Sympathy's Hope

"I don't care how long it takes you, Jo’neil but I want that engine coupling cleaned and I want it done yesterday."

Jo'neil Tirris glared at the chief engineer of the Sympathy's Hope and swore under his breath. The chief was only six months older than he was. Who was he to be giving orders like that? He scrambled up the access ladder that led to the coupling Chief Harris had indicated. It would be clean enough, Jo’neil was sure. The chief just liked to keep him busy whether there was work to do or not. He smacked the back of his hand on a ladder rung as he scrambled carelessly upward. Jo’neil swore again, this time loudly hoping the chief would hear.

Chief Sorin Harris had much different things on his mind though than keeping the younger, albeit not by much, engineering crewman busy. There were only days left. Days left to a journey he'd started years ago on the galactic home world Cinnhilif and then continued in the Langlinion system. Back then he'd been an idealistic student. Now he was a something else he dared not give a name lest he loose the importance he'd long sought and gained. In a matter of days he would play his role in the galactic drama he had long desired to be a part of. This was not how he'd first envisioned his role as a youngster, but now it seemed fitting and glorious.

"I'm cleaning it now!" an exaggeratedly cheerful and energetic voice yelled from above, just a little too loud. Harris ignored him and walked around the wide platform at the base of the thick columnar engine core that ran all the way to the top of the compartment where it joined the thrusters themselves. He had a workbench setup at the far side of the area he'd set aside for himself when he'd signed on with the Sympathy's Joy three weeks ago. Securing the position had been easy. He was more than qualified. In fact Harris' only worry was that he'd appear too qualified and not get the posting. The ship's captain and also pilot was far too busy preparing to depart while meeting the demands of the government of the Langlinion government. Far too busy to notice an extra case Harris had brought on board with him. One extra case. No one had given it a second thought.

----

The starship Sympathy's Joy traveled across the dark expanse with its running lights shining brightly, blazing the presence of humanity in the otherwise lifeless solar system. Not that most solar systems weren't lifeless. This one was simply empty. A single star with only two planets, both of which were more like massive rocks than planets. Neither were particularly rich in useful minerals and neither were stable enough to provide a good foundation for an outpost. The system was literally useless, and yet the Sympathy's Joy was there, cruising into the center of the system as if it were a passenger carrier on a routine flight from Langlinion to Leofmael. Checking the system beacon logs, the last ship to come here had been...the pilot refreshed the screen in case it they were displaying wrong. The last ship in this system, officially at least, had placed the system beacon. That was fifty years ago.

The pilot switched off the display in front of him and sighed heavily. He'd pulled some boring assignments in recent months but this, this was the worst. It had taken the better part of a week to simply reach this sector and now he was supposed to cruise in and hold position. His passenger hadn't given a length of time. For the kind of money the Langlinion government had offered, questions were kept to a minimum. He had rations and life support for months unless he suddenly picked up another ten passengers, which, in this system, was certainly not going to happen.

The Pasesedsed system was worse then empty, Jollez Harben thought as he locked the controls on autopilot and switched off the screen to the lower right of his control stick. It was boring as hell. He stretched as he freed himself of the padded control seat, and pulled a smokie from his shirt pocket. He looked at it lovingly and placed the narrow Leofseed filled cylinder between his lips imagining lighting it up and feeling the warm, tasty smoke fill his mouth and move into his lungs. His headache would ease, muscles would relax, and he’d be set for another few hours. Of course, this was a fantasy at the moment.

Jollez cursed his current arrangement despite the money he was due at the end of it. He paced the empty control deck, middle of the night, and thought he’d prefer doing any job he’d complained about in the past rather than this one. The boredom, and lack of smokable smokies on this run made his choice clear.

Please, anywhere but here, he screamed in his head. His face showed nothing but cool professional interest in the panels he paced in front of. His body would have given him away though, had anyone been present, save the man who walked onto the bridge at that moment. So focused was he, that Jollez was sure the man in the white suit and black shirt would hardly be able to pick him out of a crowd if they met tomorrow in some other place.

“Ah yes! Captain Harben, I’ve been looking for you?” he said enthusiastically but looking down, deeply engrossed in the data pad he was typing on furiously with a muscular pointer finger.

“Looking for me? The ship’s not that big, sir.”

Mr. Fargote Minorei looked up from his pad at that. The corner of his mouth twitched and his brow furrowed, “Ah yes, quite right,” he blinked rapidly as he worked, with obvious effort to tear his attention, or at least split it between the captain and his pad, “Quite right, well, there you are, you see? Now if I could just…”

Harben frowned. He’d taken a dislike to the ostentatiously dressed man the minute he’d met him and so far, nothing was changing his opinion of him. Harben liked people aboard his ship to look like they belonged. Work clothes, field gear, or anything, really, that could get dirty. This man in his delicate white suit that draped on his thin white frame like a curtain did not fit on his ship.

Harben waited. Minorei had, mid sentence returned to work on his data pad and was now standing stiller than a terrified Cinnhil Hound, his powerful index finger the only thing that proved him to be other than a statue.

“Mr. Minorei?”

Minorei nodded, “Mmmhmmm.”

Harben shook his head in annoyance and his eyes involuntarily rolled. Minorei noticed none of it. The man had been like this since he'd come aboard. Focused, solitary took his meals in his room. The was nothing about him that could make a pub loving athletic drinker like Harben even the slightest bit comfortable.

Harben tried again keeping his tone neutral and polite though he wanted to throttle him, "Mr. Minorei? Was there something you wanted to see me about?"

"Um..." Minorei nodded vigorously and raised his finger to Harben, "just one moment."

"Oh just spit it out man!" Harben snapped, and berated himself for it internally.

Minorei looked up at Harben as if seeing him for the first time, "Oh."

The hand clutching the pad dropped to his side and his other ruffled his hair in an embarrassed gesture, "My apologies, Captain. I have quite a lot to do, you see? But that doesn't excuse my rudeness!"

Minorei thrust out his left hand to shake hands painfully opposite of the customary manner. Harben accepted as gracefully as possible, "Is there something you needed, Mr. Minorei?"

Minorei's brow furrowed, "Well, yes there was but," his hand went behind his head again ruffling his hair, "I can't for the life of me remember!"

