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Authors: William Lee Gordon

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The Crew

 

 

In
Orbit at Praxis III

 

Sami was
thrilled.

 

She’d just guided the ship through seven of the longest
skips she’d ever attempted. Argentine had recognized their need to put as much
space between them and the People’s Republic as possible, so he’d nervously
authorized her to ‘let loose.’

 

So she had. She’d swum the ship through the curving waves of
Dreamspace to the farthest destination she’d ever heard of.

 

Both he and the chief were still a little speechless when
they’d dropped out of the last skip at the edge of a stellar system that Sami
believed held an inhabited planet.

 

They were in a hurry but Argentine was wary; they took their
time spiraling down to the target planet’s orbit.

 

“Sami, tell the rest of the bridge crew what you know about
this place.”

 

“It’s called Praxis III, and it’s basically a mining
colony,” she responded. “I think it’s independent; I don’t think it’s aligned
with any outside government. It’s pretty remote but it does get traffic. Anyone
we leave there should be able to find passage and eventually work their way
back to the Republic.”

 

“Lieutenant, how is your security team doing?”

 

“Perfectly content,” he answered. “They still think they’re
on a special super-secret mission for the commissars. The only thing they’re
thinking about is how well they are going to be rewarded.”

 

“Argentine…” said the chief. “We’ve pretty much finished
talking to all the crew. Most of them apparently want to take their chances on
their own.”

 

He wasn’t surprised. He had hoped that a fair number of them
would’ve been inspired by their boldness and encouraged by his leadership. All
officers hoped that their people were following them as much because they
wanted to as because they had to.

 

“Okay Chief, how many of them want to stay?”

 

“Well, there are a couple of them that haven’t totally made
up their mind yet…”

 

Argentine frowned.

 

“How many have said that they definitely want to stay?” he
asked.

 

“Well it’s not like we made them put it in writing or
anything,” the chief continued.

 

Argentine’s eyes narrowed and the chief got the hint.

 

“Okay,” the chief said. “None of them. Except for Rory,
Lieutenant Stark, and Sami everyone wants to leave.”

 

The only thing that felt worse than the growing knot in the
pit of Argentine’s stomach was the realization that he’d been foolish to have
this conversation on the bridge where everyone could hear.

 

The pilot said, “First, look… I’m sorry. I’ve got a family…
I need to get back.”

 

The communications officer was looking at her console and
didn’t dare turn around.

 

Argentine held up both hands, palms out.

 

“Hey, it’s okay! I’d do the same thing in your shoes. I wish
you and everyone else the best of luck. No hard feelings. Really.”

 

Argentine wasn’t sure if he’d done a really good job of
hiding his disappointment.

 

He remained on the bridge for about ten more minutes so
nobody would think he was panicked, and then motioned to the chief to join him
in the day room.

 

“Are you kidding me?” was the first thing he said.

 

“Well, what did you expect?” the chief responded.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe a 50-50 split? I certainly didn’t
expect to be abandoned by everyone. Can we even run the ship with just five
people?”

 

“Sure, for a short while. Actually, a very short while - but
we can probably make it to another star system.”

 

“Oh that’s just great,” Argentine lamented. “Maybe we’d be
better off just selling the ship and running as far as our credits will take
us.”

 

“Look Frank, I know it seems pretty bad but we’ll figure
something out. We always do.”

 

Argentine knew that the chief was being sincere. The
pleading in his voice was enough, but the fact that he’d used Argentine’s first
name confirmed it.

 

“Okay, but we need to talk with the other three and make
sure they’re okay with it. This might cause everyone to back out.”

 

“Oh, they’re okay. No one likes it but it’s kind of what we
expected.”

 

“You mean the rest of you have already discussed it?”

 

“Yeah, I mean… We were really more worried about how you…
ah, might… take the news.”

 

“Me!” Argentine said in a raised voice. “Do you really think
I’m that excitable?”

 

“No! No, not really. Not much…”

 

Argentine sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

 

Just then the intercom sounded.

 

“First, we need you back on the bridge,” Sami’s voice came
through. “There’s something you need to see.”

 

 

ΔΔΔ

 

 

“It’s an
inbound ship. It just came careening into the star system at a suicidal speed,”
Sami was explaining while shaking her head. “It hit the gravitational wall.”

 

Everyone that had served on the bridge of an interstellar
vessel knew what that meant.

 

If you think back to that large flat surface with the
dimples representing stellar gravity wells, imagine the marble not catching the
edge but intersecting it straight on at full speed.

 

If it was going fast enough your marble would jump part of
the depression and slam up against the opposite sloping sidewall. This was
known as hitting the gravitational wall.

 

The analogy is hugely oversimplified but the fact remains
that if a ship enters a stellar system at too high of a velocity and at the
wrong angle it will smash itself up against the rebounding gravity wave. The
force is usually strong enough to simply tear the ship apart. The only question
typically remaining is whether the pieces will be measured in meters or
centimeters.

 

“Was it chasing us?”

 

“I don’t think so… it came into the system from the wrong
vector for that.”

 

“Any chance of survivors?” Argentine asked. “Do we even need
to bother to look?”

 

“Actually,” Sami said only slightly loud enough to be heard…
“The ship
is
heavily damaged – I can tell it’s venting atmosphere. But
it more or less seems to have stayed together. Whoever is on it is either
incredibly lucky or one hell of a pilot,” she mused.

 

“Where is it heading now?”

