Firmament: Reversal Zone

  Firmament:

  Reversal Zone

  by J. Grace Pennington

  Text and cover Copyright 2016 J. Grace Pennington

  All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Kindle Edition, September 2016

  Cover design by Michael McDevitt

  Layout by Penoaks Publishing, http://penoaks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, are merely coincidental.

  For Adam

  because he loves reading

  as much as I do.

  Contents

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Special Thanks

  About the Author

  Chapter I

  “Are you okay?” August asked. I assumed it was August, given that my brother was the only one on the ship with an Austrian accent, but I didn't look towards the voice.

  “No,” I said. I moved yet another can of peas from one side of the shelf to another.

  He chuckled, and his face moved into my field of vision in sharp contrast to the dreary gray storeroom. “Need help?”

  I didn't need help. Not technically. There was nothing really difficult about unpacking a new shipment of provisions, taking inventory, and shelving them, but it was by far the most boring work I ever had to take part of on board the Surveyor. But then, it had been a boring few weeks. There were no problems with the ship. There were hardly any patients to attend to. We weren't even on a mission. We were just waiting, in a boring quadrant of a boring sector while we waited for our next assignment.

  Boring.

  “Sure,” I said. August, unlike me, was not the type to be easily bored. He might not mind helping me to shorten the mind-numbing task by a few hours.

  “I'll do that,” he said as I bent to lift another can from the crate beside me. “You just mark them off.

  I relaxed my shoulders and smiled at him. “Okay.”

  He began pulling the metal cylinders from the metal crate and sliding them across the shelves to pack them as tightly as the proverbial sardines.

  I scooted up onto another crate and watched, then entered each can into my pad to keep track.

  A constant hum around the storeroom reminded me we were not the only ones working. My adoptive father dug through crates of medical supplies a few meters away, taking just what he needed to restock sickbay. Almira, the cook, mimicked my task, taking inventory of the freeze-dried packs as her kitchen assistants unloaded them. Engineers and mates peppered the rest of the area, sorting through replacement parts and upgrades. At the far end of the room stood Mr. Guilders, our first officer, hands clasped behind his back, bushy white eyebrows lowered over his eyes as he supervised with his usual stoicism.

  “Did you hear me?”

  I snapped my full attention back to August. “Hmm?”

  “Finished with the peas. Moving on to corn.”

  I nodded, hoping I hadn't missed any of the cans during my distraction.

  I'd rather be anywhere but here. Literally. Why couldn't I at least help the Doctor with the medicine instead? I helped him a lot more often than I helped Almira. But I knew why. There was easily fifty times as much food as medicine.

  “How's it going?” The Captain's voice boomed into the busy metal space.

  I looked up from my pad and massaged the back of my neck with one hand as I scanned the area for our commander. He stood in the doorway across the room, posture erect, bronzed face smiling.

  Easy for him to smile when he didn't have to be cooped down here counting endless cans of corn.

  Why so grouchy? Nobody liked this work, but it had to be done.

  “It's going decently,” Guilders reported, not turning his head.

  The Captain strode into the room, looking with approval on each member of his crew. “You're making excellent progress.”

  He passed where I sat, saw me watching him, and paused and smiled at me. “Comfortable, Andi?”

  The cool metal seemed to burn my legs, and I hopped off and stood behind August, who continued lifting cans onto the shelves.

  “Leave her alone, Trent,” the Doctor grunted, shifting his last kit into a small box to carry up to B-Deck.

  The Captain's blue eyes twinkled. “I only asked if she was comfortable, Gerry. I thought you would approve.”

  “I'm taking the inventory while August shelves,” I said, glancing down at my pad to raise the quantity again.

  “I know. And I'm appreciative of your help.” He smiled again and moved on.

  “Just ignore him,” August said, softly enough that only I could hear him. “He's just bored.”

  I took the advice, and leaned back against the crate again, letting the sharp edge press a little too hard into the back of my knees.

  Knees. I closed my eyes for a moment and stretched my neck again. I shouldn't be worrying about that. The mysterious radialloy implanted in my knee had protected me from my disease for twenty-one years before I had any idea I even had a disease. Worrying now that I knew about it wasn't going to make it work any better, harder, or longer, nor would it speed up the Doctor's search for an alternate cure.

  “One hundred-twenty-five,” August said, straightening up and stretching. I checked his count against mine and found a three-can deficit on my side. He was probably right. What difference did three cans make, anyway? I upped my count, cheeks warming ever so slightly.

  The intercom near the doorway beeped, and our comm marshal's voice crackled through the speaker. “Captain Trent, you're wanted on the bridge.”

  The Captain straightened to his full, broad-shouldered stature. “Must be getting close to the rendezvous. I'll see you all later.” He touched his cap and strode out of the room.

  “Rendezvous?” I turned towards August, mildly roused from my mood.