Harben resisted the urge to roll his eyes and simply took a deep breath, "Well as long as you remember why we're all the way out here, we'll be fine."

Minorei laughed, "Oh I couldn't forget that! We're waiting for the..." he trailed off, "Tricky, Captain. But you know I can't tell you why we're here. That was in your instructions and part of the reason for your rather exorbitant compensation. I hope you understand and practice discretion should I...slip."

Harben smirked, "Yes. I will. I have too many new crewman aboard to have much of a loose tongue."

Minorei's brow furrowed again, "Do you suspect any of them of anything?"

"Not really. I'm just slow to trust anyone."

Minorei nodded, "A sad reality necessitating a smart choice, Captain. Sounds very much like my own life."

The sadness in Minorei's voice caught him off guard.

"Well, I'll leave you to your bridge now. Sorry to bother you, Captain."

Minorei turned and headed for the rear hatch ladder that lead to the deck below.

"If whatever you needed comes back to you," he began.

Minorei waved over the edge of the hatch, his head already gone below it, "I'll let you know!"

Harben stood there amount. People surprise you at the strangest times, he thought with a faint smile that faded as quickly as it appeared.

An indicator flashed on a console to the side of the control deck. Harben was there in two strides and keyed the panel next to the display. He read it and grimaced. Good engineering crews were hard to come by, these days especially, and Harben certainly didn't have one. The over eager, over qualified new chief engineer he'd brought aboard had proven himself to be a competent yet prickly crewmember and a less than tactful leader. Each of the three engineers entrusted to Sorin Harris had complained about the man before they'd even left port. Harben had been tempted to put him off the ship, bur he needed a chief engineer and the man was qualified to handle the overview of engineering in a way none of his specialist crewman could. So, he'd kept Harris aboard reluctantly.

Beside each station on the control deck of the Sympathy's Hope was a comm toggle. Some went for the voice activated command driven units. Harben preferred the good old-fashioned toggle switches. On and off. That was how he preferred his ship to run. Of course the technology beneath it all was modern, but the experience and control remained the same.

Harben toggled the comm unit after selecting the the engineering column from the panel, "Engine column, this is the captain."

There was a long pause, longer than there should have been. Harben sighed for the umpteenth time since they'd left port He waited.

Finally an agitated out of breath voice, "Engine room here, this is Tirris. I came all the way down from the coupling sheaths to answer the comm."

The annoyance was clear in his voice. Another day of strife in the engine room playing itself out. Tirris was reliable if...immature was the right word, Harben thought. Jo’neil Tirris was massively talented though. Harben suspected some latent genius in him.

"I'm getting an alarm up here, Jo."

"Yep, I bet you are."

Tirris offered nothing further.

"And what is the problem then? Looks like it’s an overheated plasma..."

"I know that. Tell him that!"

Harben narrowed his eyes at Tirris though the channel was audio only, "That's your job, Jo."

"Hey, I tried to tell him, but no. I'm up in the couplings now."

"Where's the chief?"

There was a long pause and then Tirris' voice came louder and closer now. He must have been leaning against the panel and lowering his voice, "Back on Langlinion with his wife and new baby, that's where!"

Harben's patience were wearing thin, "The new chief."

It was Tirris' turn to sigh, the whole breath audible through the speaker, "He's at his workbench, captain. He's been there all day so far. The only time he's moved away from it was to yell at me when I came down to tell him about the plasma runners. He wouldn't hear it. Sent me aloft to clean the couplings."

“Alright, Jo, I’ll take care of it.”

Harben thought he heard relief in the young engineer’s voice, “Yes, sir.”

“He’s still down there then?” Harben asked.

A pause, “Yep.”

“I’ll be down shortly.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Jo?”

“What about the plasma runners? They need to be fixed now.”

Harben didn’t hesitate. The Sympathy’s Hope had a very shallow chain of command and more often than not the relationships that could develop on a small cargo hauler like the Hope allowed for some streamlining. And safety nets, Harben thought.

“Do it. Get ‘em fixed.”

“And if the chief asks?”

“Make sure he doesn’t,” Harben paused, “but if he does, I’m giving you an order. Got it?”

Now there was relief in Tirris’ voice, relief and calm, an emotion seldom present in the engineer, “Yes, sir. I’m on it.”

The comm channel closed and Harben set out for the engineering column, locking the hatch to the command deck behind him, intuition urging caution.

---

The constant thrumming of the plasma drive was oddly soothing. Harben stepped into the engineering column and allowed himself the long gaze up into the distance where the plasma core connected to the two larger than normal thrusters that hugged the rear of the ship. Two enormous conduits jutted out from the central column, went through the bulkhead, and somewhere beyond joined the thrusters. These plasma runners were of critical importance. The most delicate part of the engine column, they had the most chance failure and needed constant vigilance. On larger ships with plasma drives one engineer was devoted to the task of maintaining the plasma runners. Even on a smaller ship like the Hope their maintenance could, if funds allowed, be a full time job.

At the base of the large cylindrical engine column, about eight meters below the engine base, was a wide floor which provided access to the plasma core and allowed for a fairly expansive space for assembling replacement parts or doing the opposite to ones that needed fixing or replacement. Nothing entered the engineering column assembled. All were built right here under the watchful eye of the chief engineer.

Several multipurpose workstations lined the walls of the round space. None belonged to any one crewman and could be adopted for use by any one of the engineers. At the moment they were running short on engineers so, there were more than enough. To the right of the entry into the column was a wide bench belonging to the chief engineer. It was the place for meetings, organization, and most often littered with plans, diagrams, and even hand drawings. The engineers tended to be competent artists who often found computer generated diagrams sorely lacking or at least needed the opportunity to draw and think in a tactile manner.

The chief was nowhere to be found.

Harben walked into the center of the space and looked around, again looking into the array of catwalks circling the engine column. He saw no one.

“Tirris?” he called.

There was a scuffle far above. A clang and then a series of bangs, clangs, and rattles.

“Look out!”

Harben reacted just in time, ducking beneath the broad base of the engine column from where he’d been looking upward into the snaking catwalks. A double-ended wrench bounced off its last metal walkway and careened toward Harben landing with a loud bang at the tip of his right boot.

“Tirris!”

The engineer dropped from the lower catwalk and landed a foot from his wayward wrench, “Sorry sir. I was um…it slipped.”

