Captain Sydlak glanced in the mirror to make sure every thread and decoration in her uniform was crisp and perfect before going to greet her passengers. Her Majesty’s Post and Courier Service expected every detail to be shipshape and Captain Sydlak was proud of her ship and crew.<\/p>\n
She twitched her cap firmly into place and made her way down the short passage. Jovillar, the ship’s steward, was already there with the latest manifest.<\/p>\n
“Only six passengers this trip, Captain,” Jovillar reported.<\/p>\n
“Welcome to the HMS Whitechapel,” Captain Sydlak greeted each passenger as they boarded. “Our next stop is Faraway Station. Steward Jovillar will help you with your luggage.” The last passenger smiled nervously, clutching a very large teddy bear.<\/p>\n
“How sweet!” Sydlak exclaimed, hoping to put the woman at ease.<\/p>\n
“It’s for my daughter,” the woman explained. “Her birthday is tomorrow. I promised her I would be there.”<\/p>\n
“We’ll be certain of it,” the Captain reassured her. “The Royal Post and Courier pride ourselves on getting our passengers and cargo to their destinations safely and on time.”<\/p>\n
Jovillar directed the woman towards the passenger cabins and Captain Sydlak closed and dogged the hatch.<\/p>\n
“Is the cargo stowed?”<\/p>\n
“Yes, Ma’am. Freight and mail.”<\/p>\n
“How is the weather report?”<\/p>\n
“A little stormy, but well within parameters.” Jovillar handed her pad to Sydlak, who checked the gravity forecast herself.<\/p>\n
Human expansion beyond the Sol system was thought impossible for centuries, simply because it was impossible for any ship to carry enough fuel to power itself from one star to another. That had changed after discovering standing gravity waves in the dark regions between the stars. A ship could sail on the slope of one of these waves, traveling enormous distances while using almost no fuel. Humans had taken advantage of these waves to establish colonies at any habitable system served by a local transfer point, a gravitational eddy that allowed ships to change from one wave slope to another.<\/p>\n
In Sydlak\u2019s grandmother’s day, Faraway Station had been the outer limit of humanity’s reach. Today the bustling metropolis was a commercial and administrative hub for the Terran Empire. “Faraway Station: In the middle of absolutely everywhere,” as the joke went.<\/p>\n
The Whitechapel undocked right on schedule. A pilot boat ushered it out to the transfer point to catch the local current. Captain Sydlak stood at the conn and tapped the controls to spread and trim Whitechapel’s etheric sails.<\/p>\n
“Any final messages from Croesus?”<\/p>\n
“Yes, ma’am. They’ve sent us a severe weather alert.”<\/p>\n
“Are we still within parameters?”<\/p>\n
“Guidance says to proceed with caution.”<\/p>\n
“Understood.”<\/p>\n
Once the ship was within the current, it would be on its own. No known communication system could travel faster than a courier ship, which is why even in the 27th century interstellar mail was delivered the old-fashioned way, on paper.<\/p>\n
Considering the weather report, Captain Sydlak set the sensors to maximum scan and trimmed the etheric sail to proceed cautiously along the current. The Whitechapel wouldn’t be breaking any speed records this run, but it was better to arrive at all. Ships had been lost when tossed from a current by squalls into deep interstellar space, where even the most powerful cry for aid wouldn’t reach a receiver for years, if ever. The transition into the current was smooth and even.<\/p>\n
The crew went about their tasks with quiet competence. For herself, Captain Sydlak pulled up the long-range gravometric scanners and tried to make sense of the readings. There were sharp oscillations, varying in both intensity and direction. The ship\u2019s art-grav compensated for the chop, although Sydlak imagined she could feel the vibration through the decking.<\/p>\n
\u201cNavigation, adjust course,\u201d the captain ordered. \u201cI want the bow planes pointed into the currents as much as possible until this passes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAye, aye, Captain.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jovillar arrived with a pot of fresh tea. \u201cAny troubles?\u201d Sydlak asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll our little chicks bedded down right and tight,\u201d the steward replied. \u201cOnly the one nervous passenger; Elizabeth Mullis, the woman with the teddy bear. She\u2019s concerned that this storm might delay us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember. Her daughter has a birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told her worse case she\u2019d still be there in time for cake.\u201d<\/p>\n
An alarm blared just before the Whitechapel lurched. The teapot went smash against a console as the entire crew grabbed instinctively for a hand hold.<\/p>\n
\u201cStatus report!\u201d Sydlak barked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve been hit by a squall, Captain!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDamage?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cChecking\u2014 we\u2019re listing. The starboard main array is damaged.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReef the portside sails\u2014 try to get us balanced again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAye, aye, Captain.\u201d<\/p>\n
