shackleton nodded. “I did. That’s what Martha said.”

  Gunderson considered the three full cans listed on the read out. “That doesn’t look light to me.”

  “Me, either, Skipper.”

  “Any chance they swapped cargoes at the last-minute?”

  “It’s possible I suppose, and it would explain why he was so slow coming out of Welliver.”

  Gunderson scowled at the screen. “Maybe so, maybe no. It makes more sense than the idea that he picked up cargo in the Deep Dark.”

  “Does it, Skip?” Shackleton kept his voice low. He glanced over to the helm where the two ratings compared notes on the status of the helm. “Does it really?”

  “What’re you suggesting, Ernest?” Gunderson’s question came out as a near whisper.

  “Nothing, Skipper.” He paused and glanced at the ratings again. “Just seems odd that he should take so long getting to the Burleson limit. Even if he wasn’t running light coming out, he shoulda been right along side when we jumped. He wasn’t.”

  “A bad wind could account for that.”

  Ernest grimaced. “That was a lot of bad wind, Skip. It’s possible he was stalling.”

  “Stalling?” Gunderson’s scowl deepened. “Stalling for what? For us to get out of the way?”

  Ernest shrugged. “Dunno, Skip. But we jumped in here—what? Ten standard days ago?”

  Gunderson looked at the overhead screen again.

  “That’s a long time to be hanging out in the Deep Dark, Skip. We’ve never been out there more than a couple of days. Ever.”

  “Well, that supposes they’ve been in the Dark all this time. What if they jumped short and are only now getting into scanner range?”

  Ernest sucked air through his teeth as he thought about it. After a moment he nodded. “Possible, Skip. Certainly possible.” He jerked his chin at the manifest. “But where’d the full can come from?”

  Gunderson slumped into the watch-stander’s seat. “Good question, Ernest. A real good question.”

  “Well, I just thought it was interestin’ and that you might like to know, Skip. I’m off on my twenty-four and I’ve got a good book waitin’ for me...”

  They ran through the watch change courtesies and Ernest headed for the ladder, leaving Gunderson eyeing the overhead display and considering the manifest.

  Chapter Six

  Welliver Orbital: August 2, 2333

  Smitty looked up as Gunderson approached the table. “About time you made it. I thought I was going to have to drink all this by myself.” His affable smile faded when he saw the look on his friend’s face. “Trouble?”

  Gunderson took a seat and leaned across the table. “What the hell is going on, Smitty?” He kept his voice low, barely loud enough to cross the short distance.

  Smitty sipped his beer and considered the question for a moment. “I’m having a beer with my friend. Or did you have something else in mind.”

  Gunderson gave his head a little shake. “You know what I mean. We go back a long way. I know you too well.”

  Smitty gave a little shrug.

  “What’re you doing with the cans? The cans you arrived with weren’t the ones you left with, were they.”

  Smitty sighed and pinched his nose between thumb and knuckle. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, leaning in himself and speaking softly. “The less you know, the less you can be accused of. As a friend, I’m telling you. You don’t want to know and you’re better off forgetting what you think you saw.”

  “Maybe so, maybe no,” Gunderson said and threw himself back in his chair, regarding his long-time friend. “That bad?”

  Smitty leaned back himself, eyes flickering around the room for a moment before resting on Gunderson’s face. “Let’s just say, not what I expected to be doin’ but we gotta do what we gotta do, okay? Leave it at that?”

  Gunderson’s face darkened, but Smitty maintained eye contact and didn’t back down in the face of the building bluster.

  Eventually, Gunderson relented and settled down to drink his beer. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No. Just --” Smitty’s eyes looked around again. “Just stay out of it. Nothin’ to see here. Move along. Okay?”

  “If you’re in some kinda trouble...” Gunderson began, letting his voice trail off.

  Smitty closed his eyes and blew out a sigh laden with frustration. “Just leave it. That’s what you can do. I know what I’m doing and you don’t need to know what it is.”

  Gunderson watched the smaller man for three long ticks without saying a word. “That’s your story?” he said at last.

  Smitty gave a little shrug and nodded.

  “In that case--” Gunderson stood, drained his glass, and clacked it back onto the table. “In that case, I’ve got work to do. Running the jump back to Breakall in the morning.”

  Smitty nodded, sadness pulling his eyebrows down. “No time to help me finish this beer?” He nodded at the half full pitcher.

  Gunderson shook his head. “Maybe so, maybe no. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Didn’t think so.” Gunderson turned and strode from the pub.

  Chapter Seven

  Welliver System: September 14, 2333

  All hands to navigation stations. All hands to navigation stations.” The first mate finished her announcement and nodded to the captain.

  “Ernest? We ready to bend a bit of space?” Gunderson asked.

  The older man looked up from his console. “Ready as we’ll ever be, Cap’n. Course plot for the Deep Dark and, if all goes well, we’ll be jumping for Breakall this time tomorrow.”

  The helmsman, Kravitz, knocked on her console table for luck.

  “We ready to go, Nancy?” The captain asked.

  “Ship’s secured and Ralphie says t
he Burleson’s hot,” she said after a quick look at her displays.

  “Bend it, Ernest.”

  “Bend it, aye, Cap’n.” The second mate mashed a key on his keyboard.

  After a few heartbeats the first mate said, “We’re in the Deep Dark, Cap.”

  Ernest smacked his keyboard in a syncopated tattoo. “This better not take too long. I’m just gettin’ to the good part in my book. I need to get back to it.”

  Nancy laughed. “You still reading that trashy thing? What is it? Alien Squids From Beyond the Sun?”

  The grizzled old man chortled. “Naw. I finished that weeks ago. Been through four books since then.”

  “What you readin’ now?” she asked.

  “Hush, I’m tryin’ to work here,” he grumbled. His fingers flew across the keyboard and finally struck one the last key. “Position locke--”

  A sharp bang cut off his words and the ship shuddered, the stars slewing sideways a bit in the ports. A warning klaxon took up a blaring squeal.

  “Hull breach, Captain,” Nancy shouted over the racket, consulting her screens.

  Gunderson jumped from his chair and crossed to the suit locker at the back of the bridge. He yanked the door open and started pulling out suits, tossing one in the direction of each member of the bridge crew. He slipped into one himself and pulled the helmet seals closed in smooth, deliberate movements. By the time he turned, the rest of his crew was suited and back at their stations.

  “Galley reporting.” Vasily’s voice came over the headset built into the suit. “All clear here. All hands present and accounted for. No injuries.”

  Gunderson keyed his mic for a moment. “Thank you, Vasily.” Releasing the mic he spoke normally. “Report, Nancy?”

  The soft suit muffled his words and made the sound of his voice echo oddly in his helmet but the soft suits hadn’t inflated. There was still plenty of atmosphere on the bridge.