Harben eyed the shorter man, “Slipped? Why wasn’t it secured to your belt?”

Tirris shifted his weight uncomfortably, “Well. I’m the only one on duty, well…me and the chief that is, and, well…”

“Yes?”

“I thought I heard something up there with me.”

Harben’s frown deepened, “Maybe the chief was up there. And that doesn’t explain why you unhooked the wrench from your belt, Jo. That’s the worst thing you could do around this engine!”

“I can’t very well raise it, um…ya know, above my head,” he picked up his hammer and mimicked using it as a club.

“You were planning on hitting someone with it?” Harben looked as incredulous as he sounded, “Do you have some reason to suspect intruders? Someone on board I don’t know about?”

“Well I…”

“The hatches have been sealed since Langlinion and I, at the request of our lovely government, checked each man onboard myself.”

Tirris shrank from his captain’s annoyance but held his ground, “Look, I’m sorry captain, but…things have been weird.”

“Explain.”

“I told you about the chief. He doesn’t fit. He doesn’t listen. Just orders us around and seems to stay as far from any of us as possible. It’s like…it’s like he doesn’t want to know us.”

Harben could see the concern and perhaps even fear in the engineer’s eyes, “Alright. Keep that think attached, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a jaunty two fingered salute, forcing casualness.

“And I’ll talk to Harris.”

He looked around, “Where is the chief?”

Tirris shrugged, “Who knows?”

Harben nodded, “I’ll check his quarters. Let me know if he comes back, but discreetly.”

“Will do.”

Harben turned to leave and then stopped, “Jo, how’s the plasma runners?”

“Cooling now. That was close, captain. Too close.”

“Alright. Keep on them. I don’t care what else has to slide.”

“No problem,” Tirris said, his voice relaxing again.

Harben left the engineering column and, turning right instead of left, the direction from which he’d come, headed toward the engineering crew quarters. The sector was sadly, tight and cramped to a degree most crewmen would complain about, endlessly. Not engineers though. They were a focused group, sometimes to a fault, and were more likely to need to be forced to leisure. There weren’t enough crewmen at the moment though to cause much cramping.

Jo’neil Tirris, the chief and two others, Greggis Burk, and Jordan Stanner occupied the space meant for six. Harben hadn’t been down to the section since he’d shown the new chief engineer, Harris, down here and was mildly surprised to find that the man had taken over both spare rooms. One was labeled Chief’s Store and the other simply Private. Harben tried the door to each and found them locked, as well as Harris’ own quarters. Harben discouraged locked doors on the Hope. The ship was not a large one. There were usually no more than twenty crewmen and theft was an infrequent problem, easily solved by turning out the men’s quarters. Little activity escaped the eyes and ears of twenty men in close quarters.

With an annoyed slap of his hand on the door of Harris’ room marked Private he turned and headed for the armory.

---

Tirris worked his way back into the upper reaches of the engine column. The wrench, his only ‘weapon’, was secured as ordered to his belt by the retracting chain connected to it. The cylindrical room was alive with the constant deep thrumming of the plasma core. The sound was penetrating and seemed to emanate from everywhere. Now it served to exacerbate Tirris’ pounding heart.

Naturally, the catwalks and ladders creaked and groaned as he navigated the complex route he needed to travel to reach the plasma runners. Each additional sound created additional sounds and the effect cascaded away from Tirris and seemed to sing amidst the low vibrato bass of the engine. He resisted the urge to pause or turn back. His apprehension was, of course, unwarranted, he assured himself. The biggest danger at the moment was to the runners and Tirris had complete control over that problem.

He took a deep breath after a pause on a vertical ladder and moved on. It was his fourth climb today and he was weakening. Tirris’ arms burned as he climbed and it took only one more ladder for him to need another rest. The sounds around him seemed to get louder as his heart raced from exertion and nerves. He played through his conversation with the captain as he went, trying to reassure himself that he’d conveyed exactly how concerned he was, hard thing to do, given no proof of…anything.

A rattle stuck out from the din and Tirris wrenched around on the ladder, for a moment loosing his grip and then reestablishing it before he could tumble. He scanned the space around him, lit in yellow and green light and the air filled with a thin haze of water vapor that, while not vision impairing, created odd shadows and a creepy atmosphere given his agitation.

There was nothing to be seen.

Tirris swore. A guy shouldn’t have to work under these conditions, he thought, swearing again, this time loudly.

Reaching the top ladder the plasma runners hung from the bulkhead overhead, just out of reach. A narrow catwalk wound around the engine column snaking upward at a shallow incline. Tirris heard the rattle again. This time it came from ahead of him, up the ramp. Tirris seriously considered unhooking his wrench.

He edged up the ramp slowly, warily taking the curve trying to watch all directions at once. There was nothing to see. The thin mist revealed nothing and he reached the bank of control panels for the plasma runners without incident. He sighed, relieved, but no less on edge.

The rattle came again above the rumble of the engine core.

Tirris spun around expecting someone to come from behind. He ducked and dropped into a crouch clutching his wrench and wielding it with a yelp that came out higher pitched than he’d have liked. Again, there was nothing there. Tirris swore again, loudly, feeling good to hear his own voice out loud in the deserted space.

---

Jollez Harben tapped a string of letter-number sequences into the panel next to the armory door and then spoke his name aloud for the voice identification. His instinct had been to come here. That made him uncomfortable. He’d never needed to visit the armory because of a crew issue. He had no evidence aside from some strange behavior on the part of the new engineering chief. Strange behavior he reminded himself as he entered the armory and took a distortion pistol and holster, that could be explained by a bad case of shyness or a lack of personal skills. Why did he feel a need to arm himself?

Nonetheless he did and sealed the armory behind him, more comfortable now that he was the only armed man moving about the ship. Suddenly he thought of Harris’ three locked cabins and amended the thought…that I know of.

The Hope had a large amount of hallway for a smaller cargo ship. Most of it wound around and around inside the compact ship like the intestine of a beast. It was inconvenient but ended up being the best use of space. The halls were narrow. The Sympathy’s Hope was not a ship for the claustrophobic.

The trip to the armory had taken no more than six minutes. He planned to return to the engineering crew quarters, with a stop in engineering to check for Harris again. Thinking again, he left the holster in the armory and sealed it for a second time. He then took the small hand sized pistol and tucked it into the inside of his leather shouldered jacket. There wasn’t any need to flaunt the weapon’s presence.