Captain Sydlak checked the gravometrics, trying to make sense of the currents. It was chaos out there. The ship shuddered again as turbulence twisted her hull and sails. If it got worse, it could break the Whitechapel\u2019s keel.<\/p>\n
\u201cNav, shore up your bearing to port.\u201d Captain Sydlak tapped the controls to furl the mizzen sail array, leaving just enough to provide a bare minimum of headway. The Whitechapel stopped juking as the pressure on the long masts and spars eased off.<\/p>\n
Jovillar was mopping up the spilled tea. \u201cLeave that,\u201d Captain Sydlak told her. \u201cCheck on the passengers. They\u2019re your main priority. And leave your comms open. Engineering! What\u2019s our damage?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHalf of the starboard main spars have collapsed and are dragging. Worse, it looks like they\u2019ve scored the hull on the way down.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre we breached?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot yet. It looks like the inner pressure hull is holding, but I don\u2019t like the way the rigging is banging on her. We\u2019ll have to cut it free, and even then I wouldn\u2019t want to face another squall.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCopy that. As quickly as you can, get the main spars cut free and get everybody into e-suits.\u201d She opened a link to Jovillar. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a potential hull breach. As gently as you can, get all the passengers into e-suits. Then herd them into the galley in case we have to put them into life pods.\u201d Resorting to life pods would be bad. They were fine for in-system travel, but in cold interstellar space it was just a slower way to die.<\/p>\n
After donning her own e-suit, Sydlak flipped through each of the comm channels to get a sense of what was happening. The voices from Engineering were on-task and urgent, but not panicky. The bridge crew were the same. On the guest channel, used by the passenger e-suits, she heard the Steward\u2019s friendly, personable voice reviewing the standard emergency protocols. No panic or worry on that channel.<\/p>\n
The ship lurched again, a movement of the deck plates so subtle only her long time crew would even notice.<\/p>\n
\u201cEngineering, how is ejecting that wreckage going?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s away, Captain. But we have another problem.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich is?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBest I show you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sydlak made her way aft. On the way she peeked into the galley. Jovillar had organized chairs in a circle, and the seated passengers were rhythmically patting their knees and clapping their hands. Flipping to the guest channel, Sydlak heard, \u201cThe minister\u2019s cat is a happy cat.\u201d<\/p>\n
Good. Jovillar had them playing parlor games. Only one passenger wasn\u2019t playing\u2014 she sat to the side, clutching a large teddy bear and rocking back and forth.<\/p>\n
Without missing a beat, Jovillar met Sydlak\u2019s eyes. Sydlak indicated the lone figure, and Jovillar nodded; she was on it.<\/p>\n
The engineer pulled Sydlak over to one side and turned off his mike. \u201cI thought this shouldn\u2019t go out over the comm. Have you been feeling her wobble?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought that was drag from the damaged mast.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo did I at first. But it\u2019s worse. Whitechapel\u2019s getting tossed around so much that the art-grav can barely keep up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs there risk of failure?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s always risk.\u201d Like most of his ilk, the engineer was quietly fatalistic. \u201cIf it does fail, we won\u2019t notice. We\u2019ll go splat so hard you\u2019d think they painted the bulkheads red.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s the hull?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHolding for now. It would be best if we dogged shut the interior pressure hatches, but I can\u2019t spare a man right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll see to it on my way back.\u201d It would restrict movement within the ship, but would mitigate the risk of a hull breach. She crept through the corridor, manually closing and locking each of the pressure doors.<\/p>\n
Hours later, Captain Sydlak finally allowed herself a few minutes alone in her cabin to take a deep breath. The ship was safe\u2014 calm skies in the wake of the most severe storm she had ever experienced. She was exhausted, as was her crew, but there was still patching an mending to be done before putting in at Faraway Station.<\/p>\n
