Enigma: A Far From Home Novel (6 page)

“Such as?” Commander Greene asked.

“I would suggest, for a start, that we fire garbage at the
Enigma
,” Gentry said. “We must test the object to ensure it is not comprised of anti-matter. The simple act of this ship docking with it could cause an explosion equal to the Big Bang. And that, of course, would prove most unfortunate.”

Chief Gunn shot a puzzled look at Commander Greene, who shook his head in a way that said “Later.”

“We’ll certainly take all of your points into consideration, Doctor Gentry. How soon can you have a list of suggestions to me?” Jessica asked.

“Within the hour,” Gentry told her. “Provided I can figure out how to use the outdated computers on this ship.”

“Good. I’ll send someone along to give you a hand. Once I read your recommendations, I’ll update the mission profile accordingly,” King said. “Now, are there any other questions? No? Well, I would like everyone to read what they can about the Namar. When the teams have been decided, I’ll be assigning them all this very task anyway. We should have a basic grasp of what the Namar were like before getting there. I have a feeling it will help.”

“Yes Captain,” the Commander said on behalf of them all.

“Good. Then everyone go back to what you were doing. Please, do what you can to assist Doctor Gentry and help him feel comfortable during his stay on the
Defiant
. I’ll have the team listings posted to the inter-ship circuits shortly,” she said and dismissed them all.

16.

“Come in,” she called.

Dollar walked into her quarters and waited for the door to close again so they could have privacy.

“Captain,” he said.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant Dolarhyde,” Jessica said. She watched as he sat on the sofa, then offered him a drink.

“No thanks.”

“Fair enough,” Jessica said. She took her coffee over to the little table and set it near the edge. “So how’re you getting on? It’s been a year now.”

“Yep I know,” he said. “And I’m doin’ fine. Considerin’ the fact I’ve had to start from scratch, I don’t think it’s gone too bad.”

Jessica smiled. “I see things have flourished with Miss Walker.”

“Yep, they’re goin’ well.”

“I’ve got to say, I’m impressed with how you’ve taken charge of the starfighter situation. I’m a little ashamed to admit that that whole aspect of ship’s operations sort of fell by the wayside over time,” Jessica said.

And it was true. More and more, the Union had favoured direct ship-to-ship combat rather than the protracted starfighter operations of generations earlier. However, the
Defiant
was an old girl. And she still had all her old fighters.

Dollar – Hawk – had been repairing them, one by one, and training the crew in their use. So far the program had been a roaring success. It’d certainly helped to have a few active fighters when the
Defiant
found herself pitted against three Cantrellian raiders months before.

“I’m proud of the program, to say the least,” Dollar admitted. “My recruits have come along well.”

“And you’ve built your own ship,” King said. “I popped down there not so long ago. It’s coming together nicely. Hard to believe it’s been put together out of spare parts.”

“Yep. I even picked a name. The
Dragonfly
.”

“I like it,” Jessica said. “I know Jack Boi would have, too,” she said.

Right now, her report on the death of Boi was being read by the powers-that-be at command, in which she strongly suggested a redesign of backup emergency control systems. Chief Gunn had already made some adjustments to the systems herself, to ensure it wouldn’t happen again… to ensure there wouldn’t be another Jack Boi tragedy.

“Yeah . . .” Dollar said. He looked away.

Jessica chose to move away from the subject. “This whole situation must have been so strange to begin with,” she said. “But you’ve dealt with it well. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Do you ever, you know, think about . . . them? That whole time?”

It was, perhaps, the most awkward question she’d ever asked him. But late at night, when she was at the point of going to sleep, Jessica pondered it too. As if the video message had not been enough, here was Gerard “Hawk” Nowlan, a once-famous hero of the Union during the heyday of the Terran-Draxx war. Son of the infamous rogue the media had called “The Tattooed Man,” back in the day. Now he went by the name Dollar. And he was undeniable proof of another timeline. Proof of a version of herself that had lived and died in the service of the crew she loved.

I will do you proud
, she’d once told herself, late at night, as she lay contemplating what had happened.
You died for them. You died for me. I will not let all of that be in vain.