Several crewmen passed him on the way, heading to or from the mess or headed to their rack for some sleep. Ship time it was nearly morning, and crew rotation would take place soon. Harben checked his watched, seventeen minutes.

Each man he passed nodded respectfully. They were a good crew for the most part. He knew each of them fairly well at this point. It had been sometime since he’d had any major turnover. Harris was the first new man aboard in weeks and there’d been only a few changes before that. Most of the crew had been together all of this last standard year.

“Captain Harben. Captain Harben, please report to the command deck.”

Harben stopped and took a turn down a branching hallway to a comm panel, “This is Harben. What is it?”

His second officer, and the ship’s only woman, Gracia Rororden’s crisp voice came clear over the channel, “Mister Minorei, is looking for you, captain. Says it’s urgent.”

Harben looked down at his feet, thinking. The toes of his boots were scuffed. He frowned, “Tell him to meet me in engineering.”

“Sir?”

“I can’t come up there right now Gracia.”

“But do you want him to walk around down…”

“He’s fine. Send him down.”

She started to object, “Just do it, damn it.”

He hadn’t meant to snap at her but the words ended the conversation, “Yes, captain.”

Cold and sharp. He’d have to apologize to her.

“Fargote Minorei, please report to engineering, immediately.”

Let’s tell the whole damn ship.

Harben couldn’t imagine why she’d felt it necessary to announce it on the ship wide system. Surely a discreet call to his cabin would have done it. Gracia usually showed better judgment. They’d been partners for nearly six years now. She was older by five years and was tougher than most men Harben found in some pretty dingy spaceport bars. Her long graying hair hung gracefully down to her waist. She didn’t tie it and yet it somehow stayed in place and orderly at all times. She was a fine second. Harben couldn’t imagine the shipping lanes without her. He filed her ship wide announcement away as one more thing he would need to deal with…later.

This is shaping up to be a high maintenance trip, he thought, for a quiet long-term jaunt to the middle of nowhere.

Fifteen minutes later, and after three conversations with crewman who stopped him along the way, he arrived at the engineering column. Every man who had stopped him along the way had had a valid legitimate reason to need his attention and each issue, save one, he’d been able to solve on the spot. One crewman complained of an annoying rattle he’d heard in seemingly random places aboard the ship. Harben had assured him it would be looked into.

The engineering section was as quiet as before. The crewmen due to come on shift would be eating heartily in the mess and hoarding food to sneak down to the engineering column for later. It was a frowned upon activity but it was more important to keep the engineers happy. Plasma drives were tricky business and happy engineers meant well running engines.

Harben palmed the pad next to the door and it slid open without hesitation. Again, no one was there except Tirris who, Harben assumed, was aloft with the runners.

“Chief?” he called looking up into the catwalks for the second time today, “Chief Harris?”

No answer.

There was, however, a rattle, much as the crewman had described, coming from somewhere above him. It was faint and toyed at the edge of his ability to hear above the deep hum from the plasma engine.

“Hello?” Harben called, hoping to get anyone’s attention that might be there. Tirris would be to far up to hear him.

From behind him, “Hello, captain!”

Harben jumped and spun around nearly reaching for the weapon concealed in the inner lining of his jacket. Fargote Minorei stood in the doorway of engineering looking up at the great plasma column with wonder. He was squinting into the distance trying to see as far as he could toward the top. Between the catwalks and fine mist floating around farther up, you could only see so far.

Harben heard the rattle again.

“Mr. Minorei,” he said smiling and for the most part meaning it, “Thanks for coming down here. I’m sorry you…”

“Oh please, captain, don’t apologize!” Minorei was still gazing upward as if memorizing the details.

Clutched in his left hand, as had been the case on the command deck, was his data pad, powered on and bright, columns and rows of information changing with each passing moment. The device seemed to be his lifeline to something Harben would have liked to ask him about. Confidentiality and privacy guaranteed to passengers like Minorei prevented it though.

Minorei, still in the doorway motioned to the interior of the engineering column, “May I?”

The respect and awe in his voice made Harben smile, “Of course. Come on in.”

Minorei walked in looking left and right, then craning to see more of the plasma engine with his free right hand behind his head, fingers running through his hair, “It’s amazing!”

“It’s a pretty standard plasma drive engine,” Harben said, “and admittedly not the nicest or cleanest engineering column you’ll see.”

Minorei waved the comment away, “To you maybe. To me…wow!” He walked in a slow circle underneath the lowest catwalk looking at the workstations and continually looking upward, “Honestly, I was going to ask you to show me. This is very lucky, for me.”

“I’m very glad, Mister Minorei.”

“Please, captain, call me Fargo.”

Harben nodded, “Alright Fargo. I’m sorry, have I been mispronouncing your name?”

Minorei shook his head, “No, no. The ‘t’ and the ‘e’ aren’t silent,” he paused as if picking each of his words by hand, “I just don’t like them.”

“Alright then, Fargo it is.”

Minorei nodded in appreciation.

“What did you need to see me about?”

As if on cue, Minorei brought the data pad up from his side and typed on the screen, “Yes. It’s about our meeting.”

“What meeting?”

“You quite cleverly got me to mention it, if briefly, on the bridge.”

“It’s a command deck actually,” Harben corrected.

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes, actually, a bridge is…”

“Never mind,” Minorei cut him off, “Wihtin the next two days a ship will arrive here to meet us. We’re holding our position now I assume?”

“Yes, just like you specified.”

“Good. Good,” Minorei paused typing on the pad, “When that ship arrives, I’ve put in the computer a greeting that must be sent exactly as I’ve written it. If you send it to the communications array it will play correctly on it’s own.”

Harben nodded, “I’ll have Gracia, get it ready.”

“No!” Minorei stamped his foot slightly, literally putting his foot down, “You are the only one that can send it. I created the file to look for your identification. Only you.”

“Why?”

Minorei looked up from his pad and seriously met Harben’s gaze. There was no frivolity, no sign of the wonderment or keen interest that had been present before. In the man’s eyes was only one thing, pure determination and intent.

“You must do as I say. It could mean the life and death of our crew.”