  “We're just picking up some new automation technology,” he said.

  I perked up further. New technology would need to be tested, which would mean something to do. Which would hopefully excuse me from further inventory duty.

  “Andi,” the Doctor called, “can you come give me a hand?”

  I shoved the pad into August's hands and rushed to my father's side. “Sure.” I held out my hands, which he promptly filled with a box of replacement parts and gadgets for sickbay. I grinned at August as I trotted behind the Doctor and escaped from the depressing room into the bright white corridors.

  We rode the elevators up to B-Deck, then made our way to sickbay at the end of the hall. The tension left my shoulders as soon as we entered the room. Long and white, with a row of clean cots on either side of the center aisle, the Doctor's office in one corner, a far wall lined with cabinets, the hum of monitors waiting to read their next patient, even the doorway leading to the lavatory—all of it was home to m
e, much more than Earth had ever been.

  I trotted to the end of the room and set my box down, prepared to help the Doctor load up the cabinets. But he said, “Go get the last box.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I don't want to go down to the pit of despair again.”

  He frowned. “Andi.”

  Ah. His no-tolerance face. He must be tired of the storeroom, too.

  I trudged back down the hall, rode the elevators, and went back into the dim room. Guilders nodded at me subtly as I hurried past him to pick up the third box of medical supplies and then back out.

  When I reached sickbay a second time, I found the Captain there speaking with the Doctor at the far end of the room. The Captain held his head high, and any hint of playful bickering between the two men was gone.

  “...no trace at all,” the Captain was saying. “They say it disappeared almost a week ago.”

  The Doctor furrowed his brows. “Just how are we supposed to find it, then?” He looked over the Captain's shoulder and saw me standing there. He cocked his head to beckon me over, and I scuttled to his side, set the box down, and kept quiet.

  “They're sending someone to help.” The Captain looked down at me. “The Pigeon—the ship we were supposed to rendezvous with—has been lost. Just... vanished. No communications, no trace. They want us to investigate.”

  I nodded, feeling guilty for my thrill at the prospect of a new mission.

  “Sending someone?” the Doctor questioned.

  The Captain nodded. “Yes. I don't know who it is. He was a guide on the Pigeon, apparently, but left before they were lost.”

  “That's probably why they got lost,” the Doctor grumbled.

  “So.” The Captain stood a bit straighter. “The guide is supposed to arrive tonight, and then we can start looking. I wanted to let you know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I'd like you two to be present when the guide arrives. It should be at twenty-hundred.”

  “We'll be there.”

  With a nod and a smile, the Captain turned and left.

  “I wonder who this 'guide' is, anyway,” the Doctor said, picking up a scanner from the box at his feet and setting it on a shelf in the cabinet.

  “Are you grumpy 'cause there are no patients, Doctor?” I teased.

  He turned and shook a finger at me. “You'd better be careful what you say, young lady. There are still a lot of cans to inventory.”

  “Dad!” I protested.

  I caught a grin on his face as he turned to close the cabinet.

  Chapter II

  The vast, dark-colored mess hall was nearly empty when I finally cleared our table after dinner. I had to admit that the heap of corn and green beans with tonight's meatloaf had gone a long way to make the stocking job more palatable. After all, the food did nobody any good just sitting in boxes.

  As I finished stacking the plates, I saw the night captain come in and sit at a table several meters away. I smiled and waved at him, and he waved back. “Any dinner for me?” he called, his mild voice echoing off the metallic walls.

  “I'll go get it,” I called back, and carried my dishes into the galley.

  The night captain had a name, of course. His name was Commander Randall Stacey, but I always just called him “the night captain” in my head. Night captains were a necessity on starships. After all, even captains needed sleep, and the ships themselves generally were on very tight schedules imposed on them either by the owners or by the International Space Administration. A smaller crew, about a quarter the size of the daytime crew, worked the night hours between twenty-one and seven, and the night captain had full authority for those ten hours, allowing any missions to continue uninterrupted by nocturnal cycles. Generally the night captains were in training for their own captaincy, making the job more like a residency.

  Our night captain was a mild-mannered, scrupulous, gentle person, but also energetic. He wasn't much older than August. He'd be a fine captain someday, or at least my brief interactions with him led me to believe so. Besides the fact that I didn't really seek to make friends with most of the crewmembers, he was asleep for most of the day hours, appearing only late at night and early in the morning.

  I popped into the galley and set my dishes next to the sink, where Almira was washing up. “Dinner for Commander Stacey?” I questioned.

  Her black skin was dotted with perspiration, and she used the back of her plump hand to wipe it from her forehead. She smiled and gestured towards a row of trays on the counter. “The night crew's dinner is there, honey. Thank you for helping me out.”

  “Glad to!” I picked up the nearest tray of meatloaf and vegetables and carried it out to where the night captain sat.

  I set it in front of him and he looked up and nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Miss Lloyd.”