“I think about it sometimes,” Dollar admitted. “But I try not to. It’ll drive yuh mad, y’know? I can’t say I don’t miss ‘em from time to time though.”

She didn’t press him on the matter. Some things were best accepted… and left at that.

“Oh, and your trusty kataan? You don’t miss that?” Jessica asked him.

To this Dollar gave a sly smirk. “Well, there’s some things it’s hard to give up. There might be a storage container somewhere on this ship with a kataan in it, but I couldn’t honestly say I know what you’re talkin’ about, Cap.”

She shook her head. Picked up her drink and took a sip. “Cowboys . . .”

17.

“Any aches and pains?”

Jessica shook her head. “It’s like I don’t even have it. It’s weird.”

Dr. Clayton checked the readout. “You seem to have taken to the medication well,” he said. “In fact you’ve responded more than well. The treatment has been kind of miraculous. Blood pressure’s higher than normal, though, but in all fairness that’s probably to be expected.”

“Oh, really? Does it do that?” Jessica asked him.

Clayton smiled. “No. Not the medication. I meant the stress you’ve been under.”

“Right.”

He put his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat and regarded her as a wizened adult looks at a child. “When was the last time you put your feet up and just relaxed?”

“Doc, really, I don’t need –”

He held up a hand. “Save it. I’m ordering you take a few hours off. ASAP. As your ship’s surgeon, you
do
know I can have you removed from command for being medically unfit, don’t you?”

“Are you implying you’d start an insurrection?” King asked him. “Have me thrown in the brig?”

“Sure will if you don’t do as you’re told, for chrissakes!” Clayton said. “Now do what your doctor orders and take the night off. Have a goddamn drink. Dance. Have a doze on the sofa. Read a novel from the ship’s library. Whatever it takes to relax.”

“Okay. Point taken,” she said. “I’ll admit I don’t give myself enough time off. Maybe I should.”

“You
definitely
should.”

“And I will do, Doc. Tonight,” she assured him.

“Good. Now, you do remember what I told you, don’t you? This stuff won’t cure you. But it will deal with the symptoms… fingers crossed, of course. What does that mean? Well, it means the MS will always be there. You’ve got it the rest of your life.”

“I know . . .” Jessica said softly. The implications of her condition weren’t lost on her. “It’s nice to be able to forget it’s there, though.”

“And to know you probably won’t end up in a hover chair in ten years time,” Clayton said. “However, I’ll make the point about the stress thing again. Don’t give yourself enough time off, get yourself too stressed, and the symptoms of the MS will most likely make a return. Forget the medication. There’s only so much it can do for you. You’ve gotta help it along, too.”

“Understood, Doctor,” she said and hopped off the edge of the bed.

“Where’re you going?”

She headed straight for the door. Thanks to Clayton, she’d not felt so good in a long time. The drugs were working. It was a kind of remission – one she hoped her condition would never return from.

“Me? I’m off duty as of now, Doctor.”

18.

Discovered by the starship
Avalon
and named by Captain Laurie Plutom herself three centuries beforehand, the Rift stretched like a belt across several systems. Consisting of corrosive nebulous gases and boiling plasma, the Plutom Rift proved a challenging prospect for any and all who dared to cross it. Many ships had been lost to it, but a full three centuries later, the Rift had finally been conquered. A starship travelling at just the right speed, following the correct route and fitted with the correct kit could traverse the Rift without incident.

And so it was that the
Defiant
ploughed its way through the incandescent extremities of the Plutom Rift, the glowing green energies parting along the
Defiant
‘s bow, like waves of phosphorous breaking before a ship on the open sea.

As it cruised the Rift, encountering the occasional pocket of turbulence as the
Defiant
‘s passage caused one gas or another to react in a mildly explosive manner against the hull, it was not unexpected for the crew to dim the lights and observe the light show beyond the porthole.

As Captain Laurie Plutom herself had noted, three hundred years earlier:

“. . . at no other time was I so reminded of that bygone age, when men and women – shackled to our native Earth as they were – travelled the seas of our world. And where they encountered strangeness, where they met with the unknown, they similarly found themselves on the high tides of majesty. In the presence of such beauty, one can only feel humbled at our small, insignificant place in the galaxy…”

* * *

“She said it’s some kind of tradition,” Commander Greene said as he and the Chief approached the door to Captain King’s quarters. “Some old maritime thing.”