Harben was inclined to argue but didn’t. Something about the insistence in his voice conveyed how serious Minorei was and how also how right. It was time, Harben thought, to listen to his gut.

“Our crew?” he asked finally.

Minorei spared him a glance up from the pad, “As I am responsible for the mission your ship is on, I hold myself at least partially responsible for the well being of this crew, hence I correctly call it ‘our’ crew.”

Minorei frowned, “I trust this didn’t offend you.”

Harben shook his head, “No, in fact, I appreciate it.”

The rattle Harben had heard before occurred again, this time closer to the bottom of the column.

Minorei heard it too, “Is that normal?”

Harben frowned, “No. I’m not an engineer by any means but…I’m sure not.”

“Is there something going on?”

Harben looked at the man considering, “Nothing. A personnel issue. Our chief engineer is new and not getting along very well with…”

Minorei’s tone dropped his voice taking on new depths of gravity, “Where is he?”

Harben blinked, “I’m not sure.”

“Find him now.”

The rattle sounded again higher, and sounded again, higher still.

“That sound is moving, captain.”

“Yes it is.”

Minorei’s demeanor returned to normal and he typed on his pad furiously. Harben watched him for a mount deciding whether to climb the catwalk himself or call security. Seconds passed and he went to the door and keyed the comm unit.

“Harben to command deck.”

“Deck here, captain,” a crewman’s voice. Geole’s voice, he thought; the alternate pilot of Sympathy’s Hope.

“I need to find the chief engineer. Have Gracia page him over ship wide.”

“Gracia here, captain.”

“Gracia, page Harris,” Harben urged, “Do it now.”

The comm channel closed and Gracia Rororden’s voice boomed throughout the ship, “Sorin Harris, please contact the command deck at once. Repeat. Sorin Harris, please contact the command deck immediately.”

Minorei winced, “He’ll know you’re looking for him.”

Harben looked at Minorei, “Who exactly do you think he is?”

Minorei closed his eyes, “Everything the Langlinion government was trying to protect this ship and your crew from with all those restrictions.”

“A terrorist? What exactly are we doing out here?”

Minorei sighed and returned to his data pad, “Creating something new.”

Harben’s eyebrows knitted together, “What now?”

“An alliance, captain. We’re seeking an alliance with Leofmael. If that can happen anything can, and we’re close!”

A new intensity lined Minorei’s voice, “If these two systems can form an alliance, there’s hope of new alliances all over the galaxy and perhaps a massive alliance that will all but remove the control placed on all of us by the Cinnhilif Grand Council. We’re talking about an end of government control and securing our right to govern ourselves out here.”

Harben didn’t know what to say so he asked, “How’d you know I’d be alright with this and not sabotage it myself?”

Minorei actually laughed at this, still reading and typing on his pad, “Decades of war and spying between the two systems have left the Langlinion government quite good at it.”

“So Harris is a spy? A terrorist?”

“That would be my guess yes. According to this,” he tapped on his pad, “No offense, captain but he is over qualified to be your chief engineer. Tests indicate he may be a genius. Certainly not a job requirement for a chief engineer aboard a small cargo hauler.”

“His quarters are locked.”

Minorei nodded gravely, “We must unlock them now.”

---

Tirris hung from the catwalk by his ankle. The searing pain that had run from the twisted appendage to his head had dulled now, or he’d gotten used to it. He had blacked out at some point and had no idea how long he’d been hanging there. He remembered hearing the rattle and going to look for it. The plasma runners had cooled to safe levels and the rattle, which he’d imagined had been a person, had then presented itself as a potential engineering problem. So, he’d connected his remote wrist sensor to the plasma runners so he could continue monitoring them and set off to find the rattle. He never found it.

Having descended one level of catwalks, he’d bent over the edge to look closely at the skin of the plasma column and reached a hand out to feel the pulsing rhythm of its core. A good engineer could feel problems. Nothing though had felt out of order. He'd given the side if the plasma column a gentle push to right him on the catwalk again and had only just secured his footing when he had been hit. The impact made his vision disappear in a flash of white pain and his stomach had lurched as he'd gone over the side of the catwalk. Death had seemed imminent caused by an impact with many catwalk railings and the flat deck of the engineering column far below. Death had seemed a certainty, and then he'd blacked out from the pain as his ankle snapped, catching on the catwalk rail.

Tirris hadn't seen him but he knew it was Harris. The heavy foot falls, the deep breathing, all heard in a split second has he'd made his move, but he knew his attacker. Tirris would know that body fragrance enhancer anywhere. No one else aboard the Hope would assault his crewmates in a small space with such an intense odor.

The blood running to his head was giving Tirris a headache. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and his vision was blurring around the edges becoming pink. He closed his eyes but still saw the bright flashes of light as his brain interpreted the rush of blood through his head. He opened his eyes and looked down, stomach lurching he fought the urge to squirm and yank himself free. The thought of the resulting plunge to the deck below made his stomach lurch again and he felt himself wretch.

If only he could think straight! He couldn’t call out. His throat was raspy and there was no way anyone below would hear him over the engine from this height. Tirris waited for his body to calm down, closing his eyes again and trying to find a calm he couldn't see much less get a hold on. He slowed his breathing and tried to do so purposefully, focussing on each breath making every one a conscious choice.

He attained a small amount of calm and focused on it. With adrenaline still pumping through his body he lunged upward reaching with every bit of strength. He knew he only had one shot. If he missed, the force would likely shake him free and he would fall. Tirris reached, grasping for the baggy legs of his jumpsuit. His hands made contact and he clenched his fists holding onto the black fabric with his muscles straining beyond pain. He held on and pulled, wrenching himself upward with strength born of desperation.

Tirris struggled and managed to bring his head even with the catwalk. He lifted his chin and caught hold of the edge with it. The metal edge of the walkway cut into it but Tirris managed to hold himself in place. His right hand let go of his trousers and grasped the nearest vertical support that joined the handrail. He pulled and then risked letting his left hand join his right. He hung there for a moment letting his body adjust and recover even as his body was flooded with fatigue and blood from his slit chin slowly coated the metal it held onto.

He closed his eyes and pulled. One last effort brought his whole body over the side of the walkway where he could finally lay flat on his back, secure. He closed his eyes and let himself go. Sweet unconsciousness overcame the weary engineer.