  “My pleasure.” I returned his smile, then slipped back to the galley and poked my head through the door. “Almira, need any more help?”

  She untied her floral apron as I spoke, reaching her hands around her wide middle to pull the strings that held it in place. “That should be all, honey. Go back along to your daddy now.”

  “See you in the morning!” I waved, then turned and left. I passed the night captain on my way out, then hurried into the long, white hall.

  I was only a few steps down the corridor when the Captain's voice spoke over the intercom. “Our visitor is about to board. All officers who have been instructed to appear at the boarding, please proceed to port peripheral access one immediately.”

  As I listened, the Doctor strolled up and stood to listen with me.

  “That means us,” I said.

  “Of course it does.” He inclined his elbow towards me, and I hooked my arm through his with a smile. Together, we walked to the elevator, rode it down, and headed to the directed location.

  When we reached the airlock doors at the end of the C-Deck hall, there were only a few people there: the Captain, Guilders, and Mr. Ralston, our data controller. Guilders gave me the slightest hint of a smile then looked straight at the airlock again, arms held stoically behind his back. The Captain stood at attention, also facing the airlock.

  “Airlock engaged, sir,” came a voice from the intercom.

  “Very well. Open the doors, Mr. King.”

  The light above the airlock flashed to green, and the huge panels began to slide open. Anticipation tickled in my chest.

  As the figure behind the doors was revealed, I gasped and smiled so hugely it hurt.

  There he stood; a tall, handsome, thirty-something man in a deep red and leather suit, arms crossed over his chest, brown hair falling roguishly over his forehead.

  The Captain's eyes widened. “Why, it's...”

  “Crash!” I cried, rushing forward and throwing myself into his arms.

  Crash laughed and hugged me. “What friendly crewmembers you have, Trent!”

  I squeezed him and didn't let go, feeling the leather under my cheek. I could just barely hear his steady heartbeat speed beneath my ear. He patted me on the back. “Good to see you too, cousin. Did you miss me?”

  “Of course I did!” I kept holding on.

  “You scoundrel,” the Doctor grumbled from behind me. “You purposefully didn't let them tell us you were the guide.”

  “Maybe so, Uncle,” Crash agreed in his typical cocky but good-natured tone. I turned my head to see them shake hands, a rather awkward motion since I was still clinging to my cousin.

  “Permission to come aboard, Trent,” Crash requested. “That is, if Andi will let go of me long enough for me to actually step inside.”

  I would have kept stubbornly holding on to him, but the Doctor tugged my sleeve so I let go and pulled back to stand beside the Doctor. Crash's blue eyes twinkled at me as he stepped forward to greet the Captain.

  Crash was the son of the Doctor's sister Sara, and his ward since her death. I'd grown up with Crash, but since he'd gone to space he wasn't around nearly as often. Now a famous and much-in
-demand solo space pilot, he only had occasional opportunities to visit the Surveyor, and we hadn't seen him in over two months. Though that was still much sooner than we'd expected him.

  “Mr. Guilders!” Crash cried out, stopping in front of the helmsman. “How very joyous you're looking!”

  Guilders raised his white eyebrows and stared at Crash.

  Crash put his arm around the older man's shoulders. “A hint of expression! We'll make a party animal out of you yet!”

  “I certainly hope not,” was Guilders' calm response.

  The Doctor stepped forward. “Leave him alone, Crash. Shouldn't you start guiding us, or whatever it is you're supposed to be doing?”

  Crash held up a hand in remonstrance. “Now, now, Uncle, I haven't finished greeting everyone yet.”

  He shook hands with Ralston and inquired after his well-being, then he stopped again in front of me.

  “I didn't have a proper chance to greet you, Miss Lloyd, since you flew at me so quickly I hardly saw you. Just a sort of green and gold blur.”

  My cheeks hadn't stopped hurting. I smoothed my green uniform jacket and blonde hair, then put out my hand. “Most excellent to see you again, Mr. Crash.”

  He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it gallantly. “The pleasure is most assuredly all mine, m'lady.”

  “That's enough of that,” the Captain ordered, though a glance showed an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Come up to the bridge and tell me what we're supposed to be doing on this mission.”

  Letting go of my hand, Crash strolled after the Captain, Guilders, and Ralston towards the elevator. “Don't forget, I'm in charge of where we go, Trent.”

  The Doctor shook his head. “That boy is going to get us into trouble.”

  Chapter III

  “Four degrees starboard.” Crash pointed, leaning over August's shoulder and peering at the navigation display.

  I sat in the visitor's chair on the port side of the bridge, watching as everyone went about their business. Once I'd helped Olive, the nurse, finish unloading the new medical supplies, there was nothing to do in sickbay other than refill a few prescriptions, which the Doctor liked to do himself. Thus Olive had gone to find her husband, our first engineer, and I had headed to the bridge.