“Has she ever sailed on the water?” Chief Meryl Gunn asked him.

The Commander laughed. “No. But maybe she’s read about it.”

They signalled at her door, and then stepped in. King had the lights down in there, but it was in no way dark. The bright green glow of the Rift itself filled the room.

“Come in. Have a seat,” Jessica said.

Commander Chang was already there, nursing a glass of something neither the Commander or the Chief could readily identify.

“Hey,” Chang said.

“What’s your poison?” Gunn asked as she sat.

“Sake,” Chang said. “I’ve not had any in ages. Miraculously, the Captain had a bottle stowed away.”

“Oh really?” Greene asked.

Jessica shrugged midway through fixing their drinks. “What? A girl’s not allowed to have a hobby?”

“Collecting different liquor ain’t no hobby, Captain,” Greene remarked. “It’s a worry note in Doctor Clayton’s file.”

“Oh shush,” Jessica said. She handed him and the Chief a glass each of Sake. “Get that down you. And less of the Captain, Del. There’s no ranks in here tonight.”

“Rank free, eh?” Gunn asked.

“Uh-huh,” King said. She indicated the cards on the table. “And no quitters allowed.”

“What’re we playing?” Greene asked. He sipped his drink with trepidation but evidently found it agreeable, since it didn’t end up spat out. “Snap?”

“No. It’s a little something I’ve been wanting to try for a while. It’s called Quadrille. Ever heard of it?” she asked them.

Chang shook her head. “No, but now I see the significance of there being four of us here.”

“Traditionally, it was a ladies’ game, so apologies for that in advance, Del,” Jessica said. “It dates back to antiquity but I think you’ll enjoy it, anyway.”

Gunn slapped his arm, laughing. “Oh, he’s nothing but a big girl anyway. You really think it’s going to bother him he’s playing a ladies’ game with a bunch of women?”

“Oit…” Greene said.

“And I’m afraid there won’t be any dressing up,” Jessica said.

The Commander rolled his eyes. He said “Oh right…” in a defeated tone of voice.

“Ah, now you’ve ruined his whole evening,” Gunn said.

Lisa Chang just sat there sniggering to herself.

“Picking on a boy, three onto one . . .” Greene said.

Jessica drank her Sake, then sat down next to Chang. “Right, shall I tell you all how it’s played? As I said it was a ladies’ game. It originates from eighteenth century France. Like I said, antiquity.”

They all knew France and much of Spain had been wiped from the face of the Earth by an asteroid impact in 2930.

“Can I have another drink?” Greene asked, defeated.

“In a minute. First you have to hear the rules,” Jessica said.

Outside, the Plutom Rift drifted past. A sea of deep green cloud banks and away in the distance, what could have been mistaken for distant lightning going off like fireworks over the ocean.

19.

The last tendrils of the Plutom Rift parted for them, a curtain of swirling green mist that swept aside to afford them a sudden view of the Namar system.

“Report,” Captain King said as she arrived on the bridge. Luckily, just in time to see the Namar system presented before the
Defiant
. She sat in the captain’s chair.

“Entering the Namar system,” Chang reported. “I’m plotting the location of the
Enigma
now.”

“Very well,” King said. She watched as their expected course – and target – appeared as a graphic overlay on the viewscreen. A label identified the moon NA-45.

“Altering course and speed to accommodate,” Banks said.

“Good. Not too fast, Lieutenant. And when we come within five million kilometres, I want you to bring us to a full stop,” Jessica ordered.

The
Defiant
turned toward the inner planets, and there was a barely perceptible tilt to the bridge as Banks handled her with expert skill. “Aye,” he said.

“Commander, anything in the vicinity?” she asked.

Greene shook his head. “Whole system’s dead, or so it seems. No signs of activity.”

“Until now,” King said.

“Let’s hope ‘The Graveyard’ is just a euphemism,” Greene added.