---

The door to Sorin Harris’ quarters slid aside with the usual quiet swish. Harben and Minorei had gone to open the chief engineer’s quarters while they waited to hear from Gracia when Harris reported in. Curiosity and logic seemed to indicate they should open the one marked Private first. The pair was not disappointed.

The room itself was nearly empty, devoid of anything but a self-contained long-range communication array plugged into a thin conduit that had been pulled from the bulkhead. Harris had used a torch and cut a hole, neatly behind the array and pulled the conduit through it.

Minorei was keying something into his pad.

“Looks like they’ve piggy backed on the main array,” Harben said.

Minorei looked up, “Wouldn’t that be noticed.”

Harben shrugged, “Depends on how well it’s done.”

Minorei tapped a string of characters into his pad, “It would appear to be very well done.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Minorei said and then looked immediately embarrassed, eyes closing to slits smiling, “This device is rather, um…informative.” He laughed uncomfortably indicating his data pad.

“Yes,” Harben said, “apparently it is.”

Minorei composed himself, “Perhaps if we turned it on, I could figure out who he’s been contacting.”

Harben nodded, “Ok. One second though.”

He stepped out into the hall and called the command deck.

“Any sign of Harris?”

“Nope,” Gracia responded, “And no one I’ve talked to has seen him since mid last night.”

Harben swore, “Alright, start a security scan. Involve as few people as you need to, Gracia, and keep it quiet.”

“You got it, captain.”

Harben returned to find Minorei seated and hunched over the communication array. The vidscreen was up and the display was scrolling sequences of numbers and indicating failures to connect.

“What are you doing, Fargo?”

Minorei barely acknowledged his questions, opting for something between a sniff and a grunt.

“Concentrating. Ok.”

Harben looked around the room searching for anything that might be helpful. There was very little. A sock leftover from the previous tenant, a slob of a chief’s assistant who’d left at the less then subtle urging of his peers.

There was a book in one of the drawers. It could have been there for ages from the dust accumulated on it. He bent down and peered under the bed. A silver case sat closed but unlocked, the perfect size to carry the compact array.

Harben pulled it out and set it on top of the bed. He opened it and found foam, cut and shaped for each of the array’s major parts. He shook his head. Even amidst the security in place bringing the crew aboard, this case might have gone unnoticed, especially among the engineering crew who were not known to be light travelers. Their hobbies traveled with them.

“Any chance it’s a coincidence, Fargo?”

“Meaning?”

“That this communication array is hobby stuff? Maybe he didn’t want us to see he’d drilled a hole in my ship.”

Minorei shook his head and withdrew along thin cable from the side of his data pad, which he connected to a pin size port on the side of the array, “This is professional, captain. Spy stuff.”

“In a moment,” Minorei said grinning, “I’ll be able to play the message that is waiting for your chief engineer in the system!”

“Good work, Fargo,” Harben patted the man on the back, “I might have a job for you on the Hope.”

“Thank you, captain. I have a job though.”

Harben smiled, “And what would that be exactly, Fargo.”

Minorei looked up from the screen, “I wish I could tell you. I really do.”

The screen came to life and a black room lit by cold yellow and blue lighting set the background behind the strangest man Harben had ever seen. His face was bland. All the facial features one expected to be there were there. But they were strange, regular in the extreme.

Minorei squinted at the screen, “Is that an android?”

“I don’t think so,” Harben said leaning in over Minorei’s shoulder. I’ve never seen one that good. But, he’s the one in the news report. You see it?”

Minorei nodded, “No one knows who he is.”

The man’s hair was cleanly cut and there was no sign of hair on his face.

“Closest shave, I’ve ever seen.”

Minorei nodded.

“Play it.”

He tapped a yellow button on his data pad and the message began. Behind the strange man steam, or smoke, was rising from long snaking pipelines attached to columns atop which sat something indistinct that was outside the view of the camera. Whatever sat atop the pedestals, if that’s what they were, was important and receiving a large amount of power and other substanced from pipes flowing into the columns.

The man spoke, “Greetings. Your report is overdue and your patrons,” he stole a glance behind him, seeming to look upwards atop the pedestals, “are growing concerned. The meeting is due to take place sooner than we expected. It should be today. We do not have a man on the other ship, however we are tracking it. They are on schedule for arrival in Pasesedsed at your location at roughly 900 standard Cinnhil. If we do not hear from you before then, rest assured we have the means to abort your mission, at your peril.”

Harben shuddered, “This is creepy.”

Minorei nodded, “Very.” He paused, “And he is correct. Our counterpart ship is due to arrive at 900 standard.”

Harben looked at his watch, “It’s 845.”

“Indeed.”

The recording continued, “We have implanted somewhere under your skin a subcutaneous explosive,” the man continued, “If you do not contact us by 905 standard Cinnhil and report that the meeting has been disrupted, it will detonate and you will die.”

“Ouch,” Harben commented.

It was Minorei’s turn to shudder, “Very.”

The regularly faceted man turned and walked away from the camera looking up at the top of the pedestals. The transmission ended abruptly.

“When would they have had time to do that to someone?” Harben asked, “And how does that happen without a person’s knowledge.”

Minorei grimaced, “It is very possible, captain. Trust me. A medical exam, or an inoculation which, you all received on Langlinion Station, are perfect delivery methods. It is not difficult.”

Harben wanted to ask if that assessment was from personal experience, but refrained. He was still willing to protect a modicum of his guest’s privacy in light of how forthcoming and concerned for his crew he’d been. That would only last so long though.

“Captain Harben, please report to the command deck. Mister Minorei, please report to the command deck.”

Gracia’s voice rang throughout the ship. Both men left the room and sealed the door behind them. Minorei’s thin cable still dangled from his data pad.

Harben, once out in the wall ran to the nearest comm and slapped his hand against it, “Command deck, this is the captain.”

“Captain!” Gracia responded, “A ship has jumped into the system right on top of us!”

Harben and Minorei exchange looks, “Freighter?”

Gracia’s voice understandably alarmed, “No sir. It’s a Leofmaelian gun ship. Scorpion class, from the looks of it. Weapons are armed and locked on us.”

“What the hell is going on?” Harben asked Minorei, “You didn’t say anything about a gun ship!”

