When there’s a virtual clock counting down the time to your destination, it slows your perception of the passage of time—similar to approaching the event horizon of a black hole.
The first week Aaron had immersed himself in the technical specifications of Phoenix. More than once he spent a few hours with Lieutenant Delaine discussing the ship. He realized he enjoyed Rachael’s company, more than he’d like to admit. He wasn’t comfortable with that realization. He still cringed at the reaction he had every time the memory of her touch surfaced. He caught her staring at him at least once since then, looking almost like she had something to tell him. To avoid any uncomfortable conversations, avoidance was the only course of action. So he had decided to avoid her where possible. Alvarez had finished rigging their fake transponder, which would signal to anyone looking they were a Border Worlds passenger-liner. Vee also configured the equipment he and Lee obtained in the Luyten system and distributed the untraceable personnel devices amongst the team.
The second week Lee had started training sessions in the ship’s gym. The upbeat bionic man only used one hand when sparring, yet he still knocked Aaron flat. If Lee had sensed anyone was trying to go easy, the impulsive youngster was likely to whack the offender with his new arm. Lee wouldn’t accept any pandering or pitying.
Even Vee joined the training sessions. If the XO felt any misplaced pity for the tactical officer, he quickly lost it when the latter tossed him across the gym floor each day.
Whenever Rachael had joined the sparring sessions, Aaron had blabbed an excuse about checking on an imbalance in the power actuators and some other “very important work” and exited the gym. From then on before going back, he’d called Vee to make sure the coast was clear. On one occasion, the conniving XO had tricked him. She was there when he said she wasn’t. But Aaron wouldn’t be suckered so easily. He had quickly feigned some nonexistent injury to his rib from sparring the day before, and mumbled a few curses under his breath at Vee on leaving.
The third week they’d all pretty much settled into a routine. The ship was running surprisingly smooth given the skeleton crew. Even with impressive advances in automation aboard starships, a complement of seventy-five was the ideal number to crew the ship. With just the six of them aboard, they had to jury-rig some remote functions and each person controlled more than they should. Outside of combat or other starship related duties, the difference in crew wouldn’t be telling. They had established an ordinary twelve-hour work shift with one person on watch on the bridge each shift and one person off rotation each day.
The fourth week, Lee was instructing them in advanced shooting drills. The tactical officer wasn’t just a champion martial artist—he was a crack shot. Lee used the fabricator to build some projectile weapons and ammunition. The sharpshooter eagerly busted open the armory for the pulse laser weaponry—pulse pistols and rifles. He was trying to train his arm to be sensitive enough to handle a weapon. The first couple of times he tried he crushed the weapon outright and with a few more adjustments he’d mastered it.
Flaps had popped in from time to time but didn’t spar. He stuck to a rigid cardio program given to him by Lee. The rest of the time, he could be found down in the auxiliary craft bay tinkering with the ship’s complement of auxiliary patrol craft.
Max didn’t take part in weapons or physical training but he sure did provide moral support. He usually sat in during sparring sessions. He’d had himself a good laugh on the firing range when Lee crushed several weapons with the bionic arm—all while reading his paper books. Lee was all too happy to print them for the doctor from the ship’s library using the fabricator. No one knew what the doctor was reading. The cover was blank.
In twenty-four hours, Phoenix would arrive outside the Atlas System.
****
Avery Alvarez swore as he hit his head for the third time underneath the control panel he’d disassembled.
His head throbbed. Either from the knocks against the console or the frustration of his failed tinkering the past few weeks. He wasn’t sure. He was so close now. He could feel it in his bones. He was resolute in his determination to gain access to the locked off systems.
Footsteps on the deck reached his ear and he slid out from under the console. It wasn’t whom he expected.
“Lieutenant Delaine,” he said, staring up at her.
“Please call me Rachael, Avery.”
“Right, forgot. Rachael, what can I help you with?”
She shrugged. “Not much. I noticed the Commander seems to be avoiding me, though I’m not sure why. He’s in the gym at the moment and I opted to give him the space. I thought we moved past a rough introduction and were getting along quite well since we left Rigel. Now I’m not so sure.”
Alvarez chuckled. “I don’t think that’s it at all. If I know Aaron well, and I do, he’d need a very good reason to dislike you. It’s just his way.”
“He’s not what I expected,” she said.
“What did you expect?”
She sat on the deck next to him. “A rigid naval officer, marching around and saluting everywhere he went.”
Now Alvarez laughed.
“Rachael,” he said. “Deep space is too lonely a place to lock yourself behind walls of discipline and parading. It has its place. But once the chain of command is respected and the crew follows all lawful orders, Aaron probably wouldn’t care if they turned up on the bridge out of uniform. Well not quite that relaxed, but you get what I’m saying right?”
“I think I do. But he also seems a bit more closed off since Rigel.”
Alvarez slid back under the console. “Remember, Trident still stings a bit, even though he won’t show or admit it. Half of her crew gone and he barely escaped himself. Although the latter probably doesn’t worry him as much.” He pulled out a datachip and slid back out. “Then you’ve got this assignment with everything that depends on it and his home planet at the center.”
“Atlas . . .”
“Indeed,” Alvarez said. “His parents migrated from Earth as skilled workers before he was born. Patrick Rayne is an engineer and Anna’s a doctor.”
He inserted the datachip into his personnel device and the resulting beep signaled his success.
Alvarez, scrambled to his feet.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’ve unlocked access to this particularly difficult system. Let’s see . . .” He cycled through the newly accessible system: Gravity Wave Dispersion. He selected it and scrolled to the designer’s notes.
Once activated, the gravity wave dispersion field projection distorts and disperses the gravity waves propelled ahead of a starship at high warp. This distortion essentially slows the ripples of gravity and they scatter outwards from the ship. With the main wave gone, there’s nothing significant remaining to suggest a ship at high warp. The only disadvantage at the moment is the prototype field disperser is only capable of dispersing gravity waves propelled by a ship travelling at 1000 c. Research is ongoing to improve this drawback, however, this accomplishment is unprecedented as it is—Lead Designing Engineer Robert Jordaine.
“Now that’s quite interesting,” he said. “I’m going to finish here and download these schematics and manuals to my handheld. I’ve got a lot of studying to do. I’ll also have to brief the Commander on what I’ve uncovered so far.”
She stood. “Very well, I think I might brave the gym once you have him tied up.”
Vee smiled and packed his toolkit. If Aaron was avoiding Rachael, it probably meant he felt awkward around her for some reason. He’d better get over it and fast, before it compromised the mission.