She stripped off her sweaty clothes. She craved a hot shower and a nap, but had to be satisfied with wiping off the sweat with a warm wash cloth and donning a clean, crisp uniform before returning to the bridge to deal with damage reports.<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me, Captain?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJovillar. How are our passengers?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOne of them is missing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember Ms. Mullis, the one with the teddy bear? She\u2019s not in her quarters, nor in any of the life pods. I\u2019ve pinged the locator on her e-suit, but it doesn\u2019t respond. None of the rest of the crew have seen her, either.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was in the galley with the rest of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Captain. I was sure she was all right, but when the all clear was sounded and I started getting them out of their e-suits, I realized I hadn\u2019t seen her for quite some time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe couldn\u2019t have gotten far with the internal hatches sealed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know. I\u2019ve searched everywhere I can think of, but I can\u2019t find her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right. Keep searching, and I\u2019ll alert Engineering in case she wandered into an access tube or crawl space. How are the others?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust fine. I\u2019ve given them our revised schedule, and they\u2019re already congratulating each other on their bravery. It\u2019ll be something to tell their kiddies about.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s keep them confined to quarters for the time being. Give them a few meal packs and full access to the social and entertainment channels. Let them think their adventure isn\u2019t quite finished yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
The missing passenger had still not been located by the time the Whitechapel was towed into Faraway Station\u2019s repair yards. Captain Sydlak went to make her report in person to the Postmaster. She was not looking forward to this conversation.<\/p>\n
Her Majesty\u2019s Post and Courier Service kept an office in every station and outpost in human-controlled space. Sometimes it was little more than a corner of whatever crude watering hole a colony had to offer. On Faraway Station it was part of a grand esplanade that included a memorial garden in honor of ships and crew who had been lost.<\/p>\n
Postmaster Poczajski met her on the terrace in front of the office. \u201cCaptain Sydlak,\u201d he said, \u201cYou are to be commended for your actions bringing the Whitechapel safely into port.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, sir. However, there are matters to discuss. Perhaps we should go inside?\u201d<\/p>\n
Instead he gestured towards the memorial garden. \u201cI read your preliminary report about Elizabeth Mullis. I believe she has family here on Faraway Station?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes sir, a daughter. That poor kid\u2014 she\u2019s always going to remember her birthday as the day her mother died.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo doubt that\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSir, I feel responsible. I\u2019d like to be the one to inform the family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think that will be necessary.\u201d Poczajksi gestured to the largest memorial in the garden. \u201cAre you familiar with the story of HMS Manticore?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLost forty years ago, all hands and passengers. In a storm very like the one the Whitechapel survived.\u201d He stopped to contemplate the names and holographic images engraved on the wall. \u201cThis memorial serves to remind us that there are things we do not control.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI looked Ms. Mullis up in the manifest, of course. I learned some interesting things about her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSir, if we could\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cQuite right. I\u2019m stalling. But not for long.\u201d He nodded at a new arrival in the garden, a middle-aged woman holding a bundle. She looked vaguely familiar.<\/p>\n
\u201cMs. Hope Mullis, I presume?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Postmaster. I brought it for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Postmaster Poczajksi turned back to Sydlak \u201cI told you I found Elizabeth Mullis\u2019 name on the manifest, but I neglected to explain which manifest.\u201d He nodded at the memorial.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother was a passenger on the Manticore,\u201d Hope Mullis explained. \u201cShe was coming home for my birthday. I was so excited to see her, and then we got the news. But I know she never stopped trying to get home to me. I found this on my doorstep a few hours ago.\u201d She held the bundle out towards Sydlak. It was an e-suit, with the Whitechapel logo inked onto the breast.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt happens every time there\u2019s a gravity storm on my birthday, you see.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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