Minorei stuttered, “It…it doesn’t matter. Send the signal and it’ll be fine. We couldn’t anticipate what they would send.”

“We’re not armed at all.”

“But we’re the stronger government! Don’t you see? We had to come unarmed.”

Harben looked at Minorei through his anger, “You’d better be right, Fargo.”

“I…I am. I promise you.”

The door to the engineering column snapped open. Both men turned to look and stared in shock as a bleeding Jo’neil Tirris stumbled into the hall.

“It’s Harris!” he cried. “He’s trying to sabotage the ship!”

Harben ran to Tirris’ side, “Jo. Are you…of course you’re not all right. What happened?”

“He got me from behind. But I could smell him. You know…fragrance?”

“Yeah.”

“It was him, captain. He was trying to ignite the plasma core, but I stopped the escalation.”

Harben smiled at the bleeding engineer, “Good work, Jo.”

Minorei put a hand on Harben’s shoulder, “We must get to the bridge. They will be expecting the response from you, captain.”

“Alright.”

Harben laid Tirris down gently and called for medics, “They’ll be here in minutes, Jo. Will you be ok?”

Minorei was practically dragging Harben away.

“I’ll be fine, sir. Go.”

Tirris grabbed Harben’s arm, “He could do it from the bridge.”

“We have to go now!” Minorei nearly yelled.

“The plasma column,” Tirris struggled, “He could ignite it from there if he knows what he’s doing.”

Gracia!

Harben stood and hit the comm again, “Command deck, this is the captain. Gracia are you there?”

There was no answer.

“Let’s go,” Harben said to Minorei and the pair set off running.

---

The scene was grim.

Blood soaked the floor of the command deck. Two crewmen were dead, Geole, the ship’s alternate pilot and a young man, a boy really, Harben only knew in passing though he’d been aboard for a few weeks now. He now sorely regretted being too busy to get to know him, learn who the new crewman was before he’d been killed under his command.

A whole had been drilled into Geole’s side killing him instantly with a distortion bolt. It looked like the young crewman had gotten in the way or suffered the same fate though the bolt seemed to have caught him in the chest. Both died quick. Very small comfort, he thought.

Gracia was on the floor, propped against the forward flight controls staring at the Hope’s chief engineer Sorin Harris. He was a meter away from the ship’s second officer and was on his knees. He was bleeding from the throat, his hand pressed against the wound. It was a slash, not a distortion bolt. Gracia’s knife. It was on the deck beside her.

Harben knew he’d never give her flak about carrying it again.

Harris’ eyes were bright and flashed with anger as he kept his weapon on Gracia. When Harben and Minorei entered the command deck he hadn’t even flinched. Instantly Harben’s own weapon was out and trained on Harris who remained still, but tried to speak, only able to cough and spit blood.

Minorei took in the death and blood and turned pale. Harben glanced at him only momentarily and saw the look of someone about to be sick. But, the ship’s single guest stood still and managed to stammer, “The sig…signal. You must send it!”

Harben looked at the unmoving Harris, still sputtering what he assumed were the fanatical last words of a terrorist.

The command deck comm crackled to life, “This is the gun ship Loftainia Sol. Send the approved conformation signal.”

Harben looked at Minorei who shooed him to the main communications board. Harben looked from Harris to Gracia and back. His weapon was trained on Harris.

“902, captain! They will fire on us!”

Harris was looking wild eyed with panic.

“903 now!” Minorei yelled, “We’re three minutes overdue sending the response. Please, captain!”

Harben moved close to Minorei and whispered, “Has he seen the message on the array in the room?”

Minorei blinked, “No.”

“Then we stall for two minutes, and he goes down. I won’t let him kill Gracia.”

“Captain!”

“No.”

Harben moved to the communication panel keeping his weapon trained on Harris, “Put it down, Sorin. This is it.”

The smell of Harris fragrance enhancer was overwhelming, even more so that usually, as if he’d worn double today.

The comm crackled to life again, “This is you second and last request. Transmit your response or be destroyed. We will not tolerate any further delay.”

Harben waited, feeling Minorei’s tension.

In a split second Gracia moved. She caught the knife up in her left hand and lobbed it at Harris. It caught him in the shoulder with a sickening squishing sound and he toppled backward, the pistol discharging a single distortion shot at the ceiling.

“Captain, now!” Minorei yelped.

Harben pocket his weapon and lunged for the panel keying in his identification code and scanning his files for the response sequence, “Damn it, Fargo, where is it?”

Minorei dashed to his side, “It’s right…”

His head turned toward Gracia who had pulled herself to her feet and was leaning over the engineering console. Harben looked too, “Gracia stay dow…”

Both men flinched, “There was a sickening pop, and Gracia fell to the deck a small grisly hole in her forehead. Gracia lay staring at the ceiling, killed instantly.”

Harben yelped and ran to her, “No!”

Minorei stood in shock and numbly keyed the comm without thinking, “This is Fargote Minorei, Langlinion representative to the Leofmael contingent. We have a…” he paused shock setting in, “…an incident we are working to resolve. Please reverse course immediately for your protection and stand by to render assistance.”

Harben was on the floor holding Gracia now. She smelled strongly of Harris’ fragrance enhancer and he noticed she wore heavier boots than her usual pair.

Minorei stumbled over to his side and looked at the engineering panel. He snapped awake.

“Captain!”

Harben barely acknowledged him, cradling Gracia in his arms.

“Captain!”

“What?” he snapped.

Minorei looked down at him, “I…I don’t know a lot about…”

“What is it, damn you!”

Minorei pointed at the engineering display, “Pl…please look.”

Harben gently laid Gracia back and stood up, stiff, sore, and angry.

The comm crackled to life, “Acknowledged, Representative Minorei, the delegate from Leofmael agrees to stand down and stand by to render assistance.”

Suddenly alarms sounded and the white lights of the command deck turned blood red. Harben looked around for an explanation and then looked down at the engineering control. The plasma temperature in the engine had been manually raised.

Harben flipped a switch opening a direct comm line to the engineering column, “This is the captain. Disengage the plasma column and…”

Harben turned to look at Minorei, “The channel is dead.”

Minorei went to the communication panel and scanned the controls, his fingers moving faster than Harben would have thought possible. He attached his data pad to a similar pin sized port on the front of the display and began typing on his beloved pad.