 

“Well that’s just it,” she responded. “It still has
maneuvering power; it keeps adjusting its course. I think it’s trying to aim
for the outermost gas giant but its velocity is still way too high.”

 

Argentine thought for a moment and then asked, “How big is
the ship?”

 

“Oh, sorry. I should’ve said. It’s a small ship. Probably
less than a six man crew.”

 

“Can we assist?”

 

“There’s no way we can catch her, First. At least not before
she gets to the gas giant,” Sami responded.

 

Argentine definitely thought it was strange but there wasn’t
anything they could do about it and besides, it didn’t concern them. He briefly
wondered if everything they were going to encounter here on out would be like
this.

 

“Keep an eye on it,” he ordered. “Continue on course for
Praxis III.”

 

 

ΔΔΔ

 

 

Whereas an
astrogator was pretty much responsible for all movement of a ship in Dreamspace,
a pilot carried the same responsibilities when the ship was in Realspace.

 

They both needed to
see
the gravity wells but an
astrogator was far more focused on what had become known as Dreamspace physics.
A pilot, on the other hand, specialized in orbital mechanics.

 

An astrogator thought through his or her equations and
virtually
looked
into the future to plot a long distance course.

 

Piloting a ship, on the other hand, was more reactionary. It
required quick reflexes, guts, and great instincts.

 

Sami had known immediately what was happening when she
watched the other ship hit the gravity wall.

 

The astrogator on that ship must have been dead.

 

Or they were stupidly trying to travel without one.

 

The piloting, on the other hand, had been superb. The
last-minute adjustments on the ship’s trajectory, angle of impact, thrust and
bounce vectors had been perfect – and all implemented in a microsecond.

 

Astrogators and pilots typically worked closely together;
such was the nature of their professions.

 

Even so, she wasn't sure she’d ever met a pilot good enough
to do what she’d just witnessed.

 

Just what was going on with that ship?

 

 

ΔΔΔ

 

 

The mining
colony surprised Argentine.

 

He had expected an encampment with a few hundred people;
instead they had found a city of a few hundred thousand. The miners were very
original in their thinking; they had named the city
Anvil
.

 

Apparently there were small camps or mining towns spread out
across the rest of the planet but this was the only real city.

 

Praxis III orbited deep in the star’s gravity well; it was
third of seven planets in the system. While its gravity was close to standard,
the planet carried less than a 2° axial tilt. This meant there were virtually
no seasons and the equatorial climate band was very narrow.

 

As a matter of fact, it was a warm planet anyway so Anvil
City was located high in the northern hemisphere. Even so, Argentine broke out
into a sweat immediately after stepping off of the shuttle.

 

They needed to accomplish several things here. They’d
promised the crew they would drop them off and it was Argentine’s intention to
make it an amiable departure. Fortunately, the chief’s foresight, or scheming
if you wanted to look at it that way, had provided them with enough valuable
metals to give each crewmember a small stake. Since this was a mining planet
their value should be recognized and easily convertible.

 

They also needed to get rid of the security team.

 

Lieutenant Stark, once again, had suggested they leave it to
him.

 

In addition, they needed to gather some information on where
they could go. They couldn’t keep popping from star to star based only on
rumors of what might await them. But then they might not be traveling to many
more stars if they couldn’t hire some crew. Argentine figured it was probably
best to handle it one problem at a time.

 

The most obvious source of obtaining stellar coordinates
would be another astrogator. The most likely approach to another astrogator
would be with their own astrogator, Sami.

 

“How do we do that?” Argentine asked.

 

“On larger planets I’d simply go to the Astrogator Guild’s
offices,” Sami answered. “But I doubt they’ve even got one on this rock.”

 

“Are you saying there won’t be any astrogators here at all?”

 

“No, but they won’t be calling attention to themselves.
We’re going to have to ask around to find them.”

 

Argentine decided that while the chief handled the crew’s
departure and while the lieutenant handled his security team, he and Sami would
start nosing around the spaceport and the various industries, bars, and
brothels that supported it.

 

The lieutenant had strongly objected to the idea.

 

Argentine knew that their security officer wasn’t the most
talkative person, but he was truly surprised at the earful he received from him
on the subject.

 

“Are you insane?” he asked. “Our two most valuable
possessions are the ship and that astrogator. And you want to parade her around
in all the back alleys, fringe businesses, and seedy joints around the
spaceport? And you plan on being her only protector? Please tell me you’re
insane, because I don’t want to think you’re just stupid…”

 

“Well, when you put it that way…” Argentine managed to
respond. “What do you suggest?”

 

“We don’t have enough personnel to do everything at once, so
let’s take it step-by-step. The first thing I’ll do is drop off my security
team on a different hemisphere from Anvil City.

 

“The next step will be to shuttle the crew down to the city.
I suggest we use them to help us with our goals.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Let’s offer them a reward. Any individual that can put us
in touch with a bona fide astrogator will get a double stake. They can start
their new life very comfortably. It can’t hurt to have an extra dozen people
making inquiries for us.”

 

Argentine fought the urge to reject a good idea simply
because he hadn’t thought of it first. Their situation was too dire to be
playing tiny ego games. Still, he had to admit that it bugged him. And the fact
that it bugged him,
really
bugged him. Oh well…

 

“And we need to start looking for crew members,” he
continued. “We can probably combine those last two and offer a much smaller
bonus for any good crew referrals, but I recommend we be very selective about
who we bring on board. I’d rather be undermanned than have to sleep with one
eye open.

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