Moments later the alarms were silenced and comm channels from all over the ship came on reporting from their emergency sections, asking for instructions.

“Captain, this is Stanner! The plasma core is a loss, sir. It’s going critical and will explode.”

Harben closed his eyes and looked down at Gracia, “How long do we have?”

“Minutes, sir, minutes!”

Harben took a deep breath, “Evacuate and then eject the column. I’m authorizing now for your command only, Stanner.”

“Yes, sir!”

Harben keyed his authorization and then sank to the floor, “Hold on, Fargo.”

The ship wide announcement came in Stanner’s steady outer colony accented voice, “Attention all hands! Brace for plasma core ejection in 10, 9, 8…”

The rest of the count was lost on Harben as he sat where Gracia had been, numb, staring at the hole in her forehead. Minorei was kneeling by Harris’ side when the column ejected and was thrown onto his back, crying out has his head impacted against the bulkhead.

Without a sound, the forward viewports were bathed in blinding white light as the plasma engine, now clear of the Sympathy’s Hope, exploded. The shockwave sent the cargo ship into a tumble moving fast and spinning beyond the ability of the inertial dampeners to compensate.

“Sympathy’s Hope! Please stand by we will intercept and stabilize!”

Neither Harben nor Minorei really heard the call from the Leofmaelian ship, but both felt the tumble slow as the grappling hooks of the Loftainia Sol grabbed the skin of the Hope and brought it to a halt.

Minorei crawled to Harris’ side. He was still alive. Barely. He opened his jacket and looked for anything that might give some clue as to who he was.

Harben had stood, resting Gracia on the floor one last time and looked down at Harris, “Is he alive?”

“Yes.”

Harben keyed the comm on the engineering panel, “Medics to the command deck, immediately.”

Minorei looked up at Harben, “I’m…I’m so…so sorry, captain.”

Harben knelt down next to Harris, “Who was he?”

Minorei handed the man’s compact ID screen to the captain, “Langlinion security it seems. A special assignee, I’d wager.”

Harris nodded.

“He probably saved the ship, captain. He stopped…” Minorei trailed off.

Harben nodded, “He stopped, her.”

Minorei put a hand on Harben’s shoulder and stood up, offering him a hand. The two men stood in silence waiting for the medics to arrive.

---

The Leofmaelian gunship, Loftainia Sol, moved away from the Sympathy’s Hope drawing the grappling cables tight and then taking the Langlinion ship in tow behind her.

Harben stood on the bridge of the Sol next to her commander, a broad shouldered mustached man wearing what seemed to Harben to be an excessively large white ceremonial command hat. The captain, Giogoren Farensii, patted Harben on the back with a friendly, meaty hand, and chuckled awkwardly.

“I never thought I’d be standing on this bridge with a Langlinion, much less a freighter captain.”

Harben looked at the man with a raised eyebrow wondering what the tone was.

“Oh don’t take it badly, Harben. I actually think I could make a military man out of you!”

It was Harben’s turn to laugh, “Not likely, sir.”

The bridge was wide and expansive to a degree Harben had never seen. He was used to the small command decks of freighters and cargo haulers that held, at most, four crewmen. This bridge had space and a captain’s chair squarely in the center of it on a slightly raised dais with a side table built into the deck upon which the captain had two steaming cups of tea he’d had brought from the galley. The rest of the bridge spread out from the captain’s chair in a fan shape before it.

Farensii took one cup of tea and offered the other to Harben who took it gladly.

“Look, Harben, there’s no easy way to say this but…”

Harben raised a hand, “Don’t. Please.”

Farensii shook his head, “No. You don’t understand. I know who she was working for.”

Harben raised a hand to silence him, “The Grand Council, I know. I remembered him from the news vid.”

Farensii sat down in his chair and looked immensely unhappy, “Yes but she was working for, us. Which means…”

Harben’s eyes went wide, “Garcia was Leofmaelian. She’d immigrated decades ago. I’d forgotten.”

Farensii nodded.

“An agent?”

“Yes. Which means my government wanted to sabotage this meeting.”

Harben eyed the captain, “Leofmael was working with the Grand Council?”

Farensii shook his head, “I’m as shocked as you are. I’ve served this government my whole life…”

Harben didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve suffered a loss on this trip as well, captain. Trust me. And betrayal as well.”

A crewman brought a chair for Harben who took it thanking the man, “I’m sorry. What will you do now?”

Farensii smiled ruefully, “I wish I knew, Captain Harben. I’m hoping that we might figure it out together. Captain to captain.”

Harben nodded, “Of course. Gladly, but…I’m just a cargo pilot, really.”

“Nonsense, Captain Harben!”

Minorei strode onto the bridge with all the confidence of an admiral, but still buried in his data pad, “You have proven yourself to be the greatest!”

He looked up from his data pad embarrassed and smiled his eyes becoming slits and his free hand once again, combing the back of his hair with his fingers, “I mean…a respectable leader, with excellent judgment, of course!”

He turned to Farensii but only bodily, “I’ve sent word to my government, captain. I’d suggest you do the same, but say nothing about the events that have occurred here. We’re still combing the Sol for the tracking device but we’ve not found it. Simply tell them talks are in progress and we’re shifting location due to an uncharted debris field. If we don’t find the tracking device within a day we’ll hold position until we do. Is that clear?”

Farensii looked at Harben bewildered, “Was that an order?”

“Yes,” Harben said concealing the return of a small bit of warmth he thought he’d lost, but the pain refusing to let it show.

Farensii laughed, “Well then. Aye aye, skipper!”

Minorei looked up and frowned at the two men and then smiled, “Excellent!”

“Captain Harben, security found a small metal case in Harris’ quarters. When he regains consciousness we’ll be able to confirm, but I’m sure it is how he smuggled the distortion pistol aboard.”

Harben nodded gravely, “We’ll need to step up security, I guess. Thank you, Fargo.”

Minorei nodded, turned and left as abruptly as he arrived.

“Is he always like that?” Farensii asked?

“Always,” Harben nodded.

“How on earth do you put up with him?”

Harben smiled now, “He grows on you. Trust me.”

The two man sat and lapsed into a comfortable silence watching life go on about them and the blackness of space slip by ever so slowly as the two ships and their crews moved onward entwined in a web they were only just discovering.